Hi, my first Sweeny Todd fic :D There will be songs in this, but use your imagination on what they sound like :D I need feedback if my OC, Ann, comes off too strong with the " rebellious princess syndrome." or any other signs of Mary Sue. I took a test and I didn't get a Sue, so I think I can keep it that way :D Reviews are AWESOME!
Ann Sherry, was eight years old when she met who would be her best friend, Ernest Watson, who they and other lower class children would play in the streets after the work was done. Occasionally, they were armed with copper coins to go buy sweets or a cheap toy, like a top, or even a small doll if you saved your coins.
Ernest was a taller, thinner boy who was pale in the skin, but was dark haired and dark eyed. His expression was generally happy, making almost everyone who met him like him, even though he was a rather dirty boy who would only wash for church on Christmas and Easter.
Ernest, was eleven, and was the son of the bookbinder, Collin Watson II. Mr. Watson always bound books with great care. The man he worked for and used to be apprentice of, Albert Fennel, was considered to be the best bookbinder in all of the world, and Mr. Watson was his best worker. If you needed a book bound or rebound, Fennel's Bookbinding is where you would go, and your books hopefully would end up in the care of Mr. Watson, Albert Fennel, made sure especially his higher class customers were presented with Mr. Watson's handiwork.
Ernest, was not the only lower class child, Ann, considered a friend, she was friends with many others, especially other boys who played with Ernest in the afternoon and after church.
Ann met her best group of friends after she met Ernest in church after another boring session of Sunday School got out. She followed Ernest down an alley, it was a common alley, so you wouldn't find the city drunks and wenches lurking like you would in most other alley's. The group of boys playing " cowboys versus Indians" looked at Ann as if she were some alien creature.
" Ernest, why did you have to bring that girl down here?" A boy who seemed like a second in command in the group complained. He was a dark haired, rat faced boy wearing dull clothes which were worn out and too small with a tweed beret on top of his dirty head. " I don't want to be playing house with a girl who should be cooking with her mummy!"
" This is Ann Sherry, daughter of the Mr. Sherry who works with the rifle maker who gave us bullet shells one time, and come on Dennis, she's eight, she couldn't carry a stew pot if it were empty." Ernest snapped at the rat faced boy named Dennis. Three other boys around him listened to him.
" Well, hell we ought to keep her, we might get more than bullet shells from her daddy, imagine, if we all got rifles. Hey Ann, my name's Chapman Jerry York III, but call me Chappy like the rest of these folks here. This is Ferris Osborne, and that is Anderson Andrews, we call him by both his names." A tall, black boy said. Ann was shocked to see white boys playing with a black boy, must have been a statement for Americans to stop slavery if the grown ups allowed them to play for this long.
Ferris Osborne and Anderson Andrews were both very pale, but Ferris had hair so pale it looked like a noblewoman's wig. Anderson Andrews was cursed with a ginger clump of tightly wound curls and a bad case of freckles all over his skin, and not just his face, but all over his legs and the backs of his arms too.
" Okays she's in, playing with a girl beats Sunday School at least, that god damn nun licked my hand so hard with the reed I think I got to know how hot hell is. I mean, so what if I couldn't remember a bible verse, we honestly shouldn't have to memorize the bible, its bigger than me." Dennis said with a deep huff, turning his nose up at Ann.
" Let me ask you Ann, do you know how to play cowboys and Indians?" Anderson Andrews asked.
" Well duh! What do you think girls do all day? Play with dolls?" Ann answered. Anderson Andrews was about to nod but guessed it an unwise move and kept quiet.
" I so call being a cowboy! When I'm grown I want to be an American cowboy in Las Vegas like all of the really awesome ones like to go to watch dances and strike it rich!" Ferris said. Ann laughed, he had no clue what he was saying.
" Do you even know what dancers do?" Ann asked Ferris.
" Yeah, they dance the worlds beast dances if their from Vegas." Ferris replied.
