Baker and Jones Ch. 04

"Thomas is in my office," Pullwater directs her, leading her past the ground floor, a wide room with a row of bunks splayed across the far wall. A soot-filled fireplace smolders in the corner, and an array of rugged and dirty toys scatter the floor. Annette wonders who's going to get spanked for forgetting to clean them up. Pullwater brings her upstairs and down a long hallway, where each Sister's room doubles as a space to sleep and a space for study.

She steps into Pullwater's office, whispering a quiet greeting to Sister Minnerva, currently occupying Pullwater's chair. On the bench against the far wall of the small room, a young boy sits fearfully, anxiously swinging his legs and refusing to look at anyone in the room. Annette knows the feeling well, and as much as she disliked Pullwater, she knew that Minnerva was a more specifically intimidating force to them both.

"Miss Baker," Minnerva spits, her wrinkles and bushy eyebrows contorting at her arrival. She stands and shuffles past Sister Pullwater, who takes her now vacant seat. Minerva slams the door as she leaves, a final empty threat at the group.

"Thomas," Pullwater croaks, a tiny warmth entering her voice for the first time. "Don't be so rude. Greet Miss Baker."

"Hello, Miss Baker," Thomas squeaks, timidly lifting his head to face her.

"Hello, Thomas," Annette replies sweetly, taking a seat next to him on the bench across from Pullwater. She shares a glance with the nun, who impatiently waves her to continue. "Sister Pullwater tells me you wish to be twice-born."

Thomas doesn't respond.

"That's a really brave thing to decide to be," she nudges, though he stares at the ground and gives no indication he hears her. "Did the Sister tell you who I am?"

A moment of quiet. He shakes his head slowly.

"I grew up here, just like you," Annette keeps her voice soft and gentle. "Sister Pullwater... she watched over me, just like you. I know exactly what you're feeling."

"No, you don't," he grumbles.

"Okay," she smiles weakly. "Does your answer change if I tell you that I'm twice-born?"

"Y-you are?" His interest piques up for the first time.

"I am," she nods and smiles again.

"But you're... you look normal."

"It's a normal thing to be."

"Don't listen to Sister Minnerva," Pullwater's grizzly voice bounces across the room. Thomas seems to shudder as she speaks, another feeling Annette recognizes well. "God smiles upon rebirth."

"Sister Pullwater wants to help," Annette agrees, trying to push away the complicated array of feelings bursting inside of herself. As much as she despises the nun, flinches whenever she raises her hand or voice, she knows that Pullwater was the only Sister who protected her, who helped her... even if her way of helping often left Annette with bruises on her bottom for the next few days. "I want to help as well."

"Sister Mabel said that-,"

"Bah!" Pullwater interrupts, frowning. "Sister Mabel doesn't know the difference between the Kalle manuscript and the Winsor revisions. They're all wrong."

"God doesn't like it," Thomas complains. "He's going to judge me and send me to Hell."

"How do any of them know what God likes and doesn't like!?" Pullwater's voice cracks and she forces herself to remain seated. "Birth and rebirth, righteous conduct, proper living - that's what God cares about. 'Go and sin no more,' that's what God cares about."

"Sister Pullwater," Annette pips up, knowing the nun was veering towards a lecture that would continue uninterrupted for some time, "Might I speak with Thomas alone for a moment?"

Pullwater frowns, but she nods. She rises and exits the room, grumbling quietly to herself while Annette and Thomas nervously watch her leave.

"She hates me," Thomas whines.

Annette gazes over him quietly, pursing her lips and gathering her thoughts together. "I know that Sister Pullwater is strict... but she will help you. She helped me."

"You're afraid of her too," he complains.

"I am," Annette concedes. "But she also made me strong. It isn't easy being twice-born, and Sister Pullwater, despite all of her flaws, is one of our strongest supporters."

"She said it's more common outside of Bellechester. Is that true?"

"It is," Annette agrees. "Our Bishop doesn't like it as much, so the ceremony is performed less here. Apparently the church of Andland performs it dozens of times a year."

"Dozens?"

"And they're happy to do it," she looks out the door towards where she knows Pullwater is lurking and waiting. "Are you sure it's something you want?"

"I'll look like you when I get older?"

"Everybody looks different," she answers patiently. "But yes."

"I want it."

"It isn't easy."

"I still want it."

"Okay," she nods.

"Do I get to pick my name?"

