/ / - 1905 - / /
Prudence Stanley walked to her parlour with a polite smile spread across her lips. Her dear sister Margaret had come for morning tea as she always did on a Saturday, and Prudence walked in to greet her.
Her younger sister sat in her best clothes (that were actually rather faded and past their time) and next to her two little girls squirmed.
"Phryne, sit still," Margaret pleaded with her oldest daughter.
The little girl didn't appear to hear her, crawling on her hands and knees across the fine lounge to her little sister, pressing their faces close together and blowing a loud raspberry between her lips.
Gravel from the drive outside fell from her shoes and Margaret winced. "Phryne, please."
"Janey wants to play," the five year old retorted.
"And Mummy wants you both to sit still until Aunt Prudence lets you go and play. Sit up straight now and be quiet, darling."
Phryne pouted, but she sat properly and kept quiet. Prudence noticed that the girl's legs swung back and forth in silent defiance, but let it pass.
The maid came with tea, and Prudence allowed her nieces a biscuit each, watching them nibble at the treats with practiced reverence. She turned to her sister.
"I take it that there's been no word from-" she paused, casting her eye to Phryne, still so delicate from the departure "-him?"
"He's written," Margaret whispered. "He's a good boy Prudence, they're working him very hard. He's been sending us money as well, for the girls, but…"
The end of her sentence hung in the air. It didn't need to be said; Prudence knew exactly what happened to any money that found it's way into the Fisher's house.
"Hmm," she hummed her distaste. "And what about the girl?"
"Absolutely convinced he'll send for her to join him in Sydney. The other women on our street have begun to notice, I think. They'll figure it out soon, she won't be able to hide her belly much longer."
"Can't her mother send her off somewhere quiet? Perhaps the seaside would do the girl some good."
"They have no family to send her to," Margaret murmured and she sipped her tea. "They can't afford to send her to anyone else. In fact last week Mrs Thomas came to me and-"
Prudence frowned, "Yes?"
Margaret bit her lip. "Phryne darling, why don't you take Janey and try and find Nanny Jones and the boys?"
"They're upstairs in their room," Prudence added hastily, hoping to draw more information from her sister. "Miss Winters will take you."
The maid stepped from the corner with a kindly smile and held her hands out to the girls. Phryne ignored her, choosing instead to grab her small sister by the middle and carry her herself.
"Oh Phryne, do be careful," Margaret winced, watching as the two year old slowly slipped from her sister's arms.
Miss Winters bent down and scooped young Janey into her more stable embrace, then took Phryne by the hand and led them both away, leaving Prudence quite alone with her sister.
"What was I saying?" Margaret asked, her brow furrowed as she reached for her tea.
"Mrs Thomas came to see you."
Margaret nodded. She looked down into her teacup, gathering her courage, and when she spoke it was in the faintest of murmurs. "She asked me to take the baby, when it's born. She can't afford another mouth to feed, not since her husband lost his job."
"What did you say?"
"Well I can't afford it either, Prudence. And Janey's still so young. But now she's talking about leaving the baby at an orphanage, and I can't stand the thought of my grandchild growing up in one of those horrid places, Prudence," she began to cry. "I'm sorry. I don't know what to do. We can't take the babe in, you know what he's like, if we had another screaming babe to feed…"
"Oh there-there, Margaret, dear," Prudence stood and walked across the room to sit at her sister's side. She offered a fine handkerchief, and Margaret took it, drying her eyes and quickly blowing her nose.
"I don't know what to do, Prudence, I'm at my wit's end."
"Then we will figure this out, together," Prudence assured her. "Finish your tea, there we are. Tell me, when is this babe due?"
Margaret shakily brought her teacup to her lips and drank deeply. "Not until the new year. March, or April perhaps."
Prudence smiled to herself. "Well then," she said matter of factly, "I may just have a solution."
She rang the bell to the kitchen, and moments later the maid reappeared.
"Yes, Mrs Stanley?" the young woman asked. "Would you like more tea?"
"Miss Winters, tell me again what day your wedding will be," Prudence said, abruptly ignoring the maid's question.
Flushing slightly with excitement, Miss Winters answered neatly. "First of December, Mrs Stanley."
"Wonderful," Prudence said, "and are you hoping for children? You do so well I notice, with my young nieces."
"Oh yes, Mrs Stanley," Miss Winters nodded. "We do want children."
Prudence smiled smugly, "Thank you, Miss Winters. That is all."
Confused, the maid left and Margaret turned to face her sister.
"Prudence, you aren't suggesting…"
"Well finding a nice young family to take the babe in is a better option than an orphanage, surely," she argued. "Besides, I will be able to perhaps give the girl a small contribution for her kindness, and her discretion. And you will be able to trust the babe will be looked after."
Margaret bit her lip. Perhaps her sister was right. Perhaps this was the better option.
"Talk to Mrs Thomas," Prudence continued, "and suggest the idea to her. If she agrees I will put the idea to Miss Winters and her intended. This is your best choice, my dear."
Prudence lay a hand over her sister's, squeezing it, as slowly Margaret nodded.
"Yes," she murmured eventually, meeting her sister's gaze. "It seems it is. Thank you, Prudence."
/ / / - 1929 - / / /
Orpheus sat quite still, his jaw set firmly. Phryne placed her hand comfortingly over his.
"So what happened?" she asked her aunt.
"Mrs Thomas agreed to the idea and I spoke to Miss Winters and her fiance. It was arranged and fees were paid. Then, when the babe was born the next year, the midwife was paid to bring her to her new parents."
"And tell everyone else she had died," Orpheus said darkly. "All this time, Aunt Prudence, and you and mother both knew."