" Dancers are women who take their clothes off and they even sometimes make babies, even though they aren't married to the man!" Ann replied, watching as Ferris' face crumpled in pure disgust, wrinkles on his forehead were not visible thanks for his angel colored hair covering them up.
" Nasty! Why would a cowboy want to watch that? How are babies made anyways?" Ferris asked in a disgusted voice.
" You don't want to know Ferris!" Chappy warned.
" Yeah, you really don't want to know, its so gross its no wonder parents fight like two boy bull terriers in dogfights!" Anderson Andrews, explained the magnitude of disgustingness it brought.
" Tell us!" Ann, Ferris, and Dennis shouted simultaneously. Anderson Andrews, Chappy, and Ernest shook their heads violently with wide eyes.
That was how Ann's friendship with Ernest, Anderson Andrews, Ferris, Chappy, and even Dennis became to exist. Ann soon came to know that Anderson Andrews was the same age as Ernest, Chappy was twelve, Dennis was her age, and Ferris was nine. Every day they would play cowboys versus Indians in that very alley of London until Chappy was fifteen and finally went off to help with Charles Harrington's railroads. Those were the greatest three years of Ann's life, she would typically be cast for an Indian by Dennis, but a couple times she made her way up to the cowboy status thanks to the other boys.
What the five left of them spent their time on now was talking about books. Ernest managed to save enough money to go buy the book everyone was talking about for almost years now, A Christmas Carol by Charles Dickens. Ernest read the book intently, and so did the others as they stood up behind him and peeked around to find an opening that they too could read the pages on.
Soon Ernest wandered around looking for spare newspapers, knowing that Charles Dickens would sometimes publish a few chapters of his works in the paper for everyone to read. Ernest managed to find all the papers which would show the whole novel of Great Expectations within a year.
By the time Ernest had found all of the papers Anderson Andrews was also out to working on the railroads, making Ernest the oldest of the group of friends, which wasn't going to last very long with possible employment of the railroad building or apprenticing in the bookbinding business.
" I hope you apprentice, so you won't be completely gone like Chappy and Anderson Andrews." Ann commented. Ernest smiled as he was reading the fourth installment of Great Expectations in the newspapers.
" Don't worry Ann, I'm sure my father will never let me anywhere near a Charles Harrington road, he says they didn't get along as children and Charles likes to hold grudges. My father tells me if I do, that I had better treat him with respect, because my father would treat him with the utmost respect since he's so successful, and that it would be dumb to continue childhood games like they had."
Years later, when Ann was fifteen, she and Ernest started courting, leaving their days of childhood games in the alleyway behind and doing things more like having a stroll around London and sitting next to each other in church, holding hands and not listening to the boring sermons. Ernest was apprenticing for his father. Ann was helping with cleaning, and even some rifle building in her father's shop, on top of learning how to handle a household with her mother.
"Dad? Why are you teaching me to build rifles?" Ann asked her father. He smiled and put his hand on his daughter's shoulder.
" It's a tough world out there and I want my daughter to be able to defend herself, besides, you played with boys most of your childhood, I think I don't even have to fear about you using a gun the wrong way." Mr. Sherry answered. " Maybe if your older brother never comes off the railroad, I'll leave you in charge of the shop, I'm sure you could get Chappy or some of your other friends to come off the railroads and help you here." Her father implied Chappy specifically since he was black, not that her father was disgusted by black people, there was just too much tradition in his family from changing his opinion fully when considering blacks and whites unequal, he agreed that America was very wrong in treating their slaves in such a way though.
" Well of course, Chappy hates the railroads, he's treated with no respect at all, he's written to me about it."
Ann had just turned seventeen, and as a birthday present, both the Sherry's and the Watson's let Ann and Ernest have the day free, but Ann was surprised to find out that this was much more of a plan than a kindness.
She and Ernest were walking around the vacant beach, the sun was setting, the gulls were flying off in all directions, and the waves still were crashing so peacefully around the shore. Ann was picking up shells as she and Ernest walked around the beach with their arms linked.
