This chapter contains some unpleasant ideas about Phryne's relationship with Rene. Some may wish to read with caution.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

As Phryne grew in stature, though she would never be very tall, and in confidence, her mother continued in blissful ignorance of her past life. She continued to play the piano for the Man, eat good food, sleep soundly in a comfortable bed and forget the outside world. In dry and warm weather, the women, now numbering four and not changing identities, were allowed out in the garden to sit, perhaps tend the flowers and shrubs, and talk. Their talk was philosophical, He would lead the discussions, tell them that the world was cruel, that the god he worshipped had a better life planned for them. His family had always taken care of their women folk and, in truth they wanted for nothing.

Margaret was known as 'East', the others as 'North', 'South' and 'West', He said it was because that was the compass orientation of the rooms they occupied.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Phryne found school exhausting, infuriating and enlightening, conflicting emotions. She lived in the school during the week and at weekends would head home to Janey and the rigours of running a home. She decided that Janey needed to know how to deal with the servants, who were so amenable, how to pay the bills and set out the menus. Mrs Worthy was very helpful, sensing a coming change in Miss Phryne, her determination in organising, and her interest in the ways of the world.

The girls celebrated birthdays and Christmases, Henry allowed them the run of the house and was happily led by Miss Thompson. He took a chance; he decided that, having not heard from his wife, and no good news from his sister in law, that he would, with a heavy heart, have his wife declared dead. It wasn't easy, Prudence wrote to him as often as she wrote to Phryne and Janey, and they both knew that Margaret was not coming back, or sailing over to them. Prudence asked him to wait, and sailed the ocean to see them.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Prudence was almost bowled over by the greeting she received from her nieces. Henry hadn't been quite as please to see her, but her soft expression, tinged with sadness had him realise that, really, Prudence Stanley was only there to support them. She loved his girls and time away from Melbourne and the trials that beset him there, had mellowed him.

"Prudence," he held his hands out to her, "how lovely of you to travel so far to see us."

She looked him up and down and saw, possibly, a sadness in his eyes.

"Henry," she hummed, "I miss them, and, well, with Guy now being schooled in England …" what a perfect excuse, but it was her nieces she had come to see – Guy could wait.

"Of course," he smiled, "we shall have him over for the weekend?"

"That … that would be lovely," she swallowed, Henry, it appeared, had acquired social graces.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

The time passed softly, Phryne soaked in the praise her aunt gave her for running the home, Prudence talked with her, about life, and told her that in reality, her mother had passed.

"I am so sorry, darling girl," she held her while she wept, "but Constable Robinson has done so much on and off duty, to find her and the others that went missing. He refuses to mark her disappearance as a death, or a murder,he says that as she hasn't been found then he won't sign it off as …well… closed."

"It's not fair on father," Phryne sniffed, "he's been better, kinder … alright he had a moment but I had used bad language at school and maybe I had been in the wrong, he has been more of a father. I miss mother, so does Janey, but after two years, she isn't coming back, is she?"

Mrs Stanley tucked an errant curl behind her ear, "you are such a wise child, always have been, and, no, sorry. Whatever has happened to her, she has gone, nobody knows where or how. Constable Robinson refuses to stop investigating, though he can only do it on his own time, now."

"He seems a decent sort," Phryne sighed, trying to imagine the young police officer now a little older and wiser.

"He is, Phryne," her aunt patted her arm, "a fine young man."

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

The Christmas Phryne turned fourteen was quieter – there was a war in Europe, that most had said would be over by the festive season, but it wasn't – so the Fisher family decided that it was not a time for celebrating but more for reflection. Phryne thought they should 'do something', though what she wasn't sure about.

"The village is holding fund raising shows in the village hall," Miss Thompson told her, "all monies raised to go to sending parcels to our lads in the trenches, "and jumble sales, too …"

"Could we help?" Janey asked.

"How?" Phryne frowned.

"You could send some things you have grown out of to the jumble sale, go and help with the teas – Janey, you play well enough to give a short performance at one of the shows," their governess suggested. "It would bring a smile to some of the injured men that have returned, perhaps."

"I saw one, in the village the other day," Phryne sighed, "he was blind in one eye and poorly sighted in the other and some boys were throwing things at him and another pinched his iced bun that the baker had given him."

"That's awful," Janey gasped, "what happened?" She knew Phryne would have waded in it was the type of thing she was known for, helping the unfortunate, or the bullied girls at school.

"I gave the leader a proper pasting," Phryne sniffed, standing with her legs apart and her hands on her hips, "left him with a black eye and a bloody nose."

"Not very ladylike, Miss," Miss Thompson scolded.

