Chapter 20: Tabacco

Phryne was sitting at the edge of a chair, looking at the bed in silence. Jack hadn't moved in ten minutes, just sat there, his hands wrapped over his head, staring onto the floor. When she crouched down, touching his knee, he flinched.

"Jack, talk to me," she whispered. His arms fell beside him on the bed while he lifted his head to look at her. His eyes were bright red, like he had refused to cry out of pure stubbornness. Gently, Phryne ran her hand down the side of his face in an effort to wipe the pain away. He sat still without tearing his eyes from her, looking tired, defeated.

"You were right," she said with a wry smile, "your father is a piece of work."

"I don't have a father," he replied hoarsely. Phryne shook her head.

"Don't say that, Jack. You argued. It happens in the best of families."

He gently peeled her hand from his face, holding it between his.

"We seem to do nothing but argue. And I am through with it. He will never get a chance to insult you again. Or Jane. Or me, for that matter."

Phryne slipped to her feet and sat down beside him.

"What are you proposing?"

"That we head back to Melbourne as soon as this storm is over. And we will get married and my father will not be on the guest list."

There was more resolve in Jack's voice than Phryne had expected. She understood. Jack was hurt by his father's words, but that was not the point. He was protecting his own family: Jane and herself. Her heart beat faster in a mixture of affection and worry.

"I think you should sleep on this, Jack," she said gently. "Don't make any rash decisions."

"There is nothing rash about it. He has been a pain for years," Jack protested, but allowed her to guide him into a lying position, pulling the blanket over him and switching off the lights again. Phryne crawled on the bed beside him, cradling him to her chest and gently stroking his hair, as if she was trying to soothe a child. After a while she felt the wetness of silent tears soaking through her nightdress. She just kept running her fingers through his hair, rubbing calming circles onto his back, watching over him. Eventually, Jack fell asleep. Phryne lay still for a while longer, her back aching from the awkward position, until she was sure that he had really drifted off. He must be exhausted after a day like this one. Then she gently peeled herself away from him and got dressed in the dark. She needed some fresh air.

X

Downstairs an uncomfortable dinner had ended, but nobody felt like getting up. The long day and its dire conclusion had drained the liveliness out of the assembled people. So they just sat, sharing uneasy small talk while none of them thought about much else than the broken pieces of a relationship littered over the floor. Samuel was the first to excuse himself. He was obviously still smarting from Mrs. Stanley's accusation and had spent most of the evening silently shovelling food into his mouth with little regard to his company, which was a fairly unusual occurrence for him.

Fred left shortly after, wanting to look in on his son, who usually didn't sleep this long. His wife's suspicious eyes followed him out the door, before she was side tracked by Hazel, who did her best to engage her cousin in a conversation instead of spending every waking moment resisting the urge to cuddle up to Mac. The Doctor took her cue to also leave, wishing for a cigarette, and so she missed the excitement to follow only minutes later. A sharp rapping sound at the door tore the company from their thoughts. Since he knew the servants to take their own dinner at this time, Walter got up to open the door himself. A hooded figure stood on the top of the stairs, backlit by a flash of lightning. The woman stepped past him with a small curse on her lips and shed the hood of her raincoat.

"What terrible weather," she exclaimed, her exotic features pulled into a frown.

"Mrs. Santi!" Dot called from the open door to the dining room. "What on earth are you doing here?"

"I passed by the villa, but there was nobody there. So I came to see if you had been caught by the storm," the woman explained, past the still speechless Master of the house. Only now did she seem to realise that she was being rude and extended her hand.

"Riya Santi. I am so sorry to interrupt your dinner, but I was worried about my friends."

After exchanging the pleasantries, she looked back at Dorothy and it occurred to her that her friends hadn't even known that she was in Daylesford up till now.

"It is a long story," she explained.

Walter had caught himself. Miss Fisher definitely had interesting and very attractive acquaintances.

