The Now Former Lady Deveroux Ch. 10

"When Esther denied Miss Hull's advances, Miss Hull did not accept it," Pullwater recounts, and Samantha feels a shudder crawl through her form. "I, I had been visiting Esther in preparation for the wedding, when I caught Miss Hull in the act of defiling her." 

The Mother Superior pauses, taking a long and low breath, setting her hands back down onto the table. She shakes her head, disgusted by the memory, but the emotion soon gives way to a feeling of grief. "Despite my best efforts to instruct Corporal Dennings in compassion for the abuse Esther suffered, it was too great a problem for him to forgive. The wedding was called off, Esther was spoiled, and her only refuge became the Sisters.

"I tucked her away first at the convent in Bromhill, where she has been the past few years, until a fondness in my heart brought her here to Bellchester." She purses her lips. "Perhaps I was missing Annette. It does not matter. Instead, it has come to pass, to my great horror, that you have now also been taking advantage of her, just as Miss Hull did." And before Samantha can speak to her own defense, Pullwater is adding, "And perhaps I was too quick to judge Miss Baker for her prior affiliation with you - it now seems just as likely you set your mind to harm her as well." 

An Annette who is offering to sell me her contract? That is an Annette who is pitiful. 

Samantha's mind spirals into herself, feeling some part of her heart latch onto the truth of Pullwater's words. What if she had taken advantage of Esther? What had she said early into their friendship? 

If... if all you have for me is lust, then do what you will. But if you love me, mean to care for my friendship and my peace... don't let me do this. 

She'd led Esther astray. The promise of love must really be a perverted lust, trained and practiced to bring Esther to her knees, ready for anything Samantha desired of her. Rather than protect Esther, love her, Samantha allowed her want for her to corrupt her and steal her away. 

It was all a lie, that is the conclusion her panicked brain arrives at. It was the same pattern, over and over and over again. She'd found some poor girl who she wanted for herself, told them anything they wished to hear to win them over, used them for her own purposes, then sent them packing as soon as it was inconvenient. 

Change is impossible. Assuredly.

"I was not aware of that history," she utters at last.

"And why would you care?" Pullwater sneers. She huffs loudly, makes a noise of displeasure in her throat, and crosses her arms over her chest. "It goes without saying, I am sure, that you will not become a Sister, nor will I ever allow you in proximity to St. Bartholomew's ever again. If your lecherous heart wishes to repent, I pray the doors of some other church will open to you, for surely ours will not-,"

Samantha had not heard Esther reenter the home, but she appears in the doorway with rivers of tears rolling from her cheeks. She's trembling, each step weak like she was sick and recovering. She looks at the Mother Superior, then Samantha, and back. 

"My dear," Pullwater stands, rushing to her, "you ought not to witness this conv-,"

Esther's voice squeaks in response, frail and cracked. "You misunderstand," she chokes out, hoarse and hardly above a whisper. 

"Esther, you are in need, let us retur-,"

"I love her." 

Pullwater stops and stares at her. "You are under duress." 

Esther shakes her head, and seems nearly dizzy. "She has committed no abuse against me." A pause. She takes a long breath, heavy with guilt, and whispers, "Neither... Neither did I experience any abuse from Miss Hull." 

Pullwater rejects her admission readily. "This is simply fear speaking, my dear, the very same tools which have kept you under their-,"

Esther takes Pullwater's hands and shakes her head once more. "I have lied to you, Auntie." Pause. "I..." She swallows. "I have never laid with a woman or man unwillingly. You did not discover that day any violence or corruption on the part of Miss Hull, but rather the sins of my adultery, deceit, and fear." 

She shuts her eyes tightly, ignoring the trickle of water escaping them. "Neither have you now discovered any wrongdoing on the part of Miss Deveroux. Instead, you see only the sins of our mutual affection." She turns her head to face Samantha and peers her eyes open. The hazel pool's meet her own, and Samantha watches her, fearful and in awe. "I love her as I have loved no one else." 

The Mother Superior drops her hands. 

Takes a step back. 

"This is the truth, Esther? Sworn truth?" 

Esther nods. 

Pullwater takes another step back. 

Watches her. 

"You... you are no niece of mine. Do not return to St. Bartholomew's," she commands. "And burn those robes." 

And the Mother Superior storms out. 

