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Jack sensed it was near morning but a head filled with cotton warned him that opening his eyes was not the best idea, or at least it was best to wait until the room stopped spinning. He decided that just because one of his five senses was temporarily unavailable, he could still attempt to use the others at his disposal.
The comforter under his fingers was thick and much softer than the one he had at home. It also felt as though he was wearing something other than his normal cotton pajamas as well. The mattress was also much fuller and much more comfortable. He could still taste whiskey on his tongue and something vaguely medicinal. Why did he taste medicine? There was a light scent of French perfume and he heard the morning birds outside and the sound of light breathing near him.
Breathing near him?
Given that discovery, Jack chose to risk it and opened his eyes. He was, as he had guessed, in Phryne Fisher’s bedroom and, on turning his head, found Phryne in her peach-colored pajamas sitting in a chair next to the bed with her upper body resting on the bed and her hand resting near his wrist, fast asleep.
Barely above a whisper, Jack murmured, “Miss Fisher? Miss Fisher? Phryne?” She stirred and opened her eyes slightly.
“Goo’ m'rning.” Apparently, there wasn’t enough consciousness for her to get the whole phrase out.
“Why am I in your bed?”
“Drank Father’s tonic an' lots of alcohol, then door hit you. Had to keep watch to check your pulse during the night to make sure you didn’t stop breathing.”
It was obvious that war nurse skills had kicked in and that she had watched over him until sleep finally claimed her as she still mostly asleep as she answered his question. While he was mortified at the idea that he had gotten so much wrong about the situation the night before, the idea that Phryne would stay up caring for him even as he had made such an ass of himself was passionately endearing. And that she had sat in a chair instead of lying next to him in order to mollify his concerns about propriety both warmed and broke his heart. Given the sight of her sleeping with her small hand still there to gently catch his pulse, those concerns completely melted away.
“Phryne… Phryne, come to bed. That chair can’t be comfortable.”
With her eyes now reclosed as she was much closer to sleep than consciousness, she just murmured, “M’kay.” like a small child, crawled under the covers, and nestled herself in Jack’s chest with her hand flat against his heart.
“’ Night, Jack. M’ glad ‘ur ok.”
He smiled and gently kissed her on top of her head as he wrapped his arm around her.
“Thank you for caring for me.” He whispered.
As she snuggled in even closer, drifting further into sleep, she murmured, “’ Course I cared for you, ya daft man. Love you. Don’t want parades… just you.”
His eyes widened as he watched her breathing become rhythmic, the sleeping woman seemingly unaware that she had, in the truth of sleep, proclaimed her love. He had heard her correctly; he was quite sure of that. He just couldn’t believe he had heard what he heard. In the end, Jack simply chose to accept the situation – in Phryne Fisher’s home, in her bedroom, in pajamas, with Phryne in his arms, and her admission of love still ringing in his ears.
Placing his lips against her forehead, he gently said, “I love you as well, Phryne.”
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Phryne awoke to the sound of whispers.
Mr. B had brought Jack his suit and had alerted him that toiletries had been placed for him in the bathroom. “Are you feeling better, sir?” Mr. B had inquired. “Yes, thank you, Mr. B. Did she stay the entire night?”
“Yes, sir, she was rather concerned. She consulted with Dr. McMillan who gave her nursing orders about your care and what symptoms would suggest she would need to come over. She even covered you with the extra throw so that there was no chance of you catching a chill. Do you feel up to some breakfast? I could bring it up?
“The day I am not hungry for one of your breakfasts, Mr. B, is when you definitely know to call Dr. McMillan. But I’ll come downstairs, best Miss Fisher get some sleep as she was up all night.”
“Very good, and so you know, Baron Fisher is also having breakfast downstairs.”
A plaintive voice came from deep under the covers, “Mr. B, neither the Inspector nor I have done anything so reprehensible as would make us deserve dealing with my father this early in the day. May we please have breakfast up here?”
It took every ounce of butler professionalism for the elder man not to crack a smile but the twinkle in his eye told Jack that Phryne’s estimation of the situation was correct. When the door was closed, Phryne’s face rose from underneath the cover.
It was obvious, consciousness was still optional.
Without makeup, her hair tousled, and her eyes barely slits, she looked to Jack about ten years younger and absolutely adorable.
“I’m sorry if we woke you. You’ve hardly gotten any sleep.” He said gently.
Her eyes opened slightly more, but not much. “I needed to keep a check on your pulse. How’re you feeling? How’s your head?”
Jack offered her his wrist and said, “You kept check on it until almost dawn. The head’s a little sore, and as for my pulse, it may be up as I just woke up next to my partner, the most beautiful woman in the world who cared for me all night even though I acted like an ass last night.”
“It isn’t as though you haven’t done the same for me. We’re partners, for better for worse, sick or healthy, drunk or sober. And while you were quite perturbed, you weren’t an ass.”
Her nearly quoting wedding vows while using his chest as a pillow made his heart flutter and he hugged her gently with the arm that encircled her.
As something crossed her mind, she looked up at him incredulously. “You thought that I would renege on a date with you for someone like my father? That’s the most insulting thing I have ever heard! It doesn’t say much about your opinion of either of us.” She sat up sitting cross-legged and crossing her arms as well, she huffed, “Why would you assume that I choose to be with any other man when I could be with you?”
“I was not aware it was your father so I can hardly be accused of considering his type. Phryne, you could have anyone you wanted. You are the most amazing, intelligent, generous, loving woman I know. You can have any wealthy, accomplished, cultured men, any prince, duke, or baron you wanted. You deserve the best.”
Phryne smirked, rolled her eyes, and said, “Now you sound like my mother. If I am all that you say I am, why would I not want a man who is wealthy in character, accomplished in saving people from the evils of this world, a man who can quote Shakespeare and Rilke and appreciates the beauty and diversity of the people in his life? You are right, I do deserve the best which is why I was coming home to you. Jack, I may never use the term spouse but I have proudly referred to us as partners for quite some time. For someone who enjoys words as much as you do, I’m surprised you didn’t notice that.”
With that, Jack leaned over, wrapping his hand in her hair, and moved to kiss her…just as Mr. Butler brought the breakfast in. Surprisingly, Jack merely in an amused tone asked, “Mr. Butler, would the rest of the household be at all scandalized if I kissed my partner?”
The elder man attempted to hide a smile but as he removed himself from the room, he said, “Definitely not, Inspector. Will you be scandalized that the rest of the household has been taking bets on when you would?”