Oh. My. Gosh. I don't think I'll ever be able to write again. I seriously just spent four hours writing this...Never, ever again. Haha. I'm sorry, I went on a bit of a tangent in this chappity chap..Yeah, so much for my uncomplicated fluff story, haha..That always happens to me..
Thank you so much to Ravencaller, Lost Blue Phantom, BeBopALula, Vicki and xxlindazzz. Seriously, you don't know it but it's your reviews that make me continue on. Thank you, thank you, thank you. Haha, glad you're all liking this. Noelle gave me a slight idea which I changed quite a bit in this chapter (the beatle was her thing too), so thanks Noelle my dear and blame Vicki for me even starting this story. I'd made up my mind I'd finished fanfiction altogether till we met up for coffee and cake and started talking about Sweeney..
Just a note - "lickspittle" is the 1840s term for arse kisser. Yes...I am a history geek who spends far too much time researching things...
And now I'm going to sleep.
Chapter Ten.
"Yes, please tell me how Johanna came to be with the Judge," Anthony said and explained what little he knew, "She told me that her mother…Had gone mad…I don't know much about her father. I'm assuming the Judge adopted her, but I don't know why."
"Mmm," Sanders said thoughtfully, "There's a lot more to it than that boy. A lot more. The great Judge Turpin was never a simple philanthropist. He would not have simply adopted the girl out of the goodness of his heart. I can only guess at his original motives, but there is an interesting history, there is," he gestured for Anthony to walk first down the stairs, "I will explain in a minute, though first I think we should sit down."
Dane Sanders' thoughts drifted back to the first time he had had the privilege to be a guest at Judge Turpin's house, and a collection of other memories that concerned Miss Barker.
There was something about him that the Judge liked, he had been told by Beadle Bamford (privately he called the slimy cretin the Beatle, loathing the way he crawled all over the Judge, doing his bidding as eagerly as a stray cur would to somebody who gave it a shred of food) as he escorted him to the house for the first time many years ago. Judge Turpin - the Beatle continued to say - had been impressed with the young lawyer's performance in court the previous week.
"That's interestin'," Sanders had sniffed, "Because I lost the case."
"Be that as it may," the Beadle replied with a sickening smile, "Judge Turpin believes you have a bright future ahead of you. He said the way you spoke, so eloquently, so passionately – one could almost suppose you believed the unfortunate man you were defending."
Sanders continued walking, lighting a cigarette but not offering the Beatle one, "That's because I did. The Judge was wrong to declare him guilty. I shall tell him that m'self when we arrive. My client wasn't involved with the thieves, only a dunce would ever think such a thing."
The Beatle laughed, however unconvincingly, and looked uncertain at Sanders. But Sanders didn't care. Yes, his career involved smiling at the right people and making the appropriate connections, but he would never be a lickspittle.
Soon they had arrived at the Judge's house where the Beatle directed him to the drawing room in the rear of the house. He was told to pour himself a drink and to make himself at home. The Judge would only be a few minutes. When the Beatle crawled off to do whatever else he was supposed to do and Sanders was left alone, he surveyed the room and whistled quietly at the prosperity. So this is what happens when one reaches the peak of one's career.
The carpet under his boots was a striking blue and the table in the corner was of a rich golden-brown mahogany. There was a mirror framed with the same wood atop a marble fireplace and all over the walls were hunting portraits. A bale of Chinese patterned silk were the curtains, and beside the window was a fine antique Bornholm clock. Sanders nodded to himself; one day he would be this successful. He poured himself a drink from a circular drink cabinet that was in the shape of a globe decorated with Columbus's map. This intrigued him and he spent a moment examining it and opening it and closing it several times. After this amusement ebbed away he glanced out of the French doors which led to a small terrace outside. After awhile he moved over to the fireside chair and stared at the small pianoforte on the other side of the room, that was a light green colour decorated with magnificent painted roses.
That must have cost a pretty penny, Sanders thought as he sipped at his drink, was it imported from Paris? He had thought that the Judge was unmarried and it made him curious as to why he would have that feminine touch when everything else in the room was so obviously masculine.
