Chapter 5
Summary: The press strikes again...and Phryne has a plan.
"Keep your voices down, you two!"
Dot scolded the cabbies in a hushed tone that was accentuated by a threatening wave of the wooden spoon she was using to attack a bowl of some fruit scone batter. She evidently communicated her warning loud and clear since the red raggers immediately clamped their mouths shut. The two then swiftly doffed their hat and cap and seated themselves with considerably less commotion after having stampeded their way through the backdoor into the kitchen.
"Sorry, Dottie," Bert mumbled with genuine contrition as Mr Butler placed a tantalizing frittata in the middle of the table. "We just thought everyone might want to see the headlines straight away." He nodded at the newspapers that he had just stacked onto one of the empty seats.
"Miss Phryne is still resting, and with everything that's been happening these horrible past few days, you two are not going to disturb her if I have anything to do it with it!"
"We also have some 'goss' that we picked up that might interest her," Cec added significantly just as a knock sounded on the door that the cabbies had left open.
"Morning, Hugh!" Dot beamed at the sight of her beau. "Come on in and have some breakfast with us, we were just about to start." She quickly moved to offer him a seat after he had responded with greetings to everyone in the room.
"Why does he get a sunny welcome, and we get the wooden spoon treatment?" Bert huffed as he shovelled a hefty helping of Mr B's perfect concoction onto his plate.
"Maybe because he actually knocked first?" Jane pointed out matter-of-factly after watching the cabbies' exchange with a grin. Cec responded with a wink before taking a long sip of coffee, ignoring the glare of disdain from his partner.
"Good morning!" The sprightly tones reached them before Miss Fisher appeared in the other doorway wrapped in a newly acquired Chinoiserie-inspired silk robe. "Ah, and it looks to be a full house."
She was met with hearty greetings all around, and beamed when her eyes alighted on the sole constabulary figure at the table.
"Did Inspector Robinson reach his destination all right, Hugh?"
"Morning, miss," the constable chimed back with one of his shy smiles as he gratefully accepted a steaming cup of tea from Dot. "And, ah, I'm actually not sure yet."
"Oh, of course, you're only just on your way to the station." Miss Fisher stepped inside the room and nonchalantly claimed a piece of toast from the plate Mr Butler had just placed at the head of the table for her. "Plus, we must allow for travel time. Although, I actually cannot recall how long he mentioned that it should take him to arrive." Her eyebrows scrunched together whilst she cocked her head exaggeratedly as though she were intensely trying to recall what the inspector had told her of his itinerary.
"Oh, do you mean to his fishing hut, miss? I think it's over halfway from here to the Yarra Ranges." Hugh eagerly volunteered.
"That's a good hour and a half drive or so," Bert commented without looking up from the newspaper he had started reading. "Maybe two depending on traffic and who knows what as it's all country roads once you get closer to the ranges."
"Yar, that sounds about right. Alice's cousin's husband has an alpine cottage around there between Warburton and Lillydale," Cec confirmed. "In fact, we've been meaning to head out there for a spell soon, I mean, whenever I could take some leave, of course, Miss Fisher."
"How lovely," Dot responded dreamily as she straightened herself up from placing the baking pan into the oven. "I've heard that the whole upper Yarra can make you feel like you're in a fairy tale."
"That's what Alice said," Cec agreed. "It's become a 'honeymoon town' now according to her cousin." He swallowed another bite of frittata. "Which is another reason I'd like to take her since we haven't really had the chance to have a proper honeymoon yet."
"I hope that you can take up Alice's family's offer soon, Cec," Dot spoke wistfully as she looked over at Miss Fisher for confirmation only to find her dear friend and employer had turned white as the next batch of scone batter she was mixing up. "Miss Phryne? What is it?"
