Previously...

Mac reached into her bag and produced the photo of the girl...Daphne. The picture had fallen off the envelope but still bore the harsh X that marred the girl's face. She pointed to the angry words that were scrawled across the envelope.

"I know who you are."

"Her name is Daphne McGill...."

Mac would have continued but Phryne waved like an excited schoolgirl who knows the answer to the question her teacher just has posed to the class. If Phryne Fisher was anything other than a very attractive, intelligent, charming...and an independent woman, it was that first, last. and always, she was as brilliant a sleuth as Dupin' or Holmes. Mac nodded and Phryne smiled.

"I'll be surprised if I'm wrong, but I gather that poor Daphne and your Trudy are quite alike? Mac nodded and Phryne smiled a knowing smile and spoke.

"Then it is titulaire? Incumbent that you and I help the little girl and your Trudy, Oui?" Mac smiled and nodded."

"Oui!"

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The office of Reverend Mother Margaret-Andrew. Abbotford Convent…

Phryne and Mac sat across from the Reverend Mother. After a few seconds of clearing her desk, the woman smiled warmly. Phryne could not help note that the woman’s right eye tooth was bent slightly sideways and backward. It actually rendered her a bit more approachable than Phryne had anticipated.

“I say this with the utmost confidence in our dear friend Dr. Macmillan, and to you Miss Fisher as her friend that nothing we speak of here leave this hallowed place." Phryne thought it a tad ecumenical and even pious until the Reverend Mother continued.

“We view this place as sacred unto our girls. They are our charges, and as such whatever we speak of must be regarded as sacred for their sakes? I know it sounds a bit religious, but the safety and care of these precious girls is our religion.” Mac nudged Phryne as if to say, ‘sSe? She’s a good one, aye?’

“Before we go any further, I think it be best that we dispense with formalities? Out there?” She pointed to beyond her office door, as if to indicate outside the convent itself.

“Out there my title is Reverend Mother Margaret-Andrew, but in here my family and friends still call me Sister Maggie, okay?”

“I detect a wee bit of a burr. Edinburgh?” Phryne smiled.

“Dalmeny. Good ear.”

“Many…aren’t members of your order expected to assume a male…an apostle’s name as your first name?”

“Well, they let me in early. When I was before the bishop I was crying like a wee bairn. He asked me why I was crying. ‘They say I can’t be named after Margaret, my Grandmum. She raised me after my mum passed.’ He winks at me and says,’ Even our Lord had a grandmum. Margaret it is!’”

She sighed and stared at a pile of correspondence on her desk and her mood changed from lighthearted to sober in a heartbeat.

“I cannot begin to express how desperately worried we are for our Daphne. What must be going through her mind? She has barely spoken, even to Sister Gertrude.” She shook her head and nodded at Mac.

“We found another note Monday in the mail box. No name or anything else but for this.” She handed the envelope to Mac, who opened it and showed it to Phryne.

Another picture of Daphne, likely a copy of the first picture, with the girl's face crudely 'x'ed out and the same handwriting almost emblazoned on the back.

Volo mori "Yes...'I want to die.'" Sister Maggie sighed deeply and produced yet another envelope. She handed it to Phryne.

“Oh…” Mac exclaimed. Her love of language had begun long before she became a doctor, but even though she was entirely versed in Latin, the phrase written on the back of the third picture was like nothing she had ever read.

“Utinam mortui!” Mac shook her head. Phryne , on the other hand, just breathed out and spoke.

“'I wish YOU were dead?' I gather you have not shown this to the girl?” She smiled even as Sister Maggie nodded.

“She may be a small girl, but she’s almost fifteen. With her family’s resources she may even have learned a bit of Latin before she was brought here.”

“I gather the family has left you in charge?” Phryne’s ironic tone was accompanied by a slight raise of her left eyebrow.

“Now Phryne,” Mac shook her head, but the Reverend Mother raised her hand slightly in caution as she grinned.

“I daresay you would have discovered it on your own, given what Mac has said about you.” She received the envelopes back from them and placed them on her desk next to a folder.

“To answer the question you have yet to ask, the reason Daphne is here is because for all intents and purposes, she has been abandoned by her family. At least thank God it wasn't some place foreign to her. She was already a student when she was put ashore on our little island here.”

“La fille bâtard ?“

“ Yes, poor thing. Her father lost his wife. Rather than seek out someone to help him raise the younger of his children he sought comfort for himself alone. The girl’s mother died giving her birth. I suppose that Arthur finally got his priorities at least a bit straighter when he brought the girl to live with the family.

“The McGill family?” Phryne said with a shake of her head.

“Not the nicest man I’ve ever met.”

“It was tenuous at best. From what Daphne told Sister Gertrude when she arrived, the teasing was horrible, especially from the younger sister Hortense. The brothers were no better. She seemed to have an ally in the older sister Gladys, but when Arthur and Gladys' husband died in that horrible automobile accident, Gladys’ went into a funk. Daphne lost any connection when Arthur died, and it wasn’t too long after that she came here.”