" I was thinking about a quiet cottage out in the country as a place to live, farming and living on our own devices. But I have to stay in London to see if I end up having to run and make guns in my father's shop, well, you knew that. But yeah, I'd much rather live in a cottage than in a mansion, the cottage would seem more like home." Ann answered a question Ernest asked.
" Maybe it will be possible, if your brother got off the railroad and owned the shop as a wedding gift." Ernest said. Ann grew a confused look upon her face, her head tilted to the side as she looked at Ernest.
" Wedding gift?" Ann asked. With that Ernest unlinked arms with Ann and kneeled down in front of her, grabbing her small hands with his large. Ann couldn't help but laugh and smile, she knew what was coming.
" Ann Alwyen Sherry, will you be my wife?"
" Of course! You took long enough, two years of courting!" Ann said, kissing him on the lips. Ernest grew a smirk and returned to linking arms with a very, very happy and excited Ann.
" I love you Ann, and someday, maybe in our retirement if I end up taking over the bookbinding business, we will get that cottage. Since Albert Fennel has no sons in his family, it will be probably left to my father, which will eventually be left to me. We might be old and have grandchildren by the time I own the shop, but trust me, a cottage is in our future Mrs. Watson." Ernest said with a wink. Ann was going to enjoy being called Mrs. Watson from now on.
That night, The two families celebrated at the Sherry household with singing, dancing, socializing, and of course, food and drink. Yet, Ernest's parents haven't shown up, so he asked around, but no one had seen them. Ernest began to get worried and he waited with Ann, telling himself that they would show up. When he finally saw them, nothing pleasant came out of it.
" Ernest! Come quick, we have to leave! Your father is drunk, and he killed Charles Harrington!" Ernest's mother, Ingrid Watson shouted after barging in, beckoning her son to follow her. Her face was stern, and she looked tired, probably from running.
Both Ernest and Ann grew pale. Ernest let go of Ann's hands and hugged her tightly to him, ignoring his mother pleas for him to hurry up in the silent, dumbstruck room.
" Ann, I will return, I must help my family get to safety. But I swear, I will come back to get you once my family is safe. I love you, be safe, be the bloody hell of a strong woman I know you are." Ernest said, tears welled up in Ann's eyes when she tightened her hug, she soon noticed Ernest release a few tears as well before he let go of her, and ran away with his mother, needing to find his father before the authorities did.
Within a month, only a month, Ann was approached with the most frightening, most disgusting thing in her life. She was polishing a newly made gun when two men and a woman she didn't want to see walked through the shop doors. The bell's ring seemed to echo once Ann saw who they were, but their presence was much more innocent than their intentions.
Piers Harrington, the son and heir of Charles Harrington and his railroads stood with a cruel grin on his sallow face, his chin was weak, and his brows were thick and dark.
On Piers' arm was his wife, Abigail, who looked more like a doll than a woman. Her dress neckline was so low it was disgusting. But at least her upper torso looked human, her waist, was probably the circumference of tin can, maybe more, but her skirt was so big it knocked over some of the merchandise.
Last, but certainly not least on the scale of evil was the cruel, child hanging, merciless, Judge Turpin. A man who the world hated, well, except his higher class companions. His aura was filled with vice, he probably represented vice, just coated in flesh and blood.
Ann took a deep breath, trying to clam herself. She strode slowly over to meet them as if they were customers, but she couldn't help but glare at each one of them for a moment, she brushed some dirt off her skirt and smiled a very false smile.
" Welcome to Sherry's Arms and Arm repair. How can I help you, milords, milady." Ann spoke, watching as Abigail started howling in laughter, clinging onto her husband's arm tightly so she wouldn't fall over.
" Ann Sherry, you know its not ladylike to play with guns now do you?" Piers spoke sadistically, his wife howling in laughter harder. Ann gave him a glare until he and his stupid wife shut up.
" Well, sorry if my profession isn't proper enough for you milord. I'm sure your wife's profession with you is anything but noble." Ann said, raising and lowering her eyebrows. It took Piers a few seconds to understand what she said.
