Chapter 7: Ivy

"Tomorrow morning?" asked Phryne from where she stood at the window, looking out over the lake that lazily splashed around under the moonlight.

"For breakfast," Jack confirmed from the bed. He was lying in darkness, watching the silhouette of his lover against the night sky. She turned.

"Will your father be there?" she asked, sitting down onto the edge of the mattress.

"Probably not in the morning. They are expecting him some time during the day," Jack explained. So she was worried. So was he.

"Well, that gives us a little time to convince the rest of your clan, that I am not all that horrible," she joked, leaning in to kiss him. He wiped a lock of hair from her cheek, glancing into her eyes, that were a dark shade of blue in this light.

"According to my cousin Hazel you are a knife wielding killer-hunter," he grinned. "She is dying to meet you."

"Well, that's something," Phryne purred, crawling onto the mattress and snuggling up against her fiancé. After lying for a moment in silence, she asked "So, who else is going to be there?"

Jack groaned in mock annoyance. "Miss Fisher, we are on holiday, in a wonderfully soft bed, just you and me. I believe, we have talked quite enough about my family for one night."

To underline his words, he pulled her into a deep, gentle kiss. They resurfaced both a little short of breath, tightly wrapped around each other.

"Jack?" Phryne murmured, drawing a responding mumble from him, while his hand ran along her side searchingly. "Is Hazel Iris' sister?"

The Inspector didn't answer. Instead he pulled her hips against his, showing her that he currently was not thinking about his family at all. Miss Fisher chose not to complain.

X

A noise woke her. The woman lay still and listened into the dark. There was someone in her house. She could more feel than hear him. Without waking the man who was snoring gently beside her, she slipped out of her bed, her strawberry blonde curls falling messily down over the lacy nightdress. Seconds later a pair of naked feet slipped over the floorboards. A soft breeze greeted her in the hall. So someone had broken in. In the dark she fumbled for the blue porcelain vase her grandmother had given her for her 18th birthday. For a moment she wondered, if a burglar was worth destroying the precious piece, but then, she couldn't think of any other weapon. Her foot stubbed against something hard and she repressed a curse. By the time she reached the kitchen, it was empty. Only the curtains fluttered tellingly in the soft night wind.

X

The birdsong was hideously kitschy, Mac decided on opening her eyes. This whole place was like a cut out of a holiday catalogue at a travel agency. Not that she personally ever had the time for a holiday – or a visit to a travel agency. It was rather strange, not having to get up, she found. Of course, eventually she had to crawl out of bed, her bladder reminded her vehemently. But there were no patients waiting, no rounds to be done, no students to be lectured. It was just her and the morning and the birds. Odd. She wondered, if Phryne felt like this every day.

Mac swung her pyjama clad legs onto the edge of her bed, that was too big for her and a sharp reminder that she had nobody to fill the other half of it. Elisabeth guessed it was alright. She usually didn't have time for loneliness either. But if she didn't have her job, what was her life really good for? Other than to listen to hysterically singing birds and holding her nose in the soft morning breeze intruding through the open window into her privacy?

She yawned, stretching herself back into shape and fished for her morning gown. Sneaking past a door behind which Prudence Stanley snored loudly, she walked down the stairs with easy steps. For such an aimless way of living, her heart felt awfully light.

The last remains of morning fog wafted over the lawn, when the doctor stepped out into the garden. Her bare feet sank deep into the cool, soft grass, covering her toes in dew. Mac lit her cigarette while strolling between the old trees towards the lake. She didn't notice the figure sitting silently on the bench under a crooked birch straight away. Only a quiet sob shook her out of her deep thoughts to have a closer look. The doctor froze. Wondered, what to do. Then she sat down beside Dorothy Collins silently, dragging on her cigarette.

Dot didn't look up for a long time, just cried quietly along. Then she finally turned her red eyes towards Doctor MacMillian, rubbing at them with the back of her hand.

"You must think me a complete moron," she finally stated in a voice that still sounded somewhat watery.

Mac took another puff and rubbed out her gasper on the side of the bench.

"No, I don't. I wish I had somebody to cry about."

Dorothy pondered this for a moment, chewing on her lower lip.

"Miss Phryne told me it was alright to stay home. But I wanted to come. And now I just can't stop crying."