"One of the Sisters will pick for you. Sister Maxwell picked mine, is she still here?"

"She died," he shakes his head. "Last winter."

"I'm sorry. Sister Pullwater will probably give you one then." She stands, loosening her shoulders and preparing to invite the nun back inside.

"Does.. does God hate you?"

She stops at the door. She bites her lip, quietly mulling over the question and the terrified sincerity underneath it. "Not for that reason."

Annette steps out into the hallway and finds Sister Pullwater leaning up against the far wall, gesturing for Annette to close the door and speak with her in private. Annette obeys, taking a spot along the wall to her right.

"He still wants to go through with it," Annette answers.

"Good, good," Pullwater's head bobs up-and-down. "Will you stay during the rebaptism?"

"I can't."

"Can't, or won't? It would mean a great deal to the kid."

Annette shudders at the thought of staying longer than needed, but she reminds herself that she would have appreciated having a twice-born woman there when she went under again. Hers had been a lonely celebration, just Sisters Pullwater and Maxwell. Sister Minnerva had deliberately brought the rest of the orphanage away on a trip when it happened.

"I'll stay," she sighs.

"Thank you," The nun seems to settle a little. She's always been old to Annette, but these days she seems to wear her age like a chain around her neck. "Are you behaving?"

"Like a saint," Annette says quickly, facing away from Pullwater's glare. "Just as you taught me, Sister."

"You better be brushing your hair and washing regularly, like I taught you. None of that tomboy play you'd do when you were younger."

"I'm not a child," Annette complains. Pullwater's accusing eyes remain hardened and Annette lets out a gloomy breath. "Yes, Sister, I am keeping clean and proper."

"Good. How many punishments have you earned thus far?"

"Only one," she says softly, recalling the furious look in Cordelia's eyes, pushing her to her knees on the front porch.

Pullwater snorts. "Liar."

"It's true, Sister. I've been a model of good behavior."

"You're not still sneaking over to that wretched bar, are you?"

Annette feels a rumble of guilt push through her chest. She stares down at the ground, feeling much like she's disappointed her mother. In many ways, Pullwater often feels like a mother to her, though it's more complicated than that. She doubts confessing sins feels the same with a mother that wasn't a nun.

"Annette..." Pullwater hisses.

Annette's mouth feels dry. She shamefully recalls feeling Samantha's lips on her lips, hearing her ecstatic moans call out through a room, tasting her... Annette's shame catches in her throat and she finally brings herself to look at Pullwater, her guilt plain across her face.

"Unbelievable!" The nun scowls, a harsh judgment flashing in her eyes. She turns her gaze to the sky above, exclaiming, "How am I supposed to prepare such a wretched girl for you, Lord?"

"I'm sorry, Sister Pullwater," Annette mumbles, the hallways of the orphanage and the scorn in the nun's voice make her feel like a little girl again, preparing for yet another dressing down from Pullwater.

"It's sin, Annette," she lectures. "Don't tell me I've wasted all this time turning you into a proper woman just for you to throw it away on a life of impurity."

Annette makes to speak, but Pullwater quickly interrupts her.

"And you're not just representing yourself! Your sins convince everyone that there's no proper integration of the twice-born into the church! Do you want to make Thomas an outcast?"

"No, Sister Pullwater."

"Your actions disagree! You must be a paragon of womanhood, Annette. Nothing short of perfect."

"Yes, Sister Pullwater."

"Then for God's sake, Annette, find a man. Follow the sacraments. Be a model of a holy, blessed marriage," she implores, her tone sincere and maternal. "Enough with this sinful lifestyle."

For a long moment, Annette considers arguing with the Sister. But there's no words that can be said in her defense. Pullwater had always been like this, pushing for Annette to be a model of femininity, critiquing every remnant of "boyhood" she decided Annette possessed. When Annette would wrestle her friends in the dirt, she was caned for acting like the other boys. When she didn't do enough to manicure her appearance, she berated as sloppy and mannish. When she was caught fooling around with Susan or Rachel or some other girl she liked, they'd get a stern reminder about sin and Annette would be yelled at for an hour about debauchery and lustfulness and what it meant to be a Godly woman.

"I'll try," she promises.

A grunt of displeasure rumbles out from Pullwater's throat. "And now we're adding another lie to your list of sins this week." She's silent for a long breath, an aura of scorn rising from her skin. "Time to confess properly, then. Who was it with?"

"Sister..."

