«Are you sure you don't want us to come with you?», Louisa asked, turning in her seat to face Phryne after she stopped the motorcar in St. James's St., ahead of Brooks's main entrance, the faint outdoor lighting sketching her features.

«Yes, for the time being. We'll see how this turns out first before calling in the cavalry. But thank you for offering anyway», said Miss Fisher, touching Louisa and Darshil's shoulders. She loved her friends and was very thankful for their help but her being a woman would be an obstacle enough to removing Henry from the club; showing up with another woman and an Indian man by her side wouldn't make the task any easier.

«We'll wait here then. And remember: Sir Philip Varnham is only a telephone call away», Louisa said as Phryne got out of the vehicle, meaning her father, himself a member of the club as well.

«I hope it doesn't come to that».

Miss Fisher fastened her navy coat to fend off the cold October air and made her way towards the Palladian facade of Brooks's, decorated with a pediment up top and pilasters between the windows.

She rang the bell and waited.

«Good evening, Madam. I'm afraid ladies aren't allowed in. Can I help you somehow? », said the porter who answered the door.

«Good evening. Yes, I'm aware of that strict policy», Phryne said, not meaning to start on the wrong foot but not willing to let it slide either.

«Miss Phryne Fisher», she continued, proffering her card, the version without the 'Lady Detective' mention, that was. It would sit better. «Lord Henry Fisher is my father and he is inside. I need to speak with him, if you would be so kind as to arrange it. There's some urgency to it », she added in the most pleasant tone.

«I'm sorry, Madam, but this is a private club», the porter said, affecting the falsely clueless air people in similar positions all over the world had for such occasions.

Phryne appreciated the discretion and professionalism in most circumstances but this porter's were a hindrance she'd rather not have to deal with at this time of night.

«I understand. Good night», she said to the man, turning in her heels and walking away, hearing him close the door behind her.

Phryne considered calling in that favour with Louisa's father after all. His word would certainly have enough weight to either let her in or summon Henry out. But she was sure Sir Philip had been one of the people involved in proposing Henry for membership and she didn't want to leave him in a difficult position or embarrass him; her father certainly did it enough on his own already.

The drapes were open upstairs, but at street level, translucent curtains had been shut, making it possible to discern the light features, and some human and furniture silhouettes but without much detail. Nevertheless, Phryne peered into the room as she turned the corner of the building, trying to ascertain where her father could be.

She found the wrought iron gate in the fence that led to what she guessed to be the service entrance at the basement of the club. It was locked but seemed easy for her to pick, regardless of the incipient light provided by the street lamp nearby and her being a bit exposed.

Phryne sighed as she worked on it. She was tired of getting dragged into her father's imbroglios. Hers were enough, mostly innocuous and, in fact, she had walked into the majority of them willingly. This was not. Phryne rarely had qualms about breaking into building in the course of her investigations but doing so to stop Henry from making another muddle or deepening it was too much of a repetition for her. Moving to the other side of the world had been as close to making magic as she had been able to come up with and yet it had all followed her.

They had seen each other only a couple of times so Phryne had been quite surprised when she found out her maternal grandmother had left her a not-insignificant amount of money. Surprised but also relieved, as that inheritance paved Phryne's way to becoming independently wealthy and without having to live both under the shade of the barony assets (mis)managed by her father or the imminent return to poverty, which terrified her as only it can do to someone who has once been in those circumstances.

And yet there she was, picking another lock, this time in near darkness because the black-painted door was too far away from the street lamp on the pavement above.

Phryne wondered sometimes if she was been too inflexible and unfeeling, deliberately choosing to only see the worst in her father; forgetting that he had his own feelings and maybe even reasons to behave like he did. After all, he had been the one who had risen faster and higher in society with that sudden title and money. Phryne recognised that it put some things in perspective but it couldn't excuse how he had treated her when she was a child, couldn't excuse not listening to those who loved and cared about him even if he might not like to hear the truths they had to say and paying attention to unknowns' flatteries instead. She didn't owe him overlooking these faults because he had found himself way over his head 25 years ago and it had magnified the flaws that had been his even before that.

The longed-for 'click' came at last and the door turned on its hinges. As she closed it back, there were two interior bolts Phryne was glad hadn't been closed. She mentally thanked the staff member who sneaked out to smoke, judging by the smell of cigarettes still lingering in the air and the full ashtray on the bench by the door.

Phryne walked through the service hallway, cautious not to let her heels tap on the floor. Everything was quiet and any small noise would sound like thunder. Like most people in a familiar night environment, the staff would know what was the water running through pipes or any machinery which was supposed to be on and what was out of the norm.

The rooms upstairs would be large and plenty and she didn't have a single idea about where she could find her father, whether there were many people around and if so, where, so she could move without risking getting caught. But there was a place everybody stopped by sooner or later and she set out to locate it.

xxx

«Phryne?», Henry's tone and face were warped in a mixture of surprise and confusion. «What are you doing here?».

«To take you home. Since you don't seem to know how to get there by yourself», she said in a dry tone. «Again».

Henry puffed. «You can't be here», he said, looking at the heavy velvet drapes by the bathroom behind which his daughter had been hiding for who-knew-for-how-long.

That was another thing that weighed on her: how in the course of cleaning after Henry there was always some farcical moment that seemed to undermine how serious it all actually was.

« Yes, the porter told me. But I'll only go if I leave with you», declared Phryne.

«I can't simply vanish. There are people waiting for me to be back within a reasonable timeframe», Henry countered in a tone that was meant to let his daughter know that he was sure had had trumped her intentions.