" Oh Ann, my wife's profession of bearing my first child is much more noble than you playing with guns and sharp objects." Piers replied in a sneer.
" Is this why you're here, to boast about your child? Well, if it weren't for your father being a rude imp I might have been married and would possibly have a child to boast about as well. Isn't it bad for the baby to have a corset squishing it?" Ann snapped, pointing at Abigail's unhealthily thin waist, she was right too, she would have been married and happy, not waiting for Ernest to return from finding a safe home for his family. Ann thought Ernest was noble to help his family, but she wished she could have gone with him.
" Its in the first month Ann, I can still wear it." Abigail jeered. " My child is more important than the one you would be with right now. Harrington's are, and always will be above Watson's."
" Says you, but a child of Ernest Watson's will grow up to actually have something useful to give, not waiting to own a company." Ann sneered back.
" Shut up you little wench, talk to my wife like that again-"
" Piers, I think we need to actually inform Miss Sherry what we came to tell her instead of having trifling fights, wouldn't you think so?" Turpin spoke. Ann glared at him, his eyes widened and he tilted his head to Ann's left.
" Why yes Matthew, I would agree with that, darling." Piers said turning to his wife, she looking at him obediently in response. " Why don't you go back in the carriage love, this could get ugly." Piers let his lips travel to her ears and she giggled hoarsely as he nibbled on it. " You wouldn't want our child to hear anything, right?"
Abigail let the shop and was now traveling back to the black, richly adorned carriage. Ann backed up to where I knife was in case if they had nastier intentions. She glared as Judge Turpin picked up a gun that she put together after her father welded the parts.
" This is a brilliant gun Miss. Sherry." Turpin spoke, holding it at the ready. " I give my compliments to your father, he has fine work."
" Don't compliment me milord. It's Ann who pieced it together." Mr. Sherry came out of the welding room with oily hands and a filthy rag. He smiled and waved at the two rich men. " I must ask you why you are here, I could have sworn I heard a quarrel going on." Mr. Sherry said. Turpin gave a short lived smirk.
" I was just about to make a deal with your daughter Mr. Sherry. The deal we talked about, how you said, it was her choice." Turpin sneered. Mr. Sherry froze and dropped his oily rag on the floor.
" What deal, what choice?" Ann asked, raising her voice so that the three men would listen to her.
" Miss Sherry, you were romantically involved with Ernest Watson, the son of Charles Harrington's murderer, am I not correct." The Judge asked coolly.
" Yes, we were engaged." Ann replied. " We still are engaged in fact."
" Well, I think we are going to have to change that. Well, it could stay the same, just you and those filthy Watsons in a cell together." Judge Turpin said. Ann grew wide eyed and she stepped backwards.
" Don't call my fiancée's family filthy." Ann growled. " What do you want with me?" There was a long pause of silence.
" We will let your precious Watson family go." The judge paused. " If. If you marry me." Judge Turpin said, grabbing one of Ann's hands. Disgusted, Ann wrenched her hand out of his and wiped it on her dress, though there was nothing on it.
" Go marry a crone." Ann snarled, she was very ready to spit on him, both of them.
" We have their location Miss Sherry, if your truly love Ernest Watson, you know what choice to make. I legally can force your hand in marriage and lock up the Watson family, but, consider the freedom of the Watson's a wedding gift."
Ann was silent, looking down at the floor in disgust. She now knew that there was only one option, saying yes, because if she said no he could force it onto her anyways, and there was nothing her family could do about it. She might at least do a favor for Ernest, one last favor.
" Fine." Ann said, she was never going to say yes, yes was a word you used if you wanted something, fine was agreeing to do something you didn't want to.
" But on the terms that the Watson family are immune to any laws going against them or crimes they have committed, and that they are kept safe and no illegal, or groups that have nothing to do with law are sent to kill, kidnap, rape, take hostage, annoy, harm, disturb, or discomfort. Also, if there is to be any destruction of their property or themselves, you are to pay it out of pocket, no matter the expense." Ann added, making sure there were no loopholes, or doing her best, knowing a man of the law would find at least one loophole, she hoped it wasn't awful.
