st_illunsmeared | [For Dot] "We've been in worse jams than this, haven't we, Hildy?"

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dot,
phryne

[For Dot] "We've been in worse jams than this, haven't we, Hildy?"

"Now, this is how one ought to be held captive."

For a few glorious moments while Dot busied herself unpacking her trunk, Phryne allowed herself to go from room to room in the beautifully appointed suite, surveying it as a guest in a hotel rather than a woman possibly magically trapped outside of time. The soft blue and rose gold palette soothed senses overstimulated by the riotous color of the lobby and shops. Satin, silk, natural light and not one but two balconies appealed to her love of luxury and appeased pathological loathing of the small, filthy and mean developed in her youth.

Having ducked out onto the east-access balcony, Phryne now called to Dot. "Come and look, Dot. The lights are beautiful." And so plentiful. Displays like this had been unthinkable in Melbourne.

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Dot's room by contrast was much smaller, and homier if you asked her, a lovely green floral pattern on the walls and prints of scenes of life at the turn of the century that she found really very comforting.

She finished hanging a silver crepe evening dress in the closet and went to join Miss Fisher, eyes going wide when she saw the lights.

"It really is lovely." And extremely foreign. Like the box in her room that she'd been told was a heater.

Phryne stood with Dot in silence a few moments, surveying the landscape while attempting to work up the proper enthusiasm for what might be their greatest adventure. The usual sense of anticipation flickered in her belly, but it wouldn't kindle and catch fire.

At length, she turned away from the view with a sigh and tried not to wish that Jack was here to see it with her. An effort that was as unsuccessful as it had been when she'd been contemplating months without him in London. It robbed her of impetus and left her quite uncharacteristically at odds for what to do next.

Dot stayed on the balcony for a moment, wishing for Hugh herself, then with a soft sigh she turned to join the other woman inside. She could wait until later to cry, Miss Phryne needed her.

And that more than anything was helping keep her calm and settled.

"I've hung up most of your frocks, there are a few that will need to be pressed but nothing irredeemably crushed." Of course she'd packed the trunk so, things had been done right. "Why don't you see if you can figure out that contraption for making hot water."

She'd seen an iron and a board in one of the closets, Phryne thought, but the words didn't make it past her lips. Dot would find it, or she would tell her before she needed it. Instead, she nodded at Dot's entirely sensible suggestion.

"Cocoa will set us both right again," she decided aloud, and set herself in motion. Objects in motion tend to stay in motion, even when those objects were the Honourable Miss Phryne Fisher. "Even if it is made from a powder."

Dot had seen it as well, but she wasn't ready to touch it. She'd gotten used to the electric iron at home, but this one had buttons and settings and frankly she wasn't sure she could work it without scorching something.

"I have to admit, I am curious how it makes cocoa." Without cream and sugar and cocoa powder or bar chocolate.

Given a task and a question, Phryne regained much of her usually aplomb. "The Mongol Tatars carried dried milk pastes as far back as the thirteenth century, Dot. And a large number of Aboriginal tribes did similarly."

Warming to her theme while the water warmed (a task easily enough accomplished by not adding a coffee 'pod' to the filter when running the machine), she continued, "The troops often had condensed milk in their rations, during the war." Which Phryne recalled viscerally from the stench of exploded cans of condensed milk that had turned on a wounded man who'd lain in a trench in the sun before he'd been transported from the front. Lips pressed together, she forced the memory aside. "Do you know, the first powdered milk came in tablets? At least it's not that."

"We often drank powdered milk at school," Dot hadn't thought about it before. It wouldn't be quite the same as cream and chocolate and sugar warmed in a dutch boiler but she was beginning to see how it might work.

"Convenient Miss, but I think I prefer the old way."

"It doesn't have quite the same texture, does it?" she mused aloud and willed her mind to consider why that would be. Something to do with the ratio of proteins to water, perhaps. Mac would know. She always had been better at the sciences than Phryne.

"The coffee machine is terribly clever, though, and faster than a kettle." She glanced over to see what Dot had busied herself with. "Now how can you say you prefer the old way when you have yet to sample the new?"

Dot was refolding some of Phryne's clothes and placing them in the bureau, but she looked back at the question.

