Super happy to announce that this will be a multi-chapter fic, so enjoy and don't be afraid to review!
"Be not...aferred...afeared...a-aferead…"
When Sweeney walked into the parlour and caught Mrs. Lovett reading a bit of Shakespeare, he thought it would be rather nice to spend the afternoon reading with her. Even though he hated to admit it, he did love her voice, and wouldn't mind a distraction from the broody atmosphere in his shop upstairs. As he got comfortable next to her on the sofa however, he looked over her shoulder at the book in her hands and realized that she was not even through the first paragraph on the page, and had stumbled on nearly every word thus far.
"Afeared. It means afraid," He told her with a raised eyebrow.
"Right. Be not...afeared. The issle is full of n-noises."
"Isle. You don't pronounce the s," He mumbled, smirking slightly as he stared at the baker beside him. He absolutely loved to annoy her as much as possible. She looked so adorable when her cheeks got red and she got all huffy, and he just loved playing with her.
"Isle," Mrs. Lovett repeated through gritted teeth. "The isle is full of noises; sounds and sweet airs, that give de...d-delight and hurt not," She finished the line and took a deep breath. Although the words were familiar, she always got twisted up somehow, and with the love of her life reading over her shoulder, she was practically shaking with nervousness.
"Uh, sometimes a thousand...um...t-twinkling...no, um, twang….twangling?"
"Twangling. That's not a real word, I don't think," Sweeney corrected her.
"Twangling instruments would hum about my ears."
"Mine."
"Huh?" She looked up from the page.
"Mine ears. Not my. There's a difference, pet," He scoffed, pointing to the word in question.
"Who cares?!" Mrs. Lovett finally shouted, slamming the book shut and throwing it across the room. "It's a dumb book anyway!"
Sweeney frowned at the baker's sudden outburst of emotion, but could tell that he had thoroughly agitated the woman next to him. He honestly had no idea what was wrong- he didn't mean to upset her, he just wanted to annoy her a little bit.
"What's the matter, Nellie?" He asked softly.
"Why does 'e write like that?!" She shouted angrily.
"Who, Shakespeare?"
"He's using all those fancy words for nothin'!"
"Oh, come on. They're not fancy."
Mrs. Lovett stared at him for a moment, obviously flustered. She opened and closed her mouth for a moment before standing up and shouting.
"It's not fair!" Despite her effort to hold it in, she began to cry, although she wasn't sure if the tears were from anger or frustration or despair.
"What's not fair? I don't think Shakespeare wrote that book specifically to get on your nerves," Sweeney mumbled, placing a hand on her arm to calm her down. He definitely hated when she cried, and was now both confused and concerned.
"You know everything!" The baker screamed, violently pulling away from the man beside her and running over to her bookshelf against the wall. One by one, she plucked her books from the shelf and threw them as hard as she could across the room.
"It isn't fair! You went to school! You got to go to school with all the other boys, but I...I never got that! You got to learn reading and arithmetic while I was at home learnin' to sew and sweep the bloody floor. My mum learned me to read and write but...but I'm still so fucking stupid! I don't wanna be stupid, Sweeney...I don't…"
She slid down her now emptied book shelf, and hit the floor with a guttural cry.
"Why is it so hard to read? Why can't I do it…" She angrily wiped the tears streaming down her flushed cheeks, and grabbed the nearest book before opening it and beginning to tear out the pages.
"Hey, hey now, don't…" Sweeney was on the floor in an instant and quickly grabbed Mrs. Lovett's hands, making her stop and look up.
"It's alright," He said softly, taking the book and the torn out pages away from her. As he looked into her big water brown eyes, he felt an immense pang of guilt in his heart, and he knew he had to do something to help. He always assumed that the baker was literate, after all, she could read well enough to get by at the market and in her shop; but when confronted with a full on book, she wasn't capable of reading beyond the level of a ten year old.
"You're not stupid," He mumbled, picking her up and bringing her back to the sofa.
"I am and it's embarrassing," Mrs. Lovett sniffled.
"Mrs. Lovett, listen to me. You. Are. Not. Stupid. I mean that. You're brilliant. You came up with the idea of how to get rid of the corpses, you're fantastic with coming up with new business tactics to keep the customers coming in, and you even figured out the right measurements to season the meat just right so it's undetectable." He said, gently putting a finger under her chin so that she would look into his eyes.
"Yeah, but I can't read," She grumbled with a frown.
"Well...I can fix that," He said, moving away to grab a nearby book on the floor.
"If it means so much to you...I'll teach you to read properly, alright? No big deal."
"Really?" Mrs. Lovett frowned in confusion for a moment. Why would he care if she could read or not?
"Sure. It'll be good for you," He mumbled, looking down at the book in his hand and opening it to the front page. "Come on, let's start then."
Mrs. Lovett stared in awe when she saw Sweeney waiting for her with the opened book in his hands. Never before had anyone been so kind and patient with her.
"Thank you," She whispered before moving a little closer and looking over his shoulder at the words.
Nodding slowly, Sweeney held the book for her to see, and then pointed to the first words. "You start," He told her.
Taking a deep breath, Mrs. Lovett gently laid her head on the barber's shoulder and read aloud: "It was the best of times, it was the worst of times…"