Hey everyone! Sorry it took so long for me to put this up. I kept getting distracted. Also, this is a long chapter! Sorry! More Sweeney Todd, though! And he talks this time! Also, a new character is introduced! Some romance is introduced towards the end, so keep your eyes peeled for that!
Disclaimer: I do not own Sweeney Todd. I do, however, own the amazingness that is Rose (and Derek, but you'll see).
Without further ado: Chapter 6, the amazingly long chapter! Try 8 pages...
Chapter 6
I was in my bedroom, looking at my eyes in my mirror. Yes, it sounds weird, and it was. But every morning I looked in my mirror to see what color my eyes were each day. If they were brown, it was average, if they were grey, it was going to be a bad day, if they were brown with green streaks, it was going to be a nice, normal day, and if they were bluish, it was going to be unusual.
This day, they were green: that meant that it was going to be a great day. That confused me, because I was going to go and visit Toby today, which never ended well. By visit, it really meant that I was going to Pirelli's stand and making sure Toby was still around and well out of the clutches of the Beadle and his master.
I shook my head and quickly tied my hair back with a deep purple ribbon. I shrugged on a jacket and hurried out the door and towards the market.
The market was crowded with people out bargain hunting. I shoved my way over towards Pirelli's stage and was in about the middle of the crowd of people when Toby entered from behind the curtain, the ridiculous blond wig on his head, covered by a cheap hat, pounding a drum and strutting around the stage.
I found a spot with a decent view of Toby and his whereabouts next to a couple, though they stuck out as they were quite obviously not nearly as old as most in the crowd. The man muttered something to the woman, though her face was obscured.
"Pirelli is 'is name. Aye-talian, 'e is." I said nonchalantly to the man, hearing his question. He raised his dark eyebrows at me, in stark contrast to the ghostly pallor of his face, and turned away to face the stage once more. He had asked the woman next to him who Pirelli was, quite politely, though his voice said he was offended by something or other and was slightly amused by Toby.
"Ladies and Gentlemen, may I have your attention, puh-lease!" Toby announced, beginning his all too familiar elixir-selling campaign that also served as an introduction for Pirelli. "Do you wake every morning in shame and despair to discover your pillow is covered with hair, something what not should be there?" A few guilty eyes dropped to the floor, and others tried to laugh, though it sounded choked.
"Well, Ladies and Gentlemen, from now on you can waken at ease! You need never again have a worry or care, I will show you a miracle, marvelous rare! Well, Ladies and Gentlemen, allow me to show you somethin' that rose from the dead... On the top of my head!"
A chorus of raucous laughter followed the removal of his hat, revealing the blond wig that covered his gorgeous dark hair, which had unceremoniously been chopped far too short, and unevenly at that. Some barber Pirelli was.
Toby discarded his drum and extracted a small vial filled with yellow liquid and held it out to the crowd, allowing them to gaze at it in wonder, though it didn't stay still for any length of time.
" 'T 'was Pirelli's miracle elixir, that's what did the trick, Sir! True, Sir, true! Was it quick, Sir? Did it in a tick, Sir! Just like an elixir ought to do." He tossed a bottle into the middle of the crowd to be passed around and then rushed over towards a bald man at the edge of the stage.
" How about a bottle, Mister? Only costs a penny guaranteed." He poured some of the yellow liquid onto the man's head, and lifted his hand, rubbing his bald head with the stuff. "Does Pirelli's stimulate the growth, Sir? You can 'ave my oath, Sir. 'Tis unique."
The man took his hand from his head and sniffed, making a face. Toby made the man continue to rub, pulling his hand away from his nose. "Rub a minute, stimulatin' i'n't it? Soon you'll have to thin it once a week!" Toby continued cheerily.
The strange man next to me turned and asked me, "Pardon me, Ma'am, what's that awful stench?" His eyes connected with mine, I spotted the white streak in his hair and recognized him as the strange, tortured man from Mrs. Lovett's shop.
"Are we standing near an open trench?" My Mum's voice asked innocently from his other side. The man looked from me to Mrs. Lovett, obviously confused. His thoughts were written all over his face: Weren't you over there? Before he could turn and look back at me I turned and melted into the crowd, though still within earshot of them. I kept my eyes on Toby, who looked disgruntled with the interruption, to keep from hyperventilating.