"'s bad enough the Hun shooting our men," she huffed, "but for our own lads to do it isn't right. They're fighting to keep us safe – I wish I could do more, like go and fight 'em myself."

"Tilly's gone to be a nurse, over in France," Janey sighed. Tilly was their maid and she was rather fond of her.

"I could do that," Phryne jumped to attention.

"You're fourteen, Miss Phryne," Miss Thompson laughed, "too young to even think about that."

Phryne frowned, 'one day,' she thought, 'one day I shall go and do something worthwhile.'

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Janey read the letter that her sister had left on the bed.

"Sorry, sis," it read, "I have to go, I'm fifteen now, I can do this. You look after the house, turn the west wing into a convalescence for the returning soldiers, maybe," Janey thought back to the conversation just over a year ago and sighed, "Mrs Worthy will still help you, but I need to do something, I can't just read the papers and think it's nothing to do with me. Father will understand, he fought in the Boer War."

While Henry did understand he still thought her reckless. She was still a child, she would see things no well brought up young lady should see. Phryne was pretty, and slim, and while she was no push over, these were soldiers she would meet and if they wanted something, they would take it. He knew, and though he had stopped short of forcing himself on a woman he had seen other soldiers do it.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

The recruiting officer knew perfectly well that the fine boned girl in front of him was too young to be sent to the front, but they were short of nurses. So many had fallen at the first fence, panicked at the sight of dismembered bodies, half amputated limbs, burned faces and blinded eyes, that he had to take whoever was willing to go.

"I can drive, too," she added, a tad too enthusiastically. She had had the chauffeur teach her in the family Rolls Royce, round the estate and through the woods that bounded the edge of their land. She was a fast driver, not too careful but safe enough. She was sure that as long as she could dodge a shell or a Hun's bullet, she would be useful.

So, nursing auxiliary and ambulance driver Fisher, set sail for France ready for adventure.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

It was an adventure, chilling, thrilling and terribly frightening, but she got through it. She proved herself resourceful and daring. Rather ruthless when it came to rescuing young soldiers destined to die alone in the trenches, she became known for powering her battered Sunbeam ambulance round shell holes, between fallen trees and, in one case, through a run of trenches. Admittedly this wasn't planned but she had tipped the vehicle into the trench and just carried on driving until she found a way out, collecting a few injured Tommies on the way.

She held the hands of dying men as shells fell around her and toppled hospital tents, she wrote their letters to their loved ones as they succumbed to injury and fever and in all the months she served, no one knew how absolutely terrified she was. She cheered and chivvied, bossed and berated anyone who stood in her way to render succour to an injured soldier of any rank.

When it was all over, and she held a citation star for her gallantry to injured soldiers, she headed straight for Paris. Paris, she had been told, was where she would find gaiety, laughter, freedom.

She wrote to her sister and father during her years at the front as often as she could, to assure them she was safe, but when she entered Paris her letters took on a different tone.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Janey and her father read and reread Phryne's letters as they arrived,devouring the news that she was alive, shuddering at the enormity of it all and the terrible things she saw. They wrote back telling how Janey had taken her advice and turned the West Wing into a kind of halfway house for returning injured soldiers, how they spent time in the gardens in the summer and how she would play the piano for them in the evenings and walk with those that could into the village and have tea and buns at the local tea shop. Mrs Worthy had helped her organise the house, Miss Thompson helped her engage the boys in educational pursuits, games, art and those that could, helped out with the gamekeeper and gardeners. Of course, there were some whose demons were too strong and struggled to cope with the outside world, the sun and soft summer showers, but Janey sympathised with them, hoping Phryne's demons would be less. Phryne wrote back saying she had made a friend in one of the doctors, Elizabeth Macmillan, the only female doctor she had found. Mac, as she called her, sent back little titbits on how to help these men through their mental battles with their injuries and memories of what they had seen.

When the letter arrived saying she would be spending some time in Paris, to recuperate, find some joy after so long in the dark and muddy world of war, Janey was relieved. There would be a time when her sister came back to her, but from what the soldiers had told her, she could not rush her. She would need time.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Paris was struggling after the war. There were many on the streets without homes or food, buildings were dilapidated and shabby but the part Phryne found herself in was a bustling hub of artists, poets and musicians. She had first found a hotel and used some of her unspent pay on a room, hot bath, hot meal and some nicer clothes. She had lost weight and was tiny and waif-like, but her enthusiasm for what the city could throw at her was unbounded. She spent her evenings in the cafes and bars, listening to the talk and the accordions, watching artists paint to rapturous applause and drinking the rough red wine that seemed never ending. She didn't drink to excess, finding her limit fairly quickly because if she didn't – well who knew what would happen? Her halting French became fluent and sometimes she was asked to sing. It embarrassed her, at first, but the few coins that were thrown at her helped keep her at the hotel until that fateful night.

