Baker and Jones Pt. 02 Ch. 03

Annette nods appreciatively, enjoying the feeling of belonging to something. "She'll want to take a look at your field, if you'd let us."

A pause. "Fine."

Deciding not to push her luck any further, Annette nods her head and mutters a polite goodbye, strolling outside to see what other chaos Cordelia is likely to be in the middle of causing.

To her relief, nothing at the moment. Maud has fallen unconscious in the Abbot's arms, who now carries her away gently back to the Abbey. Cordelia remains squatting, careful not to get any mud on her trousers.

"We're making such lively friends," Annette observes, wrapping her bread back up.

Cordelia remains focused. "I don't trust that Abbot."

"He's an Abbot. That seems healthy as a rule, though I anticipate you've reason."

"Feeling."

"Ah," Annette pushes out a breath, continuing to watch the man go. She gives it a few moments until he turns the street and exits her view. "Well, shall we see Alma's fields?"

The detective rests an elbow on either knee, fixed to her position. Her eyes are glassy, lost in thought. "Abbot. Moving woods. Poisoned fields," she mutters to herself.

"One of those seems a relevant lead," Annette affirms. "I worry it's at the end of your list."

Cordelia's head peeks back to Annette. "Hm?"

Annette rolls her eyes. "I see - it's one of those ones." She gently places a hand on Cordelia's shoulder and squeezes it, though not before looking to ensure they were relatively alone in the street. "I'll tend to securing us supplies for our borrowed home while you pester the poor Abbot."

And, with Annette's permission, Cordelia marches off without another word. She's lost away into her own world, mind likely racing through dozens and dozens of odd theories and compiling every tiny clue it could possibly store. She finds it endearing how focused her woman can get, how single-minded and obsessive. It's one of the things that makes her so brilliant.

But, at the same time...

Annette watches the fabled detective leave like one of the heroes in her books strutting off to battle, a woman courageous and powerful, off to save the day, and wishes she had been asked to go along with her.

The Fifteen Reply - Nine Years Prior

To Sonia, my friend an insurmountable distance away,

Forgive me for such a delay between my reception of your previous letter and the composition of this one which now lay before you - I find that there are portions of my life which feel, in the kindest of terms, as impossible to travel as it would be for me to walk to Tuscovy. In such states of mind, I am mildly ashamed to admit my struggles in maintenance of the basic tasks of life, such as eating, sleeping, and caring for a home. I trust you'll be gracious in updating your assessment of me; you have been needfully kind with each moment of personal weakness I disclose to you.

Stepping out from the burdensome hole which I have found myself, I have once again taken stock of my life and found things left wanting within it. I live alone, save for the pigeons which grace my street on occasion, whom I feel a strange kinship with, and at times feel that there is an emptiness within my loneliness. The monks of yore and the great spiritual thinkers speak often about the comforts of solitude, the space to reflect and shape oneself; yet I must profess, perhaps the spiritual life is not one for me, as I can hardly seem to bear it.

Sometimes I regret the decision not to marry. I implore you to share this fact of me with no one - though I suppose there are none around you whom my personage would be known by - for I feel I have a reputation to upkeep. Admittance of the difficulty of my unwed lifestyle might place within people the perception that I am wrong to do the things which I feel I must do - that women must remain within their designated position and not encroach upon the territory of men. I should not like them to feel confirmed in this predilection.

I was not always alone. There was a person for whom I cared so deeply it felt as though an anchor had been enchained upon me - so desperate was my need for them. I'll not provide further details of this person, either for recalling the pain their departure has caused me or the desire to respect their privacy and not boast of our prior association. But, even in the years since we were torn asunder, I am ashamed of how things ended. Hindsight has bestowed upon me a clarity of mind I was not capable of within that context, and if time could be reversed and I preserve the knowledge I now possess, I ought to have been quite content with the relationship we had with one another. It could have been a beautiful life indeed.

I'll ask you to forgive me again. You wrote of a great many interesting and varied things in your previous correspondence, and I do intend to reply to each and every one, though I feel I should like to sit with those concepts and prepare a more sophisticated response when my mind is clearer. For now, I felt it necessary to compose this letter in advance to apologize for my temporary disappearance and inform you to look forward to a following message from me within the fortnight.

With great humility of self,

Cordelia Jones