All eyes in the room immediately swept over towards Miss Fisher, who had still not uttered a sound. She was clutching at one of the newspapers, her tea and toast abandoned to the side, perusing the front page like her next breath depended on it. Once she finished, she dropped it and snatched up the next one. The others sensed the growing tension emanating from her and kept silent. Except for Mr Butler who had suddenly disappeared, the others rapidly glanced about at one another silently urging someone to break the spell.
"I can't believe the lies they are printing! They've nuanced everything so that it sounds like real allegations have been made about me rescinding my objection to Foyle's parole and paving the way for him get off the hook. It's all poppycock, of course!"
Phryne's hands began to shake slightly as her mind accusingly dragged her back barely a month previously when she had come so perilously close to considering that very thing. At the time, she had appealed to Mr Butler and Jack for direction and both men had stalwartly believed in her own ability to navigate back to true north. Suddenly, she had such an intense longing to hear the inspector knocking at the door to join them all. But, instead, he would now be miles and miles away indefinitely.
Mr Butler then magically re-appeared by her side with a crystal tumbler. "Perhaps a little something extra to fortify your tea this morning wouldn't go amiss, at the moment, Miss?" She smiled gratefully at him for his usually adept insight.
Jane then stood up and approached her guardian with her special brand of determination. "Don't pay any mind to what they might be trying to say, Miss Phryne," the girl reassured her as she gently laid a hand on Phryne's arm. "We all know it's utter rubbish."
At the sound of her ward's worried tone, Phryne immediately let the publication go to take her foster daughter's hand. "Yes, of course, you're absolutely right, Jane. I'm simply scandalized that the press seems to know too many intimate details and are choosing to cash in on my privacy just to sell headlines."
"That's also why we dropped by this morning, miss," Cec interrupted gingerly. "Bert and me found out a possible golden lead about all that as that's been bothering us so much too."
"Go on, Cec," Phryne prompted them as Jane returned to her seat and the others resumed their breakfast. "And thank you for taking the initiative to look into it on my behalf."
"Not at all, miss." The younger cabbie blushed. "It's the least we can try to do to help out."
"Basically, last night, we put the word out to see if we could find out who the snitch is out there, you know, the one responsible for leaking all your private doings to the world," Bert launched into their method. "We pretended to have some info to tell, you know, as bait like."
"Very clever, Bert." Miss Fisher nodded approvingly buoyed by both the whisky and her adopted family's support.
"And, it paid off, so far, anyway, 'cause our mate, 'Big Pete' down at the wharfie pub done told us that some bloke by the name of 'Stormy Normy' might be interested."
"But, he don't ever meet up with sources face-to-face," Cec continued to take up the tale. "Said it's all arranged via dropped off notes, sounds real cloak and dagger like."
"Excellent work, gentlemen!" Phryne praised them effusively as she quickly reached for one of the discarded newspapers. "'Norm,' you say? Sounds like that could be short for 'Norman,' and possibly, one N. Peale whose byline has shown up again under the less savoury articles about me in the Daily Star."
"So what now, miss?" Bert asked.
"Since you dangled the bait so well, let's go do some fishing!"
~oOo~
Early evening arrived finding an extremely irritated Miss Fisher pacing her parlour, the evening edition of the news gripped in one hand and an empty cocktail glass in the other. The Daily Star's mysterious reporter named N. Peale had struck yet again with another damning and salacious article. She then crumpled the page in a mixture of fear and anger wishing she could burn it and every other copy out there. But, it was too late because the image of that letter that would forever be emblazoned in her mind was now providing low-form entertainment to all of Melbourne and whatever godforsaken region this sick excuse of journalism reached. How did the publishers get hold of it though? She had destroyed the letter Foyle had sent to her with Jack as her witness!
The thought of her partner focused her rage onto the upstart writer who had had the audacity to make unfounded allusions to her connection with the Victorian Police by naming and questioning her connection to one Senior Detective Inspector Jack Robinson. It was certainly one thing to drag her name and reputation through the mud. But now, it went beyond the pale for them to be questioning Jack's credentials and integrity! She was both relieved, yet frustrated by his absence from town as a result of this latest smearing by the press.
