Chapter 5: Apple Tree

It took ten minutes to get themselves and their luggage settled into the three compartments Miss Fisher had booked. Aunt Prudence's was rather full with luggage, however she insisted that Jane keep her company to 'catch up' with the girl. The girl rolled her eyes and obliged in the most ladylike manner. Mr. Butler and Dot chose the second that was a tiny bit smaller and were joined by Mac, who was leading a heated discussion with Dorothy about the role of women in society. Mr. Butler was obviously off in his own inner discussions right now and didn't seem to mind. That left Phryne and Jack in their own compartment, in heavenly silence and only each other's company. It was almost strange after the long hours filled with expectation and chatter and for a long moment, they just sat across from each other, looking out at the landscape flying by.

"So what is going on with Mr. Butler?" Phryne finally asked the question that was occupying both their minds. Jack took a moment to answer.

"I believe, he might have found Mrs. Santi in a compromising situation."

"Did he tell you that?"

The Inspector shook his head.

"He only hinted at it. He is questioning her sincerity."

Miss Fisher fell back into her cushions, locking her arms over her chest.

"What nonsense! Riya is very fond of him."

"That might well be, Phryne, but I'm not sure to the extent that she will plan a future with him."

Miss Fisher stayed quiet at this. She remembered a conversation with Riya Santi a few weeks back in which she had asked her not to break her servant's heart. She had promised it. But in the same conversation she had also found out, that Riya and her now deceased husband had had an agreement which allowed a certain freedom in their marriage. She was pondering if she should share this with Jack, when his voice broke her from her thoughts.

"Let's be realistic. Mrs. Santi is a well-to-do lady and Mr. Butler is a servant."

Miss Fisher's head flew up. Classism from Jack? That was new and scary. He obviously had noticed her shock.

"Don't get me wrong, Phryne. I dearly hope for Mr. Butler that it works out. But society has certain expectations to a good match."

"You are a policeman and I am a Baron's daughter." She said furiously, before she could stop herself. His face went stony at this. Miss Fisher gulped.

"That came out wrong, Jack."

He waved her off.

"It is the way it is. I am a poor sod and you are a rich lady and no matter how you say it, it won't change the facts," He said quietly, staring out into the landscape. Phryne didn't reply for a long time. Thoughts were dancing through her brain.

"But you want to marry me despite it," she finally stated. He looked up, appearing serious, but less upset than she had expected.

"Yes, I do. And nothing is going to stop me, Miss Fisher." Jack smiled and she couldn't hide her relief at this.

"But I am aware, that our social differences aren't going to make this easier. It didn't for my parents."

It had occurred to Phryne sometime during the night, when she had watched Jack toss in restless dreams for the first time in weeks, that if his mother had been from a family so wealthy that it had appeared on Aunt P.'s radar, she must have married down somewhat. Miss Fisher had never met the Robinson's, but she had seen Jack's house, knew him, at work and privately and he was very much rooted in the lower middle class reality of life. The effect was somewhat spoiled by his manners, the Shakespeare he quoted, the Chopin he played, the way he talked and behaved. She also remembered the lady that Jack had drawn similarities with his mother to. Margaret Bungard, the next-of-kin of a murder victim, was very much not lower middle class but instead the head of a wealthy, old family and through and through a lady.

"Tell me about them," she heard herself saying, "How did your parents meet?"

If Jack was confused at the turn of conversation, he didn't show it. He looked out the window for a little longer, watching the sheep littered across the greenery like flecks of snow.

"My father was a constable at the Daylesford police station. My mother the second child of the Cox-Staffords. I'm not sure if they had their business yet back then or were still living of their small gold mine. But mother was definitely out of his reach," Jack smiled.

"But he was in love with her nevertheless and when he had the chance to help her pick apples for the harvest festival, of course he did. Their records vary a little on what exactly happened, but he might have fallen heroically of the ladder. Or possibly caught her, when she did. Either way, half a year later they were engaged."

A fond glimmer had stolen in Inspector Robinson's eyes as he talked and Phryne was a little worried about destroying this with her next question.

"And what did her parents have to say about this?"

"They were not overjoyed exactly. But my mother had her own will. She always did what she thought was right. Wether it was climbing into an apple tree herself or marrying the man she loved."

"She reminds me of someone," Phryne grinned.

Jack cleared his throat, a faint smile playing around his lips.

"But sadly the influenza she died of six years ago wasn't convinced by her stubbornness." He kneaded his hands on his lap. "Father has never gotten over losing her. I sometimes think he blames me."

Phryne, who had been contemplating if she should disturb his memories by touching him, was shocked. She got up to sit beside him, taking his hands between hers.

"What on earth could he blame you for?"

Jack stared out the window, a suspicious wetness glittering in his eyes.

"The War had drained her. The worry about my brother and me was too much on her. And then I got myself wounded."

"That was hardly your fault. I doubt you invited that damn German to stick a knife into your stomach." Miss Fisher protested. He smiled at this.

