Baker and Jones Ch. 08

A gunshot rings out through the crowd, causing another array of screams and panic to fly through the air. She turns and spirits down the alleyway as fast as she can, carefully checking every corner before turning. She runs and runs until her legs complain, and then she slowly winds her way home, taking a long and complicated widing route.

Shit, who fired a gun? Annette wonders, her breath heaving. A shudder crashes through her as she wonders if anyone was hit. It was impossible to tell. If the police hit a protester, it would be a tragedy... but if one of the Mallets fired at the police... the repercussions would be bad. Horribly bad.

Her adrenaline finally fades as she arrives on the edge of Mill Street, still a few blocks from home. She drops her hands to her knees and pants for air, scrambling to make sense of what she had seen. It wasn't illegal to gather in groups, even if the group was a solidarity movement, but that hardly mattered these days. In recent years in Bellchester, the police were heavily employed to break unions and strikes, and today was likely no different from any other day for them.

She quickly straightens her back and attempts to compose herself. She'd rather not have the possibility that someone connect her panicked run to the meeting if she can avoid it, so she continues the final steps to her home as casually as possible, still feeling her arms and legs tingling and her heart racing. She forces herself to remain calm and try and act proper, shoving her fear and fury down into a tiny place inside of her and quashing it.

But when she steps inside of 167th Mill Street, Annette can immediately tell that something is wrong. The home possesses a tense and anticipatory air, as though the very oxygen she breathes contains a warning. She removes her coat slowly and strolls inside the first few steps, moving quietly and carefully. There's no way it could be the police - it would be nigh impossible for them to have recognized her so quickly and beat her home.

Annette steps into the living room and feels her muscles clench and her breath catch in her throat. Cordelia has finally emerged from her room for the first time in days, and she sits comfortably in her favorite chair, across from Simon and Sister Pullwater.

"Good," Cordelia mutters. "You're home."

Annette forces herself to breathe, locking eyes with Simon and seeing the remorse in his pupils. He looks away, unable to hold her stare for long. Sister Pullwater frowns at her and crosses her arms tightly over her chest, and from their expressions Annette can immediately guess what has transpired shortly before she arrived.

"Miss Jones," Annette greets timidly, "You've left your study."

"I heard a knocking upon my door," Cordelia answers with a painful absence of any tone, "and found that my collar had yet to answer it. I came downstairs to find her nowhere in sight, and took upon the task of greeting our guests myself."

"I apologize for neglecting to inform you of my departure."

"Take a seat, Annette," Pullwater commands, gesturing for her to sit across from them, next to Cordelia.

"What a pleasant surprise," Annette croaks. "So good to see you, Deacon, Sister."

Annette sits, desperately trying to remain calm and steady. The combination of fear from the police and shame from Pullwater is unbearable, and she retrieves a chair from the dining room, lowering herself into it while trying to hide the trembling of her hands.

"Annette," Cordelia pips, "the two of them were just about to tell me something very important. They arrived not three minutes before you did."

Annette's heart sinks. She'd have to be here for the reveal. She knew the consequences of her prior conversation with Simon would emerge at some point, but she had hoped it would take longer. She digs her fingernails into the palms of her hands.

"Simon," Pullwater clears her throat, "Why don't you begin?"

He nods apprehensively and turns to face Cordelia. "Miss Jones," he begins, "I've come to you today to speak with you regarding an important proposition."

"Do continue."

"At Sister Pullwater's introduction, I have been getting to know dear Annette over the past week or so, and I feel an important calling from God regarding the condition of her life."

"Is it entirely necessary that Miss Jones be-," Annette attempts, but Cordelia raises a hand to silence her.

"Fret not, Miss Baker," she interjects. "I always have time for our dear clergy. Please, Deacon, tell me more," the detective smiles.

"There are many important callings within the life of one who follows the sacraments," Simon rambles, "and God sees fit to call us to them along the precipices of new endeavors-,"

"Deacon," Pullwater interrupts impatiently.

"Of course," he coughs. "Miss Jones, I should like to purchase your servant's contract from you."

Cordelia tilts her head and raises her eyebrows. She looks over to Annette, reading the terrified look on her face, and casually responds, "Not for sale."

"But, Miss Jones, I am happy to pay it out in full."

"Annette's contract is not for sale."