Feeling suddenly dizzy, possibly from this latest article that had her reeling and drinking on an empty stomach, Phryne dropped onto the nearest chair, emptied her hands and then hunched over to rub at her throbbing temples. For the rest of the day, she had remained strong as usual for the rest of her household after the others had also glanced through the news sheets. She had taken Dot and Jane out for a brief shopping trip to take all their minds off all that had been happening, but the fact they were being followed quickly dampened that idea. By evening, they still had not heard anything new from her solicitors or Bert and Cec's lead.
Phryne then realized that she was feeling extra out of sorts because she had come to rely on Jack's ready listening ear so often of late. And she felt rather concerned at how much she was missing his quiet reassurance now that she couldn't avail herself of his presence. She knew that he was facing his own internal and external pressures at the moment and felt momentarily guilty for wishing she could continue to burden him with her own. One tiny part of her also couldn't help wondering whether his absence was for personal reasons involving her and Jack's desire to distance himself from the unwarranted attention intruding into his normally private life.
Phryne suddenly shook her head resolutely. Right, if there was one thing she refused to be associated with, it was wallowing! Springing up, she then marched out to her entry hall to telephone Mac at the hospital hoping to invite her dear friend over so she could pour out all her anxiousness. She had to admit that things were taking their toll as she tried to deal with her continued fear of where or how Foyle might strike next alongside facing the press and public's suspicions that she might have anything to do with it. Unfortunately, Mac was booked in for a double shift that evening.
"I don't like any of this one bit, Phryne," the doctor lamented. "And now you've got this other suspicious character prowling about your place too? And I'm concerned about these absurd allegations piling up on top of it all. If I hadn't committed to this double shift, I'd be right over, sweetheart."
"Try not to worry, Mac," Phryne had tried to reassure her friend. "I'll manage just fine. Haven't I always?"
"I suppose," Mac grudgingly admitted. "I just hate the idea of you trying to shoulder all this on your own, especially with all that's been going on recently. And how in hell did they get their hands on that creepy letter?"
"I don't know, Mac," Phryne confessed. "I told you I had burnt it after I had asked Jack's opinion about it all."
"Speaking of which, where's that inspector of yours? Not that you need a man about or anything, but even I've come to rely on his sturdy presence when I can't be there for you myself." Phryne's lips curved into the first, genuine smile all evening as she appreciated the significance of her normally skeptical friend's admission about Jack.
"Oh, he's had to go away out of town for a few days to deal with a few things."
"What things?"
"He wouldn't say, although we didn't really have time to talk before he had to leave so unexpectedly because the deputy commissioner… Oh, someone's at the door, Mac, I should let you go."
"All right," her friend reluctantly agreed. "I need to get back out to the maternity ward now anyway. I'll be by soon as I can tomorrow."
Phryne replaced the telephone receiver just as Mr Butler answered the door. "Good evening, Constable Collins. So good to see you again, do come on inside. Dorothy is upstairs at the moment, but feel free to wait one minute until I can go alert her."
"Thank you, Mr Butler," Hugh responded as he stepped inside and spotted Phryne who had just risen from her telephone stool. "But, I'm actually still on duty as it's now my turn to keep watch out front. But first, I wanted to drop off this for you, Miss Fisher, before I started my shift." That was when Phryne spotted the large brown-coloured envelope he was holding out to her. "It's from Inspector Robinson."
"Why, thank you, Hugh!" Her eyes immediately brightened as she stepped forward to accept the small package that she turned around in her hands. From its weight and size, it seemed to be a book. "Mr B, could you please make sure Constable Collins has a bite of something to eat before he takes up his post?"
She then returned to her parlour in a far improved mood than previously as she tucked herself into her window seat and eagerly opened the unexpected delivery. It revealed a burgundy leather-bound book. Turning it in her hands, she was intrigued to find that it was a well-read copy of Jane Austen's novel, Persuasion. Out of habit, she brought it up to her nose and breathed in deeply. Feeling slightly silly, she revelled in the familiar scents it evoked of its owner: a combination of leather, paper and a hint of sandalwood.