"Not exactly. But then we came home and Will just went on with his life. He married his Wendy. You'll meet her in the next days, nice girl. And they had their daughter and as far as I can tell, they are quite settled and happy. You know, how my marriage ended." His voice had turned into a whisper at the last sentence. Miss Fisher pressed his fingers gently. Of course she knew. Jack had only gotten divorced from Rosie less than two years ago, but they had been estranged a long time before that.

"Rosie moved out of our home only three months before mother died."

There was so much pain in this statement, that Phryne instinctively wrapped her arms around her lover, pulling him closer.

"You don't actually believe yourself, that you killed your mother?" she asked, when the first shock had worn off. He turned his head at this, unshed tears were glittering in his eyes.

"Of course not. Influenza killed her."

He did not finish his thought, but Phryne could hear it. Dear God, the man was a never ending well of self-loathing. How he had constructed this guilt in his brain, she would never know. The sound of the door opening for once filled her with gratefulness, rather than annoyance.

"Please help me," Jane whispered, only half-joking as she slipped into the compartment. "She will not stop talking."

Phryne laughed at this and extended an arm for her daughter to join them. A quick glance at Jack showed, that he had pulled himself together in no time at all. It never ceased to surprise her, how he could just snap out of his moods and brush them off like a speck of dust.

"Please tell me your family is less exhausting than Aunt Prudence," Jane begged to the amusement of both adults.

"I fear I will have to disappoint you there. Even though the most annoying ones are not going to be there." At the wondering eyes he continued. "My sister Amanda is not attending this year. She is expecting and the trip down from Sydney is just too much on her in this weather."

"You seem terribly broken up about this."

Detective-Inspector Robinson grinned.

"I love my sister, but her taste in men is astoundingly terrible. Her husband is a complete imbecile and their little son takes after his father, if I am any judge."

"Sounds charming," Phryne stated dryly.

"Well as I said, they won't be there. You will like my brother's family though. My father is also going to come up from Melbourne, he might be a problem," Jack sighed, "And then there's Uncle Walter. He is funny."

"Funny amusing or funny strange?" Jane asked, humour glittering in her eyes. The Inspector pondered this for a moment, then smiled.

"Both actually. I think he drives his wife up the walls sometimes, but she is terribly fond of him. Esmeralda considers herself rather level headed, despite not having had to work a day in her life. She likes cooking and gardening and getting her expensive dresses dirty. She is quite something."

"Is Mrs. Walker joining us?" Miss Fisher asked, her voice showing more anxiety than she had intended on.

"Iris will probably bring her husband, as well as her mother and sister."

"There's more of her sort?" Phryne sighed under her breath, to both people's amusement.

"And there I thought, they would be right down your alley, Miss Fisher. Very outspoken," the Inspector teased. Of course, he understood her anxiety. But he had come to the conclusion that Iris was the one person in his family he really did not want to miss in his life. Despite the unfortunate friendship with his ex-wife, he wanted his cousin to accept Miss Fisher by his side. And God help him, he even dared to hope for the women to like each other.

"Who are they?" Jane asked, reminding both that she was still there, not having the faintest idea of past events.

"Jack's cousin," Phryne stated calmly. "She isn't particularly fond of me."

"She must be rather daft then." Jane concluded loyally.

"I'm afraid, it's not that simple," Miss Fisher smiled, explaining the whole twisted situation to her ward.

"Well, you have gotten yourself into quite a stupid situation, Jack. And your family sounds... interesting," Jane pointed out, when Phryne had finished. "Thank God, you have us around."

Miss Fisher laughed at that, Jack grinned foolishly. Thank God indeed.

X

Mrs. Santi sat down at the table, covered mostly in photographs and books. Her Maid Irma knew better than to disturb the piles and had done her best, shuffling things aside to set her afternoon tea despite it. The steady migraine that Riya had battled all morning, keeping her from going to the gallery and in fact from even crawling out of bed till half an hour ago, had eased up somewhat, but she still pushed the tray with the teacakes aside that was resting on top of a leather bound novel. Her stomach revolted alone at the thought of eating. Staring at the table top with empty eyes, she stirred five spoons of sugar into her tea, a little habit, that Tobias Butler always teased her about. Her head hammered at the thought of him. Mrs. Santi had only seen him two days ago, yet couldn't shake a strange feeling in her stomach that something was off. She should have listened to her instinct and dropped by Phryne's house last night. But her migraine had started by the time she had finally convinced the Admiral that she really didn't feel like evening company and she had longed for her bed even more than to talk to her lover. It had been the wrong decision; she could feel it in her bones. Irma's hesitant knock echoed through the artist's skull, as the maid pushed into the room.

"Irma, you know I love you but please stop knocking. I am alone. What do you think I could be doing to that requires you to knock first?"

The maid blushed at the things that occurred to her, reminding Mrs. Santi, why she employed the girl. She tried a smile that came out rather lop-sided and pained.

"Anyway, what did you need?" she asked, reconciled.