She was watching one artist, flamboyant, confident to the point of arrogance when she was approached by another. He was older, hair cut rough in a line along his collar, he wore a smock that was paint spattered and an artist's beret. He had kind eyes and when he spoke it was with a gentleness.

"Mam'selle," he bowed politely over her hand, "my name is Pierre Sarcelle and I was wondering if you had ever had your picture painted?"

"M'sieur," she hummed, "why would anyone paint this little face?"

"Oh, mam'selle," he smiled, "you do yourself a disservice. Such fine bone structure, such eyes … you are quite a sight …"

Phryne was flattered, who wouldn't be? But she knew enough to be certain he wasn't just planning on painting her portrait … she had seen many paintings of women, so many without clothes.

"Veronique!" he called behind him and a woman of a similar age to him, stepped up to his side. "What do you think, eh? A perfect model, non?"

"Mam'selle," the woman he called Veronique smiled, "I am Pierre's wife …"

Phryne gave a little bow of her head, "Madame," she hummed.

"… I 'ave suggested before that you might make a good subject, it would seem my 'usband has finally taken my advice, eh? He wishes nothing more than to paint you, commit you to canvas for eternity, nothing else."

"Come, we will show you my work," Pierre offered her his hand, "then you can give your answer, oui?"

Phryne tipped her head and decided it wouldn't hurt, she was here, in Paris, for another adventure, maybe she could persuade him to paint a simple portrait and she could send it back to Janey and her father. After that …

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

The portrait arrived just after New Year, 1919. Janey was delighted and had it framed immediately and hung in the parlour. Phryne smiled almost shyly down on them every time they sat in that little private space. She wore a wide soft-brimmed hat over hair that was a little loose, strands falling round her face. The collar of her dress fell out of view but exposed delicate collar bones and a slender neck.

"Isn't it lovely, father?" Janey clapped her hands with delight as Boots hung it for her.

"Beautiful, a lovely gift, but I do wish she would come home."

"She will, father, she needs time and it's an adventure for her, you know how she likes an adventure."

Henry hugged her, she was right, Phryne was always the one in trouble for going off on adventures, sneaking into the circus and once hiding in a wagon with the idea of running away with them. She was most put out when she was discovered!

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Phryne reclined on the chaise longue, rich coloured throws hid its shabby cover and were draped over her legs but the rest of her, from her head to her thighs was naked, the first time she had relented and posed nude for Pierre. She had been nervous, shivering a little in the cool air which made her nipples pert. Her hair was loose and she had one arm raised above her head. She looked fragile, young – her eyes wide.

The door opened and Veronique entered, bringing with her the arrogant artist she had seen in the café. Veronique whispered in his ear and he approach, taking her hand and kissing it – all the while his eyes roamed over her tiny, naked self.

His name was René Dubois.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

At first René was all charm and gentleness, even when he took her to bed, the first time for her, he made sure she was ready before he entered her. It wasn't the most comfortable experience for her but the final feelings were enough to have her almost blackout with surprise. He taught her many things, many ways to please him, and he ensured she got as much pleasure from the act as he did. At least at first.

As the months wore on Phryne noticed little instances of jealousy. If she spoke to another man for too long, he would pull her away and remind her that she was his, or if she was asked to sing too often, he would use the excuse of resting her voice but most of all he stopped her modelling nude for Pierre. With Pierre she was safe, Veronique seemed to be enough for him, and it was her that had taken her to a female doctor and helped her acquire a device to prevent an unwanted pregnancy. The diaphragm was easy for her to use and she worked out the right time to insert it before René took her to bed.

At first, when it was time for her monthly curse, she pushed him away, it was a private time, not something she wanted to discuss with him. He could be a little rough at these times, rubbing himself against her curls then exploding his seed over her belly or into her hand. But it was the time he forced her to put her mouth on him that she felt trapped, trapped to the point of abuse. He pushed her to her knees and opened his trousers, freeing himself and then he grabbed her hair and pulled her head back. She gasped at the pain and as she did so he pushed his hardness into her mouth and told her what to do. She'd heard of this way to please a man, but couldn't bring herself to ever think of doing such a thing until now. When his tip hit the back of her throat and flooded into her mouth, he yelled at her.

"Avaler! Chienne!"

She gulped down the sweet salty liquid then retched and vomited at his feet. He struck her across the side of her head and she fell to the floor.