They repeated their questions innocently to each other, though I could see a wild light of joy in the man's eyes as he sabotaged Pirelli, and in a subtle way, too!
"Buy Pirelli's Miracle Elixir, anything what's slick, Sir, soon sprouts curls! Try Pirelli's when they see how thick, Sir, you can have your pick, Sir, of the girls!" Toby continued, despite them. "Wanna buy a bottle, Missus?" He asked an unfortunate woman standing too close to the stage.
By then the bottle being passed around for inspection had reached Mrs. Lovett and her guest. He opened a bottle and sniffed.
"What is this?"
"What is this?" Mum repeated.
"Smells like piss." He stated, sniffing again. He held it to Mrs. Lovett.
"Smells like- Ew!!" She was caught by surprise at the acrid smell. Despite myself, I laughed. Finally someone else noticed what this stuff really was!!
"What is this? This is piss. Piss with ink." The man said, holding the bottle to the light and examining it.
"Wouldn't touch it if I was you, dear." She addressed another man standing near her, casting an aside glance at the bottle.
I had to admire Toby: he was still trying to get them to buy the ghastly stuff. "Let Pirelli's activate your roots, Sir."
"Keep it off your boots, Sir, eats right through!" The man advised someone standing near him.
"Yes, get Pirelli's! Ladies seem to love it!" He exclaimed, desperately trying to maintain the interest of the treasonous crowd, all of whom were muttering about how Pirelli's was piss.
"Flies do too." Mrs. Lovett said, sounding bored. I smiled, thinking that she was right, glad that Pirelli was being exposed. Then my face fell. Losing this crowd would mean a beating for Toby.
Suddenly Pirelli leapt from behind the curtain, knocking Toby harshly out of the way, turning to the crowd with more than mild displeasure on his face.
"I am Adolpho Pirelli, The King of the Barbers, the Barber of Kings, I blow you a kiss. And I, the so famous Pirelli wishes to know who has-a the nerve-a to say that my elixir is piss! Who says this?" He spat menacingly, glowering at the crowd. The all shrunk beneath his gaze. I turned to look at the man who'd started it all.
He looked up at the stage and Pirelli, and, after a moment's consideration he stepped forward. "I do." All eyes flew to him. "I have opened a bottle of Pirelli's Elixir, and I say to you it is nothing but an errant fraud concocted from piss and ink." Pirelli's eyes seemed to fly out of their sockets.
"Signor Pirelli. I am Mr. Sweeney Todd, I have personally opened a bottle of Pirelli's Elixir and am here to tell you that it is an errant fraud, concocted from piss and ink. Furthermore, I have serviced no kings, but I wager that I can shave a cheek with ten times the dexterity of any street mountebank." He said indicating Pirelli, who curled his lip in a little snarl. Mr. Todd pulled two fine silver razors from holsters on either side of his hips. "See these razors? I weigh them against five pound that you are no match for me. Either accept my challenge or expose yourself as a sham." Pirelli drew close, examining the razor, then a slow smile spread across Pirelli's features.
"See this foolish man. Now please you will see how you will regret your folly. Toby!" Pirelli called, stomping his fine cane on the ground. He grandly threw off his cape and tossed it in the corner. Toby rushed up the steps toward his master.
"Who wants a free shave?" Mr. Todd asked the crowd in his gravely voice, sending shivers up my spine. The crowd, however, was oblivious to the malicious sparkle in his eye and the viciousness in his smile, and all the men responded excitedly. He and Pirelli each pointed to a man in turn and beckoned them onstage. Toby dragged on a rickety chair for Sweeney's customer while Pirelli's sat in a plush, comfy chair.
"Will Beadle Bamford be the judge?" Mr. Todd asked.