"I didn't mean the taste Miss," she would judge that when she tried it, obviously. "I meant..."

She put down a pair of silk tap pants and considered her words.

"The whole experience of making cocoa is comforting Miss. Warming the milk and whisking in the sugar and chocolate." And a bit of vanilla, her mum's secret ingredient. She moved to join Phryne at the machine. "It's more convenient, but it takes the heart out of it doesn't it. A bit?"

"A bit, I suppose," Phryne allowed, although she felt rather more intrigued than heartsick--over the cocoa in any event. "But then, I'm usually lucky enough to have my darling Dot bring the cocoa to me already made. So, somewhat less so for me."

She shot Dot a pretty, appreciative smile and then tore open one of the packages to pour the powder into a mug. It wafted up and she coughed as a small amount got into her nose and airways. "I could do without that, however."

Dot smiled, it was true of course. They found their comforts in different things. For Dot something like making cocoa or kneading bread helped center her, they felt comforting and homey. Miss Phryne liked things a little less homespun, like her silky underthings.

"I like making you cocoa," but it was a change, watching her employer make it.

"As well you do. I can hardly be trusted with water on the boil, let alone milk." In truth, she had learned the barest essentials of food preparation during the war, but she would hardly call herself a cook.

Phryne did have a steady hand for pouring steaming water into a mug, however, and stopped when it was half full. It seemed prudent to stir it before it had gotten too full.

"I don't recall cocoa having lumps," she said wryly.

Dot armed with a spoon now briskly stirred the cocoa, and the lumps promptly dissolved.

"That's a bit better, and it still required some stirring so the future isn't completely incomprehensible."

And strangely it still made Dot feel better.

"I daresay we'll find any number of ways in which the future is very like our present."

Phryne took the cocoa from Dot without considering she ought to make the second cup and give that one to Dot. There was no selfishness in it, merely habit, and by the time it had occurred to her, she had already arranged herself the nearby divan.

"The men don't seem to have changed at all."

It didn't even occur to Dot either, and she set about making a second cup for herself. After a few false starts with the coffee machine.

"Haven't they?" It would surprise no one that Dot hadn't met enough men or spoken to any in detail enough to find any similarities.

"Not a jot." Phryne thought of Dean, the young American who had kissed her hand, as though that gesture hadn't gone out of style a century before. Even Jack had taken her hand when they'd met.

Jack.

"Of course, not a single one rivals your dear Hugh for goodness."

"Yes Miss," She finished her own mixing and went to sit in a chair near Phryne. She would not let thoughts of Hugh Collins make her cry. Not yet. "No one is better than Hugh."

Not 'my Hugh'. Just Hugh.

"Except maybe Cec." So nearly something she'd said before, if in reverse.

Phryne laughed softly as she always did at Dot's allegiance to Cec, the favored 'older brother'. He was a dear young man, and they would miss him and Bert terribly. And Mr. B. And...

"Oh dear."

She stared down into her cocoa, stomach suddenly turned.

"Poor Aunt P. I don't know how she'll face another loss...or tell my mother I've gone missing. And dear Jane... I never wanted her to know that pain." Mac and Jack would soldier on. But her family...

"Oh," Dot said softly, anxious. "I hadn't even thought of my family. My mum and the others."

In a lot of ways Miss Phryne, and Bert and Cec, Mr. Butler, Jane, Mrs. Stanley, the inspector and Hugh were her family now. Even though she did still see her own family at church regularly.

"What will they think Miss?" With the two of them just disappearing like they had.

"The worst, I'm afraid."

Phryne drew her knees up to her chest and rested her forearm across the top of them. The pose was intended to seem nonchalant, but, in truth, the feeling of something close to her chest helped hold back the mounting urge to scream in frustration, or weep.

"So we'll just have to free ourselves and find our way back before they've given up hope."

Whatever they did, it would come far too late to spare Jack the feeling of discovering her in the wreckage of a car again. She very much feared it would set them back again. Possibly for good.

Dot stared at her cocoa and bit her lip. Her mother would be upset, but she would be fine, she had the church and would think Dot was in a better place. But Hugh, if he still cared even after she gave back his ring, well he would no doubt blame Miss Phryne.