At first he had not noticed that he was being watched, but after a moment his eyes noticed a flash of gold at the entrance he had come in with the Beatle. He turned and saw a young girl – perhaps around six years of age? – staring at him curiously. She hid behind the doorway when she noticed she had been discovered and Sanders laughed gently, "Come out child, I won't hurt yeh, I promise."
A little girl wearing a burgundy coloured silk frock, with eye-catching gold hair stepped out when she realised she had been caught and there was no use hiding, and both the child and he stared at each other.
"What is yeh name, child?" he asked her quietly.
"Johanna," she seemed to squeak, as if she wasn't sure whether she should talk.
"Johanna," Sanders mused aloud, "Seems a pretty big name for such a wee thing as yeh. May I call yeh Jo?"
"Nobody's ever called me Jo before," she answered timidly, but seemed pleased nonetheless, "But I like it. Can it be a secret? I don't think Mr. Turpin would find it proper."
Sanders put a finger to his lips, "I won't tell a soul. Yeh can call me Dane too. Nobody calls me that either. None except my Mother – and that's only when I'm in trouble. But it seems only fair, don't it, if I call yeh Jo?"
From upstairs came the sound of footsteps approaching the stairs and little Johanna jumped, saying "Please don't tell him!" and she turned and fled. She never specified what exactly she had meant, but Dane Sanders understood. And he pitied the lonely looking girl.
That was not the only secret they shared between them. He decided to build a friendship with the child – knowing himself how lonesome it could be, being an only child. But after he had developed an acquaintanceship with the Judge Turpin he realised that would be a difficult pursuit indeed. It was as if she was kept under lock and key and whenever Sanders asked after his little ward it was always answered with a touch of surprise, as if it were abnormal to show so much curiosity.
So Sanders ceased asking about her. But he could not stop thinking about that small girl he had met. His little Jo. So he made excuses to come see the Judge over certain cases. Judge Turpin was quite pleased with this arrangement, thinking he was somehow mentoring the young lawyer into a prosperous career. A load of codswallop really. Sanders made his own destiny. His successes were his own, just as his losses were too. But he came and visited just to catch a glimpse of the child.
It could not be as regular as he liked – of course the Judge could not be seen to be favouring anybody in the court – but little Jo Barker grew up with his offered smiles as she hid in the stair railings when he passed through the entrance of the house to the Judge's study, with small trinkets he smuggled to her through the servants who pitied the child too, with a warm sentence or two when it would not rouse suspicion, with a tune he whistled just for her as he passed through, or a silly skip in his step to incite a small giggle from her. He would often feign waiting for the Judge while reading a book by sitting on the public bench outside of the home and occasionally look up at her. She would always be staring down at him as if she knew he was there for her, and she knew he wanted to keep her company even if there was a distance between them. They had formed a strange, secret little friendship.
That was until the day he found out little Jo Barker was ill. She was not a small child anymore, but on the cusp of early womanhood being twelve. She was so ill it was feared she was dying. The Judge himself took time off from his court duties to watch her, and rumours had it that he was so seized with panic he had dismissed several physicians in his fear that he could lose his little ward. Sanders heard from the household servants that he barely ate or slept. All he would do was pace the hallways and sit by Johanna's bedside as she slowly slipped away from him.
This behaviour from the Judge interested Sanders. Perhaps he had misjudged him.
It was understandable to show concern for an associate's loved one so he did not feel much anxiety at visiting the place with a gift for the ailing patient. The maid took him up to Johanna's room where she said the Judge barely left.
Turpin met him at the door, a little surprised but touched at the unexpected visit.
"Sanders," Turpin greeted him with astonishment.
"I heard the little one had taken ill. Johanna is her name, isn' it?" he made sure not to sound too familiar or to look at her too much and to show the proper amount of care he should – no more, no less, and he lifted the covered cage he had brought as the gift, "That's a pity. It's no fun being sick. I brought her a present, I did, to cheer her up."
"Oh, that's very kind of you," Turpin took his arm and drew him into the room, "Very kind of you indeed. What do you say Johanna, to Mr. Sanders?"
