Alphabet Soup

by Crinklybrownleaves

This is an A to Z of tiny stories and drabbles, all too short to stand alone. Involving lots of Dr Blake characters, but most will have Lucien and / or Jean in (well, what else would you expect from me!). All different times and moods, the only thing that holds them together is that there is one for each letter of the alphabet.

11. Knee-deep

"Did you have to go in in your suit trousers?" Her voice warned him to tread carefully now in what he said.

"I could hardly go in without them," he answered, raising his eyebrow at her, trying to make her smile at least at the thought.

Jean's lips remained pursed as he spoke, but he thought he could then see the ghost of a smile on her face, before she started to fuss about him getting changed.

"If you will go wading about in Lake Wendouree, you could at least wear suitable clothes. These will need dry-cleaning now. And why were you going in the water anyway?"

Her curiosity was beginning to outweigh her irritation, Lucien was glad to note. He still hadn't got the measure of his father's housekeeper.

He knew she was efficient and practical, and he knew she had cared for his father with devotion, but he hadn't yet seen much of the kindliness his father used to mention in his letters.

"I wanted to find these," he said, and pulled out a heap of sodden paper from a bag that was now sitting in a mess of mud and water on the kitchen floor. "I thought we could dry them out and see what sort of letters Philip Morrisey was writing to Anne." He noticed Jean frowning at the puddle on her clean floor, and decided this would be a good moment to go and get changed.

On his return, he found an intriguing scene. The mud and water had gone, and Jean was draping the letters over the rails of her clothes horse, with Mattie's help. He hovered in the doorway and watched them for a moment.

He was already becoming fond of Mattie; he enjoyed her company and sense of adventure, and he suspected she liked the change in her routine that his cases provided. But watching the women now, he realised Jean was taking the lead. She was the one trying to read the letters, and who had spotted something different in one of them.

And her eyes were sparkling as she followed up her suspicions that the last letter was written by someone else. Lucien realised he had underestimated her - there was a lively mind behind the frown she usually granted him. Hidden depths. He began to be intrigued.