Chapter 14: Coffea

Prudence Stanley hadn't slept much. It had little to do with Phryne and her Inspector she found. Despite Jack Robinson's rather crude appearance, she had always sensed somehow, that he was a gentleman and that had kept her from interfering in their blossoming relationship as much as she possibly could have. That, and the knowledge Phryne had actually settled somewhat, since the Inspector had entered her life. God knew, it was necessary for the girl to calm down.

Now Mrs. Stanley finally knew the reasons for all this. He was a Cox-Stafford, even if he might have denied it. Prudence had lead the most wonderful conversation with the Lord and Lady of Wombat Hall during the last day and despite them also being a little eccentric, she was not worried about Phryne marrying Jack Robinson anymore. He was from a family that had more ancestors documented, than even her late husband. A family tree was about the only plant Mrs. Stanley was really fond of and the discovery of this particular one had filled her with satisfaction. Now to make sure, they actually did go through with tying their knot and finally ended this ridiculous living together of theirs.

Prudence picked up the teacup that she actually had to fill herself and walked back to the window. It was hideous that she should have to make her own tea, while there were servants in the house, soundly asleep. But her niece had had a stern word with her yesterday, informing her that neither Mrs. Collins nor Mr. Butler were to be bothered. "They are on a holiday and I will not have them scramble after everybody's needs," she had said, ignoring her aunts grimace in the most rude manner, "You chose to come along uninvited and you will take care of yourself." There had been no reasoning with her and Prudence had cursed the lack of class-consciousness in her niece. But that is probably what you get when you throw a title at a Collingwood girl.

But that wasn't what had kept her awake either. The truth was that talking to Esmeralda Cox-Stafford had woken memories in Mrs. Stanley, stirred up old aches. This morning she felt the loss of her loved ones more than she had in a long time. It was a bitter-sweet pain. In a strange way it was nice to know that she had not forgotten how it felt to hug her mother or speak to her husband. But she also missed them terribly today and despite the house full of people, she felt lonely. Which was why she escaped her cold, empty bed as soon as it was decent to do so. Nevertheless, she had been glad when she had been back in her bedroom with said cup of tea. Having to lead an awkward conversation with Dorothy Collins or worse, Doctor MacMillan while in her morning gown was something to be avoided at all costs. She actually had enjoyed her little chat with Phryne's companion last night over a cup of cocoa, Prudence had to admit to herself. The girl was young, but very decent and her only flaw was probably that she was under the spell of Mrs. Stanley's wild-child niece more than was good for her. A freshly married woman really should be home with her husband, not travelling around the countryside. Especially if what Prudence Stanley suspected was true.

She pondered that, when a noise from downstairs in the garden caught her ear. By the time she had picked herself up from her armchair and reached the window, the woman had almost arrived at the gate. Mrs. Stanley recognised the dishevelled head of hair instantly. Dear Lord, what a cheek to sneak out of this house this early in the morning. Aunt P. shook her head. She would have to have a word with her niece. Or better yet the Cox-Stafford's. She doubted, that Mrs. Esmeralda had the slightest idea of what her niece was up to. A most appalling business.

X

Phryne stretched her limbs like a contented cat in the warm cave underneath the sheets before opening her eyes. She found Jack watching her with a small smile on his lips.

"Did you sleep well?" he asked. She nodded, fixing her eyes on the steaming cup in his hands, from which a heavenly smell wafted through their bedroom.

"Coffee," he stated, completely unnecessarily. It was more than obvious what was the content of his cup.

"Please tell me, you brewed this yourself. It took me some time to convince Aunt P. that Mr. Butler was not on this trip for her convenience."

"Of course. I believe the rest of the house is still asleep."

The Inspector couldn't have been more wrong about this, but currently he was distracted by the woman in his bed, pulling her lips into a small pout.

"And you did not think to bring me one, Inspector?"

He smiled and leaned over to kiss her.

"I did not want to rouse you, Miss Fisher. After all, last night was rather exhausting."

Miss Fisher rolled her eyes in mock annoyance but couldn't help the fond smile spreading over her face. After they had retired to their bedroom, they had lain underneath the duvet in the darkness, trying to warm each other's cold limbs. Which had, after a time of quiet talking, turned again into a more physical form of communication. She could not remember when they had finally drifted off to sleep, but it was somewhat surprising that either of them managed to pry their eyes open right now. Let alone, that she felt utterly rested and relaxed.

