Disclaimer: I do not own Sweeney Todd: The Demon Barber of Fleet Street, musical or film. The first belongs to Stephen Sondheim and the second belongs to Tim Burton, Dreamworks, and Warner Brothers. This is being posted for my own enjoyment and I'm not receiving any money for it.
The women of Fleet Street had never regarded Mrs Nellie Lovett with much warmth or friendliness. And why should they? She wore highly suggestive clothing, baring her chest, neck, and shoulders to the world. She didn't care if her ankles or, god forbid, shins were revealed. Neither did she seem to care for her husband. She was serious and silent in her husband's presence. Never did an emotion show on her face, not a hint of love in her eyes. Even at his funeral she showed little remorse. Not that she should have displayed any. After all, Albert had been somewhat abusive, very critical, and a glutton, eating everything in sight. That's how he'd done himself in - had a heart attack from all of the plaque plastered to the sides of his arteries and veins.
Her life with him had been a long battle with very few victories. When she had one, she could barely contain herself. The day the doctor informed her that she was infertile she nearly kissed the man. Instead, she hugged herself while tears of joy flooded her cheeks. The doctor, making a foolish assumption, offered her his condolences. Nellie didn't mind; she took them as congratulations.
By the next day a quarter of the neighbourhood knew about their "problem". By the day after, everyone did. At the time this didn't seem like too much of a problem. There was even some sympathy for "poor, sad Mrs Lovett" at the time, but the following month, Albert died. The event made the wives of the area even more nervous.
"Now that her husband is dead, mark my words, she'll be out on the prowl for another man," remarked Mrs Mooney.
"And not being able to bear a child. There would never be any evidence!" whispered Mrs Ellis.
"Well, then we'd best not let our husbands near her. We'd be fools if we did!" exclaimed Mrs Johnson.
The women wouldn't have paid any mind to her, normally. She would be just another widow- a poor dear and not a threat to any of them. She would be, were it not for the fact that she was attractive. That made her a seductress in their minds. But if they actually knew Mrs Lovett, they would realize she would never do such a thing. They never took the time to get to know her, preferring to put on a mask of polite civility whenever she was in their company and gossip about her when she was not.
It had been that way for as long as she could remember. She supposed they didn't know that she knew, but truly, it was quite obvious. Never had she been an issue as a child and their suspicions hadn't been so strong when she was married, but as a single woman she was dangerous.
"Fine," she said to herself. "Let them think what they want."
And she had stuck to that all these years. She still didn't care what they thought except at the very back of her head. The rest of it she filled to the brim with thoughts of a cozy house by the sea. That easily drowned out that one nagging thought. Still, her dreams weren't enough to make life enjoyable. Nellie was in the doldrums. That is, until the day Sweeney Todd walked into her shop.
She didn't recognize him at first, so excited she was from actually having a customer. It wasn't until she stopped baking that she started to catch on. It was unmistakable after she told him of what had become of her former boarders. What other man would be so distraught over Lucy's death (or supposed death, anyway). As for that, she hadn't lied, just stretched the truth a bit. Lucy, the Lucy he knew, was dead. All that was left was a nutty beggar woman, a shell of what she used to be. She had to do it. What other chance would she get with him if she didn't take the one right in front of her?
Nellie had never gotten what she wanted in life. She never got to play with fancy china dolls. She never had the chance to experience young love. She couldn't escape her arranged marriage with Albert. And finally, perhaps most importantly, she had never gotten the opportunity to be with Benjamin, the man she truly loved before. She deserved this, this one last chance for any happiness in her sad existence. So, she took it. Lucy was stark, raving mad as it was. She wouldn't go bothering them. Besides, would he even recognize her with her tattered clothing and dirtied, damaged face? That was not probable.
But, he wanted revenge. He wanted to murder Judge Turpin and Beadle Bamford. Would she actually support a murderer? Of course she would. She loved him. She would do anything for him. And anyway, it was to get his daughter, Johanna, back. That was a worthy cause. Maybe, when he achieved his goal, they could even be a happy family. Johanna wouldn't remember her mother and would enjoy having a woman to look up to, Nellie was sure. Besides, who would really miss those two? Nobody. So, there was nothing wrong with killing a couple people for just reasons.
When Sweeney mentioned that she was not to call him Benjamin any more, that only gave her further justifications for her actions. He was a different man. Benjamin may have belonged to Lucy, but Sweeney was hers, and she intended to take good care of him. That would start with returning the flat upstairs to its proper inhabitant.
She could see the sadness in his eyes when he was upon the threshold of his old abode. She wanted to embrace him, but knew he wouldn't be receptive, not at this point.
"Come in," she beckoned. "Nothing to be afraid of, love."
'I wouldn't hurt you if my life depended on it,' she thought.
She made for the trick floorboard immediately. Knocking first, just to make sure, she opened the orifice and reached down into its dusty belly to retrieve what she'd been hiding all these years. Sweeney had come over to see what she was doing, when she removed something wrapped in a red velvet cloth, and brushed some of the dirt off of it. Mrs Lovett carefully removed the fabric to show a smooth surfaced, wooden box. Mr Todd gingerly picked the box up and opened it. When he saw the silver blades that lay inside, the corners of his mouth curved up slightly. He slipped a razor out and flipped it open, admiring the shine. Nellie couldn't help doing that herself. They were very beautiful. And he looked at them so lovingly, just the way she hoped he would look at her soon.
He called them his friends. He made them so many promises and was so sincere. She reminded him that she was his friend, too. She told him that she would give him a good life and love him.
They were happy. They were in love, he with his razors and she with him and their love would endure. Always.