Chapter Four
Jack was trying to summon the enthusiasm for unpacking his cases and digging out the case files when a knock came at the door. On opening it, he was faced with a smartly dressed steward.
"Good morning, sir. I won't keep you, but I just wanted to introduce myself. I am George, and I am your steward for our journey to England. It is my job to make sure that you have everything you need, and if something is missing, you must pick up the telephone here and tell the ship's switchboard, who will find me. That's assuming, of course, that you can't find me just by looking along the companionway." The man smiled deprecatingly. "In the first instance, it is my pleasure to enquire whether you might be able to join the Captain at his table for dinner this evening?"
Jack's heart sank. He already had a firm suspicion as to the culprit he could blame for his newly elevated status, and the prospect of making polite conversation with a group of strangers every night of the voyage filled him with dread. He clutched at the one available straw he could identify.
"George, thank you – and please thank the captain for me. I regret, though, that I have stupidly failed to bring evening dress, and would not dream of insulting the other guests by wearing only a lounge suit to dinner." His expression was, he thought, a perfect mix of apology and wistful regret.
Oddly, George seemed not one whit perturbed.
"It is I who am to apologise, Mr Benedick! I was so hasty, haha, in my eagerness to welcome you that I did not give you the opportunity to confirm that your wardrobe has arrived. You are perfectly prepared for every on board eventuality, sir."
Jack looked at him, thoroughly nonplussed.
"The captain suggests cocktails in his cabin at seven, sir. Will that be all for now?"
With a wordless nod, Jack closed the door behind his first ever manservant ... and strode to the dressing room. Hauling open the door, he stopped in horror. He appeared to have acquired not only evening dress but two more wool suits – one light, one heavy. A linen suit for the tropics. Blazer. A dozen shirts. Half a dozen pairs of shoes.
He closed his eyes in pain.
A swimming suit.
Suspicions mounting once more, he removed his suit jacket and slipped on the evening coat.
A Perfect Fit.
He cast his mind back to a day he had almost forgotten, shortly after Phryne left. He hadn't cared that much beyond appreciating her thoughtfulness. Mr Butler, Phryne's factotum, had got in touch to say that he had been charged with the task of supplying him with a new suit at Phryne's expense, to compensate for her having ruined so much of his wardrobe. The suit was accepted gratefully – not just because he needed a suit, but because it was another touch point with the woman he was already missing more than he would have thought possible – but of course, Mr Butler now had his measurements.
He had always understood – Phryne planned everything, or nothing. This was clearly one of the former situations. On the plus side, he could hold up his head among his fellow First Class passengers. On the minus ... he would so very much rather have dined in solitary state at his beautifully polished table. It might even, he thought, be Chippendale. He bent to check the underside. Almost certainly Chippendale. Good God.
He went to take off the coat, and noticed a rustling sound. Checking the outer pockets, he found another note, sealed with the now-familiar cursive "B".
I thought these might have waited till I got home. I wish I was there to stop you mangling your ties.
He smiled softly, and almost became resigned to his sentence for the coming weeks: acting the part of John Benedick, academic research analyst, for an unappreciative audience. He had not the slightest doubt that he'd be quizzed on his prowess when eventually he saw Phryne again.