Annette continues sharing a look with Cordelia, smiling gratefully. Cordelia's face remains neutral and disaffected. When she speaks, her tone is strictly matter-of-fact. Annette can feel her heart pound against her chest and bounce in her ears. She continues glaring at Cordelia with a guilt-ridden expression. She said no.

"Very well," Pullwater shifts in her seat. "Simon, please inform Miss Jones of Miss Baker's transgressions."

"Transgressions?" Cordelia asks, turning back to the pair before her.

"I-I can tell her inst-," Annette attempts.

"Ahem," Simon's nervous voice chimes. "At the Hasting's Ball, I suspected something might be amiss after my conversation with Miss Baker. A small accident occurred with another guest, Lady Deveroux, and when the two of them departed from the party, I followed them."

Annette sinks her face into the palms of her hands, feeling her whole body tremble with guilt. There was nothing to be said or done at this point. There was no escape from this moment. She prepares herself for the dreadful punishment that was sure to be coming. Once again, she feels like a young girl, awaiting the holy judgment of the Sister's, and the condemnation of her soul.

"I... erm... stumbled across them..." Simon clears his throat nervously. "They were engaging in... ahem..."

Cordelia looks back at Annette, who peaks out between her fingers. "I believe I can fulfill the remaining details, Deacon. Is this true, Annette?"

"Yes," she croaks weakly.

"And so," Cordelia turns back to Simon, "you wish to purchase her contract to spare me this scandal? Who else knows about it?"

"Just the people in this room and Lady Deveroux herself," Simon nods. "We hope that we might return Annette to the care of St. Bartholomew's where we can give her the help she requires."

"No," Cordelia answers quickly. Annette bolts upright, confused and relieved. She tries to share a gracious look with the detective, but Cordelia remains fixed upon the Deacon and ignores her.

"But, Miss Jones, this could-,"

"Annette is indispensable in my service. I shall handle her punishment and corrections myself, Deacon. I thank you for informing me." She stands from her seat, gesturing for the two of them to rise as well. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I believe I have some words to share with Miss Baker."

Simon looks panicked as he rises, baffled by Cordelia's rejection. "Annette," he pleads, "this is your only opportunity to be redeemed by-,"

"If you'll allow me to see you out," Cordelia interjects.

Simon drops to his knee, pulling a small ring out of his pocket. "Marry me, Miss Baker!"

Annette stands suddenly, angrily glaring at the ring in his hands with deep offense. Cordelia smirks, staring back at Annette with an amused expression. "Do you have an answer for him, Miss Baker?"

Annette turns to Simon. "Absolutely not."

"Annette, I beg of you to consider-,"

"I believe Miss Baker has supplied you with an answer," Cordelia declares. This time she does meet Annette's eyes, and her emerald irises seem to twinkle.

Simon panics and stares back at Sister Pullwater, begging for her support. She stands as well, scowling at Annette. "Miss Baker, I have watched over you your entire life, shepherded you though your entire rebirth, taught you everything you needed to know about being a woman... and this is how you repay me!? You are squandering everything that I have given you. You're throwing it away for a life of sin!"

"Sister Pullwater," Cordelia says loudly, "Deacon Billings. I believe you are not officially overstaying your welcome. Please exit my home."

"I'll not be-,"

"Immediately," Cordelia cuts back, "If you'd be so kind."

Cordelia extends her arm, guiding them out into the front hallway and out the door. Simon turns back on the front steps, as though to make one final plea, but Cordelia slams the door in his face.

Annette stands at the far end of the hallway, holding her hands nervously in front of her chest. She rocks back and forth, feeling her anxiety pour over her as Cordelia remains in place at the door for a long, tense moment. She can't breathe, the air feels trapped in her lungs.

But, when the detective slowly turns around, Annette is surprised to find her smiling and laughing to herself.

"Miss?" Annette steps forward nervously.

Cordelia's laugh grows louder, soon turning into a booming cackle. She doubles over, throwing her hands to her knees and gasping for air between joyful laughs. She continues for a long while, hardly caring for Annette's nerves.

"You... you..." Cordelia attempts between rushed breaths. "You're... a lesbian!?"

Annette feels a lump in her throat. "... yes," she answers quietly.

Cordelia lets out another thundering cascade of giggles. "And... and you didn't... didn't think to... to tell me?"