"Clean it up!" he stalked out, fastening his trousers and left her crying and wondering how she had been so stupid. He had been so arrogant that evening in the café that she had immediately vowed not to have anything to do with him. She was sure it was he that asked Veronique for an introduction and Pierre's wife must have known what he was like, must have known that once she was in his thrall she would be treated so badly.

"Your bed, Phryne," she sniffed to herself, "you'll have to lie on it." But she determined that if his behaviour continued in this vein, she would find some way of leaving him, even though that meant leaving Paris.

She didn't tell Veronique the truth about her absence from the café that night, just that she was not feeling well. René had picked up another woman to satisfy his urges and didn't return to their little garret until the next day, when she had cleaned the place from top to bottom, tidied her hair and was, to all intents and purposes, quite well.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Christmas would have been lovely, at home, she mused as she nursed yet another split lip. For a whole yearshe took René's abuse, his beatings, his forcing her to please him with her mouth, grabbing her and pushing her into a wall while he took his pleasure, sometimes from behind, sometimes from in front but rarely when she was ready for him and it made her sore, she was bruised and so it was with some relief when there was a knock on the door of the garret and Dr Elizabeth Macmillan stood there, with a bottle of single malt scotch whisky in one hand and a box of chocolates in the other. Phryne almost fell into her friend's arms.

"Bloody hell, Phryne," the doctor exclaimed, "here," she poured her a generous measure of the whisky and made her drink it.

She coughed as the sharp liquid hit the back of her throat and held out the glass for a refill.

"Right, my girl," Mac became all business, "first a quick examination, for injuries, then I'm getting you out of here."

"But …" Phryne blinked away tears, "if he finds me gone …"

"He won't," Mac was sure of that, "and if he does come after us, I know a few painful operations."

That had Phryne give a little smile.

"Well, Miss," Mac sat back, "you're bruised, indications of rape …"

"Mac, I let him …"

"You weren't ready, you were raped, Phryne, that's what rape is, not waiting for you to consent, and that cut lip is not a sign he loves you, it's control, possession."

Phryne bit her lip, and winced, Mac was right, and she knew it, had known it for some time but if she admitted it then she admitted she was weak. Phryne Fisher was strong – she had served on the front, dodged bullets and shells – but it took a man, all puffed up arrogance and self importance, to bring her down.

"Where is he, now?"

Phryne shrugged, "I'm not sure, it's 'that time' so he may be with someone else then when he comes home, he will expect me to use my mouth – Mac …" herlip trembled and Mac knew that he forced her to pleasure him that way. Personally, she would have bitten off the offending part of his anatomy, she had seen it happen.

They set to packing her clothes and toiletries, the things she had collected, and, from under the bed, the first nude Pierre had painted, the one that had started her relationship with René. Though the relationship hadn't gone well, the painting was a reminder of kindness. Pierre and Veronique had been kind and never knew the extent to which René had hurt her, and she didn't want to tell them.

"How will we get to …"

"England?"

Phryne nodded – she would go home.

"Know a chap with a plane, he'll get us there. I'm going to work in a London hospital for six months then who knows." Mac shrugged and picked up her bag and one of Phryne's suitcases. "Come on."

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Phryne didn't remember too much of the journey out of Paris. Mac seemed to take charge, load her onto a train, feed her and settle her into a bunk to sleep. She propelled her through streets to a hotel, ran her a warm, soothing bath, sent down for food and wine and settled her into an impossibly comfortable bed that reminded her of the journey from poverty in Collingwood to Somerset, England.

When Mac took her to the airfield she began to feel as if she was shedding a tight skin. As they took off into the blue sky, she felt free. The land, France, retreated from view, became small and with it the idea of René following her, chasing her down and capturing her again. The pilot was not young but not old, and he didn't seem to see her as an object, which made a change, usually men looked her up and down and she imagined they wondered what they could do with her. Not this man, he loaded the luggage into the plane and helped her into the aircraft, then he called, "Contact!" and they taxied and lifted off into the wide blue yonder.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Phryne wrote to her sister to tell her she was in London.

"I'll be home soon, Janey," she wrote, "I have a few things I want to do here, first but I should be home for my birthday."

Janey ran into the parlour to show her father the letter, and to suggest they have a welcome home party.

"She'll be twenty-one father," her eyes shone with happiness.

"And you were eighteen just weeks ago, sweet girl," he smiled, "perhaps a joint party for you both, as you refused to celebrate."

She laughed, it was true, she said she would prefer to celebrate her birthday with her sister so they had had a small private dinner party with some friends they had made and the soldiers that remained in the West Wing had insisted they all take her for a turn round the floor in the ballroom.

