Baker and Jones Ch. 14

"Sister Minerva is a crony bitch."

Judith yelps in surprise and covers her mouth, hiding a cackling laugh. "I'm not supposed to say that," she whispers happily.

"Don't repeat it," Annette grins, "but it's true. I'll talk with Sister Pullwater and see if there are ways to make them stop."

"Thank you," she nods sweetly.

Annette looks her over, recognizing herself in the girl across from her. It was impossible not to, despite the fact that they looked so different. But Judith was the only twice-born girl in the orphanage, and likely would be the only twice-born woman most anyone had ever met. It takes all of Annette's self control not to ambush her with every piece of advice, every hard-earned lesson, every avoidable challenge she could fathom.

Eventually, she settles for asking, "Did Sister Pullwater tell you where your name came from?"

"The Bible," Judith answers simply.

"I picked it for you."

"I didn't know that. Why did you pick it?"

"Do you know the story of Judith?"

"No."

Annette shuffles in her seat and nods, recalling the story she knew so well. It was one of the stories she'd never understood why it was part of the Bible and why she was allowed to read it as a kid, and she loved it dearly.

"So there's this general attacking the city Judith lives in," Annette begins. "His army is huge, and they surround the entire city, and things are looking bleak. So Judith, who is just a widow, makes a plan. She sneaks out of the city and finds her way to the general, and when she meets him, she tells him that she had a vision of the future, and in the vision she saw him winning the battle.

"The general was so distracted by her beauty that he believes her," she continues, her voice excited and impassioned, "so he invites Judith to come back to his tent, alone. She goes, and the entire time they are together she's encouraging him to drink more and more wine. She gets him drunk - so drunk that he falls asleep. Do you know what she does next?"

Judith leans forward excitedly. "What?"

Annette sits forward as well, whispering the scandalous ending. "She cuts his head off."

"What!? She does?"

Annette smiles and leans back. "And the next day, without a general to lead them, the invading army is lost. Judith saved the city."

Judith grins and looks down at the look, glancing up at Annette with a look as though learning something forbidden and wonderful. "Sister Pullwater wouldn't think that's very ladylike."

"Well, it's in her Bible, too," Annette puffs happily. "Judith is a name of power. A name of beauty. She's a woman who uses the enemy's ideas of what is proper and ladylike to trick them and defeat them."

She takes a breath, proud to see the courage and the joy in Judith's eyes. "There's more than one way to be a woman, Miss Velore. Don't miss out on them."

- - -

Cordelia takes another large bite of her dinner, a surprisingly large drumstick of a chicken, and tilts her head to the side. "Forgive me if I remain apprehensive."

"I would expect nothing less," Annette grins, taking yet another look around the Faery and reveling in the joy of seeing so many women like her. The top button of her shirt is tightly clasped around her neck, not for any sense of shame in her status, but rather to avoid drawing additional attention to having a owner and servant flirting in a bar. Plenty of people knew she was a servant once more as the news spread, but Annette figures it's better not to provide too many identifying factors - the short hair stood out enough on its own. While a relationship between a collar and owner was generally frowned on, Annette suspects that it is mostly only despised in the context of a male owner having his way with a servant girl; and that she and Cordelia would be better received than that.

"You truly agreed to twice a month?" Cordelia asks, marveling at either Annette's fortitude or lunacy.

"It's just tea," Annette calms her. "And I'm more resilient than I was before. Plus, an inquiring side of myself is desperate to learn of what becomes of Simon and Peter."

Cordelia smiles, and Annette suspects she, too, was curious about their fates. "Well, I am impressed with your bravery regardless." She gazes around the room, and asks, "Are you sure you don't wish to drink?"

"Have plans for me later, do you?" Annette teases. She looks back at Cordelia and gently replies, "If you must be content with unfermented cider, so shall I."

Cordelia nods. "I remember their beer being far too strong here anyway."

Annette smiles, once again reveling in the sweet novelty of the Fleeting Faery, and the joys the place had always held for her. A cop had already stopped by this evening, once again making vague threats about catching any impropriety, and as a result, the bar felt safe from additional intrusion. She catches Bill's eye at the bar and smiles, and he tosses the two of them a supportive nod.

"I cannot believe that I've never encountered you in this place," Annette leans forward, resting her head in her palm. "There was a time I visited nightly."

