Catherine was amused, "Clients never change. Mr. Todd, we have an option yet, with your permission of course."
"Yes, anythin'." Sweeney Todd encouraged.
A positively wicked smile curved her lips, "Insanity plea."
"Insanity," The word feverishly rolled on his tongue. He bit his lower lip, mesmerized by the notion. "Do you think I am?" He demanded. She wouldn't 'ave mentioned it, if she didn't think it true, he wondered.
"Mr. Todd, I am not qualified to diagnose you. I can only make suggestions. If you would allow me to make an appointment, with a psychiatrist, I think that would be most beneficial." Her voice became monotone and lackluster. It was evident her words were repeated countless times before. The articulation and delivery were hasty, bordering apathetic, "I can return tomorrow, and escort you to a Dr. Richard Mortis, he specializes in criminal psychopathology."
And once again, presented before the truth, Sweeney Todd shrank. He felt vulnerable, violated even. What more could he do? His chances were so slim anyway.
"Yes, whatever you think is the best for me." His voice was tiny, crushed.
"And for Mrs. Lovett," She corrected.
Sweeney swallowed the urge to scream and barely managed a reply, "Yes, of course."
Thomas Bertram Stone was perhaps just a little too enthralled, Mrs. Lovett decided as he escorted her into the kitchen.
His black suit was pressed and ironed with obvious care. Not a white touch of dandruff was present. His physical presentation was spotless. If he could only control that overbearing excitement, Mrs. Lovett would have appreciated his presence more. His emotions made him appear too young, too inexperienced. She was worried.
He motioned for her to sit. She chose a booth by the window. He sat in a chair directly across from her. The table was covered with dust, dirt, and an occasional flour trail. Thomas was about to place his folded hands on the table, but quickly opted for his lap.
"Mrs. Lovett," He began, with a pearly grin, "I am so pleased to be working with you."
"Oh deary, I can tell. Lookit you now, 'bout ready to explode ain't you?" Her sarcasm was exaggerated; she silently prayed this dramatic enthusiasm would cease.
And much to her surprise, it did. Thomas shifted uncomfortably in his chair before speaking, "I am sorry. Miss Daver did mention this as my first case. I will be professional from now on."
"Right then, Mr. Stone," Mrs. Lovett encouraged, "What can you do for me now?" Her removal of pet names gave him an obvious confidence increase.
"I am assigned to your specific case; all you tell me will be related to Miss Daver, who will in turn relate that information to Mr. Reaping. I have records from your birth to death, Mrs. Lovett. So if you cannot recall specifics, there is no need to worry."
Mrs. Lovett wrinkled her nose; it was slightly alarming that one man knew every aspect of her life. But the bizarre and improbable had to be ignored. She would never get straight answers wondering about the unusual. However, a particular question was tickling her tongue, scratching for release.
"If you know me life story, why are you sittin' 'ere talkin' to me?"
Thomas gave a half-smile and spoke, "While our records are quite detailed, they are not perfect. We may have record of your marriage to Albert Lovett, but we do not know your feelings of such a marriage. And that is what the courts are interested in. And what better indicator can we find then you, Mrs. Lovett?"
"Mr. T is goin' to 'ave a world a trouble with that, he is." Mrs. Lovett blurted.
Thomas chuckled, "Well, that is why Miss Daver decided to take his case. And since you are my client, I need to ask you a few questions."
"Of course, Mr. Stone," She politely replied.
"Do you recall the first day Sweeney Todd, the previously known Benjamin Barker, entered your pie shop on Fleet Street?"
"Oh, yes. He was lookin' awful frightful. So white, thought he was a ghost." Mrs. Lovett recalled; her voice was light and dreamy.
"And do you remember, taking him into the parlor for some gin?"
"Yes," She replied before hesitantly adding, "He asked 'bout his wife an' daughter."
"And what did you tell him, Mrs. Lovett?"
"Arsenic poisonin' and Johanna was with Turpin," Mrs. Lovett stated. She was tapping her fingers on the table. The behavior indicated her increasing anxiety.
"But you never told Sweeney Todd his wife was alive."