"Let's hear it," he prompted, taking the soaked coat from the woman's hands, "it seems to me this is the perfect evening for a good story."

X

Mac longed for a cigarette. Being forced to spend an evening in close proximity to Hazel without being allowed to so much as touch her, was torture. But she didn't dare overstep the line, even to friendly behaviour any longer. They had been spotted by Mrs. Stanley, God knew when. She still felt grateful that the woman had chosen not to expose them. But they were walking on thin ice nevertheless. God, Phryne and Jack had been busted for sleeping in a bed together and they were of the 'right' genders.

Mac was in a good mood to find the room Mr. Robinson stayed in and strangle the old man. How she hated prejudices and the pain they brought. Still steaming, she approached the library, where she was sure to find some stray cigarettes and also hopefully a glass of something with high alcohol content, when she froze in her step.

A young man was standing there and even though he had turned his back to her, she recognised him instantly. Samuel Cox-Stafford was currently pulling a pile of letters from his pocket and shoving them into the flames of the fireplace. Mac held her breath, wondering if she should rush in and salvage whatever evidence she could, when she heard another set of feet come down the corridor. Silently, she stepped into the shadows, watching Fred walk past her. His brother-in-law turned in shock, when he approached, trying to hide what he was doing by standing in front of the fire that hungrily ate the pieces of paper.

"I see you had the same idea," Fred smiled, pulling a piece of paper from his own pocket and throwing it onto the pile. Samuel's eyes widened, but he didn't say a word.

"She was a very dangerous woman, Miss Spencer, was she not?" Fred pointed out conversationally, still getting no answer. Mac had almost screamed, when a hand touched her shoulder.

"What are you doing here?" Phryne asked her friend.

"Eavesdropping," Mac whispered back, putting her finger to her lips. Obediently Miss Fisher slipped into the darkness beside her. But the men seemed to be done talking and after a few more minutes, they also appeared happy with the destruction of their letters and retreated. As soon as their steps had vanished down the hall, the two women were in the room.

"Water," Phryne called, while trying to fish a piece of half burned paper from the fireplace. Mac riffled through the small bar, but came up with only highly alcoholic drinks. While that satisfied a part of her, it would not do much good against the fire. Then she spotted a vase with sunflowers that had made its way up here. She flung the greenery onto the next chair and emptied the container over the flames. The fire died with a hiss, spitting a cloud of smoke at the woman. Pulling her jacket over her nose the doctor stepped backwards.

"Not quite the form of smoking I was hoping for," she joked, when they had ceased coughing. Miss Fisher was already crouching at the fireplace, fishing in the still warm ashes for any remainder of the paperwork the two men had burned. A piece of a letter was blackened, but still readable.

"A love letter," she concluded after running her eyes over it.

"Seems to me a rather physical description of love," Mac frowned. "And not a overly erotic one, if you ask my opinion."

"I believe you were not the target audience," Miss Fisher teased, searching through the rest of the ashes, but in vain. There was only tiny pieces of paper left, one or two words here and there that caught her eye, but little to be concluded. "You are missing most of the body parts described."

"Story of my life," her friend grumbled, finally lighting her desired cigarette.

"I don't think Hazel minds," Miss Fisher smiled, sinking into an armchair, while carefully placing the salvaged piece of erotic amateur literature onto the table.

The doctor glanced at Phryne, wondering what she really made of her affair with Hazel. She had never really spoken much with her friend about either of their respective life styles. They had just accepted that they were different, yet now Phryne was embracing a 'normal' life, marrying her Inspector and she herself was still the social outcast.

"I am happy for you," Miss Fisher said, as if she had read her thoughts. Mac let that sink in, before she answered.

"I think your aunt is having her suspicions."

"And I believe you are right."

Mac sighed.

"Don't worry about Aunt Prudence, she will get over herself. She always seems to."

"I am not. I am worried about Hazel and her family here." Mac made a gesture that covered the whole house. "After witnessing the ordeal Jack went through tonight, I wonder if they will burn her at the stake for being 'abnormal', Phryne. I am scared for her."