«You have exactly one minute to bid your goodbyes and meet me at the front door. If you don't show up within that reasonable time frame, be sure that I will cause such a scandal you will not be allowed in the doorway anymore». Phryne's voice was even more unwavering than usual and a sudden flick in Henry's eyes betrayed that he was sure she would do so.

xxx

«Oh, come on, Phryne. I wasn't doing anything wrong», he pleaded when he joined her outside.

«Whose £10,000 were you gambling away now? Yours they can't be because you don't have that kind of money at your easy disposal anymore. Or was it being 'invested' in some brand new sport no one has ever heard again but which will be a success or some sort of snake oil emporium? It's always a surprise with you – I have to give you that».

«Why can't you believe that I was just talking with friends tonight and enjoying a glass of brandy?»

«We better get home before this sours even more. It's too early in the morning for this».

Phryne started walking towards the motorcar and Henry, pouting like a child, reluctantly followed.

«Good evening, Lord Fisher».

«Dear Louisa, Darshil!», Henry charmingly greeted once he got in the car. «How do you do? I'm sorry my daughter dragged you out of bed at this ungodly hour».

Phryne glared at him as she closed the door.

«Not at all. I do love London by night», Louisa said, starting the car.

At such late hour, they moved swiftly through the deserted streets and soon enough Dr Varnham-Banerjee had parked her red motorcar in front of the Fisher house.

Phryne thanked her friends, wished them a safe drive back home and let herself and Henry in.

She had already one foot on the first step of the staircase when he said:

«There was no need to call Louisa. One must not impose on their friends like this… one should save it for something truly important.»

Phryne sharply turned to him. She could barely believe her ears.

«If Mother hadn't been forced to sell the motorcar and I didn't want to spare us all from gossip conveyed by a taxi driver, I wouldn't have to call anyone».

«I was only trying to help your cousin and to keep him away from us. I didn't want him court-marshalled when he first showed up and I still didn't want it when he returned.»

Miss Fisher stepped down and walked forward towards her father.

«You can't coast on your one good feeling forever. Are you expecting the King to knight you or something? Eugene didn't make you buy a lame horse that 'would definitely get better and have great odds at Epsom first and Ascot later' or invest in the failing McKenzie Cavalcade of Mysteries, just to name some of your stellar investments at the top of my head».

«Why must you be so disbelieving all the time?», said Henry.

Phryne couldn't stop snickering.

«So disbelieving? I have given you more chances than what you have ever deserved», Phryne said coolly, trying to keep her voice down even if she was quite sure her mother hadn't been able to fall asleep until they were back, if at all even afterwards. «Given that putting the wife you claim to love so much through all you've been doing doesn't seem enough to reconsider, have you ever stopped to think that your recklessness endangers everything, including those things you prize so much like the club? Do you think Henry Fisher of Collingwood, Australia, with no fixed occupation, name or money to himself would ever been put forward for consideration? If you become a penniless peer, you won't be able to pay your dues and if you think your 'old chaps' will meet with you anywhere else, you are deeply mistaken. They may acquiesce at first, out of pity and some vague ideal of 'doing the right thing for poor Henry Fisher', but it will subside – they have done their duty, it's time to move on. I've seen it. For someone who has been on ther other side most of his life, you seem to have forgotten how fast tables turn».

«You're so wrapped up in your righteousness, you can't see I'm doing my share too», spat Henry, tapping his chest with his right index finger.

Phryne's eyebrows rose in incredulity.

«I'm maintaining these connections, knowing the right people is important, you know».

«Let's assume part of it it's true. Still, it isn't enough to stop the absolute haemorrhage bleeding the barony dry. I will be fine in all regards. Emotionally, Mother won't but Aunt Prudence and I will be by her side and help her financially and you will be alone and bankrupt and it will all be your own doing», Phryne said with a certain amount of disappointment in her voice. It was difficult to summon anger when one had made the same points over and over again.

«You've always looked at me with scorn and put the burdens on me, expecting me to do everything», Henry's hands flew cut through the air as he spoke. «But I can't, do you hear me, I can't. You and your mother have ganged up on me for months and I don't know what else to do. I've signed every paper she asked for, haven't I? Even if I don't want to. Even the solicitors paid for with my own money come and give me orders! Has anything like this ever been seen?»

«Signing papers may be a step but it's not all. Have you really talked to her? It isn't enough – look at Mother! What this is doing to her. She's always busying herself and trying to charge forward but the only time I've seen her in worse shape was when Janey died. You say you can't do anything else, well, I'm not sure how much she can either». Phryne had spoken quietly but she was breathless by the time she stopped talking and stood looking at Henry who, in turn, was looking at her as if blinded by lightening.

«I…I had no idea», he said eventually, his voice much milder «We have talked. She knows she can tell me everything.»

«I don't think she feels that at the moment.»

Henry stayed quiet, seemingly pondering on what his daughter had told him.

«I'm going to bed. Consider this another chance», Phryne said. Perhaps trying to siphon through their conversation would do him some good.


A/n: Thank you for reading this new chapter. There's probably too much Henry for your taste, but he's so intertwined with Phryne's trip to London, it kind of comes with the territory for me. I don't think Phryne would have anything against England per se, but I don't think she would have returned there in that particular time of her life if not to return him.

Brooks's does exist and is an exclusive gentlemen's club that exists since the 18th century. The address and facade fit the reality, but I played loose with the rest because research didn't help much since it is well... private.

This wasn't an easy chapter to write as I grappled with the doubt 'am I going over and over the same points again?', but I hope I was able to add something to what has been said in the show and in the fic itself.

I hope you enjoy this chapter. Next will bring Phryne at the Gargoyle, so I hope that's something to look forward to.

Feedback is appreciated as always. Thank you.