Mac did something she never did. She actually wrapped an arm around the young woman and pulled her into an awkward sideward embrace. So the two women sat for a while, without talking. There really wasn't a lot to talk about. But there were birds singing, and waves splashing and a sun rising. And for the moment that was enough.

X

Expectant silence was lying over Wombat Hall, as the sun climbed higher into the sky, hanging indecisively somewhere over the fields. Walter Cox-Stafford sat behind his huge desk of solid cherry wood as he scribbled a letter. Then he balled it up and threw it at the bin, missing it by half a meter. A few more minutes went by, with more flying letter balls, while the old grandfather clock in the corner ticked time away.

"Miss Spencer?"

Seconds later a pretty head of strawberry blonde curls popped through a gap in the door.

"Sir?"

"Can you please find me the paperwork on the agreement with McLancester? And then type up this letter? Make it sound nice. I just can't find the words today."

He handed her the last attempt, that had only barely escaped a fate as a flying object.

"Of course, Sir. Anything else?"

"Yes, when Crossley comes in, please tell him, I will be unavailable today. Family. He's been here long enough, I'm sure he can deal without me for a day or two."

He missed the shadow stealing over his assistant's face at this.

"Of course."

"That will be all, Miss Spencer. If you need me, I am downstairs."

And with that he was off. Hector, the puppy who had not quite decided yet, what breed he was going to be and had snored in sweet dreams of chasing rabbits till a moment ago, jumped clumsily to his feet and followed his master down the impressive staircase into the entrance hall. Walter checked his watch, then shook his head and walked into the sun room, where his wife was with some frenzy polishing a piece of cutlery.

"I'm sure, they will not care about how shiny your silver is, love," Walter said, kissing her on the cheek. Esmeralda huffed at this.

"The Honourable Phryne Fisher is probably used to much finer table settings than this. Can you believe Jack is involved with a Baroness?"

Her husband hummed at this, picking up a cup and wiping a tiny stain of it with his sleeve.

"He looks good though," he stated in his deep, calm voice. "And the description of her doesn't exactly sound like she spends her days drinking tea with Earls and Duchesses," he smiled on afterthought.

Mrs. Cox-Stafford did not get a chance to answer this, as the voices in the hall asked for her full attention. She slipped through the doorframe, followed by her husband. There was a collection of women in her house that she sorted in her mind to the people Jack had told them about last night. A young, blonde woman, nicely dressed, but rather shy looking, must be Miss Fisher's companion, a red headed creature in male clothes with an aura of authority – definitely Doctor MacMillan, a young girl who must be her ward and an lady, probably a little older than herself, who was currently coming towards her. That would have to be...

"Prudence Stanley. How'd you do?"

Esmeralda shook the extended hand, dimly wondering, where her nephew and his girl were. They couldn't be too far.

"I believe we actually met about 20 years ago," Mrs. Stanley prompted, obviously expecting to be remembered. "Funny how our paths cross again. I am Miss Fisher's Aunt and wanted to meet the family she will be marrying into, when I heard your name and remembered."

Mrs. Cox-Stafford's attention had been somewhat distracted from her conversation partner by Jack stepping through the door accompanied by a stunning woman with porcelain skin, black hair and the most beautifully flowing green dress. So that was her! The rumours hadn't been wrong. A red lipped smile was darted in Esmeralda's direction and she must have looked quite gobsmacked, because Jack was giving her one of those cheeky little grins he had perfected by the time he was ten. Then Prudence Stanley's words registered.

"Jack? You are getting married?" she asked, in her surprise forgetting to greet her guests. Her nephew looked at her, his smile growing tight, glanced at the woman by his side, then her aunt.

"Thank you, Mrs. Stanley. I was rather hoping to break the news to my family myself, but since you were faster, yes, we are getting married."

From behind Esmeralda's back her husband burst into laughter.

X

Mr. Butler sat at the table, stirring in his teacup, wondering what to do with his time. Miss Fisher had strictly forbidden him from cleaning the house or tidying the bedrooms. He was on a holiday, she had insisted, not here to clean up after all her friends and family. Mr. Butler currently wouldn't have minded cleaning in the slightest. Cleaning calmed his nerves. And he had seen some specks of dust in the sitting room. But he didn't dare go against his Mistress's wishes and really, he felt tired. Old and tired and useless. The spoon swirled through the amber liquid with little point to it. He didn't take sugar, in difference to her. Right now he missed her silly little habits so much it hurt.