When she told Miss Thompson, who was now more of a companion than a governess, she reminded her that both girls should prepare to be presented at court next Season.

"Oh, I suppose so," Janey frowned, "I shall ask Phryne about that," she would prefer they were together for such a thing. The only men she knew were the local village boys and the soldiers, the Season would mean being shown off to suitable bachelors, young men of a similar standing; she wasn't sure about it. She was fairly sure that her sister would not like it, and she had been in France, with artists – who knew what she had really been doing. All her letters said was that she sang in a café sometimes, had many friends and an 'admirer'. Miss Thompson was quite sure this 'admirer' was a lover but she didn't tell Janey that. She had written a short note to her former pupil telling her to take care and not to do anything rash.

"But if there is anything you can't tell Janey, Miss Phryne," she had written, "you can talk to me and I shall keep your confidence."

Phryne had smiled at her kindness but she didn't tell her what she was going through with René, for fear she would send her father over to 'rescue' her, and a fight between her father and the Frenchman was not something she wanted to see, followed by the subsequent fight between herself and her father.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Mac made sure Phryne was physically fit and recovered from the outward abuse that René had dished out to her, but was in no doubt that the psychological damage would take some time for her to get over, if she ever did. She tried to get her to open up about it, but all Phryne said was she had been stupid, too trusting, and it was all over now, no man would ever control her like that again.

"So what next for the Honourable Phryne Fisher?" she sat back in the chair in Phryne's suite and sipped a fine single malt whisky.

"Not really sure," Phryne curled her feet under her bottom on the couch, "I shall go home for now. See how Janey is faring, and father of course. When I am twenty-five I shall come into my own money, I think I should like to learn to fly, have my own house, and a car."

"Marry and bring up the next generation of Fishers?" Mac raised an eyebrow.

"I don't think I shall have children, Mac," she mused, "or marry. If I were to marry wouldn't he have control of my wealth, and then I would be back where I was with René? No, no I shan't marry, I shall have my fun, maybe travel a bit more. So far, I have seen France, and some of England, perhaps I shall travel further – in my own plane – the Far East, India, Russia – maybe not, they're in the middle of a civil war, aren't they?"

Mac hummed in agreement, but she wasn't the marrying type so she couldn't really comment on that. Travel might be good, as long as she stayed away from artists.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Phryne looked up at the front door, the highly polished brass handle and bell pull that stood out starkly from the dark wood and sighed, she was home. The door opened and Janey ran down the steps to greet her, flinging her arms around her sister before she was fully out of the car and hugging her so tight she could barely breathe. Janey, she noticed, was taller than she was, and,while still slender, had obviously been better fed than she had for the last five or six years. She favoured her father in colouring and her mother in build.

"Goodness!" Janey laughed, "you need some good food inside you, I don't suppose there was much on the front."

"It was enough," Phryne shrugged, "hello, Janey, darling," she added softly, "it's so good to see you."

"We have missed you so much, haven't we, father?" she turned to speak to Henry who had followed her out of the house.

"We certainly have, Phryne," he bent and kissed her cheek, "but we are so very proud of you. Come," he put his arm round her, "Simpson will take your bags in."

"Everything is ready for you, you can either stay in our room or have one to yourself, I didn't know which you would prefer," Janey took her hand.

"Would you mind dreadfully if I had a room to myself?" she smiled at her sister, "I er …"

"Not at all," Janey smiled, "I have got used to being alone at night, at least you won't have to listen to me snore."

"I don't think I ever noticed, dear sister," Phryne laughed.

It was all a joke, Janey knew that Phryne would need space and, from what some of the veterans had told her, she would have nightmares. She needed that freedom to deal with that. Phryne's new room was close to hers so if there was a problem, if Phryne should have a nightmare, Janey would still hear her. And Phryne understood.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Miss Thompson entered her new bedroom, in the hopes she could have a quiet chat with her, see how she was feeling and if there was anything she could do that she couldn't go to Janey for.

"I think I'm just glad to be back home, Miss Thompson," she sat on the bed, "there have been so many changes, Janey is so grown up …"

"She has done remarkably well," Miss Thompson agreed, "she has been wonderful with the veterans, we only have about three left, and they are like friends. One is staying on as under-gardener, the other two, we shall see. Now, Miss … your letters …"

"There are things I don't want Janey to know," Phryne sighed, "things that happened …"

"Paris?"

Phryne nodded, "It was an adventure, and adventures have good and bad sides …"

"Your admirer?" Miss Thompson had a feeling, a bit like the feeling she had that Janey was rather taken with a certain Lieutenant Applegate in the West Wing, "this admirer hurt you, didn't he?"