" Those terms will be granted, as long as you are a completely submissive and dutiful wife."
" Fine, shake hands on it." Ann said with a lower, painful staccato, she was ready to go into raging tears, but she wouldn't let Harrington and Turpin have the entertainment of watching her crying into her dress sleeve.
The judge and the arms maker's daughter shook hands with glares etched on their faces. Ann walked back next to her father, who looked at her blankly. He looked back at the two aristocratic men and gave them a nod.
" Thank you, have a good day." Mr. Sherry said. Watching as the two men left.
" Father, how could you not tell me, I'm supposed to be with Ernest!" Ann shouted, kicking a chair halfway across the shop. " Yet you allow that old, cruel, sad excuse for a man have my hand without talking to me? You should have told me to run away and find Ernest! I thought I could trust you." Ann started sobbing, she fell on her knees and sobbed into her hands.
" Ann, I had no choice."
" I get to be raped, night, after night, after night by that bastard thanks to you! You had a choice, you could have asked where Ernest's location was, then tell me to go find it, and I might have been able to be happy. But no, I'm guessing all I am to you is a key to money and power!"
" Ann! That is not true!"
" Don't deny it father! I'm apparently just property to you, just like how other men treat their wives and daughters. If you were a true father you would have let me run away-"
" YOU CAN'T RUN AWAY FROM EVERYTHING!" Mr. Sherry bellowed, silencing his daughter. " Sometimes we have to make sacrifices we would rather not make. But do you want Ernest to be safe? Do you want your children to have a warm bed to sleep, good meals, and education? Do you want your mother, older brother, and I to be safe, have security, to make sure we have enough to live off of? Ann, I don't like this anymore than you do, but this will be your greatest sacrifice, but it will be a wise, selfless one."
" You have a point, but I can never love him." Ann said. She looked out the window to see it pouring down rain, and she began to sing.
" I feel numb, I can't feel the pain.
I can't be free and it's driving me insane.
I'm being used.
And abused.
Treated like property.
No one now wants anything else out of me."
" If I must be with Judge Turpin.
Go on, I want you to tell him.
He will never have my love, and he will never have my soul.
Tell him, that he's too old.
Tell him that I am already an engaged woman.
That I can only love the one, Ernest Watson."
" Ernest I'm so sorry, but cruel, tyrant lust is to blame.
Please oh please Ernest, you are still my heart's flame.
Ernest I will always love you, and don't you ever forget.
When you return, if you do, I'm sorry for the heartbreak you will inherit."
" I'm so sorry to all Watson's, For I leave Ernest depressed.
I think you might have guessed.
That I'm being put to the test.
For my sanity…"
" But what I'll never know is if I will ever be able to go.
Or will my footsteps be too slow?"
" No! I will never show affection!
I will never truly be a Turpin!
" But forever! A Watson!"
Mr. Sherry stood dumbstruck, he watched as his daughter stared blankly out the window, rubbing off the condensation which formed upon the pane. Mr. Sherry, to his surprise, began to sing as well.
" Ann, my little girl.
You are the ray of sunshine in my world.
I'm sorry I must do this to you.
But you'll make it through."
" Love has its ways of finding us, even in the darkest of times.
Even just listening to music, and the ways poetry rhymes.
Or just look at the stars, and if one falls.
It is to you that it calls.
Wish for your love back.
To fill, your heart's giant crack."
" Daughter, I give you this, this knife.
It will help you in your life.
Remember me.
Remember your family."
Ann set her new iron knife on a table and hugged her father and cried into his shoulder, she knew he did care, but being blinded by fear made her act in such a way that shocked her. Ann would miss the loving arms of her father and mother when she was married, and would be in the arms of a spiteful, old man.
" Is it just me, or is it odd that my new fiancée will be older than my parents?" Ann asked. Mr. Sherry nodded.
" It's not just odd, disgusting." Mr. Sherry said.