Sollan, thank you for your comment! This story was actually written (and posted elsewhere) over a year ago, but I seem to recall that there is a bit more of Jane in the next few chapters.
The following Monday, Phryne spoke with the registrar and provided him with the banns to post, stopped by the House of Fleuri to arrange her outfit, and spoke with Ed Prentice about the situation.
"I must say that I'm surprised," Ed said, "but I can see no reason it would be unacceptable."
He provided her with the appropriate documents, explained the process, and arranged a date for one of his colleagues to visit Wardlow and speak with them both, then smiled and wished her well. She left the office feeling far more competent than she had entered.
One of the requirements was a medical examination, so Phryne asked Mac to come around that afternoon. Her oldest friend sat in her preferred armchair and stared at Phryne as if she had lost her mind when the details were revealed. Then she turned to Anthony, quietly playing on the floor nearby, then back at Phryne.
"What has that fool Jack Robinson done now?" Mac asked. "I mean, it's clear that he's besotted—"
"Is he?" Phryne asked. "I thought he might have been, but then…" She shrugged, thanking Mr. Butler for the tea tray he brought in. "He doesn't seem to be. Don't get me wrong, Jack would make an excellent father. He's strict but fair, and so even-tempered it's unnatural. But this wasn't his idea."
Mac's look of utter disbelief made Phryne laugh.
"I thought you didn't understand the appeal of children?"
"I don't. But it's... the right thing to do. I don't know how else to describe it, Mac."
Her friend clucked. "This is far too big a thing to leave upon a fancy."
"It's not a whim. We've talked it through, and…" Phryne sighed in irritation at her own vagueness. "I never understood the appeal of tying oneself to another human being, and yet I have. Would I have come back to Melbourne and inserted myself into investigations if I had realised what would eventually come of it? That's difficult to say; the me who is here now would, a hundred times over. But the woman I was then? Perhaps not."
"The world would be a much grimmer place if you hadn't," Mac said, uncharacteristically sombre.
"But I did. And this is… it's the same thing, really. It's right."
Mac poured two cups of tea, offering one to Phryne, then leaned back in her chair and stared.
"Why?"
"Why is it right?" Phryne asked, confused.
"Why him," clarified Mac, and with the familiarity of long friendship Phryne understood.
"You mean, why him and not some wayward Aggie Collins sort," she said, then smiled slightly. "I love the Aggies of the world; heaven knows I am one. But really, Mac, are any of us surprised when it's the quiet, bookish, hurt ones that secure their place in my life?"
Jack. Jane. Even dear timid Dot, once upon a time.
Mac shook her head. "You do have a point."
Their discussion was interrupted by the front door opening; it was Jack, and upon seeing him Anthony was on his feet and running.
"Dack!"
Jack smiled broadly and scooped the boy into his arms, asking him about his day as Jack hung his hat up and came into the parlour.
"Doctor MacMillan," he greeted Mac, then gave Phryne a kiss on the cheek. "Evening, love."
"Good day?"
"The commissioner has miraculously approved my request for leave, beginning tomorrow. I'll be up all night making sure all the paperwork is up-to-date, and I suspect I'll be called in unofficially if there is progress in certain cases. But for the most part, you two have me until Easter."
"Wonderful," Phryne replied, reaching up to give his hand a squeeze.
He smiled lopsidedly in return, then excused himself to make tea. Phryne watched him leave, Anthony still in arms, and felt her heart stutter—you two. It was not intimidating in the least.
"Your sense of obligation is unrivalled, Phryne," Mac said dryly, helping herself to a slice of cake from the tray.
"Does that mean you'll do the examinations for us?"
"If I didn't, some other poor blighter would."
"I'd like it to be you."
Mac nodded. "Of course I will. Though I can't be entirely certain I won't conclude a hideous case of madness."
"I'm still wondering that myself," Phryne replied, sipping her tea. "It really cannot be entirely ruled out."
—
"I would expect this sort of thing from my niece, but you, inspector?"