"Glad, as always, to be of assistance to my friends and neighbors." The Beadle replied slimily. I stood in the crowd, wishing I could run, but spellbound, destined to bear witness to the outcome of the contest. The other people in the crowd wanted to watch, not caring which barber won. They all thought Mr. Todd was just another innocent, rogue-ish barber trying to get known by the public. But they hadn't seen the expression on his face as he had spoken of the Beadle. They hadn't seen the murderous light come into his eyes as he asked the seemingly innocent question. But I knew what he was and what he meant with that look, and I was doomed to see it all. Much as I wished I could, I couldn't leave. I was frozen by the gleaming silver of his razors as the contest began.
Sweeney Todd spent a long moment deciding which of his two razors he'd brought with him to use. He'd brought the same two he had always worn at his side in the holsters, even as Benjamin Barker. Even when his life had been so different.
From a distance the pieces of sharp silver looked identical, but if someone got close enough, they would notice that the embossed patterns on the razors were different. One had a heart in the center, caressed by tendrils of raised silver, carefully overlapping and intertwining with it and with each other. The razor he had always used back when he was Ben. The razor for smiles, laughs, love, and light.
The other one was the exact opposite. Somehow in a darker shade of silver, almost black, the pattern had a raised silver heart, with conspicuous pieces missing. A thick, thorny vine circled it, choking it, puncturing it and causing pain. A bolt of lightning struck the heart dead center. Just like his own pain, exactly where the destruction of the heart started was unclear, but the source was obvious. This razor was for smirks, snarls, hate, and darkness. He had never used this razor before.
He had always carried the two opposites together on each side of him, they made him feel balanced. Now though, they felt like a struggle. Finally he selected his old favorite razor. After all, he thought, I doubt I'll ever have the opportunity to use this one again.
He stepped up and spread the white smock over his customer. He looked nonchalantly at his opponent who spread a smock decorated with the colors of the Italian flag over his own client.
"Ready?" The Beadle asked.
"Ready." Pirelli chirped.
"Ready." Sweeney said gruffly, a dark smile twitching at his lips.
"The fastest, smoothest shave is the winner." The Beadle trilled a little whistle to begin.
Pirelli twirled his razor, showing off, then checked his smile in its shimmering metal surface. Satisfied, he turned to where Toby was standing and took the other side of the razor sharpening belt and ran his razor quickly and harshly along the belt, cutting Toby's knuckles as it came to the end. He repeated this over and over again, causing the boy's fingers to run with blood as he bit his lower lip in an effort not to cry out.
Sweeney slowly and carefully sharpened his razor, checking every once in a while to make sure he hadn't damaged it in any way, checking its sharpness.
"Now Signorini, Signori, we mix-a da lather, but first-a you gather." Pirelli addressed the audience, hastily mixing the lather and applying it to the man's face. "Around Signorini, Signori. You looking a man who has had-a da pleasure to shave-a da Pope." He turned towards Mr. Todd. "Mr. Sweeney, whoever, I beg-a da pardon, you'll probably say-a it was only a cardinal. Nope! It was-a da Pope!" Toby unfurled a picture of the Pope, apparently having been signed by the pope, thanking Pirelli for the great shave.
"To shave-a da face! To cut-a da hair require a grace, and it require da flair." He said, beginning. Toby wiped his razor clean. "For if-a you slip you nick da skin, you clip-a da chin and rip-a da lip a bit beyond-a repair!"
"To shave-a da face, or even a part, without it-a smart require da heart. Not just-a da flash. It take-a panache. It take-a da passion for da art."
Sweeney put away the belt and blew on his razor, examining it before putting it aside. Slowly and with care he began to mix the lather and apply it carefully to his client's face.
"To shave-a da face. To trim-a da beard. To make-a da bristle, clean like a whistle! This is from early infancy da talent give-a to me by God." Pirelli paused to make the sign of the cross with his razor before continuing.
"It take-a da skill. It take-a da brains. It take-a da will to take-a da pains! It take-a the pace. It take-a da grace!"
As Pirelli was distracted with communicating to the audience, Sweeney shaved his client with seven quick strokes. He wiped his razor clean and was done with it before Pirelli turned back to face his own customer.
"The winner is Todd!" Beadle announced loudly to a chorus of applause. Mrs. Lovett clapped with a proud look on her face.
"Sir, I bow to a skill far greater than my own." Pirelli congratulated Sweeney from behind.
