Chapter Text
When Jack stepped into the gilded foyer of the Ritz, he had the fleeting notion that he had stepped into another world in a different time. Sumptuous red carpets covered the floors, where gold thread looped around intricate patterns and the Ritz crest. Two marble staircases wound along the sides of the hall, eventually meeting in front of a large, tall window that stood proudly at the center of the foyer. The guests meandered down the halls in glittering jewels, large brim hats, shining pocket watches, and perfectly polished shoes.
Jack cleared his throat in discomfort, reflecting on his own scuffed brown oxfords and casual overcoat. Indulging in a moment of self-pity, he missed the overeager bell boy who had practically hopped over to him in his enthusiasm. Jack swore under his breath as he narrowly avoided collision. A snobby looking man behind the front desk looked up from rearranging the already straightened guest book, only to give a haughty sniff and look away.
“Sir?” The bell boy asked. Jack realized that the young man had probably been peering up at him for quite some time.
“Er – No, no thank you,” replied Jack. The glint off the chandeliers momentarily blindsided him as he turned quickly to look around. A distant tune was playing in one of the ballrooms. He did not notice a particularly attractive woman give him an appraising look and an appreciatively raised eyebrow as he passed.
The music was coming from a sumptuous ballroom, where the crème-de-la-crème of London society stood making small talk, champagne flutes in hand. A crooning female voice sang:
We’ll meet again, don’t know where, don’t know when But I know we’ll meet again, some sunny day
Keep smiling through, just like you always do Till the blue skies drive the dark clouds far away
Jack walked cautiously inside the ballroom and stood closely to the back wall, hat in hand. He unconsciously raked a hand through his hair, loosening a few strands from the pomade he had hastily applied after his long ship ride.
So will you please say hello, to the folks that I know Tell them that I won’t be long They’ll be happy to know, that as you saw me go I was singing this song
It was madness, really, for him to have come here. He had pictured those fleeting moments at the airfield before Phryne’s departure so many times, he no longer knew which details he had imagined and which had been real. All he knew was that when the Honorable Miss Phryne Fisher told a man to come after her, only a fool would not.
We’ll meet again, don’t know where, don’t know when But I know we’ll meet again, some sunny day
The woman on stage finished her song with a dazzling smile, as the audience clapped politely. Jack scanned the crowd, looking for a familiar raven bob. His heart sank when he didn’t see her. Maybe she wasn’t here? Jack frowned, heading back to the front desk.
Seven weeks ago, Jack has swallowed his pride and called upon Mrs. Prudence Stanley to ask whether she knew where Phryne’s final destination would be. The Collins had already departed for their honeymoon, and Mr. Butler had left to visit his niece.
To his surprise, Mrs. Stanley had neither chastised him nor given him her signature disapproving frown. Instead, as if she had been awaiting his arrival, Mrs. Stanley had written down the address of the Ritz and handed it to him without a word. If he had not been so shocked, Jack would’ve sworn that Mrs. Stanley had nearly smiled at his retreating figure.
“Excuse me, I’m looking for a Miss Phryne Fisher,” Jack addressed the mustache behind the front desk. The man’s slight sneer froze midway when he caught the name.
“The Honorable Miss Phryne Fisher, sir?” the man asked.
Jack couldn’t help the slight smirk that graced his features. “The one and the same. Is she still a guest here? I was told by her aunt that she would likely stay at the Ritz upon her return to England.”
The man behind the counter seemed slightly discomforted. “Well, yes and no sir.” Upon seeing Jack’s puzzled expression, he hurried on. “You see sir, her rooms are still being maintained for her return, but the lady has not returned for several days. Although –“ he broke off to to give Jack a once-over before continuing hesitantly. “The lady did mention she was expecting her --er-- cousin to join her at some point, sir. And to show him up to her rooms until she returned from urgent family business.” The man looked pointedly at Jack, making it abundantly clear that he didn't believe for a moment that Jack was Phryne's "cousin."
A younger Jack would have probably blushed, but 3 years with Miss Fisher had made him practically brazen. Jack cracked a roguish grin. Nobody knew him in England. He had long forgone his honor and his reputation at City South, months before. What did he have to lose?