"How was I to-,"

Cordelia raises up a hand to stop her, slowly rising and leaning up against a wall to steady herself. She coughs a few times and clears her throat, shoving down her laughter and staring at Annette with an incredulous glee. "You let me agonize over your judgment of my character... for four days, and never once... never once thought to tell me?"

"I wasn't sure how to-,"

"Christ, Annette," She wipes a tear from her eye. "I was afraid I'd lost your friendship forever. But this whole time you were a lesbian as well!? And with Samantha Deveroux!?"

Annette shares a weak smile, feeling her fears fade slightly. "I was worried about what you might think of me."

"Christ," she shakes her head in disbelief. "You managed to seduce Lady Deveroux... how on Earth did you pull that off?"

"In truth," Annette purses her lips, a little proud of herself. "She did most of the seduction." She stares at Cordelia for a moment. "You're not mad at me?"

"Oh, I'm furious," Cordelia scoffs. "But also proud, I think?" She shakes her head incredulously. "Christ, that was fun."

"Fun?"

"How often do I get to slam the door in the face of a Deacon?"

Annette is quiet, her face flashing between a wide and unknowable range of emotions. "You said you were proud?"

"It doesn't matter," she dismisses. "For now, let's put the other night behind us, agreed? I should quite like things to return to the way they were."

"Yes, Miss Jones."

"Uh-uh. Call me Cordelia."

"Miss?"

"There's no escaping it, Annette," she insists.

"Escaping what?"

"We're friends."

"We are?"

"Yes!" Cordelia smirks. "We are. Or, at least I think so."

"I'm still your servant."

"And do you like it here?"

Annette is quiet for a moment. "Yes. I do."

Cordelia strides forward, placing an affectionate hand on Annette's shoulder. "Then we're partners in this, now."

"Partners..." Annette smiles. "And yet I cook for you, clean for you, investigate for you, shop for you, and wear a collar. A strange partnership indeed, don't you think?"

"And I pay the bills," Cordelia chuckles. "Fair trade? How different is that from most marriages, eh?"

"I've already rejected one proposal today. Don't make me reject another," Annette threatens jokingly. "For what it's worth... I am sorry for how I behaved the other night."

"Apology accepted."

"That's quick, don't you think?"

Cordelia is quiet. "I... I don't have many friends, Annette. None who have been willing to stick around once they see beyond the veil, so to speak. Perhaps... perhaps I'm eager not to lose another."

Annette steps away and drops back into her chair, taking a few deep breaths.

"Why the hesitation?" Cordelia asks, leaning up against a nearby wall.

"It isn't about you, I swear."

"Then tell me."

She looks up at Cordelia, briefly annoyed by her forwardness. There was no hiding from Cordelia, especially the way she was used to hiding from people. It's such a habit to withhold herself, to present only a modest and polished front to her. But there's always been that part of her that wants Cordelia's respect, that wants her trust. She sighs.

"I... I'm still reeling from the possibility that you may have just severed my connection with the Sisters. Sister Pullwater especially."

"That's a good thing, isn't it?"

"It's supposed to be."

Cordelia is quiet for a moment. "But now you feel... untethered?"

"I suppose?" Annette shrugs. She holds her hand before her face, frustrated that they are still shaking. "What if they're right?"

"Fuck them."

Annette gasps, surprising herself.

"They're wretched hypocrites," Cordelia dismisses. "Cast them aside. They're so desperate to control you because they're afraid of the person they know you are."

"And that person is...?"

"Better than them."

Annette smiles weakly. "Thanks."

Cordelia grins, stepping away and throwing her hands onto her hips. "Friends?" she asks excitedly.

"Friends," Annette nods gratefully.

"Now," Cordelia strolls into the dining room, "why don't you tell me where you ran off to today. I can see in your eyes that it's something fascinating and important. I can't wait to hear that you've somehow stowed away on a pirate's vessel, or consorted with the governor's daughter!"

Annette wraps her arms around her chest, steadying herself for a long few breaths. She waits until the tremors of fear dissipate, then tries to release herself from the terrifying, destabilizing feeling of severing herself from the church. A small part of her, tucked away sheepishly, dances elatedly at the idea that Sister Pullwater might finally be removed from her place of influence inside of her.

Cordelia throws open the window, allowing Harold to flutter inside, cooing affectionately. She strolls back out into the hallway with him on her shoulder, one of her fingers happily scratching the side of his beak.

"Coming, Miss Baker?"