A/N – A midnight stroll along the promontory, moon at the full, the gentle whisper of a sea breeze ruffling Jack's hair. Ah, sounds romantic, doesn't it? Not bloody likely!

No weeds were harmed in the making of this chapter. Nor singlets donned in the hot Australian sun. Sorry about that.

Please note: When I couldn't find out actual facts I made stuff up.

Chapter 8: A Definite Change in Circumstances

"There have been some interesting developments while you've been out gallivanting around." Phryne's voice came from the tiny kitchen, the rattle of crockery accompanying her pronouncement.

Jack flung his hat next to the ladies blue wool cloche that still adorned the sofa and moved to inspect the small fire grate on the opposite wall. The wind had picked up again while he'd been out and echoes of last night's storm snuck through the front door behind him as he returned, bringing a chill to the room.

He crouched down and poked the ash in the grate experimentally with a stick of kindling, sending a thin film of dust over his hands. He didn't notice. His brow was creased in thought.

Phryne appeared in the doorway holding a wicker-edged tray aloft, a triumphant smile adorning her face. The tray was stacked with mismatched cups, saucers and plates, the latter bearing a dazzling array of tempting tidbits that she had unearthed from the hamper. She gave the tray a little shake, hoping the resulting clatter would break Jack's silence, but he remained as he was, staring into the mess of grey powder.

Phryne's brows came together and she opened her mouth to ask what was wrong. But the frown morphed back into a grin when her eyes strayed beyond Jack to the two suitcases set just inside the front door. They were both muddy, and badly scratched and dented, but reassuringly familiar.

"Our luggage!" She placed the tray hurriedly onto the side table, before swinging back towards the cases. "Aren't you clever!"

"Leave them Phryne." Jack was on his feet in a flash, his fingers lightly encircling her wrist. She gave him a quizzical look, but stayed her movement towards them. Jack released his grip and hastily shoved his hands in his pockets, leaning a hip against the back of the sofa.

Phryne glanced between the cases and Jack, her face a picture of curiosity. "Where did you find them?"

"On our front doorstep, just now." Jack spoke quietly, the timbre of his voice particularly deep.

"How odd. I didn't hear anyone." Phryne stared at the cases for a moment before her eyes jumped to his face, uneasy. "How did they get there?"

Jack removed a hand from his pocket to run his fingers along his jaw distractedly, "That really is the question, isn't it?"

Phryne frowned and turned her attention back to the luggage. "I daresay we should have a look and make sure everything is there."

"Let me check them over first." Jack squatted and ran an eagle eye over the locks and hinges, more closely inspecting the bright silver scratches on the metal that could indicate whether the cases had been opened. He felt Phryne's presence at his back, her frustrated curiosity rendering her impatient. He shifted his weight to one knee, effectively placing himself between the cases and her, and consequently blocking her view. His tiny grimace when he heard her huff with annoyance may have been edged with a grim kind of satisfaction.

"Come on Jack, let me see."

"One minute more, Phryne, please." He bent in closer to inspect each suitcase, particularly the joins where the lids overlapped the bases, running a feather light touch along that part of each case. He could almost feel the waves of exasperation coming from the direction of his companion, but still he didn't speak.

"Good grief, Jack, what are you looking for? Booby traps?" Phryne joked, but when only silence met her enquiry, she froze, her voice dropping to a whisper. "Are you Jack? Looking for booby traps?"

Jack gave a shake of his head in reply, only the whistle of a sharp westerly disturbing the scene. It took a few moments longer of careful scrutiny before the tension finally left his shoulders and he was satisfied that there was no obvious threat. He ran his hands over the locks of his own case, using his thumbs to release both catches at once. The sharp report of the spring loaded catches made Phryne jump despite herself, and he glanced dryly over his shoulder at her before opening the case more fully.

He eyed the jumble of clothes with misgiving, "Well, someone's obviously had a good look through mine."

Jack repeated the action with the other suitcase and a riotous froth of colour and lingerie met his eye. He hastily closed the lid and stacked the cases one flat on top of the other before unfolding himself from the floor.

Phryne rubbed her hands along her upper arms, the goose bumps she found there not entirely due to the coolness in the tiny cottage.

"Do you really think we're in immediate danger?"

"I'm not sure." Jack looked troubled. "There was something odd about the way the bloke with the rifle acted last night. He had a sniper's walk; soft-footed, but sure." Jack took in Phryne's worried frown and went on more moderately. "Whatever was in the wind last night, it's difficult to believe whoever had a good look through the bags did so with an honest eye." With a grunt of effort, he hefted both cases up, and carried them through to the bedroom, the bed being only place large enough to lay them out flat to have a proper look.

Phryne lingered in the doorway and leant against the jamb, her arms crossed over her chest. Her eyes narrowed as she watched him set down the cases, his movements deliberate and steady.

"Just what did you do in the war, Jack Robinson?" Her tone was as speculative as the look she was giving him, and Jack found both disconcerting.