“I’ll take the key to her room then, thank you.”
Jack picked up the tattered suitcase he had temporarily forgotten on the floor.
“And one more thing – I’d greatly appreciate it if you didn’t tell Miss Fisher I have arrived. I would like to keep it a surprise.”
Without waiting for a response, he turned and followed the bell boy up the stairs.
I’ve come after you Miss Fisher, now you better come after me, thought Jack.
********
Phryne made a noise of frustration and rolled her eyes to the ceiling. “Father, for the last time, we can’t touch any of our remaining inheritance until your delightful cousin is convicted! Our assets are frozen until then – we technically aren’t even titled until Eugene is officially deemed guilty.”
Henry Fisher poured himself another generous glass of cognac as he responded. “And I’ve told you my dear that I don’t give a damn! We are aristocracy, whether you like it or not.” The Baron looked up from his glass and looked levelly at his daughter. “And from your lifestyle, I know for a fact that you very much like your title. So if I were you, I’d sit tight and not say a word during this entire ordeal.”
Phryne glared back at her father. How she thought that this trip to England would be anything but painful was beyond her. She had let a momentary lapse in sentiment cloud her judgment. Maybe she thought that arranging a romantic reunion for her parents would serve as an appropriate outlet for her sudden and unexpected desire for her own romance.She liked to think that her decision has been purely out of love for her mother, if not her infuriating father.
Bah. Phryne cringed at the thought of how sappy it all sounded. She hadn’t truly believed that Jack, as handsome and kind as he was, would ever forsake his duty to chase after her halfway across the world. Besides, while she knew very little about Jack’s personal affairs, she doubted he would have the means to travel so far, or afford to leave his job for that long.
She sighed, touching the swallow brooch still pinned to her frock. Not once since her departure had she taken it off. At night, she would add it back to her jewelry box, carefully placing it next to the Buffalo Bill pin Jack had given her. All week, she had drifted off to sleep envisioning a young Jack riding his bike down the roads of Richmond, wielding his badge against pretend foes and criminals.
Speaking of criminals…“Father, I cannot stand idly by while you break the law. Unless you wish to end up right next to your cousin, I would suggest you toe the line very, very carefully.”
“Yes, I’m sure your Inspector wouldn’t want to get himself into a family scandal now, would he?”
Phryne looked back at her father, startled. Not once had the Baron mentioned the kiss he had witnessed at the airfield, nor had he brought up Jack’s name since their departure. To bring him in and echo the very same words she had used upon his introduction to Jack seemed almost mocking.
Did he know? Phryne felt suddenly vulnerable, as she inevitably did around her father. It had been weeks since she had last heard from Jack, and it had been a sore spot for her. It was silly really, that she, the Honorable Miss Phryne Fisher, lady detective and invincible spirit, would be so let down by a lack of telegrams? It seemed almost comical.
Yet…even in Dot’s latest missive, there was no news of Jack, despite Phryne’s explicit question asking how he was. This seemed highly suspicious, a fact she had overlooked in her efforts to restrain her father from breaking the law once again.
Had she been tentative in her declaration? Surely Jack knew her well enough by now to understand that she had practically laid her heart out on a platter for him. For the millionth time, Phryne’s imagination conjured up the unbidden image of Jack untying Angela Lombard’s dress, as she smiled seductively up at him. Phryne had never asked about that moment, but time and time again, she had found herself uncharacteristically fixating on what could have happened. It was almost as if her position with Jack had switched, so that it was now her that was the possessive, jealous one – a role she had embarrassingly played since the moment she had found out about Concetta. Or was it when Rosie had so unceremoniously reentered Jack’s life? She could no longer remember.
Phryne turned her attention back to her father, who was checking his pocket watch.
“Well, it’s almost time for your mother to be home, and seeing as I am still on rather shaky grounds with her, we shall postpone this discussion for another time. It seems, for now, you have won the battle my dear,” Henry said in a faux-charming tone.
Phryne barely saw him leave the drawing room. She stood up to walk toward the phone, dialing the number to the Ritz for the second time that day to inquire about any messages she may have received.