Phryne just looked down.

"Well, he shan't get anywhere near you, now," the companion took her hand and stroked the back of it, "and you shall have your time to rest."

"Thank you."

"Now, so you have time to think about it, Janey didn't celebrate her birthday, she said it wouldn't be right, not without you, and as you are about to turn twenty-one …"

"She wants a party," Phryne finished and drew herself up. She could never deny Janey, and this was important.

"Just a small one, I think, for both of you. There was a dinner, with the lads and some friends, a little dancing, but nothing grand."

"Maybe not too grand this time, either," Phryne stood up, "but, yes, I can do that, for her."

"You are the kindest sister she could have, Miss Phryne."

"She is the best little sister I could have."

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

The 'Welcome Home' and birthday ball was a great success. They invited people they knew from around the county, young men and women of the right social background and, of course, Janey's veterans. Henry looked on proudly as his daughters danced with the young men and he in turn danced with one or two ladies, just to be polite. He noticed Phryne flatter and flirt, laugh and dance but always kept the young men at a distance. He chose a waltz to take his elder daughter around the floor.

"Janey has been spending a lot of the party with that chap," Phryne nodded towards a Lieutenant with one arm.

"Young Applegate," he smiled, "younger son of Lord William Applegate. Lost the arm at Ypres, his elder brother was killed on the Somme so he is now heir to the Earldom. She is fond of him; they play three handed piano together."

"Oh?"

"He was bemoaning the fact he would never play again so she encouraged him to play one part and she would play the others, they're quite good." Henry smiled; he liked the Lieutenant. "And you, Phryne, is there no one here for you?"

"I prefer to graze," she smiled, "I have just ended a relationship, father, I'm not ready for romance, not yet."

"Hm," he drew his brows together, "are you alright?"

"Yes, I am quite content, thank you," she smiled, one day he would know, she supposed, but not now.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

"Well, Lieutenant," Janey teased, "aren't you going to ask me to dance?"

"Miss Janey …" Teddy Applegate gulped.

"I've danced with just about everyone in the room except you," she pouted.

"I can't hold you properly," he motioned to the sleeve tucked into his jacket pocket.

"Tosh," she laughed, "it didn't bother you on my actual birthday, come on," she took his hand, "I won't consider the evening a success unless you dance with me."

Teddy sighed, he could never refuse her, being a little in love with her, so he let her drag him onto the floor. He took her hand in his left hand and she put her left hand on his shoulder. True he couldn't put his hand on her back but she held him close enough and his footwork was perfect.

"My father has written," he murmured, "he wants me back on the estate."

"And you will go, because it is your duty," she hummed, "he only has you, Teddy, now …"

"Will you visit, please?" he blushed at the invitation.

"I would love to," she smiled, "and you will come back and visit us?"

"In a heartbeat," he pulled their hand close, "just call me."

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Phryne stole down the stairs; unable to sleep she decided that a cup of cocoa would help. She passed the ballroom and noticed a light on. Pushing the door open, thinking that it might be a servant, or possibly Janey and Teddy Applegate she was surprised to see her father and Miss Thompson dancing to a quiet record. It was a waltz, one that hadn't been played during the party. She closed the door quickly, and quietly and continued on her journey to the kitchen. As she stirred the milk on the stove she mused on the sight. Her father was a widower, officially, he hadn't, as far as she was aware, sought out any other female companionship though she knew him to be an accomplished flirt. Miss Thompson was not unattractive, her dark hair coiled in an elegant chignon, her dresses were usually grey or blue, neat and befitting a woman who worked as a companion. Thinking back, from the way she had guided her two young charges through life as daughters of a Baron, she must have more to her background than originally thought. She never mentioned her family, or where she originally came from in England. Then there was the biggest question – 'did she mind?' She'd have to think about it.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Henry liked … admired … Abigail Thompson. She was never forceful, guided Phryne then Janey, and to some extent himself. He knew she set seeds of some things to be done in the house, just to help him through the mire of social niceties. She was very different to Margaret, in looks and manner. He had got out of her some of her history as they danced in the semi dark of the ballroom. She was the youngest child of seven, and the youngest daughter of the family, having three brothers and three sisters. Her father was a Viscount, but impoverished, so like the rest of her siblings she had to find work to keep herself and send a little home. Her eldest brother, Simeon, was now holder of the title, but he himself was a 'gentleman farmer' in Yorkshire.

"So, you see, sir, that is me, not a lot but plenty of family history, rakes most of them," she had smiled and he saw her face light up.

"I think, when we are alone," he whispered, "you could call me 'Henry'?"