Esther collapses down to her knees as Samantha races to her, pulling her tightly into her embrace. She shakes, snivels, huddles against Samantha as the weight of her sobs push her deeper into the former noblewoman's arms. 

Samantha holds her and feels her own form grow numb of all feeling, save that of Esther in her arms. Her emotions, previously a vicious swirl inside of her, disperse, replaced only with the rumblings of confusion and the remnants of fear. She pulls Esther's veil off of her and runs her fingers through her hair, unsure of how to console her. 

"I'm sorry," Esther chokes out between sobs. "I'm sorry." 

"I do not blame you," Samantha sighs, not knowing if she means it. It hardly matters in the moment, she'll sort it out later. "It was a small, unfortunate mistake that revealed us. I could have just as easily made it." 

I'm going to ruin your life, Esther. Do be sure to thank me. 

"Not that," Esther mumbles, her fingers clutching tighter to Samantha's dress. "I almost gave you up. I nearly convinced myself to let you take the fall, to let her believe you were evil and taking advantage of me. I would have protected myself. I'm sorry." 

Samantha takes a long breath. 

Releases it. 

"My dear," she says slowly, carefully lifting Esther up to hold her face between her hands. 

I almost gave you up. 

Almost. 

Change is possible. 

Perhaps. 

A quick kiss on Esther's nose. "I believe I am off to do something quite foolish." 

"What are you - Samantha!" 

"Pray for me!" Samantha calls back to her, racing out the door. 

-- -- -- 

As indignified as it is, Samantha runs. She cannot recall the last time she's run anywhere, but suspects it was in her adolescence. Her lungs and heels complain loudly as she races across the cobblestone streets. She ignores the confused, amused, and disgruntled faces of people as she passes them, making her way to St. Bartholomew's as fast as possible, hunting for the tell-tale black robes of the Mother Superior. 

She finally catches her in the large courtyard just outside of St. Bartholomew's, making a deliberate march to Father Billing's house. 

Stopping for a moment to catch her aching breath, and to collect herself, Samantha quickly strides forward, halting Sister Pullwater in her tracks. 

"Do not speak to me," the Mother Superior holds up a hand, dismissive and disgusted, "lest I reconsider my decision not to involve the police." 

And, feeling words pour forth out of her, far beyond any conscious effort, Samantha summons the few bits of theology she's learned from Esther. She squares her shoulders and challenges, "Do you consider her a Christian, in whom there is no Christian act?" 

"I have made myself-,"

"Please, answer me," Samantha insists, stepping forth to block her path. "When, in the scriptures, did Christ cast out his family?" 

Having never read the whole of the gospels, Samantha sorely hopes there was not some passage she's forgotten about that would spell her theological destruction. 

Pullwater frowns, looking aghast. "Miss Deveroux, do not dare speak to me of scriptures." 

"I am calling for you to test your own righteousness by their standards," Samantha continues, holding onto her point for dear life. "When did Jesus cast out his family?" 

"The point does not-,"

"Esther is happy, Sister Pullwater," Samantha barges on, "you've attested it yourself. What you thought of as the blessing of our friendship was actually the blessing of our love for one another. My love has improved her just as her love has improved me." 

She quickly shoves away the frightful doubt which rears its head underneath. She chooses instead to trust Esther's assessment, that Samantha, underneath all her fears, was good to her. For her. 

The nun's face sours, and soon her arms are waving wildly as she speaks. A finger points back in the direction of 167th Mill Street. "Have I not just discovered the depth of her deceit? Have I not just learned that nearly all I have known of her are lies?" 

"Lies," Samantha leans forward, "which she told to protect herself from you. Which is more evil, the ant which lies to the boot, or the boot which threatens to crush it?" 

Pullwater rejects the allegory, uttering instead, "It is sin, Miss Deveroux. Plain and simple." 

"And yet the fruits of the spirit are peace, kindness, faithfulness, compassion, and the like." Samantha holds out her hands and steadies herself, taking a breath and charting a new direction forward. This would require more tact than just argument alone. She forces herself into the toolkit which expedited her survival in the gentry. 

"Ignore Esther for a moment," Samantha attempts, making her voice smoother and more gentle, "and consider me. I have been a vile woman the last decade. Everyone I cared for I have harmed. I'm a prolific adulterer, and more skilled in lying than King David was with his sling against Goliath." She allows those words to settle for a moment, and ignores the bustle of the marketplace nearby. She must remain calm, focused. "And yet, Esther's love has reshaped me into a woman even you believed was good enough to be a nun. Is that not a testament to the Lord's restoration?" 