"A letter, Ma'am. Came in this morning, but I didn't want to rouse you. Looks like a love letter,"

the girl smiled before retreating. Riya stared for a while with a pounding heart at the white envelope. It was simple paper and she had no idea, how Irma had concluded what she had, but it was indeed Tobias' hand writing. A sense of dread took ahold of her, when she slipped the envelope open with her butter knife. It held only a single sheet of paper, a few lines. Mr. Butler was not a man of many words. But they were as clear as they were polite. Riya Santi's palm came up to cover her mouth, before she reread it. And again. Her head throbbed. So it had been him, leaving fruit behind at her make-shift atelier and he had seen the Admiral. But he couldn't actually think, that she... could he?

He could! She realised it on rereading the one sentence for what must have been the tenth time. "In all respect for your sense of freedom, given the circumstances, I just can not allow myself to fall further in love ."

That foolish man! She jumped up so fast that her chair fell over and Irma stormed into the room with a worried question on her lips that her Mistress completely ignored.

"Ask Adam to get the car ready, I will be going out."

"In that?" the maid asked.

Riya Santi looked down on herself, where a white morning gown with colourful emblems covered up less than was to be desired in company.

"Good point. I will get dressed first and then I will go out. I have a man to beat some sense into," she growled. Irma retreated with a quiet smile on her lips. Mrs. Santi on warpath was not someone to cross.

X

The woman in a fashionable white hat and a matching coat slowly walked up the stairs to the portal and rapped at the door. Seconds later it was ripped open by a tall, slim woman with a flushed face, wearing a chequered apron over a dark green afternoon frock.

"Olivia! How wonderful to see you."

Esmeralda Cox-Stafford wrapped her Sister-in-law into her arms, before she could protest.

"Oh you look lovely. I swear the years just make you more beautiful, unlike us mere mortals who just grow fat and wrinkly."

Olivia Morgan laughed at this, her brunette curls shaking.

"Because you ever had to battle a single gram of fat, where it doesn't belong," she grinned fondly. "Anyway, where is that husband of yours hiding? Not scared of us, is he?"

"I am right here," a booming voice spoke from somewhere up the dark corridor and seconds later, the master of the house emerged, followed by a puppy dog, who had not quite gotten the idea of being a dark, majestic beast just yet and fell over its own paws on approaching.

After giving his sister something resembling the hug of a grizzly bear, Walter let his eyes trail over the doorstep, as if he could find the missing people there.

"Where have you left your brood, sister? They haven't bailed, have they? Now that Jack's actually coming up here for once that would be a bloody shame."

Olivia stepped into the house without being invited, hanging her hat up, rather ignorant of the maid, who was obviously new and hovered somewhere in the background hoping to get some coats to take care of.

"Jack's coming? Don't tell me he is bringing that lady of his. I've heard some stories, I tell you. Then again, Sidney Fletcher is probably about the last person I would ask for his opinion there."

"Isn't he Rosie's new husband?"

"Yes, a rather arrogant fellow. Also rather dead by now."

"Oh," was all Aunt Esmeralda could think of to say. "Poor Rosie."

"Yes, ghastly story that. But never mind. Iris seems to have somewhat revised her opinion on the mysterious Miss Fisher lately, but we will see soon for ourselves, won't we?"

She turned to her brother.

"Oh and in all my babbling I haven't actually answered your question, beloved brother of mine. Forgive me. The children are currently discussing how to park the car properly. I'm afraid, Rupert is losing the battle to the girls."

A booming laugh answered this, before Olivia was shown the way to the drawing room. Little had changed. It was good to be home.

X

The cool wind blowing through her openly flowing hair wiped the rests of the migraine away. Riya Santi enjoyed driving she found. She couldn't remember, why she hadn't done it in so many years. Probably just the laziness of the rich, who always had someone else to drive. After a ride in Phryne's Hispano there had been no stopping her in getting her own car on the road and right now she was thankful for it. Not having to talk to anyone at this stage was a relief. It wasn't a long drive to Phryne's house, that looked suspiciously empty in the early gloom of twilight. Riya parked in front of the door nevertheless and walked down the short garden path to the front door. Her knock didn't draw any response however.

"They're not home," a male voice said behind her. When Mrs. Santi turned, a young man was standing behind her, looking nervous. She remembered him vaguely.

"Cec, isn't it?" she asked.

He tipped his hat at her.

"It is, Ma'am. Miss Fisher and her family have gone to Daylesford on a holiday. We were asked to look after the house."

He threw a glance at the other man who was waiting with a grim expression behind the wheel of a taxi-cab. Riya pondered this for a moment. So that was what Tobias had meant by space. Daylesford.

"Did they all go?" she asked the Cabbie, who was still standing in front of her, a key in hand.

"Every single one of them, Ma'am."

Riya Santi nodded at this and with a quick word of gratitude was on her way back to her car.

"Would you like to leave a message, Ma'am?" Cec yelled after the retreating woman. Riya turned and smiled grimly.

"Thank you, but that won't be necessary."

'Daylesford', she thought, starting her car. Well, she had been after a landscape. And those Daylesford certainly had plenty of.