"I wasn't fond of encountering Lady Deveroux after we split," Cordelia shrugs, taking another satisfying bite of her food. "She was enormously fond of flaunting her romantic successes over me." She tilts her head to the side and smirks knowingly at Annette. "Still fond of it, now that I think of it."

"I'm sure you could have flaunted your own successes right back," Annette playfully taps Cordelia's leg with her foot, trying to stroke her ego.

Cordelia lets out a barking laugh. "You are overconfident in your estimations of my ability to make a good first impression."

Annette smirks. "'I thought you'd be smarter.'"

"Scathing, Miss Baker," Cordelia's eyes twinkle, recalling their first meeting.

"You generally improve past your first impressions."

"One again," Cordelia raises a contesting finger, "you place too much faith in my skills of conversation. I recall, back when I was trying to gain the favor of polite society, I put an incredible amount of effort into making a good impression." She sits up into a more proper posture, and begins eating with a sophisticated and absurd elegance.

"Perfect hair, immaculate dress, excellent dancing form, and practiced conversational skills," Cordelia brags, and Annette can hardly conjure up an image of her in a gown at a ball. "But despite this, I remember Sir Alstair once remarked, and mind you this was during our courtship: 'You know, a great number of people enjoy your company until they get to know you, Miss Jones.'"

"Christ," Annette grimaces. "And you say I'm scathing."

Cordelia shrugs. "Some enjoy the outside but find the insides boorish. Some admire the depths inside but find the outside masculine and intimidating." He looks up and smiles at Annette. "You alone seem to appreciate both."

Annette places a soft hand atop Cordelia's. "I find it endlessly confusing to be alone in that category."

The detective smiles appreciatively. "I suppose it hardly matters, now that I have you-,"

"Detective Jones?" A voice chirps from the side.

Annette grumbles slightly at the interruption, but turns her head to the side to see a woman standing just to the left of their table, lowering her head in as she recognizes the detective. She's a fairly unremarkable woman, around Cordelia's age, with tame brunette hair and gentle eyes. She has the sort of unassuming look of a woman you would pass alongside on the street and not be able to recall even just a few moments later.

"Miss Blackburne," Cordelia dips her head in greeting as Annette removes her hand.

"Please, just Morrigan to you," the woman smiles, her face gentle and plain. She holds her hands up apologetically, "I didn't mean to interrupt, but I had not expected to see you here."

"Nor I, you," Cordelia admits.

Annette extends a hand in greeting to the woman. "Annette Baker, pleasure to meet you."

"Morrigan Blackburne," she takes Annette's hand and shakes it carefully, "at your service."

Annette smirks and lifts her neck slightly to reveal the collar underneath her shirt. "Usually it is I who is at the service."

Morrigan's face drops. "Pardon," she bows politely, "I had no intention of offending-,"

"Miss Baker is joking with you, as is her habit," Cordelia laughs lightly, and Morrigan seems to settle slightly. "Would you care to sit with us?"

"I'd not wish to intrude."

"It's quite alright," Annette waves away her concern. "I'm eager to hear how the two of you know one another."

Morrigan nods, pulling a chair up to join them and lowering herself into it. "I'm the secretary to Mister Pemberley, of Pemberley Exports. Detective Jones has been working on another case for us."

"Right, of course. I'm not sure that I'm familiar with the details of it."

"Mister Pemberley's successes in business are primarily the result of carefully cultivated trade secrets and closely guarded contacts, all of which are vital to his business. It's in our best interest to protect those."

Annette furrows her brow. "And you require a detective?"

"Oh, it's good fun, Miss Baker," Cordelia pips up. "My role thus far has been to attempt to uncover each and every one of these trade secrets, so as to test the strength of their security."

"How enjoyable," Annette hides her smirk. She recalls that the case Lady Deveroux offered involved corporate espionage on Pemberley exports for the behalf of Benton & Hayle. Being employed by Mister Pemberley to uncover the very sort of insider secrets Benton & Hayle would desire was a perfect cover story, and Annette is sure that Cordelia enjoys the delightful irony of it all.

Cordelia sets her elbows onto the table and folds her fingers into a bridge. "And how many do you suspect I've unveiled thus far, Morrigan?"

Morrigan smiles proudly, shimmering with loyalty to her employer. "I would be amazed if you have discovered a single one."