He did his best to make light of the enquiry, "No more, or less, than most other men."

Her eyes narrowed suspiciously, but it was not the right time to explore his response. "Hmm. I'll let you get away with that. For now."

The threat of further interrogation only spurred Jack into a more comprehensive review of his belongings. "Damn, the binoculars I packed are gone." He uttered with irritation. He continued taking careful inventory of his possessions behind the cover of the suitcase's lid.

Phryne watched him for a moment longer, before moving to the other side of the bed and flinging open her own case. She wasted little time on examining the contents, giving her clothes the merest flick through.

"Dot packed my bag, so I'm not entirely sure which clothes she ended up putting in. We bought so much on our shopping spree! I only added a few essential personal items at the last minute, but there does seem to be a couple of things missing."

"Like what?"

"Well, I had a rather lovely set of mother-of-pearl and silver travelling brushes that don't appear to be here."

Jack inclined his head in sympathy at their loss. "No doubt the temptation for a little easy money was too strong for whoever found it?"

Phryne continued her desultory inspection, poking a hand in each of the corners before uttering a dismayed, "Oh."

Jack glanced up, distracted. "What is it?"

"My Dutch cap is missing."

"Haven't you got another one?" Jack asked, waving a hand in the general direction of the navy blue cloche she'd discarded earlier. "How many hats do you need?"

"It's not a hat, Jack. It's my family planning device." Phryne's delivery was matter-of-fact, but devilry danced in her eyes. Jack made a choking sound, his face flushing bright red. Phryne continued playfully, "But perhaps that has no bearing on the case."

Jack's hand shook a little as he ran his fingers across his brow, trying to disguise the sudden dry mouth that had him swallowing convulsively. "You just come out with things like that to make me squirm, don't you?"

"Of course! Your reaction is always so delightful."

"I really wish you wouldn't." As the words were uttered, Jack realised Phryne would more than likely only take that as a challenge, and her next words confirmed his fears.

"But you're so utterly sweet when you're embarrassed. I could never deny myself that pleasure."

Jack shut his suitcase – and his mouth - with a snap, lost for words and far too discomfited to for the thought to even form as to why Phryne would pack such a thing in the first place.

Phryne left her belongings where they were and touched his arm as she sidled past, remarking with her usual sang froid, "Come along Jack, our tea will be getting cold."

Taking a seat on the sofa, Phryne made a show of pouring two cups of tea, handing Jack his cup once she'd made it the way she knew he liked. "It's actually quite disturbing. Whoever left the suitcases here may actually have been tied up with our little contretemps last night."

Jack took a sip of tea before replying, giving himself a moment or two to regain his composure. He was left inevitably wondering whether the appearance of their cases could be merely a coincidence or constituted a threat. It felt like a threat. "And they know that we're here."

Phryne held out the plate of savoury pastries, her grin just shy of a smirk. "That could make things interesting."

Jack's smile in reply was a little strained. "No need to sound so enthusiastic about the prospect."

"Jack," she admonished as he bit into a curry puff, "You know I would never choose the quiet life."

His reply was lost around the last of the pastry, but his eye roll was easily discerned. He swiped the crumbs from his lips with a cloth napkin Phryne passed to him.

"It could all be perfectly innocent of course." But she was frowning, despite her optimism.

Jack chose to remain silent but his lips curled cynically as he took another pastry, inspecting it with an epicure's eye.

Phryne watched him polish off the treat before continuing. "It's not totally inconceivable that our things fell of the cart when the horse bolted, or the cart itself was found. One of the staff could have just found them when they were out looking for us, simply put two and two together and quite rightly delivered them here when they realised where we were."

"Possible, although they were strapped on good and tight on that cart so I doubt they fell off, even with the speed that poor horse put on after the bullets started flying." His expression darkened. "And one might reasonably expect a cart full of bullet holes to elicit a comment or two had it been discovered by an innocent party." Jack settled back in his seat and absently patted his midsection. "I had a good chat with most of the outdoor staff while I was out, introduced myself around, that sort of thing. Nobody mentioned anything untoward." He finished off the last of his tea in a gulp and looked hopefully at the teapot. Phryne obliged without comment, her sidelong glance at him accompanied by an amused expression.

Jack continued in a more conversational tone, "By the way, I tracked down young Harry in the stables and our communiques have gone out. He's a good kid."

"Did you learn anything of note from your excursion?"

"Not a word about the murder, or anything related to our little adventure, except some rather ribald comments about how – er – where we spent the night." Jacked huffed through his embarrassment. "I was able to put together a fairly comprehensive list of the recently departed guests. I've sent it off to Collins to see if he could find out anything about them that might relate to criminal activity."

"Excellent. I'm sure Dot will be close at hand to render whatever assistance she can." Phryne tried to deliver that information without any mirth colouring her voice, and failed.