“How many siblings are there?” Mac asked, but the Reverend laughed softly and gazed at Phryne.

“I am well aware that you do your homework. Care to answer our good doctor here?” At the word ‘doctor,’ Phryne detected a slight upturn of the Reverend mother’s lip. She ‘filed it away,’ so to speak.

“Gladys Hill 'nee McGill, thirty-three, widowed, no children. Her husband Allan died in that accident along with her father three years ago. Arthur Jr. 31, never married, runs the Maxwell business.” Phryne seemed almost serene, but for a growing frown that crept in.

“Calvin, 26, terrible accident when he was 11. Unmarried. Stays with Gladys now that she has returned to the family household. Hortense, 19. Studying at St Aloysius, lives at home. “

“Miss Fisher?” Sister Maggie said quietly.

“No, I haven’t forgotten. Robert, would have been 26. Calvin’s twin. He perished eight years ago in a horrific automobile accident just like his father. although the talk, sadly at the time, was that he was distraught. That he may...I’m sorry. I presume too much.” Phryne said.

“There is an abundance of mercy available to those who are blessed enough to discover it, Miss Fisher.”

“Certement,” Phryne replied.

Sister Maggie spoke.

"The very worst part of it? The ceremony in the photos? Queen of the May? It’s not the girl but the Blessed Mother who’s the Queen.” Mac glanced at Phryne, who was never one for a specific faith, much less the Church of Rome.

“Unlike some orders and parishes, the girls here are all equal. No single honoree, every year, every girl lays a single flower at the shrine as their way of remembering not only the Holy Mother but all mothers.” Sister Maggie sighed as she glanced at the picture on her desk of her own mother.

“Arthur … he and Allan were hurrying from some meeting just so he could be there to see Daphne? They never made it, as you already know. So the cruel twisting of that special day by the picture? Some things almost..almost cannot be forgiven.” She glanced once more at her mother’s picture and spoke.

“I can make arrangements for you to speak to Daphne, Miss Fisher? Lunch here tomorrow? Less formal and perhaps less threatening?”

“That would be fine. I hope as well to find a means to speak to her siblings?”

“They have not been told the details, but we have made it clear that there are matters to discuss regarding Daphne, since she remains their ward even as she remains also in our care. Perhaps the day after tomorrow?” She rose and walked around her desk. Phryne and Mac got up and both offered their hands, which Sister Maggie shook in turn.

“I am confident that you will arrive very shortly at an answer to this poor girl’s woes?”

“Yes, immo carus quod sic mulier.” Phryne began to walk out even as Mac stepped closer to the Reverend Mother.

“We’ll keep in touch.”

“I like her, Lizzy.”

“Sadly, I'm not her type.” Mac laughed softly before hurrying to catch up with Phryne.

“I like her, Mac.” Phryne said with a slight raise of her right eyebrow.”

“Sadly she's no longer my type, but I do love her dearly. You’re sharp as a tack, Phryne. Nothing gets by you.”

“I should hope not, at least for our poor Daphne’s sake.”

“Do you think you will get to the bottom of all this?”

“Oui en effet cher docteur En fait, je crois que je l'ai déjà!

“My French is rusty, Phryne. What?”

“I believe I know who the Provocateur might be.”

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Miss Fisher’s home that evening…

“Jane? Do you have a moment to spare,” Phryne asked as her ward passed by the parlor. Without a word, she walked in and sat down and tilted her head in question.

“I have a favour to ask that only you can accomplish.” The girl sat up, hoping for some intriguing task or mysterious errand.

“Before I ask, you must know that everything we do…yes, we is for the benefit of others. Even the mysteries we unravel. The searches for truth we undertake are to help someone. Our raison d’etre.”

“Our purpose?”

“There is someone who vitally needs your help.”

“I don’t feel so….After my mum and all, what can I do? I’m not all that smart.”

“You are smart. Very smart. But I need you…she needs you. Because you care, Jane.” Phryne smiled at the girl and continued.

“Of course, I’m sure I can rely on you if I need to tap into your viewpoint… la perpective, Oui?”

“Oui.”

“I will let you know, but I am ever confident in you, Jane dear.”

“Be…because I care?”

“Yes, dear child. Especially because you care.

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The following morning…in front of Miss Fisher’s home.

Try as they might, even when Bert and Cec attempted to look idle, they always seemed busy and anxious. Both stood at the gate to the front fence. Phryne walked out and waved at them.

“Tailing a suspect in the plans today?” Cec asked with a grin.

“She doesn’t look like she’s got…Nothing urgent?” Bert asked and Phryne replied.

“Direly so, friend.” She used her arm in a broad gesture to point to her Hispano-Suiza parked in front of the house.