The detective seems amused by her confidence, and she flashed Annette a knowing smirk. Annette smiles, wondering just how far from reality Morrigan's guess was.

"So confident," Cordelia purrs. "Adorable."

"You'll find Miss Jones to be frustratingly capable," Annette adds.

Morrigan takes a sip of her drink and grins with them. "Well, then I suppose it is Mister Pemberley's problem now." She glances over at their glasses and asks, "Might I buy you both a round of drinks?"

"I don't drink," Cordelia replies quickly. Morrigan raises an eyebrow to Annette, but she shakes her head.

"For me alone then," Morrigan nods. She stands to retrieve another drink from the bar counter, then returns contentedly. She glances between Annette and Cordelia and says, "So... it isn't the most common sight for an owner and collar to shake a meal in this place..."

"Well," Annette shrugs, "she is known for her eccentric habits."

Morrigan leans in. "But you're... together?"

"Indeed," Cordelia smiles at Annette, tapping her with her foot under the table and causing Annette's heart to feel warm and happy. "Though I'm not inclined to think of her as my collar, nor I as her owner."

Annette blushes and quietly says, "It's a relationship of great convenience."

Morrigan shares a knowing grin. "I heard about Annette's escape from the papers, and I recognized the meaning of her hair, but I didn't realize you orchestrated all of that simply for such an arrangement."

"Miss Baker has a flair for the dramatic," Cordelia jokes. The detective returns to eating her food happily, and Annette watches with a bubbling warmth across her body. It was difficult not to find every aspect of her endearing.

Morrigan is quiet for a moment, taking a few sips of her drink, then turns to Cordelia and asks, "I have a question."

Cordelia swallows her bite. "She kissed me first, if you can believe it. During a thunderstorm, no less."

"Not about that," Morrigan blushes.

"Oh. Do ask away."

"What compels you to do your work? Why do you do it?" Morrigan leans in slightly, her voice brimming with something between curiosity and confusion. "Is it the money? Is it the satisfaction of uncovering a scandal?"

Cordelia thinks for a moment, and Annette wonders if she's debating explaining the feeling underlying her insights. "I suppose I feel compelled simply by the fact that it is compelling."

"She's nosy," Annette teases.

Cordelia's eyes glimmer at her. "I prefer to think of myself as a concerned citizen."

"Do you ever get bored?" Morrigan asks, speaking as though it might be the most important question to be considered.

"Never," Cordelia shakes her head. "It's always new and fresh and exciting." Her eyes dart away as she thinks, and she tilts her head. "Mostly, I suppose. There are certain patterns in cases that grow tedious."

"But it's never boring?" The woman insists.

Annette sits back in her chair. "I cannot help but wonder if there is something upon your mind, Morrigan."

Morrigan looks at her, then drops her eyes to the floor, a little bashful at being so persistent in her questions. "You are an unmarried woman," she says to the detective, "willing to endure great ridicule to live out your life in such a way. You could just as easily marry for convenience and live out your days with glorious love affairs in places such as this while having your livelihood provided for by an unsuspecting husband."

Her voice sounds a little wishful, and possibly a little sad. She continues, saying, "But instead you choose to work, and in a field dominated by vicious men. Why? Why is it worth it?"

Cordelia thinks for a long moment, occasionally glancing at Annette as though she could provide an answer or explanation. "I live my life this way simply because it feels necessary," she says at last.

"Are you a suffragette?"

"Only passively," Cordelia shrugs.

Annette faces Morrigan, trying to read where her prodding might be going. "I notice your finger is notably absent of a ring. It seems you made a similar decision."

Morrigan's face drops towards her lap, and her fingers fiddle with where a ring might be on her hand. "Widow, actually," she says quietly.

"My apologies."

"Don't be," Morrigan smiles politely. "I'm here in the Faery, after all. My late husband left behind a comfortable enough estate, and I've no children."

"Quite lucky," Cordelia pips.

Annette remains curious, and states, "And yet you work as well."

"Mostly as a favor to Mister Pemberley," Morrigan nods. "His business would surely be less organized without my involvement."

Morrigan smiles again, then slowly rises from the table. "Nonetheless, I must be on my way. There's a lovely woman in the corner suffering the unenviable fate of sitting alone this evening, and I'll not allow her to endure such trials on my watch," her eyes shine excitedly.