The sound of Dot greeting Hugh in the kitchen caused her to instantly snap open her eyes and shake her head as she berated herself for her sentimentality. Her lips curved into an ironic smile as she pictured what Jack would say if he could see her and read her thoughts now. Knowing him, he wouldn't have wasted the opportunity to make some witty remark. She then opened the book, glimpsing the inspector's name neatly inscribed on the inside cover before the pages flipped over to display a small envelope with her name on it. She lifted it out to find it was marking the spot behind which bore some carefully underlined marks along the following section spoken by the story's main protagonist, Anne Elliot:
"Facts or opinions which are to pass through the hands of so many, to be misconceived by folly in one, and ignorance in another, can hardly have much truth left."
Examining the piece of paper, she spotted a line of recently scrawled ink in Jack's bold hand:
My Dear Miss Fisher,
I have just finished re-reading this classic, and much of it brought you to mind. It is my hope you will appreciate the loan of it to take your mind off things and, perhaps, persuade you from borrowing any more trouble (or if any doubt creeps in) whilst I'm away for the next day or so. Please feel free to notify Collins should you need to reach me until my return.
Faithfully yours,
Jack
"Oh, Jack," she murmured as a well-spring of emotion bubbled up from somewhere deep inside her. Even now, with the underlined words within a book, he was able to reassure her with what she needed to hear at this very moment in time. She had, of course, read the story along with all of Jane Austen's works multiple times during those long, dark winters after her family had relocated to England and she had eagerly scoured their new estate's massive library for any source of entertainment. It would be interesting to read it now from her current perspective and experiences. Especially with this edition's lender in mind.
As she continued to run her thumb over the pages, she wondered why Jack would be reading this particular story at this amount of time. From what she could recall, it was Austen's final novel and heralded for its poignant themes of second chances, the power of influencing, and long-suffering, but inevitably, triumphant love. Phryne leaned her head back against the window behind her as she wondered whether there was another message Jack might be trying to tell her by choosing to lend this specific story to her at this moment in time?
But, far from being put off, Phryne relished this cryptic mystery that Jack must have known she would take to like a dog to a bone, and she was grateful to him for knowing she'd need something else to distract her mind. She flipped through the book's pages again when she discovered a smaller scrap of paper tucked inside the back cover just as she went to close it. Picking it up, Phryne read what looked to be a list outlining mostly items he wanted to pack and last-minute instructions to himself before he had to go away. The one thing that was different, however, was that he had left the details of the address of where he would be going just outside Warburton. Somehow, she instinctively knew that he hadn't meant for her to find this note, but was utterly pleased it had found its way to her all the same.
"Dot?" She quickly rose and called out to her companion.
"Yes, miss?" Dot's voice quickly responded from the direction of the kitchen where her faithful maid had joined her beau. "I'll be right there." After a few minutes, she then appeared at the parlour's entry.
"No rush at all, Dot, but when you're free, would you be a dear and telephone Alice for me please?"
"Of course, miss, what would you like to tell her?"
"Please ask her if she and Cec would like to go on their fairytale honeymoon… starting tomorrow?"
"Oh, miss, I'm sure they'll be delighted since, as Cec told us this morning, it's something they've both been hoping to do. I'll go ring her up straight away."
"Thank you, Dot. Could you also check to see whether they have any transport in mind?"
"I believe Alice mentioned that they were thinking of taking the train part of the way and then waiting for a bus at some point… It all seemed very complicated as the cottage seems to be in the middle of nowhere."
"Well, then, perhaps they wouldn't mind being chauffeured there directly."
"Oh, yes, that would make things a whole lot simpler. But, I imagine Bert would still need their cab to continue their rounds whilst they were away."
"Of course! I was thinking more along the lines of them arriving courtesy of one lady detective and her Hispano Suiza."