Kerry Greenwood - Introducing the Honourable Phryne Fisher

They were dressed rather casually for a visit to a lady’s house and the first young man eagerly explained.

‘Miss Fisher? An honour to meet such a famous Sherlock. I’m Lindsay Herbert and this is Alastair Thompson. We apologise for our attire but we were training and the coach just wouldn’t let us off, even though we explained about Miss Henderson.’

‘Quite all right, gentlemen — do come in. Training for what?’ asked Phryne casually, leading the way into her parlour and indicating seats before the fire. Lindsay sat down, but Alastair hovered.

‘Dot, could you take Mr Thompson to Miss Henderson, please? Just a moment, Mr Thompson. Miss Henderson has gone through a terrible experience. You must be gentle with her and not ask her a lot of questions. She can’t talk easily because of the burns, but she will not be scarred. Do you understand?’

The young man drew himself up haughtily. ‘I am a medical student, Miss Fisher, and I know how to talk to the sick. You have no need to be concerned.’

He followed Dot, and Lindsay laid a hand on Phryne’s arm.

‘Don’t be angry, Miss Fisher, he doesn’t mean to be so rude. He’s been worried sick about Miss Henderson.’

‘Yes, a terrible thing,’ agreed Phryne. The hand on her arm was long and strong, and warm, even though it was sleeting again outside. She smiled at Lindsay, and patted the hand.

‘Will she really be all right? And is she badly hurt?’

‘The burns are not too bad, but the doctor is afraid of damage to the liver. Are you a medical student, too?’

‘Lord, no, I’m a humble lawyer. Got to pass this year, you know, or the Pater will cut off supplies. I’ve been up at the Shop for five years, and this is the sixth.’

‘Oh?’ asked Phryne, scanning the perfect muscular curve of shoulder and throat. The firelight became him.

‘Yes, I just could not get the hang of Contracts, and then I had to repeat Trusts, because I couldn’t get the hang of them, either. In any case I’ll be articled next year, and I’m most interested in crime. I shall go to the bar when the Pater can be convinced to stump up, and I shall specialise in crime. Fascinating. That’s why I asked old Alastair to bring me along. I wanted to meet you.’

‘Well, now you have met me,’ said Phryne, leaning back in the leather armchair, ‘what do you think?’

‘Well, Miss Fisher, I’d heard you were good at puzzles, and I’d got it into my head that you were an old maid with a bent for detection — I never thought that you. . that you. .’

‘That I?’

‘Would be beautiful,’ concluded Lindsay simply, and kissed the hand which lay along the top of the settee.

‘Thank you. I’m glad that you came even when you thought I was an old maid. That shows dedication. What do you think of our little murder, then?’

‘She was a really nasty old woman,’ said the young man slowly. ‘But it is a terrible thing to kill someone. A human, I mean, however horrible or superfluous, a breathing creature; a terrible responsibility, to take someone’s death on yourself.’

‘But that’s what most murderers are like,’ said Phryne. ‘They are always sure that they are right, and that gives them the moral force to take on that burden. Or sometimes it is simpler; this person is in my way, and therefore they must die; because they are in my way, they do not deserve to live. I’ve heard that tune often enough.’

The young man appeared disconcerted at the vehemence of Phryne’s discourse, and she changed the subject. One did not wantonly disconcert young men on whom one might be having designs in future.

And she might well have designs. A very pretty young man indeed, and predisposed by his odd interest in crime to be receptive.

‘Training, you said?’ Phryne poured the young man a drink — a weak brandy-and-water, at his request — and he took the glass and waved it enthusiastically.

‘Rowing, Miss Fisher — on the river.’

Phryne suppressed the retort that she didn’t think that it was on the land.

‘I’m in the eight which might make the university team, Miss Fisher, but we have to keep up to the mark, so we are training all through the winter. You might like to come down and watch us. Our coach is a tartar, old Ellis.’

‘Where do you train?’ asked Phryne.

‘Melbourne University boathouse, Miss, I can show you where it is, and we have some fine parties there, too.’

‘Indeed?’ Phryne was not concentrating. She was worried about Eunice, and caught herself agreeing to come and watch him training on the morrow before she realised what she had done. I really must start listening to what I am saying, she told herself firmly, but by then it was too late.

‘Have you known Mr Thompson long?’

‘Lord, yes, we were at school together — Melbourne Grammar. I was quite a new chum then, coming from London, and the other fellows would have ragged me to death had it not been for Alastair. He’s a good chap. I owe him a great deal,’ said the young man solemnly. ‘And he’s very clever. A real shark at school for all those mathematics — I couldn’t get the hang of them, either — and now they say he might win the surgery prize this year. He’ll be a good doctor — sort of trustworthy, you know. But a nasty temper when aroused. We were playing football once, just a friendly game, and one of the forwards copped him one on the nose, and he gave a roar and pounced, and it took three men to pull him off the bully. But the nicest, kindest fellow you could meet,’ he said hastily, ‘a very good friend to me. I reckon there’s nothing he couldn’t do if he set his mind to it.’

Phryne replenished the brandy-and-water and asked her guest to show her his wristwatch. He exhibited it wrist and all, forcing Phryne to take his hand.

‘It’s a good watch, the Pater sent to New York for it — they are all the rage there, I’m told — and it keeps good time.’ The hand and arm were now lying across Phryne’s breasts, and her breathing jogged her nipples. ‘I just have to be careful to keep it. . out of. . the water. .’

His face was close, the mouth opening on a soft lip, his skin smelling of yellow soap and masculine sweat. Phryne abandoned herself and the arms circled her, the mouth closing on hers with emphasis and skill.

Phryne had retained her deep devotion to the male sex. She took care of her body, and her virtue took care of itself. The young man was sleek and strong, an intriguing combination, and had the promise of being a very fair lover indeed. But she did not have the time to indulge in spur-of-the-moment indiscretions on couches, and she detached herself gently, putting aside the hot mouth that kissed and clung.

‘No, no, not now. Come back some time my pretty young man, and I shall be delighted to receive you — but I’m too old to be seduced in front of a fire at four in the afternoon. Oh, you are lovely,’ she kissed him again, just below the ear, where his hair curled enchantingly. ‘Quite lovely.’

‘Oh, Miss Fisher,’ gasped Lindsay, dropping to his knees in front of her and burying his head in her shoulder, ‘I think I’ve fallen in love with you!’

‘Quite possibly,’ agreed Phryne briskly. ‘But it will wear off. I will come and watch you train tomorrow, as I promised when I wasn’t myself, and then we may make some arrangements. But I am not toying with your heart, Lindsay — just your body. It is useless to fall in love with me — I do not want to damage you. Do you understand?’

‘No,’ confessed Lindsay, rubbing his face against her neck. ‘But whatever you say, Miss Fisher.’

‘I think,’ conceded Phryne, ‘that you had better call me Phryne.’

Mr Herbert gulped his drink.

Eunice Henderson, safe behind her veil, surveyed her lover with doting eyes. He was not tall, just the right size, and had delightful blue eyes, which were at present clouded with worry. He was worried about her ! The thought was intoxicating. He, in turn, was struck with how elegant his fiancée looked. The green gown revealed the long, swooping line from hip to knee, the small waist, and the light curve of her small breasts. He sat down on the chair next to her bed and took her hand. It was hot, and he wondered what her temperature was.