"So, this is why you are drinking coffee, is it?" she purred, letting her hand slip underneath the covers.

"Miss Fisher!" Jack warned.

"Yes, Jack?"

"I am still rather worn. Something tells me, I cannot survive another encounter right this morning. Besides that, we are expected at Wombat Hall for breakfast."

He leaned closer and dropped his voice to a whisper.

"And I do not wish to sit at a table with my collected family and only be able to think about what is underneath your dress, Miss Fisher."

"That would indeed be rather tragic."

Phryne retreated, pulling herself into a sitting position.

"But nevertheless you could at least have brought me some coffee, after you wore me out, Inspector."

He smirked at this, taking another sip and setting down his cup.

"You know, I will share if asked nicely."

"I never do, Inspector."

Their faces were now so close, that she could smell the coffee on his lips.

"I know," he whispered.

As it turned out, Detective-Inspector Robinson had been wrong. He was able to survive another sexual adventure that morning. Two, actually.

X

Breakfast went by without any further dramas. Father and son had returned to a stiff politeness that seemed to bother nobody other than Phryne much. She had a lurking suspicion that this was the default of their encounters for years and Jack's family had given up on trying to change that fact. Well, they were in for a surprise. Miss Fisher, who was not overly fond of her own family, for good reasons, had no intention of letting Jack Robinson suffer under his strained relationship with his father for the rest of his life out of pure stubbornness. After finishing the last of her scone, it was decided. She would somehow manage to break the ice between those two.

With that resolve, she amused herself by following the looks that were traded across the room by her best friend and Hazel Morgan. Both appeared tired and a little confused. But there was also a certain vibe flying through the air that seemed to make it sparkle. Phryne was surprised, that most occupants of the breakfast table appeared oblivious to it. All but Prudence Stanley who eyed the two with open annoyance. Phryne sighed inwardly. She dearly hoped, that her Aunt was not about to make a scene and stomp on this tender bud of a love with her usual charm of steamroller.

When she finally got up, she was surprised to be approached by Walter Cox-Stafford, who offered to show her his library. She bit back a comment about the fact that Jack had already revealed his secret of not being overly fond of books and followed her host into the other room. Being the proud owner of a extensive collection of books was after all not the same as enjoying reading them. And the Hall's library was certainly of some standard, judging from the many important looking volumes that lined three of the four walls. On the fourth, a small fire flickered, reminding Phryne that the summer was almost over and there were dark clouds balling up on the sky outside that looked suspiciously like rain. But as it turned out, Uncle Walter was not in the slightest bit concerned about books. After he had watched her politely while she let her fingertips run over his collection, he cleared his throat.

"Can I offer you anything, Miss Fisher?"

"No thank you," she smiled, not commenting on the just finished breakfast. But she sat down in the offered chair nevertheless. For a long moment it was silent, save the whispers of the flames.

"I feel I need to apologize for my brother-in-law."

Phryne's eyes widened at this.

"This conversation might seem quite forward, Miss Fisher. But something tells me, you are used to being forward yourself and therefore will fit right into this family."

The grey moustache twitched into a smile.

"Many people think me an old fool, which I might well be. But I am not a blind old fool."

He leaned forward, looking with honest blue eyes at Phryne, who was still recovering from her shock.

"I have not seen my nephew this happy in many years, Miss Fisher. And I dare believe, that this has something to do with you being by his side. So for all I care, John can go to hell. I hope Jack holds onto you."

Miss Fisher found herself speechless, while the grey man watched her with warm eyes. She dearly wished now, she had accepted the offered drink. After a long pause, she managed to clear her throat.

"Mr. Cox-Stafford-"

"Walter, please. We are to be related soon."

Miss Fisher smiled at this.

"Walter. I am honoured by your trust. And believe me when I say, I have every intention of making Jack as happy a man as it is in my power."

She got up stiffly, before the tears pricking at the back of her eyes had a chance to overwhelm her calm exterior.

"But now, please do excuse me. I haven't looked after my daughter in a while."

The man nodded a knowing smile. When Phryne had reached the door, he called after her. She turned, fully aware, that there was no hiding the traitorous tear trickling down her cheek.

"Welcome to the family, Phryne."