Miss Fisher pondered this for a while, lighting herself a cigarette. She hadn't smoked this much in years, but something about the old walls and the amount of family made her want to turn to calming nicotine.

"I don't think so, Mac. There is a lot more to Mr. Robinson's hostility than meets the eye, I believe. And the rest of the family seems quite normal, in an insane sort of way."

She smiled.

"You mean beside ones who burn pornographic letters in the middle of the night?" Mac asked, after a pause. Phryne frowned at this. Elisabeth had a point. She had to talk with Jack about this. But it could wait until the morning.

X

Riya had enjoyed her evening. The Cox-Staffords were pleasant company and she was glad that Phryne was marrying into an agreeable family. But the one person she really longed to talk to was not sitting on their table. Confessing to her relationship with Miss Fisher's butler had drawn mixed reactions, ranging from astonishment in the Lady of the house, a slight frown on Mrs. Stanley's features to something like admiration displayed on Iris Walker's face. Obviously to the people who weren't prejudiced, there was something wildly romantic to cross class lines for love. It was hard to explain the absence of those lines to someone who lived within them and so she hadn't bothered to try. When she finally excused herself to follow Esmeralda's description down to the servant rooms, she was back to worrying about Tobias's decision. Somehow, she was not sure, which one she feared more. While Riya longed for him to come with her, to show him India in all it's beauty, she was scared that he might not embrace a life with her as much as she hoped. She knew he was happy in his position, liked his work and considered Phryne a good employer. She was also aware, that he felt deeply attached to the people living in his home and he wouldn't be able to just abandon them. But then the idea of him staying, of leaving him behind, broke her heart. Why she had ever allowed this to happen, she wasn't sure. She had been acting on instinct, followed nothing but her feelings and now they would both pay the price for her thoughtlessness. How utterly stupid of her!

She knocked at a heavy oak door, pushing it open in the same moment. Tobias Butler sat at a long kitchen table surrounded by a collection of women. The one beside him was wearing a cooks uniform and currently laughing. There was twinkle in Tobias' eyes that Riya knew all too well. He was highly amused. When the servants spotted her standing in the door, the laughter disappeared.

"Are you lost, Ma'am?" a young maid asked in a tiny voice, standing up.

"I don't think so," Riya said, locking eyes with Mr. Butler. "I actually believe I am just where I ought to be."

Under the confused eyes of the assembled people, she sat down on a free chair, just across the table from her lover.

"May I?" she asked, pointing at a pot of tea sitting in the middle of the table.

"Of course, Ma'am." the same maid replied hurriedly. Mrs. Santi smiled.

"Thank you. And please drop the ma'am, I do have a name."

Tobias looked at her, the confused frown slowly turning into something resembling a smile.

"It's Riya," she said, lifting her cup to her lips, locking her eyes with him. "And I believe, I might stay the night."

X

John Robinson wasn't sure who he expected, when someone knocked at his door shortly before midnight. Maybe Olivia in another attempt to talk him round? Walter to inform him, that he had overstepped the line? Will enquiring after his health? Even the girl was a possibility, despite him currently thinking that Jane would not come to him again any time soon. For some reason that thought hurt. John peeled his aching limbs from the bed where he had spent the last three hours tousling the sheets instead of sleeping and walked to the door with a sigh. He didn't really feel like company but he didn't want to be alone either. He guessed either would have to give way. The person that was standing in front of his door, he certainly hadn't expected.

"What do you want here?" he asked.

Miss Fisher just walked past him into the room.

"I think we should have a little chat," she said sweetly, sitting down and folding a leg over the other.

John found himself rather stunned and so he closed the door behind her without the slightest protest and turned with his arms crossed over his chest.

"If you expect an apology from me, Miss Fisher, you are wasting your time."

She smiled, which unsettled him further.