Pullwater remains unconvinced, the upturn of her scowl hardened. "The Lord may work miracles even amongst the depths of sin." 

"If this love has improved me, completed Esther, brought blessing all around us, and its only sins occur in the attempt to protect ourselves from harm, how can that be evil?" 

"It simply is," Pullwater grumbles at her. 

Samantha loses her temperament for a moment. "Is it evil to refuse to think? If so, I suspect you are sinning now, Sister." 

Pullwater looks affronted. "I do not-,"

"No, no, hear me now," she continues, pressing on to recapture the moment and her poise. She takes a breath, allowing her care for Esther to win out over her anger at the Mother Superior. When she speaks again, she's placed more feeling into her words, but less fury. She speaks with an impassioned sweetness. 

"Do you know what Esther stirs within me?" She asks. "The very same convictions of Ruth and Naomi, as you yourself have compared us to." 

Ruth was among Esther's favorites, one of the few books of the Bible she'd convinced Samantha to read in full, and in her next breath, she finds herself summoning Sister Levy's favorite verses. "For I look at Esther and say, 'For where you go, I will go, and where you rest, I will rest. Your people shall be my people, and your God, my God.'

"If the price of my salvation is the sin of our love, how can you say the cost is not worth it?" She drops her hands to her sides, then carefully brings her palms together to steady herself. "And when I see the way she looks at me, it compels me to be nothing but the greatest version of myself. Her compassion is my reawakening. Her love is my rebirth. Her joy is my absolution. I have never desired to do good until I met her, never longed for righteousness until I also longed for her." She takes a breath. "If her boundless love is insufficient to convince me of the love of God, nothing ever will."  

Consumed with her adoration for the dear Sister, Samantha presses on, allowing more and more of her feelings to enter into her words. "I swear to you," she raises a palm to cover her heart, "there is nothing I desire more than to care for her with a kindness like no one ever has before. I shall love her with a depth that even the Lord God Almighty will have to compete with it. I will tend to her happiness and steward her from pain. I will love her as no man has ever loved a woman before, and cherish her as though she were my very own bride." 

  And there was nothing more Samantha could say, having laid bare the whole of her feelings in a way that she had never before. It was almost embarrassing, confessing her love for another person who was not even witness to it, especially when Pullwater wears such a deep scowl throughout. It's impossible to read what the Mother Superior thinks of her words, and considering them for a moment, she grunts and continues her march to the home of Father Billings, Samantha in tow. 

Peter answers the door after a few stern knocks. "Good afternoon-,"

"I must speak to Father Billings on an urgent matter," Pullwater declares without hesitation. 

Peter steps aside and calls into the home, "Simon?" 

Father Billings rises from his reading chair, setting his book aside and folding his glasses into his pocket as they enter. "Sister Pullwater, Miss Deveroux," he greets warmly, "what a delight. Am I to receive the happy news that we have a new Sister in our midst?" 

"No, Father," Pullwater cuts. "I come with-,

Samantha would rather say it. "She knows of Esther and I," she announces. Peter and Simon fall into silence with them. 

"I see," Father Billings purses his lips. 

Pullwater croons at him. "You knew?" 

He nods. "I... I have been counseling the two of them-,"

"Then you know of the depth of their corruption-,"

Peter steps between them, arriving at Simon's side and halting all conversation by placing a kiss on the priest's forehead. Then he smiles, turns back to Sister Pullwater while tossing a look to Samantha. 

Simon sputters, "What are you-,"

"Mother Superior," Peter beams, "Simon and I are also in love." 

Pullwater freezes in place, her mouth hanging open as though her brain could handle no more of this. 

"I tell you this not to cause alarm," Peter says. "In fact, I hope it brings you to a space of peace." 

"How could it possibly-,"

"Just as Esther and Samantha bring out the best in one another, so, too, do Simon and I." He keeps his face gentle and sweet, wrapping an arm around Simon's back and holding him close. "You've known us all this time, and have seen him before and after my arrival. You can recall the improvement." 

Pullwater steps back, wears a look of horror upon her face. "I have been surrounded by sin," she hisses. 