She nodded and fled.

X

Mac wandered the halls of the estate rather aimlessly. Confusion had taken over since the doctor had woken alone with a sense of loss that she couldn't quite explain. She hadn't shared more than a few harmless kisses and her bed with Hazel Morgan last night. Not because she didn't want more, God knew, she was aching to touch her, but she was not sure if rushing into this was a good idea. When she had woken alone in the morning, with no sign of the woman she had fallen asleep with, she hadn't been sure, if she had imagined the whole encounter altogether, slowly going insane of loneliness. Then it had occurred to her that maybe Hazel might have been disappointed by her lack of forwardness and the absence of erotic adventure. Maybe she was not looking for love at all and she had missed her one chance of at least getting some warm skin underneath her fingertips.

So Elizabeth had come to Wombat Hall with weak knees, ready to face defeat. She had done it again, had allowed herself to be a fool. But even though Hazel Morgan had not even tried to battle her way onto her side of the table and the doctor had ended up between Fred Simmens-Cox-Stafford, who must have been the most sleep-inducing man on the planet and Wendy Robinson, who was very friendly and also quite chatty, the eyes of her would-be lover had sparkled at her from the other side of the sunroom with the knowledge of a sweet secret shared. So maybe, just maybe all was not lost.

As she thought this, a soft hand grabbed Mac's arm and seconds later she found herself pressed with her back against a wall, a warm body touching her in all the places guranteed to turn her knees into pudding.

"Here you are," Hazel whispered, trailing her eyes down the corridor for anyone who might have been watching, "I missed you in the sitting room."

Before Mac had managed to come up with a reply, a set of fingers were firmly wrapped around her wrist, pulling her down the hall and into a room. Only when the door fell shut behind them, did Mac allow herself to breathe again. She swept her eyes briefly over the setting her lover had chosen. A half unpacked suitcase was lying on a untouched bed. So this was quite obviously Hazel's guest room. She stood around, feeling silly, watching Miss Morgan trying to turn the old key in the lock. Finally the other woman turned with a self-satisfied smile.

"Now, where were we?" she asked, curling her arms around Mac's back. The doctor couldn't help but close her eyes, when their lips met again, wrestled the other woman's tongue with more vigour than she should allow herself, but when Hazel started to manoeuvre them towards her bed, her senses returned. She struggled free from the embrace.

"Hazel, stop!" she panted. Her body didn't want her to; regret flooded her veins as the other woman retreated with disappointment shining in her eyes. Mac had to resist the urge to pull her close again, let happen whatever would. But it wasn't about what she wanted.

"I thought..."

Hazel didn't get any further, she trailed off, looking so upset that Mac couldn't help but touch her shoulder. A pair of green eyes looked at her, muddy with emotion.

"So it was nothing?" the woman stated quietly, straightening her back in a vain attempt to save her face.

"What on earth are you talking about?" Mac asked, shaking her head. "You ran off this morning without a word of warning and now you are asking me, if last night meant nothing?"

"I didn't want to be discovered."

"Why? Were you of the opinion that there was anything to be ashamed about?"

It was said with so much annoyance that Hazel took a step backwards, shaking off Mac's hand that had still been holding onto her. The doctor already regret her harsh words. She understood, of course she did. Probably Hazel's retreat had been for the better and yet, she couldn't shake the feeling of disappointment about having woken another morning alone in her cold bed. Anger glittered at her from Hazel's eyes.

"How am I to know, what your Miss Fisher would make of me sneaking through her house at dawn?" she asked.

"Phryne does not care who I am losing my heart to."

Mac resisted the urge to slap her hand over her mouth. Probably best to pretend she had never said that. Her heart was racing in her chest, as she watched the slow, subtle change on Hazel's stunned features.

"Say that again," Hazel whispered hoarsely. Mac stubbornly shook her head.

"You heard it the first time."

She tried to ignore Miss Morgan closing the gap between them again; the golden sparkle in the eyes that were now the colour of grass; the smell of her perfume. God, she really had to ask her what she wore. Elizabeth took a deep breath finding a resolve.

"As much as I want to, I can not... just do this, Hazel. It needs to mean something or you have to let go now."

Mac's eyes begged her lover to be honest with her, make a decision the one or the other way. She found she was holding her breath. Waiting. Longing. The dice fell.