A knock at the door disturbed his silent musing. Stunned, Mr. Butler got his feet. Who could visit at this time? Or had Miss Fisher forgotten something? A tiny little idea let his heart beat faster. He had trouble hiding his disappointment, when he opened the door to Mrs. Weatherspoon, the owner of the villa. Politely and firmly as it was his nature, the servant denied any further help with settling in and sent the woman on her way without her telling him any more about her five grandchildren. After shutting the door tightly, he returned to the kitchen. A slight wind had picked up, wafting the smell of the lake through the open windows. He stepped to the French door to close it, when he heard someone clear her throat loudly behind him. Mr. Butler turned, paling, when he spotted the woman who was leaning against the kitchen counter.

"Good morning," Riya Santi said, her calmness promising anger lurking right underneath the surface.

"Good morning," he replied, without moving. Mr. Butler's heart was beating so hard, he feared it would jump out of his chest. He wanted to ask what on earth she was doing here. Wanted either his suspicions or hopes confirmed, wanted to yell, cry and throw dishes. Instead, he took a cup out of the cabinet.

"Would you like some tea?"

"Thank you."

They sat down, opposite each other and drank tea in silence. He watched her stir five spoons of sugar into her cup and a strange calmness came to him. Maybe things would be all right, after all.

X

"You didn't think of mentioning this yesterday?" Olivia protested on sitting down at the breakfast table. "Iris, you were always as thick as thieves. What do you say to that?"

To her surprise her daughter blushed.

"She knew," Jack grinned embarrassed, trading a look with his cousin.

"Rather accidentally," Iris admitted. "I yelled at him for having a fling that proved to be rather serious. He showed me the ring."

"A beautiful ring it is, too," Esmeralda Cox-Stafford stated, taking Phryne's hand, who let her, despite being rather attached to the independence of her fingers. "Dear God, Jack. You should have said something."

Jack smiled uncomfortably. He didn't enjoy being the focus of attention. Really, if he was honest, he hadn't expected their decision to be such a big deal. People got married all the time. And the truth was, he had intended to introduce Phryne simply as Miss Fisher – not as his future wife. It might be strange, ambitiouseven, but he wanted them to love her as the woman she was, not as some strange part of his life that they couldn't avoid. But, Mrs. Stanley had put an end to that plan and now they sat here, discussing wedding details and being berated for not sharing this before they had even walked through the door. He looked at Phryne, who was currently being cross-examined by his two Aunts, with Esmeralda being nervously excited and Olivia openly curious. If Miss Fisher was uncomfortable, she didn't show it. The entrance of a woman with light red hair and a rather fancy dress, absorbed his attention and the room fell silent.

Walter Cox-Stafford, who had been nurturing his teacup in quiet amusement, rose.

"May I introduce my assistant, Miss Madelyn Spencer? Miss Spencer, my family."

There was almost something like a hinted curtsey in the young woman's gestures, as she nodded at the colourful collection of people.

"And judging from the look on her face, there is trouble lurking in my business, so please do excuse me."

After he had left, chatter picked up again. Luckily, the subject had changed, and Miss Fisher finally got a chance to examine her company a little closer.

Beside Iris, who she remembered well, sat a slightly younger woman with a strong resemblance to her, with equally dark hair and big eyes, those ones however sparkling in a muddy shade of green. Despite her put-together appearance, there was a rebellious spark about the girl, which might have been just why Mac had ended up on her other side. The women were talking animatedly at the moment and this coupled with the fact that Hazel Morgan had been utterly silent during the whole wedding discussion, which didn't seem to be a habit of hers, aroused a faint suspicion in Phryne. She didn't linger on it though. There were so many more people to discover. The man by Iris' side didn't hold her interest for long. Rupert Walker was, as Jack had described him, a nice bloke who had "nothing wrong with him". Averagely handsome, rather funny and obviously not poor. A gentleman and, from what she could tell about Iris, a good match. How fortunate for them both.