Prudence Stanley was sitting in the largest chair in her largest parlour, staring at them both with a disbelieving look upon her face.
"It really is so terribly unfortunate that the original marriage details were mislaid, Mrs. Stanley," Jack said diplomatically.
The society matron narrowed her eyes, clearly doubting his veracity.
"You'll allow me to arrange a proper event—"
"No, Aunt P," Phryne said emphatically. "We appreciate the thought, but we'd rather not have our affairs known to all of Melbourne society. Think of the scandal! We'll marry in the registrar's office at the courthouse and no more needs to be said on the matter."
Mrs. Stanley huffed, but Jack swore he noticed a hint of a smile behind it. "I will attend, of course."
"Of course, Aunt P. If our elopement hadn't been so spontaneous we would have had you there the first time."
Jack wondered, briefly, whether Mrs. Stanley realised that her niece's voice become increasingly higher pitched the bigger the lies she told; she'd nearly reached the sort of tones beyond the range of human hearing with that one.
"Whatever prompted you to discover the error after all this time, my girl?"
Phryne's hand flexed in her lap; Jack shifted to lay a hand upon her knee, but stopped himself. If Phryne wanted his intervention, she would ask.
"We're adopting Anthony," she said; her voice was far steadier than he would have expected.
To his great surprise, Prudence Stanley nearly leapt from her seat and crossed the room to hug Phryne, who was equally shocked by the response.
"I… take it you approve?" she managed.
"Approve, Phryne? I am positively delighted!"
Jack did his very best not to laugh out loud at Phryne's reaction.
"How wonderful!" Mrs. Stanley was chirping. "A new child in the family after so long."
Jack vaguely remembered that Phryne's cousin Guy and his wife did not have children, which having met Guy was probably a blessing in disguise. But it was likely a disappointment for Mrs. Stanley, who despite her class-consciousness and strict sense of propriety was a loving woman who adored children. He'd seen the maid's little boy—Patrick, he thought—several times since Prudence had hired his mother after the case with the convent, and the usually fierce Prudence was exceptionally kind to him. And Anthony had been very fond of her on the occasions she had visited the house, which was unusual enough to note.
As they left Rippon Lea half an hour later, Prudence's words still echoing in their ears, Phryne sent him a look of consternation.
"It would be nice if one person just said 'How lovely. Congratulations. Have a biscuit.' and moved onto another topic."
"She's excited, love."
"She's excited. Dot gushed. Cec is so soft you can imagine his reaction, and Bert was actually worse. I feel like I've lost my mind."
Jack glanced at her, making sure it was more amused exasperation than genuine upset, then smiled.
"Your aunt wasn't that bad," he pointed out reasonably.
"You would say that. When you excused yourself to use the facilities I was subjected to a ten minute diatribe about the importance of a healthy diet. I've never voluntarily cooked a day in my life, but she was insistent."
"She's helping in the way she knows best."
Phryne sighed, flopping back into her seat. "I know, and she's always wondered if Arthur's problems could have been avoided if she'd done something differently. But the point remains."
"Perhaps we'll have more luck with my mother?" Jack suggested, and Phryne perked up considerably.
"She is still coming to dinner tonight?"
"I believe so. She's meeting Ivy at the train station, but she should be at the house by eight."
"Oh good," she said, relaxing back into her seat. "At least your mother is sensible."
—
Phryne had dressed for dinner three times, even going as far as asking Jack his opinion as she re-entered the parlour. Jack pointed out that it was a casual meal with his mother, and chances were very good he'd be in shirtsleeves because of the heat.
"You're right," Phryne said, casting a glance at her attire. "This is far too formal."
Jack caught her arm as she went to change for a fourth time, pulling her in for a hug.
"You look lovely, Phryne, and mum wouldn't care if you didn't," he said quietly, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. "Come sit with me, just for a moment?"
Phryne took a deep breath against his chest.
