Epilogue
The front door received a heavy pounding at an early hour the following morning, when the sleepover party decided that they'd waited long enough and returned en masse to have a look at the new arrival. Elizabeth demanded to be allowed to hold him, and observed that he was quite sweet but a bit wrinkly, Mumma.
When she heard of the choice of name, Dot nodded wisely. "I'm sure if he ever goes to Scotland, he'll have a warm welcome, Miss."
Phryne grinned. "Any son of mine, Dot! At the very least, he won't have to look too far for partners at the Oban Ball. But I hoped you might help me with a middle name? Something equally biblical?"
Dot tipped her head, considering. Greatly daring, she eyed Miss Fisher and asked "I suppose it would be going too far to suggest Moses - who handed down the commandments?"
Phryne shuddered theatrically. "Much too far. If he's to be expected to honour his father and, more problematically, his mother, he needs to have a bit of a weather eye to the Shalt Nots, thanks all the same."
Dot pondered some more, and then grinned. "Would it be fair to say that he's God's gift, Miss?"
Phryne chortled. "Rather too early to tell, I'd have thought. The matrons of Melbourne won't need to lock up their daughters quite yet. Why?"
"Well, one of the disciples had a name that means that. In John's gospel."
Phryne mused, and perused her personal lexicon of biblical characters.
"Okay, Dot, I like the idea, but I can't call to mind the disciple in question. Is it going to be a name that rolls off the tongue after Ian?"
"I think it works quite nicely, actually, Miss. I mean … there's a bit of a ring to Ian Nathaniel Robinson, isn't there?"
"Or the other way round. I rather like the idea of Nate Robinson. He could do anything with a name like that, couldn't he? Athlete - actor - dancer - maybe even a policeman if he worked hard enough."
Miss Fisher undertook to consult the Inspector on the issue, so the matter was as good as settled.
With a brand new baby in the house, the nanny Mary Lou was in her element, and swept the child away for a nap, shooing the rest of the guests out of the room so that Madam could have her bath. Jack ran it, and knelt beside the tub, soaping her limbs with reverence. She argued for prosecution of Captain Bailey. He said that the best he might manage would be manslaughter, but he'd give it a shot.
(At that point, he was more or less ready to have a shot at moving Uluru to Brisbane if she asked it.)
Eventually, their idle chat died away, and she half-opened her eyes to look at him pensively.
"Is there something you're not saying?"
He looked at her, then back at the shapes he was drawing on the back of her hand.
"Well … I've been doing some thinking."
"Mmm?"
"Apparently … there's an operation that a man can have … and McCafferty says he's done a couple already," said Jack hesitantly.
"What sort of an operation?" she asked.
"Well … they cut and seal the vas, and once it's had the chance to take effect, it's highly unlikely that the man will father children."
The words came out in a rush, and he flushed as he said them.
She gave him a long look that was filled with more love than he had yet imagined she could express.
"So I thought … I wondered if perhaps I should …" he tailed off hopelessly and became inexplicably obsessed with the wallpaper.
She smiled, and dragged on his hand to bring him close, kissing his temple with lingering affection.
"My darling man, you would really do that for me?"
He nodded sheepishly.
"Then I have only one thing to say."
He looked up at her quizzically.
"If you let that nasty Dr McCafferty give you such a horrid cut as that …"
She edged in closer and whispered in his ear.
"I'll kiss it better."