"Oh, sir," she gasped, "I don't know …"

"And, you …?" he continued with a twinkle in his eye.

"Er, Abigail, my name is Abigail," she blushed. Offering her services as governess had not been a way to ingratiate, entrap, a peer, it had simply been a way to continue to earn a living.

"Lovely," he smiled.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Phryne said nothing to Janey about what she had seen in the ballroom, but she did keep watch on her father and Miss Thompson over the Christmas festivities.

"Phryne," Janey entered her room one evening, "can you help me?"

"I'll try," her sister put down the book she was reading and waited to hear the problem.

"You know Teddy is leaving just after Christmas, he kind of begged his father to let him stay, I want to get him something, a keepsake … but I've never bought anything for a man …"

"Hm," Phryne tipped her head and looked at the ceiling for inspiration, "and I suppose you don't want to embarrass him?"

"Oh goodness, no," she gasped, "only … you see …"

"You're rather fond of him, aren't you?" Phryne patted the bed beside her.

"Is it obvious?" Janey slumped.

"Plain as the nose on your face."

"Oh," she seemed disappointed.

"It's ok, father likes him, and he is rather personable, good looking, kind and I think he's rather fond of you, too."

"Do you?" Janey's eyes lit up, "so, what do I do?"

"Hm, well, I think something useful, yet decorative, does he wear a watch?"

Janey shook her head, "he lost it, when he lost his arm, and, well … he says he doesn't want to wear one on his only wrist because he says he will spill his drink every time someone asks him the time."

"Why not a pocket watch?" Phryne suggested, "you could have it engraved, from you."

"Do you think that would be appropriate?"

"If you choose your words carefully, even if you just put the date on it, y'know, 'to Teddy, from Janey, Christmas 1921', fairly innocuous."

"We should go up to town, shopping," Janey bounced off the bed, "you and me, for a day, yes?"

Phryne laughed and agreed, they could have a day's shopping, a nice lunch and be home in time for dinner, if they caught the right train.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

London was cold and wet, people hurried around them, cars and carts passed them and splashed water up their skirts, but they ignored all that and headed to the emporia that would sell what they were looking for. Phryne took Janey to a jewellers and watchmakers that may have the required gift. The watch had a cover that could easily be opened with one hand, pretty chasing on the case and a clear white dial. The engraving, just as Phryne suggested, would take a day or two but could be sent down to the estate in time for Christmas, if that would be acceptable to Miss Janey?

"That would be lovely," she smiled as she paid the cost.

"See," Phryne smiled, "easy, eh?"

Janey blushed, a little.

"Come on, we need to shop for others, too," Phryne pulled her along, "little things for the servants, something for Miss Thompson and father …"

"… and I usually get small things for the veterans, even though there are only two in the house now." Janey told her.

"And one of them is Teddy," Phryne grinned.

"Quite," she nodded.

They found a small restaurant for a light but warming lunch, then continued to choose suitable gifts until it was time to catch the train home.

"Goodness," Janey wriggled her toes in her boots, "I'm exhausted."

"Well, unless you think of anyone else we need to buy for then we are done," Phryne shrugged and put her feet up on the seat opposite. They had separated for a time in order to buy gifts for each other, before meeting up and choosing a new silver topped cane for their father.

"Phryne!" Janey gasped, "boots, off!"

"Yes ma'am," Phryne laughed and promptly did as she was told.

"Really," Janey huffed, but she smiled.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Christmas was lovely, Phryne had almost forgotten how lovely it could be. They exchanged gifts after going to church and walking home in the falling snow. Everybody from the house went, Teddy escorted Janey, Henry had Phryne by his side and the rest of the household followed. They filled the little village church with their voices in the familiar carols. While Margaret was missed, it didn't hurt as much as it had before the war. They made a toast at the dinner table, 'to absent friends', which meant everyone they knew that hadn't returned from the trenches, and those that had passed from the 'flu or just from natural means.

Cook set a magnificent meal in the dining room: salmon and spinach to start with, a palatte cleanser of a lemon sorbet, roast goose with all the trimmings, a pudding brought in aflame, cheeses, wines and coffee.

"To the new year," Henry raised his glass, "may it be bright and full of cheer."

"Here, here," Teddy raised his glass and grinned, he had high hopes for 1922, very high hopes, indeed.

Miss Thompson, her attendance at the table expressly requested by Lord Fisher, smiled and nodded.

"Presentation at court for the girls, sir," she suggested, noticing Phryne role her eyes.

"I think I shall learn to fly," Phryne laughed, though this was supposed to be when she had her own money.

"Quite a daredevil, Miss Phryne," Teddy teased, "you can fly your sister up to me, if you do."