"No, no I didn't," Mrs. Lovett was drumming her fingers on the table. Her glance drifted down, in obvious shame.
"Why did you withhold the information?" Thomas kept pushing, questioning.
"Well, Mr. T never asked if his wife was alive. He only asked where she was." Mrs. Lovett responded. She thought her answer was sufficient enough. It had to be sufficient enough to change the subject.
"Yes, but you knew Lucy Barker was in the streets. She was a beggar woman, a prostitute, very desolate. You could have pointed her out to Mr. Todd, why did you fail to do so?"
Mrs. Lovett instantly snapped, "Why are you askin' me all these awful things? I thought you were defendin' me."
Thomas was flustered. His cheeks were stained a light pink. He was quite embarrassed. He spoke with reassurance, "Mrs. Lovett, I am most certainly on your side. But these are similar questions the court will ask. They are harsh and judgmental. I only wanted to prepare you; I apologize if I offended you."
"Can we talk 'bout somethin' else then?" Mrs. Lovett asked, desperate for a change.
"Yes, yes! We have your entire life to cover, Mrs. Lovett. But I would like to remain in your most recent, remaining days. Do you recall leading Sweeney Todd into his former barber shop?"
"Yes, poor dear," Mrs. Lovett sympathetically began, "The look on his face, heartbreakin' it was. Fifteen years since he seen that place. Been through awful times, like him I would suppose."
"He most certainly has. You gave him something that day, didn't you?"
"The razors, those chaste silver angels," Mrs. Lovett murmured. She sighed audibly, "Quite a bit a trouble those did me."
"And why would you say that, Mrs. Lovett?" Thomas was prodding again, trying to delve deeper into dangerous matters.
"Say what?" Mrs. Lovett was playing dumb on purpose.
"Why did you say the razors caused you trouble?" Thomas displayed no sign of impatience or irritation.
"Well, if I never gave Mr. T those things, I suppose me body wouldn't 'ave been burnin' and I wouldn't be 'ere-- Fortune City." She triumphantly smirked. She could play inconclusive games too.
"And Sweeney Todd would have no reason to stay with you, Mrs. Lovett." Thomas pointed out, stating the painfully obvious.
She refused to look at him. Her gaze settled on the window; she pushed the dismal curtains absently. "I suppose he wouldn't, Mr. Stone," She stated.
Thomas produced his classic frown, "You know, Mrs. Lovett, you are acting rather avoidant. And while that is not good for you, it may be good for your case. If I might make a suggestion?"
Mrs. Lovett nodded, still feigning interest, still looking through the window at nothing of particular interest. Since absolutely nothing was there anyway, it was endless darkness.
"Without question, Mr. Todd has been offered a similar suggestion. I will make an appointment for a psychiatrist, Dr. Richard Mortis. He can diagnose you properly, and this will give you an advantage in court."
Mrs. Lovett turned to Thomas again, "What are you talkin' 'bout?"
"Your case would be perfect for an insanity plea," Thomas encouraged.
"Now see 'ere Mr. Stone," Mrs. Lovett angrily started, "I'm not daft, nor do I intend to act as if I am. Mr. Todd would never agree to this."
"Your assumptions are incorrect, Mrs. Lovett," Catherine Daver interjected. She briskly walked into the room. Sweeney followed in her shadow. Thomas immediately stood. "Mr. Todd has arranged a visit with Dr. Mortis tomorrow. I strongly suggest you do the same."
Mrs. Lovett was flabbergasted. She questioned Sweeney, "What do you think, Mr. T?"
"Do the right thing, for once." He grunted.
Whoops, just realized I made a slight boo-boo in Chapter 3. I had Sweeney wanting gin when he first asked for brandy. I shall fix it though, no worries there.
And maybe a few people are wondering why the characters aren't breaking out into song quite as frequently. I didn't think it would be appropriate, or tasteful, for Catherine and Thomas to sing some spew about the afterlife. It just didn't fit. Songs will more than likely be sporadic, but I think that would flow better with the direction the story is headed.
Until the next update, faithful ones. :)