"It was the only way."
"I deserved to know the truth. Celia deserved to know the truth. A man has died, a good and innocent man, because this was kept from us both!"
Mrs Stanley was taken aback, surely whatever Miss Thomas had done did not come back to her.
"Aunt P?" Phryne asked, oddly calm in the light of what they'd just heard, "Was Miss Winters' first name Joan?"
Prudence frowned slightly, "Yes," she answered.
"And her husband, was his name William? William Baker?"
"I believe it was," Prudence told her, "Why? What does it matter?"
Phryne just beamed, her fingers gripping Orpheus's tightly in her excitement. "Because Aunt P, I had already found them. I was just trying to think of a delicate way to go about things before meeting them; but now we don't need that. We have proof!"
"Proof?"
"That their daughter is related to us," Phryne smiled. "You will introduce us."
"Introduce you? Phryne, you're not seriously considering meeting these people, are you?" Aunt Prudence asked incredulously. "There was an agreement! And think what this will mean, Phryne; think of the scandal!"
"Think of poor Orpheus who has spent the last twenty years of his life believing his daughter dead!" Phryne argued. "He deserves the chance to at least meet her, Aunt P, he's hardly going to take her from their arms and drag her off back to Sydney."
Mrs Stanley looked unconvinced, sniffing her distaste but offering no comment.
"You can help us or not, but you cannot persuade us against meeting them; with or without you Aunt P," Phryne said, matter of factly. "We were already planning on contacting them to arrange a meeting, when I- …went missing. Now that I know you knew this woman and made the arrangements with her, well there's no longer any need to wait at all, is there! I have the Baker's phone number upstairs, perhaps I should call them now," she began to stand.
"Phryne, sit down!" Her aunt exclaimed imploringly. "Please, think about what you are doing; what this could mean. What if they take this story to a newspaper, or a magazine?! What if they demand money? This could ruin a lot more for you than you know, my girl."
"Oh Prudence, shut up," Orpheus cut in suddenly, and the two women looked over at him in some shock. Phryne had to bite back a smile at her brother's swearing, God knew she had wanted to say the same words to her aunt more than once. Aunt Prudence however, looked completely livid.
"I did a lot more for you than you realise, young man." She told him sharply, "Your Uncle Edward wanted nothing to do with such a thing, and I can't say now that I blame him. But I went ahead with it against his wishes and paid the Baker's from my own pocket. You would have never known at all where to find the child without that; she would have been lost amongst the orphans."
"Don't act like what you did was for my benefit," Orpheus retorted. "But Phryne is right, you can introduce us or not, either way we will be meeting the Baker's. As soon as we can."
"Well that won't be anytime soon, will it?" Prudence clucked, "Not with Phryne looking like that."
Phryne winced, but swallowed hard and said quite firmly, "I believe you will find Aunt P, that I can work small miracles with my powder. I could meet them this afternoon if I wished."
"I will not take part in this, Phryne."
"You already have, Aunt P! You've played the biggest part in this. Don't forget this is your niece too."
"Great niece," Prudence corrected with a sniff.
"Yes," Phryne retorted. "Your great niece. The same as Jane."
Prudence stared at Phryne, into the imploring stare behind the harsh bruises across her face and neck. The sight of them had her stomach twisting. Poor dear Phryne and her lovely -though frightfully modern- looks. Resigned, she lowered her gaze and gave in.
"All right," Mrs Stanley sighed. "All right. Call them Phryne, and meet with them if you wish. I will not try to stop you."
"Will you join us?"
"I- I don't believe I should. Not yet."
Phryne nodded. "But if the girl wants to-"
"We will see," Prudence stood. "I do apologise Orpheus, that we let you believe the babe was dead all these years, but your mother and I- we thought it would be easier. We were wrong."
"Yes."
Orpheus and his aunt looked at each other carefully for a long minute, until eventually the older woman nodded stiffly, and made her leave.
"Well," Phryne said once she was alone with her brother again. "That was…"
Orpheus just nodded, running his hands over his face. "What now?" he asked her eventually.
Phryne placed a hand on his shoulder, "That's up to you I think, Orphie. What did you want to do?"
"I'd like to meet them."
She smiled. "Me too," she told him softly.
"But Prudence is right Phryne, you can't meet them like this," he turned, lifting a hand to brush back a lock of her hair, giving himself a clearer view of her bruises. "Makeup can only hide so much, and your eyes…"
Oh. Phryne felt her breath catch in surprise. Her eyes. She had forgotten.
"Dr Macmillan said it would fade," Orpheus reassured her, placing his hand over hers. "I can wait a few more days, Phryne."
"But you want to meet them now," Phryne whispered.
He looked away. Of course he did; ever since they had found their names in Phryne's telephone directory he'd been itching to go there without her.
When he looked back to his sister, Orpheus was surprised to see what looked like the beginnings of a smile pulling at her lips. He frowned at her, recognising that she had had an idea. But before he could ask, Phryne jumped to her feet and was rushing from the room, saying over her shoulder as she went.
"Stay right there!"
He stared after her as she disappeared around the corner and the sound of her footsteps rushed quickly up the stairs. Perhaps five minutes later he heard her descending them once more and she entered the room with a flourish, smiling brightly clutching a large brimmed hat to her head, and a pair of rounded sunglasses to her nose.
"What do you think?" she delighted.
He laughed. The hat was a complete mismatch to her silk blouse and red tweed skirt, but the idea was perfect.
Standing, Orpheus crossed the room to his sister and pressed a kiss to her cheek. "I think perhaps we should make that phone call."