"I don't, Mr. Robinson. And really I do not care for one. Neither does it matter to me if I meet with your approval. I will marry your son and experience shows that he will choose our relationship over his family if it should come down to that. I am not scared of you."

John's blood started to boil at her cheek and he opened his mouth to throw her out in no uncertain terms, when he realised that the expression on her face had changed.

"But this is not about me. Jack is your son and he loves you. And I love him. I don't want him to hurt and neither do you."

Deflating, John sank into a chair, rubbing his cold hands, while Miss Fisher just kept talking.

"I will be honest with you, as things stand, he is determined to cut you out of our lives. And I cannot blame him for it. Nevertheless, I will try and protect him from the pain attached, if I can at all manage to do so."

John nodded slowly, letting her words sink in. She leaned forward with a smile, dropping her voice into a conspirational whisper.

"So, what do you think, Mr. Robinson?"

He stared at her, startled. She had a point, he realised. She also didn't look like the son-eating monster of his imagining right now, with her make-up missing and her hair slightly tousled. He gulped

"What do you propose?"

She leaned back, smiling at him with a hint of smugness.

"You stop acting like a complete imbecile and I convince Jack that we just cannot leave an open case behind."

John Robinson couldn't think of anything to say. Truth be told, he wasn't sure how to stop acting like an idiot or he would have done it a decade ago. There was so much anger raging through his veins that every time Jack said a wrong word, made a wrong move, he seemed to lose control of his tongue. And by the time his brain caught up, it was usually too late to undo what he had done.

He swallowed dryly and wrung his hands on his lap, two gestures he would have been rather surprised to know, reminded his conversation partner strongly of someone else. Miss Fisher took his silence as agreement.

"I will buy you some time, Mr. Robinson, but you had better get this right. Because it is the last chance you will get, I know Jack that well."

She rose without waiting for an answer.

"Have a good night, I shall see you at breakfast."

John stared after Miss Fisher, before remembering to finally close his mouth.

X

The world lay freshly washed in the first sunlight of a new day. Even the most stubborn of storms had run out of breath some time around 3 am and had retreated pouting into the distance to find some strength to again lay havoc somewhere else. Still shell-shocked birds celebrated surviving the end of the world by singing hysterically in the wet trees. Inspector Jack Robinson awoke oblivious to the beauty of the gardens outside with a moan. Someone seemed to have repeatedly pounded his skull with a hammer during the night. The only suspect was currently lying across the bed, taking up all of the room that was not filled by his massive headache. Jack rubbed his throbbing temples, trying to sort his thoughts. The events of the last night came flooding back with terrible force, drawing another groan from him. He did not look forward to even trying to get out of bed feeling this way, let alone attempting a train trip. He also sensed that it was incredibly rude to abandon his whole family, when it was only his father who he could not stand seeing. Will had been right about that.

A part of him hoped that John would have the decency to just disappear, allowing him and Phryne to stay in peace. But his father had seldom shown any sense of the sort, so he would have to withdraw himself, once again, probably resulting in being belittled for his cowardice. Jack just couldn't bear staying under the same roof as his father at this point in time.

"Good morning," a sleepy voice mumbled beside him, causing him to turn his aching head. Jack winced. She sat up in a hurry, disturbing the mattress and causing a wave of nausea to flood his stomach.

"Are you all right?" Phryne asked, worry edged on her face.

"Just a headache," he explained, gently bedding his head back onto his pillow while stubbornly refusing to throw up. "I will be better in a minute. Then we can get out of here."

Miss Fisher sized up his pale face, his clenched shut eyes and came to a resolution.

"Under the circumstances, you aren't going anywhere today, Jack."

He pried open an eyelid with some effort.

"We need to get back," he whispered, with no real strength behind it. But Phryne shook her head vehemently.

"All you need to do is get some sleep. I will take care of the rest."

Jack surrendered. If more to Miss Fisher or the pain ravaging his head, he could not have said, but it didn't matter. He closed his eyes and let himself drift back to sleep. Three hours later, the shot woke him.