"The five pound?" Sweeney asked, blunt and to the point. Pirelli made a face but produced the money.
"May the good Lord smile upon you." But Sweeney had already started walking towards Mrs. Lovett and the Beadle.
"Mr. Todd." The Beadle greeted. "Strange, Sir, but it seems your face is known to me."
Sweeney opened his mouth to respond when Mrs. Lovett came to his rescue. "Him? Tha's a laugh! Seein' as he's me brother's cousin and having arrived from Birmingham only yesterday." She frowned slightly as she realized just how pathetic her excuse was.
"And yet I have already heard the Beadle spoken of with such respect." Sweeney coaxed.
"And your shop? Above Mrs. Lovett's on Fleet Street?"
"That is it, yes."
"Then you shall surely see me before the week's out."
"Excellent." He smiled. "You will be welcome Beadle Bamford, and I will guarantee you, without a penny's charge, the closest shave you will ever know."
As he and Mrs. Lovett began to walk away, he caught the eye of the strange girl he had mistaken for Mrs. Lovett earlier. The look in her eyes frightened him: the look said she knew.
As Mr. Todd put away his razor I caught a glimpse of the pattern on the handle in a rare flash of London sunlight. A heart with thin tendrils of silver caressing it. I had seen that before, only one place before. Suddenly the pieces fell into place. He'd shaved that man so simply, in a way that only one barber could do it. To others, those facts would mean nothing, but right then to me they meant the world. Even more than the way Pirelli was no doubt beating Toby right this moment. Most people, even if it mattered, would overlook all of this, not recognizing it.
Not me. It was impossible to miss. It was impossible to forget the man who had adopted me like his own daughter, acting as a father to me. I had watched him expertly shave a man from the bench in the corner, sitting next to his apprentice, for too many hours to forget his technique. Had listened to him explain the patterns on his razors too carefully to forget what they meant. This one means smiles, laughs, light and love. His voice spoke to me, a reminder from the past. This one is its opposite. Smirks, snarls, hate and darkness. Both are needed to feel balanced.
I never forgot my stand-in father. I never once forgot Benjamin Barker. His absence had changed him, darkened him. His was the pain that had washed over me the day before. Now Ben had returned. He had come back and was in the clutches of my mother once again. And the razor he had kissed before he had put it away was the one he'd said he'd never use. The one for hate and darkness.
I rushed away from the crowd surrounding Pirelli's, the crowd parting. The market in London was formed around familiarity. People rarely broke from their routine. My rushing from Pirelli's, tears in my eyes, had become commonplace in the market, and people ignored me as much as they ignored poor Toby's pain.
People stood in about the same places as always, doing the same things. I had long ago memorized the patterns of the city. I dashed between open spaces, leaving the populace undisturbed. As I reached the edges of the marketplace, there was something different. A palpable electricity in the air that was completely out of the ordinary. The people were buzzing, gossiping with each other about something that had them energized beyond the norm, not just the usual gossip between housewives. Any other day I would have noticed it, I would have been confused and wanted to know what was going on. But today I was busy. Distracted as I was, I took no notice until I ran right into the source. Quite literally.
I had almost reached the end of the market square when I tumbled into a presence that most certainly didn't belong where it stood. It was out of the flow. It didn't belong.
"I'm sorry, Ma'am. Didn't see you there." He helped me up off the ground. I looked up at him and smiled. His dark hair flopped in front of his face. He brushed it gently out of his eyes, revealing them to be a bright, energetic green. He stuck out his hand in greeting. "I am Constable Derek Fleet. And who might you be?" He asked, taking on an entirely different tone to his voice as I brushed aside my locks, revealing my own bright green eyes.
I thought about giving him my standard introduction, there will be none of this 'Ma'am' nonsense. My name is Cayden Fletcher, of Fleet Street. Instead I introduced myself as I hadn't in a long while.
"My name is Rose Lovett." I breathed in a sharp intake of breath. Recognizing my mistake, I tried to amend it. "But, if you please, Constable Fleet, I would appreciate it if you would call me Cayden Fletcher in public." Great. Now I'd only succeeded in making him think I was weird. Or, more likely, daft. His quizzical expression led to another attempt at amends. "Uh... My Mum and I don't get along, and I don't want 'er to know I'm 'ere. Not through the grapevine at the very least."