She faces Annette, careful to meet her gaze, and says, "A pleasure to meet you, Annette, and my sincerest condolences for the terrible trial of being taken captive by the police." Her voice drops a little lower, and a tiny glimmer of seriousness creeps into her tone. "It seems they were exactly in the right place at the wrong time." She shakes her head, looks back at the two of them, and says, "Good evening to the both of you."

Morrigan strolls away, and Annette feels a strange prickling in the back of her mind as she does. She shakes it away, turning to Cordelia to say, "Interesting woman..."

Cordelia purses her lips and watches Morrigan leave, her voice quiet and intrigued. "I daresay there's something beneath the surface with her. I've yet to uncover even a single one of Pemberley's secrets."

"Indeed? How embarrassing for you?"

Cordelia smirks, lifting her foot under the table and placing it onto Annette's lap. "Careful, Miss Baker," she teases, "or I'll be required to remind you of your place when we return home."

Annette smirks back at her, fluttering her eyelashes. "With threats like these, why would I ever stay my tongue?"

- - -

Annette lays in Cordelia's bed, resting even after the detective has departed for work, and feels her mind churning in the background. It's cozy underneath the blankets, and even after the heated spot where Cordelia had slept fades, Annette still feels the irresistible urge to allow sleep to consume her. She exists for a while in the between stages of sleeping and waking, only truly feeling her consciousness when rolling over and pulling the covers tight.

But her mind remains at work, and she feels a constant thought pulling at the back of her thoughts. Something about Morrigan's words the day before unsettle her, and she ruminates constantly on her strange mention of the police. It seems they were exactly in the right place at the wrong time.

The strange seriousness in which she said it combines with Annette's own frustrations of being nearly captured in Wemberly's mansion. So few of the Mallets' moves were interrupted or prevented in the act; and yet on their most significant move to date, the police just happened to arrive in time to stop them? She rouses, accepting the reality that the thought would continue bothering her until she acted upon it in some way. She throws on clothes, grabs her coat, and braces the brisk air of Bellchester's streets.

Annette walks at first without a destination, simply strolling around with the hope an idea would come to her. There's a handful of people she considers visiting, in the hopes that perhaps they could validate her worry, or provide evidence to discount it, and she eventually settles on the one she trusts most. She turns abruptly in the streets, hardly caring for how unusual a sudden correction in her course might look, and makes her way over to Elenore's Gallery.

The greeters inside wave her in, hardly caring to inquire about her business there. One of them points the way to Marian's room, and Annette thanks him and ascends the flight of stairs to the second floor. She finds the correct room and knocks gently at the door. "Marian?"

Behind the door she can hear a quiet rustling, and it takes a few moments for the girl to unlatch the door and peek out at her. Her face looks flustered, though is absent of any embarrassment. She furrows her brow, and whispers, "Annette? Can it wait? I'm busy?"

Annette grins and drops her voice low enough that it wouldn't carry into the room. "Only if you swear that I'm a better lover than your current client."

Marian snickers as quietly as possible and shakes her head in disbelief, "God, I've never faked so many orgasms in my life," she hisses. "He's so proud. He thinks I've finished four times already." She closes the door behind her, leaving Annette to laugh to herself and wait in the hallway until she is ready.

It isn't a long wait, and after a little while a man stumbles out of the room, tipping his hat to Annette to cover his embarrassment. Annette flashes him a mischievous smile and ducks into the room behind him, shutting the door as she enters. Marian is slowly putting her clothes back on, and if she feels any shame from Annette seeing her naked once more she doesn't show it.

"It's lovely to see you!" Marian leaps up when she's done, pulling Annette into a tight hug. She keeps her arms on Annette's shoulders, holding her close and asking, "How are things with her? Have the two of you...?"

"Constantly," Annette boasts happily.

Marian's brow lowers curiously. "And it's...?"

Annette grins. "Unbelievably good."

"Excellent!"

Annette steps over and sits down on the edge of the bed, careful to sit closer to the foot of the bed and not lower herself into any unfortunate stains. "How is Wilcox?"

Marian plops down beside her, taking one of her hands. "Working on a careful balance between paying to see me and saving up to purchase my contract. Only a month or two left, I hope." Her free hand raises to Annette's collar. "Is.. why do you have a ring on your collar?"