"You're on, Teddy," she raised her glass.

"Can't I go by train?" Janey whispered.

Henry looked at the young couple and sighed. He had a feeling Janey would marry before his elder daughter, but, Teddy was a good sort, and his family were of the right level. Abigail had said as much, and he couldn't even pretend to disapprove.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

"Phryne," Henry took his daughter aside after Janey had retired for the night, and Teddy had gone to finish packing for his journey to Yorkshire the next day.

"Father?"

"Learning to fly, really?"

"Really, I think I should like it, I flew over from France, you know, it was exhilarating," she smiled, "it's the way forward, in transport, you know."

"I'm not sure, it sounds dangerous," he mused.

'So was Paris,' she thought, "only if you're not taught properly." Was what she said.

"I could forbid it," he tried to sound stern, but he was mellowed from the wine they had drunk and the perfectly lovely day they had had.

"And I could tell Janey about you and Miss Thompson," she opened her eyes wide.

"Blackmail, hey, how did you know?" he cleared his throat, even he wasn't sure what they were to each other, yet.

"Saw you waltzing the night of our party," she sat down again, "I came down to make some cocoa because I couldn't sleep, the light was on in the ballroom …"

"Is it wrong?" he asked, "that I should seek female companionship, of someone who isn't constantly throwing themselves at me, like some of the society widows and matrons I meet. I like Abigail, she is kind, she loves you two, and she isn't after my money. She's the seventh child of an impoverished viscount, they have an estate in the north, her brother runs it as a farm."

"Ah," Phryne nodded, "that explains why she is so comfortable in her place, and knows so much about how a young lady should behave. No, father, it isn't wrong, I've had chance to think about it and why not, Janey is heading for marriage, I'm sure Teddy is the one for her, and me, well I think I should like to be a traveller, have a few more adventures before I think of settling down."

"You will be careful, won't you?" he reached over and stroked her cheek, "I do love you Phryne, you are an amazingly strong young woman, and it will take an extraordinarily brave man to even think of proposing to you."

"Goodnight, father," she kissed his cheek, "you have my blessing, to woo Miss Thompson."

"Bless you child."

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Lord Applegate arrived with one thing on his mind – to take his son back to the family estate and out of the clutches of this Australian interloper; that is until he met Lord Fisher.

"You?" he stopped suddenly as he was shown into the parlour, "Sergeant Henry Fisher as I live and breathe," he advanced with his hand outstretched, "I never imagined it would be you who took in my lad."

"Well, sir, it was my daughter- really," Henry grinned, "hello Colonel, how are you?"

Janey looked at Teddy, Phryne looked at Janey and Teddy just gaped.

"Henry was my batman, during the Boer War, at least until he was wounded and discharged as unfit. Sorry old man," Applegate shrugged, "but that shoulder …"

"Barely troubles me these days," Henry rolled his left shoulder.

"So, two lovely daughters," Applegate looked at Janey and Phryne, "your wife?" He looked round.

"She passed," Henry swallowed, "before we came over to England."

"Damn shame," Applegate shook his head sadly.

"Quite," Henry cleared his throat.

Phryne never imagined her father was medically discharged from the army, he never spoke about it, but, thinking about dates, and how old she was then he must have either been home on leave when he married her mother, or out of the army.

The atmosphere warmed up, once Lord Applegate knew who he was dealing with. The warmth with which his son had written about Janey had him worried that he was enamoured of someone well below his station but now he saw and understood.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Dinner was a lively affair, with stories from Henry and Lord Applegate's time in the Boer War, though Henry's was short. Henry said how proud he was of his elder daughter:

"Though running away to join up at such a tender age, was, I felt at first, a folly," he smiled across the table at her, "but Janey has also done a remarkable thing with the veterans …"

"These places have been so needed," Lord Applegate agreed, "to hospitals just get full of recovering soldiers and they need more than that. Teddy tells me Miss Janey has encouraged him to play the piano again …"

"Three handers, father," Teddy laughed, "we get by."

"We do more than get by, Teddy dear," Janey blushed, "we do rather well," she squeezed his hand, an action that didn't go unnoticed by the others round the table.

"We shall hear you, then, after dinner," Henry encouraged.

"Oh, er, really," Teddy cleared his throat.

"Capital!"

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Lord Applegate accepted the offer to stay more than the one night that was his original plan, and the weekend went rather well. He listened to Janey and Teddy play the piano, went out for a walk round the estate with Henry and a ride out with Phryne and by the end of his stay he felt he knew the Fisher family rather well, and liked them. If Teddy was serious about Miss Janey then he wouldn't stand in his way.