Constable Fleet nodded at this and smiled, taking my bag of pens and paper that I'd dropped and shouldering it. We headed off towards Fleet Street together.
"All right, Rose. Might I ask what do you do for a living? And do you live alone?"
"Yes, you may ask, though I cannot guarantee an answer. And yes, I live alone, though that seems a mighty personal question to ask, and slightly creepy to do so."
He laughed at my joke and admitted that, yes, it was sort of creepy and he apologized for that: it was not intended. We cut through Hyde Park instead of going the quick way home. Eventually I conceded and told him that I was a seamstress.
"But I love to write, especially poetry." I gasped as I realized I said that one out loud. Why was I being so honest with him?
He smiled radiantly. "I would love to hear some, Rose. Though I assume you have something else to do..."
"No." I laughed gently at the obvious invitation. "But now would not be a good time for me. Let's just walk on home."
He looked crestfallen, but as we continued to talk, he draped his arm nonchalantly over my shoulders. I was appalled at the nerve of him. I wanted to tell him that I had no interest in him beyond a friendship, that I wanted him to get his arm off of me and leave me alone. Instead I said something that had been bothering me for a while, even before the Arm Incident.
"You have a strange accent. Where are you from?"
He smiled at me and pulled a strand of curls back behind my ear. Oddly, I enjoyed his touch, though I wished he would stop taking liberties with me.
"I was sent from New York to help assist London with the care of its people. Help uphold the law." He said proudly. I cringed at the word "law".
"What's wrong, Rose?" He asked, worried that he had said the wrong thing.
" The law is corrupt. Horribly so. You can't uphold something that was smashed to smithereens decades ago." I replied, leaning into him as I thought of examples.
He had a puzzled look on his face, that said quite clearly to me that he had an idealist's image of the law and the police force. That was why his superiors had sent the young constable to London: to put his world in perspective.
"Well, Rose. I suppose that's true. But there's nothing to say that I can't help rebuild the law." I drew back, looking up at him. His green eyes met mine, sending a jolt of electricity between us. In his eyes was such a look of understanding. He could help me. Forget Mr. Todd, go back for Toby later. Now is for you. A voice in my head whispered to me. My breathing grew fast and short, anticipating what would come next.
Derek leaned closer to me, and I came closer to him in response. He brought his lips close to my ear and whispered, "We can rebuild the foundation of London, Rose. Together. End corruption. We will fix the law, Rose, and we shan't be judged for it." He pulled back and I looked up at him, meeting his calm but sure gaze, which was now sparked with energy and nervous expectation. He started to come close to me, bringing his lips to meet mine.
And then I remembered. Corruption? Law? Judge? Johanna! I pulled away, just before our lips met. I took my bag from him. He looked, disappointed, angry, sad, apologetic, and embarrassed as I started to turn away. I turned back to him briefly, deciding that an explanation was owed.
"I'm sorry, Derek. I forgot about a meeting with a friend that I had planned for a good while now." I looked at the horizon, deciding that there was another hour until the sun began to set. I turned to go when Derek stopped me again.
"Rose. Will I be seeing you again soon?"
"Yes. You will definitely be seeing me again soon." I smiled and gave him my address. As I sprinted to Johanna's, I felt a strange warmth surge through me as I pictured the young Constable's face in my head. I smiled as I realized why my eyes had been green today, and decided that today had most definitely been an excellent day.
So, how did ya'll like it? I had fun writing it, if that counts for anything. Derek is extremely important to the story, so I hope you like him (Rose does). I'm bad at writing romance, so there will be precious few of those unless I change my mind. Which is possible. Please keep reading. Next chapter: The sweet, naïve, overly optimistic, slightly stalkerish, in love sailor boy... Anthony Hope! And Johanna... whose cool, I guess. Also, learn about the origin of the Green Finch and Linnet Bird song! ( No it did not come from Johanna's tortured and trapped subconscious. Not directly, anyway...)
Enjoy my story! And please review!