"I'm fine, Jack," she said. "I'm just not entirely certain what I'll do if your mother disapproves. I thought Aunt Prudence would, and she was much better than expected really. And heaven knows what Mother and Father will say, and I'd rather gnaw off my own leg than give it any consideration. But I like your mum, and she's never been anything but kind to me."
She looked up at him, eyes pleading. It was not a look he saw often, maybe half a dozen times in the entirety of their acquaintance, and he sighed. She'd faced down killers and career criminals, but her own doubts were where she stumbled.
"Phryne Fisher, I have saved you from barricaded saunas and crazed killers. Do you really think I wouldn't face down my mother for you if you needed it?"
She laughed, her entire body relaxing. "I think your mother might be the most terrifying enemy to date."
"That's because she's not the enemy, love," Jack said. "She's just my mother, and she adores you almost as much as I do."
"So you adore me, do you?" she teased lightly, her nervousness gone in an instant.
"Utterly and completely, and if we weren't expecting company in five minutes, I'd prove it," replied Jack, eyes never leaving hers; the intensity of the connection had the desired effect, because she inhaled sharply, pupils dilated, tongue darting out to lick her lips.
Jack lowered his head to kiss her, chuckling against her lips when she moved to meet him halfway. It was languid and sweet and begging him to whisk her upstairs to bed, or possibly have her right there; if there wasn't a knock on the door at that exact moment he likely would have.
"I do not know how people do that," Phryne muttered mutinously. "Can we send her away?"
Mr. Butler announced the arrival of Mrs. Robinson, and Jack smirked. They were Tobias and Mairi to each other, but there were conventions that the man was not willing to ignore. The world could be ending and he'd make formal introductions and a pot of tea.
"Hullo, dearies! I'm nae interrupting, am I?"
"She's as smug as you are," Phryne hissed to him, then smiled and hugged her.
"Mairi! Did Ivy make the train?"
"Aye. She's at home now, catching a kip. Says the train takes it right out of her."
"I do wish she'd allow me to upgrade her tickets to first class."
Mairi shook her head ruefully. "The Robinson pride prevents it…"
Phryne laughed. The two women moved towards the dining room, still talking, and Jack followed silently behind. Dinner was served; beef Wellington so delicious it would make grown men weep, and perfectly done vegetables. Mr. Butler was clearing the table when Mairi wiped her mouth with her napkin and looked at Jack.
"Out with it, Jackie."
Jack opened his mouth. Closed it. Opened it again. "Uh…"
Beside him, Phryne snickered at his reaction, then patted his knee and smiled graciously.
"Mairi, we have decided to make our arrangement with Anthony permanent."
"Have you now?" Mairi asked. "That's lovely. Of course, if you would like me to extend my visit to Melbourne, I'm more than happy to. Did Mr. Butler say that there was pavlova for dessert?"
Phryne shot Jack a look, clearly thinking of her comments after the visit to Mrs. Stanley that afternoon, and he shook his head slightly. He'd absolutely not put his mother up to that reaction. He leaned in to whisper into her ear.
"The two of you are remarkably alike," he said quietly, thankful his mother had gone that route and not the victoriously crowing alternative.
Dessert and after-dinner drinks passed as they usually did; the topic of Anthony and the necessary wedding came up, but did not overpower the conversation more than any other subject. There was a lively debate about an artist Jack had never heard of, childhood stories, books they had all read. By the end of the evening, Phryne was slightly tipsy and giggling like mad.
"I love you, Mairi," she said, giving the woman a hug as she prepared to head home.
Mairi hugged her back, casting a glance as Jack at the same time.
"Relieved," Jack mouthed, feeling guilty for betraying even such a small detail, and Mairi nodded.
"Now, I'll be by tomorrow afternoon to take Anthony for an ice cream. You'll come with us?"
Phryne hummed. "I do have quite a bit to arrange."
"Another time then, dearie," his mum said, patting her on the cheek.
Phryne agreed, then said her goodbyes and moved back to the parlour, leaving Jack and his mother alone in the hall.
