Author's Note: After I wrote Love, Forgiveness, Second Chances, and Life I wondered how Mrs. Lovett acted when she saw them talking. And then I decided to write this fic. Starts out before Sweeney confronts her in the basement. Read and review please. Enjoy!
The crowd of people was overwhelming. Nellie Lovett was on her last leg. There was so much noise, so many people talking. It was unbearable. How Mrs. Mooney dealt with it every night was a mystery to Nellie. Mrs. Lovett rushed around the shop and the patio, her black dress waltzing around her feet. Nellie rushed outside, carrying a tray of pies in her hand. "Toby! Ale there!" she sang, pointing to a woman that was sitting alone in the corner. The young lad hurried over to the woman and poured her ale. Mrs. Lovett gave a table of gentlemen pies as Toby walked past her. Mrs. Lovett watched her son pour ale before she hurried to the young woman in the corner.
" 'Ello, dearie. 'Ere's yer pie," Mrs. Lovett said, setting the plate on the table.
The young woman's large green eyes looked at the pie nervously. "Thank you, ma'am," she said, looking back at Mrs. Lovett.
"Thank you, m'dear fer eatin' 'ere," Mrs. Lovett replied, smiling.
"Mum, we need more pies!" Toby yelled.
Nellie turned around and scurried away, leaving the woman by herself once more. She hurried over to Toby who was waiting by the door. The old beggar woman, Lucy, was prowling around the shop, harping about how the Devil's wife lived in Mrs. Lovett's building. Lucy said that Nellie was the Devil's wife.
"Toby, throw th' old woman out!" Mrs. Lovett sang, pointing to Lucy. Then Nellie hurried to the basement.
She had been getting a tray of meat pies when he entered. Nellie heard the door open and then close. She heard his feet on the cold, stone floor. She ignored him until he had said her name. Then she turned and said, " 'Ello, love. Wotcha doin' down 'ere?"
He walked towards her, pulling out his precious friend.
Nellie's breath shortened and her hands began to shake. Mrs. Lovett steadied the tray in her hand. Then she felt him grab the tray and set it back in the oven. Mrs. Lovett felt his cold hand grabbing her neck and her breath stopped. He was furious. He was angry and she didn't know why. Nellie felt the razor being pushed into her throat.
"My love," she heard Sweeney whisper.
Mrs. Lovett's chest heaved up and down. "Wot d'you want, dearie?" she asked. Nellie noticed that his black eyes raced with anger.
"You wanted me to close me shop. You wanted me to stop yer supplies for th' night. An' fer wot? So I could talk to people? Who can I bloody talk to, woman? You an' Toby are busy wit' the customers. An' then I realized you want me ta talk to th' customers. But why, Mrs. Lovett? Why d'you want me ta talk to them?" Sweeney snarled, pressing the razor into her throat more.
Nellie felt the blood racing down to her bosoms as she breathed heavily. The blood ran down her body as she gasped and it tickled her stomach. "Mr. T., please," she said. "Please, Mr. Todd. Jus' listen ta me. If ya talk to me customers, ya can advertise yer shop. Then you can get more meat fer me. More throats ta slit, m'dear. Then we can make more money. Jus' talk to th' customers. Please," Mrs. Lovett explained.
Then she felt him lowering the razor. Nellie looked into his eyes. He was so beautiful.
"Mrs. Lovett, you're a bloody wonder. Eminently practical an' yet appropriate as always," he sang.
Nellie felt his cold hand caressing her neck and she sighed. He was actually touching her. Mrs. Lovett felt his hand pull away and she watched him. He was studying it intently, fascinated by it almost. Her blood covered his palm and his fingers. Mrs. Lovett watched him back away.
"You should get more pies an' get up there. I bet Toby is gettin' busy."
Her eyes widened. She had forgotten about Toby. She was also relieved. He hadn't killed her. It always seemed that he'd kill her when he pressed his friend against her throat. Nellie walked over to the oven and took the tray out. Then both she and Mr. Todd headed upstairs.
She watched him talk to all the heavyset customers and smiled. He was beautiful. His pale skin shone in the light and his black orbs were hypnotizing. He could definitely persuade people. Mrs. Lovett heard Toby calling her name. She turned and then went back to tending to the customers.
As Nellie worked she watched Mr. Todd out of the corner of her large brown eyes. She watched him as he strode over to the girl in the corner. Why was he walking over to her? He couldn't kill her? Nellie couldn't use her meat. Mrs. Lovett shook her head and went back to working.
After the dinner rush had ended, Mrs. Lovett sent Toby to get ready for bed. Nellie was in the shop preparing dinner for her Mr. Todd. When she finished putting his supper on a tray, Nellie carried the tray up to the barber shop.
She knocked on the door and heard him murmur, "Wot?" from the other side of the door. Mrs. Lovett opened the door and walked inside.
Once she shut the door behind her, Nellie said, "Brought ya some supper, dear."
Sweeney grunted and snapped, "Leave it on the vanity."
Mrs. Lovett did as she was told and then watched Sweeney. She noticed that he had Lucy's picture in his hand and he was staring at it closely. "Mr. T.," she said softly. "Can I ask ya a question?"
"Wot?"
"Who was tha' girl tha' yous was talkin' ta? Th' pretty lil' young one?"
Sweeney looked up at her. Mr. Todd clutched the old photograph. "She was no one, ma chère. No one of importance," he said.
Jealousy took over her body. She was no one of importance? He had talked to her for two hours! He never talked to Mrs. Lovett for that long. Hell, he barely talked to her for five minutes! Mrs. Lovett looked down at the picture of the little nit. What if…no. Never. The woman that he talked to couldn't know Lucy. She was too young, too innocent. There was no way. Then another thought crossed her mind. He had used French. Mr. Todd only used French when he wanted a subject to be dropped. Mrs. Lovett had learned that in the past six months. But Nellie wasn't going to let this subject drop. No, she wouldn't allow it. So she said, "Mon amour, please. Tell me."
Sweeney set the old photograph down and strode over to Mrs. Lovett. He stopped in front of her, glaring down at Nellie. "Ma belle, 'tis no one," he snarled.
"Wotcha talk 'bout?"
Mr. Todd grabbed her neck, thoroughly annoyed now, and pressed her against the wall. "Mrs. Lovett," he snapped, anger flashing in his large, cold eyes.
Not only was she jealous of this mysterious young girl that Sweeney spoke with, but she was also scared. He didn't have his razor, thankfully, but he was still strong. "Wot, love?" she asked, her voice cracking.
"Leave me," he snarled, letting go of her throat and walking back over to the chair. Sweeney grabbed the photograph and looked at it fondly.
Mrs. Lovett stood where she was, frozen, watching him. Oh, how she wished Sweeney would talk to her. She was jealous of the mysterious young girl. It was not fair. Why would he talk with some stranger for two hours but not talk to her? She just didn't understand.
"Leave me," he repeated a few minutes later.
This time Mrs. Lovett listened. She left her beloved Mr. Todd by his lonesome self, still jealous of the young girl that he spoke with for two hours.