"Don't you dare," Pullwater snaps. "I may not be able to correct your behavior anymore, but I won't hesitate to defer your punishment to your owner or God above. Who was it with?"

"... Samantha Deveroux," Annette mumbles in a low voice.

"Annette!" The sister's harsh whisper cuts through her. She turns her face away from Annette, glaring up and down the hallway. When she speaks again, her voice is low and measured. "Is it not bad enough to lay with a prostitute? Instead you've gone and defiled a Lady... Heavens above..."

"It was one time," she pleads softly. "It won't happen again."

"Enough attempts at deceit," Pullwater groans. "After everything I've done to put you down a proper path... and this is how you live?" She sighs heavily, full of the weight of expectations and maternal responsibility. "It's best that you leave now."

"What about the rebaptism?"

"I'll not risk you corrupting that woman-to-be," Pullwater snipes. "Leave, Miss Baker."

Annette hangs her head in disappointment. She pushes off from the wall she's leaned up against, walking a few steps away before turning back and softly saying, "Can I make one request?"

Pullwater takes a long breath, letting her face soften at the very end. "What is it?"

"After Thomas' rebaptism... name her Judith."

"I'll... I'll consider it, Annette. Go in peace, my child."

"Thank you, Sister."

- - -

"Good, you're back," Cordelia calls out from the dining room as Annette slowly strolls inside. Annette steps into the foyer, removing her coat and soberly hanging it up on the rack. She'd taken a long walk home from St. Bartholomew's and evening was just arriving. Long shadows laid across the walkways and cobblestones as she'd ambled home, her heart twisting into frustrated knots.

Cordelia strides into the hallway with her, a deliberate purpose to her movements. She actually smiles as she sees Annette, though if she notices the servant's anguish she says nothing. "Put your coat back on," she chirps, "we've work to do."

"It's late, Miss Jones," Annette complains, gloomily pulling her jacket back down from its place on the hanger.

"And it's important," the owner rebuts, her voice cheery and focused. "Keep up."

She strolls through the doorway and bounces down the steps, trusting Annette would keep pace with her. Annette shuffles her feet for a moment but follows, locking the door as she departs. Cordelia moves quickly, walking the way she does when she's feeling especially clever, and as rare as it is to catch her in such a chipper mood, Annette's in no state to enjoy it. She remains a few steps behind Cordelia, brooding and allowing her thoughts to devour her.

As much as she wishes Pullwater's approval doesn't matter to her, the pit in her stomach gapes open the more she hears the words bounce in her head. She'd never been good enough for the Sister - there was always some aspect of femininity Pullwater decided was lacking. Annette could complain and complain that such skills were beyond her, but it never mattered. She could speak perfectly, move elegantly, develop proper manners, keep herself manicured and desirable... she and Pullwater had successfully killed every aspect of her first-birth except one.

When Pullwater decided she couldn't play with boys anymore, Annette grumbled and complained and eventually fell in line. When Pullwater decided her interests were too masculine, Annette learned knitting and sewing and Bible study and all the things Pullwater claimed made a woman holy. She gave up swimming, she gave up loud and filthy jokes, she even gave up speaking so much.

But as she once again remembers Samantha's hand on her thigh, her scent in her nostrils, her skin on her skin, Annette knows it had never been possible to give up this need. There was no vaccination for this sickness Pullwater despised so deeply in her. The first few times it happened, she was punished, but there was grace. When it continued happening, Pullwater tripled her efforts of correction. Now, as Annette prepares to turn twenty-three, each year loosening the Sister's grasp on her life, she can feel Pullwater's desperation build.

Annette's breath catches in her throat as she realizes that Pullwater might tell Cordelia. She hadn't considered that while they spoke. She was so buried in feeling like a child facing condemnation that she failed to consider that Cordelia's ownership of her contract couldn't protect her from Pullwater entirely. Her eyes flick up at the back of Cordelia's head, bobbing slightly as she continues her walk. It was only a matter of time before Pullwater told her.

She scrambles to think of how to insulate herself from the danger. She hadn't told Pullwater when she met up with Samantha, maybe she could pretend it happened before Cordelia bought the contract? It'd still be bad, but in theory she couldn't be punished for something that happened before her ownership. Cordelia would likely be skeptical that Annette could sneak out and meet someone while at a collar house, but Annette doubts she knows enough about the inner workings of one to completely reject the idea.