"Do you need me to drive you back to the flat?" he asked.
"Donnae trouble yourself, Jack. I'm quite capable. Stay with yer family tonight."
She drew Jack into an embrace, standing on her tiptoes to do so.
"I said to ye," she whispered into his ear. "I said."
Jack rolled his eyes. "Yes mum, you said."
"He's a bonnie lad."
"He is."
Mairi pulled away, looking him directly. Her eyes were slightly watery, and based on the sudden lump in his throat Jack was entirely sure his weren't as well.
"I'm happy for ye both," she said. "A new little Fisher-Robinson."
And at that, Jack was certain that the stinging in his eyes was tears.
—
On the second Thursday in January, Phryne stood alone in the boudoir considering her reflection. She'd chosen a red tweed suit—calf length skirt and a jacket, both with leather buttons down the front—with a cowl-necked silk blouse beneath, and a cream and red cloche and matching t-strap Mary Janes. She completed the look with her signature red lips, a slightly darker shade than usual, and small drop earrings.
You can be married or buried in a good quality suit, Mme Fleuri had once told Dot; nobody in that room would have predicted that the suit-wearing bride would be Phryne.
She took a deep breath, smiling slightly; she had expected some doubt, but all she felt was a deep and abiding sense of peace. Glancing at the clock, she realised it was time to go. The rest of the family had been driven to the courthouse by Bert and Cec, leaving only the bride and groom to make their way. After the ceremony they would arrive at the Windsor for a luncheon, and then Mairi would take Anthony back to Wardlow while the couple spent the evening in a hotel suite.
Phryne headed down, finding Jack already waiting at the foot of the stairs, hat in hand. He wore a grey suit, one usually reserved for court appearances, and a red and cream tie. As she reached the bottom step she reached out to adjust it, unable to resist the urge to touch him. Tie straightened—as if it had been crooked to begin with—she laid her palm against his chest, feeling his heart beating beneath it.
"Do you have the ring?" she asked quietly.
He patted his pocket, then nodded, seemingly at a loss for words. She'd seen the ring, of course; it was an unobtrusive Art Deco style with sapphires and onyx, small enough that she could wear it without comment. Jack had asked her if she'd minded the purchase, assuring her that she was free to wear it or not, but he had seen it and thought of her.
"I thought you might like the reminder that you are always you," he had said, the tips of his ears blushing slightly.
"It's perfect," Phryne had replied, and meant it.
In her handbag, Phryne had a small sapphire and onyx tie pin; they had decided that a ring was impractical given his job, and would reveal too much to potential suspects. Nobody would notice a piece of jewelry on a woman, but it would be remarkable on a man. He'd seemed slightly disappointed with the conclusion though, so Phryne had purchased the tie pin, thinking that he might like the reminder that she always had his back, even if she was not there.
He still had not spoken, so she took his hat from his hands and placed it rakishly on his head.
"There," she exhaled, her heart thudding at the look on his face. She brushed her thumb against his cheek. "Perfect."
"You… you look incredible, Phryne."
She had a feeling that he would have said the same if she'd come down the stairs in nothing but a burlap sack, and with equal sincerity. She pressed a chaste kiss against his lips, determined not to be delayed.
"It's time," she said.
The journey was short; Phryne drove the Hispano, stealing small glances at Jack as she did so. His head was tilted back against the seat, eyes closed and the small hint of a smile on his lips as he basked in the summer sunlight. He was so handsome.
"Eyes on the road please, Miss Fisher," he said dryly, not stirring from his repose. "Otherwise we may never get there alive."
She laughed, assuring him that she had every intention of bothering him with her driving for years to come, and his smile grew. They arrived soon enough, and Phryne parked before alighting; Jack met her on the pavement in front of the courthouse.
They looked up at the enormous building.
"Together?" he asked, motioning the stone staircase with a familiar tilt of his head.
His eyes were filled with tenderness and adoration and awe, and she reached for his arm.
"I wouldn't have it any other way."