Jack smiled widely, both at Phryne's amusement at the idea of Dot being 'close at hand' to assist Hugh, and in anticipation of his partner's reaction to the other information he'd collected. "There was some talk about some fishing vessels coming in to a couple of the islands just below the promontory here during the past few weeks, and again last night. Apparently there's a sandbar that usually keeps the deeper hulled boats away, so the locals were a bit surprised at the activity." He paused for effect. "Guess what the name of the island is?"

Phryne leant forward in her seat, the scent of a trail putting a sparkle in her eyes. "Rotomah Island? The same island our two tweedy 'friends' at the hotel spoke of?"

Jack nodded with satisfaction and stood, looking for his overcoat which he spotted on a hook near the front door. He rifled through the pockets until he found the map of the area. "One and the same. I plan to take a midnight stroll and see if I can spot any activity."

"We can take a midnight stroll." Phryne's tone was ruffled, but she deflated a little when Jack looked pointedly at her bandaged foot, now propped on couple of cushions on the floor. Jack took his place next to her on the sofa and spread the map out over their knees, his voice distracted while he familiarised himself once again with the coastline. "I am not offering to carry you again. It would hardly make for a covert manoeuvre."

"I think I could manage it Jack." Phryne picked at the frayed arm of the sofa dejectedly. "I'd rather come with you than stay here and be a sitting duck while you're gone."

Jack grimaced, accepting that there was a potential risk either way. He considered the pros and cons, finally admitting to himself that he actually found it much less stressful when he could keep an eye on her anyway. "Fair point," he conceded, "Perhaps it's best you come along after all. We'll take it easy, but -" he gave her one of his best severe detective inspector looks, "- you must promise to do as you're told or I'm sending you back on the first train the Melbourne in the morning."

Phryne beamed back at him and solemnly used her index finger to make a cross sign just above her left breast, which merely made Jack raise his eyebrows with skepticism. Her humour restored, she spread some potted cheese on a biscuit and crunched it with enthusiasm, feeling somewhat disloyal to Mr Butler as she enjoyed its robust flavour. Jack had his head bent over the stiff paper of the map, squinting at the tiny print. She found herself studying the waves and stray curls his afternoon's activities had left of his usually so well constrained hair style.

"How are you at interpreting maps, Miss Fisher? There's something here I can't quite make out."

Phryne was snapped out of her reverie, and answered gaily, glad of the distraction. "Quite good, in fact! I was acquainted," she flicked a quick, eloquent glance at Jack who returned the look with a distinct lack of expression, "with a rather famous cartographer for a short while when I lived in London."

"Of course you were." Jack deadpanned.

"Actually, he was rather more infamous than famous." Recollection of the liaison lent her voice a raspy tinge which in turn gravelled Jack's impatient response.

"The map, Miss Fisher?"

Phryne ignored the acerbity in his voice and bent her head closer to his while they each studied the steep declivities below the homestead that quickly gave way to a graded shoreline. A narrow strip of land jutted out abruptly from the shore, reaching out towards Rotomah Island but falling short by several hundred yards. Phryne followed a strip of palest blue with a slender forefinger as it swooped past a number of unnamed islets as well as the one currently the focus of their attention like an algebraic curve.

"The sandbar is plain to see, at least, although the depth around there could have changed since this map was drawn if the currents are strong enough on a regular basis. There's a symbol here I've never come across. Like a double "s" struck through diagonally." She lifted her head, almost bumping noses with Jack, but neither was inclined to pull back. Like the pull of a magnet, Phryne felt her eyes drawn to Jack's mouth, and was briefly distracted, pulling herself together after a moment or two. "I'm not familiar with it, I'm afraid." She said, referring of course to the marking on the map.

Jack swallowed, his pulse quickening as his eyes flicked inevitably to her lips. He continued to be transfixed as he attempted to parse an intelligent answer. "Hmm. It'll have to remain a mystery for now." He said, referring of course to the marking on the map. "If we station ourselves at the top of the bluff we might be lucky enough to experience some nocturnal activity."

They broke eye contact self-consciously, and Jack made a little harrumph and touched the knot of his tie as if it was too tight. They each leaned back in their seat.

Jack decided it was time to change the subject. "What was it that you were going to tell me when I came back earlier?"

Phryne was pensive, and only half heard his question. "Hmm?"

"You said there had been some interesting developments?"

Phryne's gaze swung towards him, surprised, and momentarily worried that he'd been reading her thoughts. "Nothing anywhere near as exciting as your discoveries, I assure you." Phryne smoothed the skirt of her dress along her thighs and adjusted her injured foot on its cushions.

"Merely that Mrs Drummond sent over some silk sheets. I shall sleep like a baby tonight."

So for the second time is as many nights Jack found himself once again concealed in a shallow ditch, with The Honourable Phryne Fisher prone at his side, her shoulder against his and her hip tantalisingly near. But the rain held off, though the wind whipped their hair around their faces, and they waited for something to happen.