A/N: Sorry I'm taking my time, the Magic Teabag and Beyond Redemption will be updated within the next few days.

~Worth~

She could work out complex recipes in half-an-hour and alter them in seconds to suit her needs, and yet he considered her mindless.

She could lift sacks of heavy potatoes on her back, all for the pies, and yet she was a frail, weak thing.

She could stare for endless hours at the stars on moonless nights, contemplating the way of the world, and yet she had no soul.

According to Albert, women had no worth.

Mrs Lovett was in the kitchen again, dicing onions and chopping pig's hooves.

It was always the same on Fridays. Albert's favourite meal, solely for Fridays.

"Is it ready Nell?" Albert was already seated at the dinner table, downing half the glass of gin. His third, mind – and it took nearly three times that to get him stone cold drunk.

"Nearly," she heaved, wondering how much more knife-sweating the babe in her belly could bear. It was her third pregnancy, and the child seemed healthy. So far.

She put down the knife, and paused to give it a tentative pat. It was a little parasite, chewing away at the gurgling bits of food down there.

Ten minutes later, the shout came again, like a dreaded call to arms.

"Ready?"

"Nearly!" she sang out, her voice too sing-song for her own liking. "If he leaves me be," she muttered to her belly, wondering how she could stand another Friday with those love birds.

The door bell jingled, as if deliberately taunting her. It was another customer, wanting a pie.

"Take it, and get lost," she said gruffly, dumping the spare pie in a paper bag and shoving it into the man's shaking hands. He made himself scarce alright.

"Customer service at its best I see, wife," came her husband from the table.

"Shut it Albert." The woman wiped sweat from her neck and brow, closing her eyes to wonder if she could call up the smells and sights of last spring, and found she couldn't.

"Be nice to Mr and Mrs Barker," Albert cautioned, chuckling from the living room. He knew her moods like clock-work.

Nellie wasn't nasty on purpose. Everyone but Albert knew she was in love with Mr Barker, for heaven's sake! But somehow to speak and talk to Lucy's husband, to have to act polite when all she wished was to sit by his side and touch his hand, well, it almost as tormenting as her morning sickness. Cruelty was her only defence.

She heard them now, coming down the stairs. "Ready!" she shouted to her husband, taking out the steaming entrée to the table. She pretended not to see Mr Barker leading his also heavily pregnant wife down the stairs. Pretended, and failed.

"Why did you get it for me?" Lucy asked as she moved placidly down the stairs with the necklace around her neck.

"You are worth it," Benjamin answered, taking her hand as if they were at holy communion, or worse still, the wedding altar.

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