You know, in my opinion, Phryne is so taken with Jack, even from the very beginning, because he is markedly different from her father.
She may be willing to dally with charmers and smooth-talkers, but when it comes down to it, her father is that same type of man. He can talk his way into and out of anything, is consistently taken to flights of fancy, never owns up to his mistakes, and Phryne suffered all through her childhood because of him. She will never linger with a man who displays those same traits of untrustworthiness.
Is it any wonder that when straight-laced, honest, serious, and not in the least given to the vices of her father, one Detective Inspector Jack Robinson walks into her life and refuses to fall prey to her charms, that she is not enthralled with him?
Phryne is regular about her attempts to get under his skin, smiling and attempting to trip him up, testing his mettle. Testing to see if he is of the same stuff as her father.
Jack never folds. He does not waver, nor does he falter. He is as enthralled with her as she is with him, but Jack, oh Jack, knows better. Phryne Fisher is a fire, blazing almost out of control, and the danger of getting burned by her is too much.
At the same time, as Jack keeps her at armâs length (or perhaps, shoulderâs length), Phryne is similarly faltering. She is taken with the solid foundation that is Jack Robinson but cannot take that risk for the longest time. She was taken in by RenĂŠ Dubois and he wouldâve destroyed her.
Neither can deny the deep entrenchment of trust between them, but neither can they own up to it.
But the respect grows into unshakeable trust, the trust into a fond caring, and the rest was either a downhill slide or an uphill climb. Perhaps both.
When âBlood at the Wheelâ rolls along, an ease, a complacency has become the norm. An expectation for the other.
But then, there is a devastating catalystâthe fear of Phryneâs untimely demiseâand then a turning point. The first true admittance of the undercurrent to their partnership. That deeper tow that keeps them close to each other. Phryne is maybe hesitant to move past their day-to-day companionship, but cannot go back to being strangers.
Jack is infinitely more cautious, though, and his careful countenance tells him that a path ahead with Phryne will only end in his own pain. The only recourse is to walk away and he does, even when Phryne tries to quantity what their relationship means to herâthat it will be as if he were the one in the wreck for him to walk away.
As they say, it is too little, too late. The damage is wrought and there are only the consequences to reap now.
By my thinking, at this point, the dissimilarity between Jack and Phryneâs father is certain to the lady in question. Just in time for Jack to put the brakes on what was developing between them, and that stabs deep for Phryne, but not so much that she cannot recover. This is Jack and she knows how he works now. The wound inflicted was not intentional nor caused by negligence; it is because he cares that he hurts both of them. And a shared pain is one more easily overcome.
The road back is a rather short one because of it, spanning the course of one episode, but then the following episode is also a rebuilding of bridges, testing the groundwork between them for its trustworthiness. They recover and move forward from it for the stronger, though.
By the time the third season rolls around, the game has changed and the balance of their partnership is easily unbalanced. Jack is vexed, to say the least, when it appears Phryne has pushed him aside, once again, for another.
Instead of an ex-lover, a seductive instructor, or an amorous foreigner, however, her distracting company is none other than one Baron Henry Fisher.
I think that her fatherâs appearance raises old fears for Phryne. Reminds her of where sheâs come from and why sheâs so wary of committed relationships, because the very next episode she throws herself into a fling with Compton.
Then she sees Jack, as sheâs running about in Comptonâs coat and bare feet, a siren as to her recent activities, and starts to understand when he walks away.
The real revelation for both Jack and Phryne comes in âMurder & Mozzerellaâ when they are both approached, with different levels of earnestness, by an Italian from either side of the feud.
Phryne cannot believe that Guidoâs love for her will last and tells him as such. (How could she, when he has nothing but words to prove himself?) Jack wants to be able to love Concetta and you can see it in his eyes, but his heartâs not there when she kisses him. She knows it, he knows it, and we know it.
Phryne is at home that night, alone, contemplative. Itâs impossible to say what about, but one speculation could be that her thoughts were lingering on Jack and Concetta. You donât have to be of a keen eye to see that Concetta would suit Jackâquiet, devoted, even-tempered. Nothing like Phryne.
And then Mr. Butler announces the Inspector and one of the first thing she inquires after what sheâd assumed were his dinner plans. Stranoâs is closed. (It wouldnât matter, for him.) But he is there, always.Â
âJack Robinson, the man who always does the right thing. The noble thing.â
The one who is not like her father. The one who comes back. The one who is not dishonest with her, who hasnât let her down.
It was inevitable, I think. Reaching the point where Jack felt confident enough to take her arm in hand and drag her close to kiss, because she is what he wants. Reaching the point where Phryne smiled and told him to come after her, because thatâs how much she trusts him.
âCome after me, Jack Robinson.â Final words, irreversible, but with her heart behind them. There is no higher show of trust than this, for Phryne, the woman who enjoys showing how well she copes alone.
Even if their is never a season four and a canonical continuation to their story, I am content. Come after me and a kiss that tells much more than words. It is telling, and it is enough.
jacobvanloon
prguitarman
kaledo-art
kianamaiart
jbbartram-illu
ellievsbear
yousharknotpass