"And yet the church is flourishing," Peter nudges, trying to keep her steady. Samantha appreciates the calming effect his presence seems to have on them all. "Verna," he continues, and Samantha realizes for the first time she'd never heard Pullwater's first name, "you have been bold in your love for the twice-born, despite the hostility you have faced for this position. You have shown a capacity to love those who many consider to be God's mistakes. Perhaps you might also find it in yourself to do the same for us." 

And, unable to exist in the room any longer, Verna Pullwater exits the home. 

Samantha drops her hands down to her knees, squatting in place as she tries to keep herself steady amidst it all. How had it all come to this? How had she gone from the expectations of joining a convent, to pleading for her love in the home of a gay priest? 

Eventually she stands, glancing at the two of them, especially Peter. "You didn't have to do that for me." She's trying to be police, acknowledging, but she simply feels grateful and afraid. 

Peter nods kindly to her. "Either she will come to accept us all, or hate us all. The important thing is solidarity amongst ourselves." 

Simon furrows his brow at Peter. "You might have warned me before." 

Peter chuckles. "Well, where's the theater in that?" He takes Simon's hand and kisses it, pressing it to his cheek for a moment. Simon grins at him sweetly, then turns to Samantha. 

"You ought to return to Esther, ensure she's alright." He takes a breath, staring around the room like it all might soon be gone. And it might. "We'll come join you for dinner. You should not have to be alone tonight." 

Peter inclines his head in agreement. "Nor would we like to be." 

Samantha takes one of each of their hands and squeezes it. "Thank you, truly." 

-- -- -- 

As terrible as the situations were that brought them to bed together this night, Samantha is still grateful to have Esther lying between her arms, tucked away under the blankets. She has a weariness within her, her face puffy from crying, and in Samantha's arms she feels so small. So small. 

Neither of them expected to get any sleep, so they simply held one another through the night, unsure of what any passing minute might hold for them, Esther's breath warms Samantha's neck, her forehead presses into her jaw, and Samantha wonders where they might go if all of this ends the way she fears. Was there anything keeping her tied to Bellchester? 

Would Esther join her if they fled? 

And then the knock on the door ends their suffering. Whatever lay beyond it would answer the dreaded waiting, one way or another. The two of them look at one another, and Samantha kisses her forehead, knowing it must be her duty. 

"I'll get it," she tells Esther. 

Each step is heavy as she descends down the stairs and reaches for the door, but she forces herself not to think on it. Better to not let her mind run wild with fear. She opens the door before she can learn to be afraid of what it holds. 

"Miss Deveroux," Pullwater says simply. Not warm. Not cold.

"Mother Superior." 

A pause. "I was hoping to speak with my niece." 

Samantha nods. Takes a breath. Steps back. "Come inside. I'll go get her." 

And before Samantha turns away, Pullwater's hand gently grips her forearm, halting her. "Inform her... inform her that I do not intend to be angry with her. And... that I should like to speak with her alone." 

Samantha guides the nun to the living room, lights a few lamps for her comfort, then returns to her bedroom and relates the information to Esther. Esther sits on the side of the bed for a few long breaths, unmoving, staring directly ahead. 

"You don't have to face her alone," Samantha tells her. 

"I do though," Esther replies, and Samantha knows it. The woman rises from her place, kisses Samantha's forehead, and says, "Don't fret, dear." 

And Esther slips into the dark hallway and down the stairs. 

Unable to tolerate the feeling of being so close to them, yet so far from being involved, Samantha retrieves a coat and steps out onto the front porch. Judging from the depth of night, midnight must surely be upon them soon, and the streets are quiet, dark, and cool. 

For a moment, Samantha considers going to her mother's grave. She'd weep, pour out her heart to the stone like it could comfort her, like it could sing to her the way her mother would, and maybe that would steady her enough to survive the wait. 

But the pit in her stomach pulls her towards something else. 

She'd already lost everything. All her secrets were out. 

She may be leaving the city forever. 

Fuck it. 

Samantha finds her knuckles drifting down from the heavy door, the familiar wood sounding out exactly as it always had. She hears the latch of the gate behind her, chiming lightly in the night breeze, just as it always had. She hears the footsteps behind the door, heavy, but purposeful, just as they always were. It pulls open. 

"Pardon me, it's quite late," the voice tells her, just before taking a sharp inhale. "Samantha?"