She sighed.

"I'm still not sure how I got here Miss, I certainly don't know where to start looking for an escape."

"Nor I, Dot. But I certainly don't plan to let that stop me." Why should she? It never had before. "We'll start first thing tomorrow. You can mingle with the other guests while I search the hotel. And if anyone asks where I am, you'll tell them I'm having the vapors."

Not, of course, that she expected anyone to be looking for her, or to ask Dot if they were, but having their story straight always helped and so would behaving as they always did.

"You needn't be Martha Driscoll again, but a little discretion won't hurt."

Dot couldn't suppress the smile that flitted on her lips at the thought of Miss Phryne having the vapors, but she nodded.

"Yes Miss. They're looking for people who can cook and do some of the washing and such for those who can't, should be able to get myself a nice unobtrusive job." No one noticed domestic help, so she would be able to move freely.

"It's a pity we don't have Bert and Cec with us. They'd do nicely to establish the in-room dining service, and give us a fine view into the rooms." Phryne supposed she could do it herself, but even her acting skills might be stretched in doing service work for more than a few days.

She resumed drinking her cocoa while pursuing that train of thought and then finally gave a small shrug. "We'll have to be on the look out for a nice young man or two that we can trust to do errands, if we're here more than a few days. I trust you'll let me know if you meet any likely candidates."

The type of young men Phryne herself tended to meet would be more suited to boudoir espionage, she suspected. That was not without its uses, but she'd just as soon do most of that herself.

"I will Miss," Dot was considering the different things she could do, "If I offer maid services Miss, I may get access to some of the rooms."

Some people may not wish for a maid.

Phryne pursed her lips in a tight frown. She didn't like the idea of Dot being trapped alone in a guest room with someone of potentially nefarious intent. "I think you can leave the snooping to me for now. I do have my pistol."

That decided, she felt somewhat better and returned to drinking her cocoa. "Anyhow, you may as well enjoy the vacation from picking up after people for now. Tea or table service will give you a better chance to speak to them."

Dot smiled, picking up after people was the life she'd been prepared to lead and had led for a number of years. Miss Fisher was less work in that respect than any other employer she'd had.

"Tea then," she decided. "Maybe one of the less used cafe areas. I can bake too."

"That a lovely idea, Dot. You're sure to earn good will with your baking skills." Especially if what she'd heard about the frightful cook and his obsession with chicken were true. She might have to subsist on Dot's baking almost entirely, unless she were to be let near the kitchen.

"And I'll begin investigating the hotel, first thing after breakfast. There's sure to be a clue to why we've been brought here somewhere." She did feel better for having a plan. It would keep her from worrying over home, her father, her mother, and what Jack would think whenever he learned. Perhaps they'd make it back before word would make it home that she...hadn't.

Dot blushed slightly at the compliment to her baking, but if she could be forgiven the boast, she was quite good at it.

"What if there isn't a clue Miss? What if..." She hesitated, it would sound crazy to suggest that perhaps they were dead.

"Now, Dot. There is always a clue," Phryne chided her gently, but only very gently. Under the circumstances, worrying seemed only natural. "We may just have to think like villains to uncover it."

But that wasn't the meat of Dot's question. In general, Phryne was ill-equipped for solace and comfort and left that to those in her employ better suited, but at present, there was nothing for it. Chin up, and carry on. "We may not like what we learn, but we shall learn. The important thing is that wherever we are and whyever we're here, we're together."

"We're together," Dot repeated. And it did help. After all, hadn't she given Hugh back his ring because she didn't want to leave Miss Phryne. Because she wanted to go on investigations and motor in the Hispano and improve her typing.

It was hardly christian to bemoan getting what she wanted - even if this wasn't quite how she'd imagined it.

She smiled at Miss Phryne, a real smile, even if it wasn't a brilliant one. "If we're going to start investigating tomorrow we should probably get some sleep then."

"Yes, Dot, we probably should." Even so, Phryne wasn't quick to rise, and instead stretched her legs out in front of her and flexed her toes. "And you should stay here tonight, I'd rather we not make things too easy for anyone with bad intentions."

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[For Dot] "We've been in worse jams than this, haven't we, Hildy?"

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