Beside him sat a dashing young man, probably Samuel, the young son of the Cox-Staffords. Golden haired, blue eyed and with the air of someone who owned the world. Studying law, he probably actually believed that too. His sister was pretty much the opposite; about 15 years his senior, she had the same golden hair, but on her it looked rather bland, as if life had washed out the colour. She was the only one at the table who didn't seem to be enjoying herself. On her lap sat a toddler of unknown gender who babbled silently along, mostly ignored by the adults. Looking at Laura's husband Fred, Phryne had a slight suspicion why the woman seemed to exude such utter boredom. Fred Simmens-Cox-Stafford was the impersonation of nothingness. Brownish hair, greyish eyes, a suit that was certainly tailored but which didn't fit nonetheless. Miss Fisher suppressed a yawn just looking at him. No wonder that Olivia was busy chattering with her daughter, her table partner really was not worth talking to. Olivia Morgan however was certainly worth a second look. With the same brunette hair as her children, even though her eyes were of a darker shade of blue than Iris's, it was also quite clear where her daughters had gotten their understated sense of fashion from. She was certainly someone to whom Phryne sensed, she needed to prove herself. If Jack's mother had been anything like her sister, she understood.

Esmeralda Cox-Stafford was indeed an awkward species. She certainly looked like a lady, with a long thin frame stuffed in expensive robes. The kind of woman that you would have expected cold elegance and stiff etiquette from. However, the way she talked and moved belied her exterior, even more than a certain twinkle in her eyes. The effect was astounding and Phryne felt herself drawn to her, mostly out of curiosity but also because there was clearly a warm heart beating in that flat chest. Which was probably the reason, why she put up with Aunt P, who hadn't let up about the history of gold mining in both their families for the last half hour.

Beside her, Jane looked around with the same curiosity as her foster mother. Their eyes locked for a moment and they shared a knowing grin. Phryne felt relieved. So Jane didn't think them all that horrible either. Jack really had blown the hostility to be expected out of proportion. Happily Miss Fisher took the last bite of her toast, while Walter Cox-Stafford slipped back into the room almost unnoticed. So his business problems hadn't been overly dramatic. He leaned over Dot, who had found a place between his empty chair and Jane for some reason or other and obviously made a funny comment, as Miss Fisher's companion burst into giggles. With a satisfied grin he sat back down, engaging her in conversation.

Phryne's eyes returned to Jack, who sat wedged between his uncle and Mac, being currently ignored by both of them, instead absorbing himself in a cup of coffee and anxiously half listening to random conversations. Phryne's heart went out to him. She couldn't help but wonder, why he was he so utterly scared of these people's judgement. Not a single one of them had shown any sign of unkindness, save perhaps the thin line in which Laura's lips were pressed together. She longed for a quiet moment alone with him and luckily they soon got the chance, as breakfast ended and they were ushered out into the gardens.

The grounds of Wombat Hall consisted of a collection of little gardens littered around the grey walls. Some were almost wild, overgrown with flowers and old trees, others carefully manicured and framed by hedges. A big orchard at the north-end smelled faintly of the ripe peaches that hung in glistening reds and oranges between the green leaves. Phryne walked in silence on Jack's arm, till they reached a small iron gate, leading through a stone wall.

"This is where I spent all my summer holidays when I was a child," Jack smiled, turning the rusty key in the lock. It was cool in here, in the shade of trees littered with no particular concept through the green grass. Ivy grew over the stone walls almost covering them, which together with the spots of light falling through the roof of leaves, dipped the whole place in a magical green. Phryne felt like she had taken the wrong turn and accidentally stumbled into a fairytale. Jack led her to a bench formed of wrought iron, overlooking a small pond from which a curious fish watched them with round black eyes.

"It is not going to start talking to us, is it?" Miss Fisher asked.

The Inspector glanced at her with some curiosity. Phryne felt the need to explain herself.

"It is like a fairytale, Jack. This whole place has a strange quality to it."

"I fear that is rather undeniable," he grinned, throwing a small pebble in the direction of the curious fish who swam off, pouting.

"Despite that, your family strikes me as rather charming. In an odd kind of way."

Jack Robinson couldn't hide his relief.

"I believe you have met with their approval," he breathed, picking up another pebble.

"You seem surprised," she stated in good humour. Now he finally looked at his lover.

"I am not. You are utterly charming," Jack smiled, stroking her cheek with his thumb. Phryne bit her lip in expectation of a kiss, when the scream cut through the mild air.