“I’m meeting someone for lunch, and immediately following I might need you to bring them back here. To that end, do play careful at the pub until after your task? At least one of you should be in some reasonable condition to drive, yes?”

“Yes, of course,” they practically said in unison. The trick at one time might have been to see which one would drink less, as it were, but they were as professional as anyone when it came to doing anything on her behalf.

“I’ll ring the pub about one or so with directions?”

“Yes.”

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The dining room of the Reverend Mother’s quarters…

Lunch was simple with soup and sandwiches. Phryne sat next to Mac at the large oblong table. The Reverend Mother …Sister Maggie ...sat to Phryne’s right at the head of the table, and Daphne sat next to Sister Gertrude. Most of the meal was filled with small talk until Daphne spoke up.

“You…you’re here because of…” She turned slightly and faced Mac.

“Gert…Sister Gert says you know that….” She looked down at her body.

“I was a little girl when Gerty was born. I was there…” Mac tried to manage a smile even if it left them both still feeling awkward. Daphne faced Phryne.

“Then you know about me too?” Her face began to redden.

“Yes, Daphne. I do.” Phryne managed a smile that diffused the awkwardness in the room for everybody,

“I am very glad to make your acquaintance, young Lady. I hope I can be of help?”

“You…you just don’t understand. Gert..Sister Gertrude and I…” She shook her head as tears fell.

“Yes I do.” Phryne turned slightly and faced Sister Gertrude, whose own face had begun to darken with shame.

“Everything I have heard about you…” she paused, but intentionally did not name her.

“Everything I have learned about you speaks of character and courage. And the devotion and care you have offered, certainly to all the girls, but especially to the sweet girl to your right?”

“It says….’comfort others with the same comfort you yourselves have received,’” Sister Maggie smiled at Sister Gertrude and Daphne. Sister Gertrude could not have expressed any greater humility if she tried, and she began to weep softly as tears fell into her lap.

Daphne shook her head.

“You don’t understand. None of you understands.”

“Wh…what don’t we understand, Daphne?” Mac reached across the narrow table and touched the girl’s hand. Daphne recoiled in horror.

“It’s all my fault. All of it.” She got up and began pacing around in circles, her arms flailing until she began to hit herself in the chest.

“My fault! My fault. Daddy. Uncle Allan. Mummy. Uh…. Uncle Robert. They’re all dead because I killed them. Me. My fault.” By now she was sobbing hysterically. Sister Gertrude jumped to her feet and hugged the girl.

“No, Daphne. No.” She held the girl fast and began to kiss her cheek. It would have seemed almost inappropriate even if the woman wasn’t a nun, but every bit of that poor tortured child needed someone to love her exactly like how she needed to be loved from the day she was born.

But at that moment she wasn’t able to receive anything but the condemnation she had buried in her heart. She pulled away and grabbed a butter knife from the table and began to try to cut her wrists, all the while echoing the cruel taunt from the message she was never meant to read,

“Volo fui mortuus est”

Mac jumped up and wrenched the knife from Daphne’s hand. She had cut her wrist, but the wound was shallow. Even still, the girl collapsed in Sister Gertrude’s arms' both falling to the floor as Daphne rocked back and forth while she sobbed,

“I wish I were dead…I wish I were dead.”

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A short while later in Daphne’s room…

"I’ve given her something to help her sleep.” Mac shook her head.

“What do you suppose…what thing could possibly have made her feel this way?”

“One minute, Mac?” Phryne paused and looked around until she spotted Sister Maggie comnforting Sister Gertrude . She motioned and Sister Maggie walked over after a quick hug..

“It is absolutely imperative that I speak with the family tomorrow."

“I will explain that there has been an accident…no details. I’ll make that happen…Their home?”

“It will leave them at ease…more’s the better.” Phryne smiled and picked up the phone.

“Hello? Can you connect me with Lonnigan’s Pub? Yes, I’ll wait.” In a minute she was speaking with the barkeep, who in turn handed the phone to Cec.

“Change of plans. Instead of one package to my house I need you to pick up two by three…?” She glanced at Sister Maggie, and received an emphatic thumbs up

By three. I’ll see you at my place tomorrow no later than one…yes. Yes, you can take the rest of the day off to recover from your arduous toils.” She hung up the phone and sighed, Mac walked back over from Daphne’s bed, where the girl was asleep at last.

“What in heaven’s name would drive that poor girl to hate herself so much?”

“Not what, but who, Mac.”

“Can you really be so certain of whom you suspect? What can this girl possibly hope for, Phryne?”

“She failed… She did not succeed in fulfilling her tormentor’s intent. She is alive.” Mac stared at her and she continued.

“Aegroto dum anima est, spes est.”

“Ah….Mac smiled .Indeed…Where there is life there is always hope.

To be continued...

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Characters derived or inspired by the Miss Fisher Murder Mysteries novels written by Kerry Greenwood and by the ABC television series of the same name.

Theme music composed by Greg J. Walker