"You're quiet," Cordelia says suddenly, her head peeking over her shoulder to gaze over Annette with suspicion. "Please don't tell me you're about to scold me again."

"No, Miss," Annette croaks, trying to pull herself out of her rumination.

"Then out with it," she demands. "Why are you so dormant tonight?"

Annette stares out at the slowly darkening city around her. She can vaguely tell the evening is cooling, and might even be cold, but the heat from her nerves keeps her warm. "Simply tired, Miss Jones."

"Tired? How can you be tired? We're on the case!" She stops, turning to face Annette with a surprising amount of passion. "How are you not excited?"

"I'm not sure."

Cordelia is quiet for a moment. "So there's something else then, isn't there?"

"Might we continue our stroll?" Annette begs quietly. "I'm eager to sleep and put today behind me."

"Something happened with Sister Pullwater."

"Nothing but resurfaced bad memories, Miss."

Cordelia shifts her weight from foot to foot, tucking her hands into her pockets. She stares at Annette for a few moments, emerald eyes picking over her form as a variety of thoughts flash across her face. "Would you be benefited by speaking on it?"

"Please, no."

"You're upset."

Annette sighs, her face warm and red. "Yes, obviously."

"Then tell me."

"I would rather not."

"I'll not have your gloomy disposition meddling with our work tonight. Out with it," she commands, her voice clear and direct.

"Pullwater is a mean, cranky woman," Annette replies bluntly. "You've noticed this yourself. Now, can we please be on with it?"

"She brought you to speak to some troubled child, didn't she? How could that possibly have upset you so?"

Annette groans. "Must we do this out in the street?"

"Yes," Cordelia crosses her arms over her chest and furrows her brow. "I need you at your best, which clearly is not the case at the moment."

"You don't need me," she whines, "You're the detective. Do the work yourself."

"I'll remind you that you pushed me to do this case, Miss Baker. I've made it clear that its outcome is partly your responsibility."

"Then let us go investigate whatever lead requires examination so late and be done with it," Annette shuffles away a few steps, desperately trying to end the conversation. To her displeasure, her efforts only seem to embolden Cordelia.

"You and the child must share some characteristic other than life at the orphanage," Cordelia observes, a threat underlying her voice. "Similar troublemaking, perhaps? I'd wager you were a disobedient child."

"I won't tell you so now you'll attempt to deduce it?"

Cordelia shrugs, strolling in a circle around Annette. "But it must be more than simple misbehavior... it must be a specific offense that you've overcome, or are in the process of overcoming."

Annette shuts her eyes, trying to hide the emotions on her face but hardly succeeding. Behind her eyes, she can feel the beginnings of frustrated tears push forth, desperate to be done with this scrutiny and return to their usual routines. Her heart pounds, hopeful she won't be forced to lie about her desires for women so early.

"I take it you have a guess," Annette mutters.

"A handful. Petty thievery, pickpocketing... I could even see you capable of arson."

"Arson?" Annette scoffs.

"Full of surprises, I'm sure," Cordelia nods. "And yet, despite the fact that your speech with me is so quarrelsome, you're quite tame and mild-mannered. I'd place your guilt at something closer to vague immorality, especially in the perspective of a nun."

Annette's heart skips. Cordelia was getting close, and she can feel her muscles clench as her nerves push forward. "Nothing of the sor-,"

"Judging by the tremor in your eyes I'd guess I'm getting closer." Cordelia takes a breath, opening her hands and gesturing for Annette to speak. "Come now, simply admit whatever it is and be done with this."

Annette shakes her head slowly.

"Should I guess instead?"

"That's not necessa-,"

"Sexual immorality is always a favorite of the nuns," Cordelia muses. "But what kind might you be capable of? Adultery? Lustfulness? Coveting another's hus-,"

"I'm twice-born!" Annette blurts out, her voice quivering.

Cordelia stops in her tracks. Her brow raises and her face softens thoughtfully, eyes darting across Annette's form. She takes a long breath. "Ah," she says at last.

"Sister Pullwater brought me to speak to a child who's just made the decision to be born anew," Annette says quietly, eyes dropping to stare at the cobblestones below.

"So... so when you were born you weren't..."

"A girl?" Annette supplies, feeling a pit in her stomach. "No."

"Ah," Cordelia breathes again.

"Is... is that an issue?"

"An issue?"

"Do you take it for grounds as removal?"

"Why would it be grounds for removal?"

Annette stifles a groan. "It isn't a popular idea in Bellechester."