Sanders looked at the girl – so slight underneath the mass of sheets and blankets that it alarmed him. And she was so pale – her face nearly as white as the bandage around her arm where she had been bled by the physician. Her gold hair fanned over the pillow, and she turned her face to him weakly, barely registering at all that she had a visitor, and mumbled almost inaudibly a thank you as she had been told to do.
He moved forward a little, and he would never forget that look in her cornflower blue eyes. It was as if she had given up. He could have cried for his sweet little angel.
There was an awkward silence until Turpin said he would go to his study and bring back some paperwork to discuss with him. Sanders nodded as the Judge left, but he did not care at all, and went to her bedside. He placed the cage on the stand and bent down, "Hello little Jo," was all he could muster. She did not reply, nor give him a smile.
"I brought yeh a present," he tried to say lightly, "Now I know yeh must have a treasure trove of toys, so I brought yeh somethin' special."
Her eyes fell on the covered cage with no animation. She knew what it was he brought.
"Are yeh well enough to be moved just a little bit Jo?" he asked, "It won't be for long and I think yeh'll like it."
She closed her eyes, but managed to say weakly, "I'm so tired. You'll have to carry me."
He nodded, peeling the blankets off her and bent down, picking the girl up in his arms. Lord, but she was feather light!
"Are yeh alright? Yeh're not feeling dizzy, lass?" he asked concerned and she murmured that she was fine enough.
He slowly moved over to the window seat, and placed her down on the cushions. Then he rushed back and brought the concealed caged over, sitting beside her. He removed the covering, showing a small white pigeon. Johanna looked at it dully, then looked at him.
He smiled, "We have to be quick," he murmured as he opened the window, "Before Mr. Turpin returns."
Now Johanna was interested.
He opened the little cage door and with his hands brought out the pigeon gently. He calmed the creature by gently stroking it and placed it in Johanna's hands, "Would yeh like to release him?" he asked quietly.
"Release him?" she echoed confused.
"Oh, yes. It's not nice to cage birds forever. They're free creatures, don't yeh know? And this…This is a special bird…Yeh know why?" he asked.
She shook her head.
Sanders turned to the door quickly and after checking that nobody was appearing he took from his coat pocket a very small tube and he took the bird's leg and gently attached it.
"Genghis Khan," he explained quietly, "Was the ruler of Mongolia hundreds of years ago. He used birds to send messages far away – even eighteen hundred kilometers away sometimes! And the birds always came back to their home, after sending a message. Nobody knows how they learn, but they're very smart. Now, our little friend here, he won' have to travel as far as Genghis Khan's birds. I live in the same city. When we let him go he'll return to my little house, as he's been trained. And I'll write yeh a letter, very small – on cigarette paper – and send it back when yeh're all better. Would yeh like that?"
The little girl looked so torn as she held the bird in her arms, "They say I won't get better…"
He sat beside her raising a brow, "Now, we both know that's horseshit," she giggled at his profanity, but he continued, "Yeh're a delicate little thing, but yeh have strength. I know that. Yeh know that. Don't yeh?"
She looked down at the bird sadly, "I don't feel strong, Dane…I wish I was like this bird, where I could fly wherever I want."
"Yeh will be – Jo – yeh may think yeh're trapped in this place but there is a huge world out there to be discovered," he paused, "And don't yeh like the idea of yehr thoughts travelling through the skies of London to find me? It'll be our secret. Yeh like secrets, yes?"
She looked at the bird, then at Sanders longingly. It caught him off guard then that the child was deciding whether to surrender to death or live.
Finally she said to him, "Our secret? Only ours?"
"Of course my dear Jo," he answered quietly.
She brought the bird to her lips and kissed it gently, then said with excitement, "Can we call him Figaro? There's an Italian opera the Marriage of Figaro playing at the theatre I've heard – and I do wish I could see it…"
"Figaro he is then," Sanders said getting a little nervous as he heard footsteps approaching, "Now release him!"
Johanna leant to the window and laughed girlishly as she thrust the bird out into freedom, calling out "Goodbye, goodbye little friend!"
Judge Turpin entered in a moment, shocked to see the following scene.
Sanders explained the empty cage by saying regretfully, "He flew away – I took him out for the child to see and he escaped…What a shame…"
Turpin eyed the excited Johanna suspiciously. She did not seem at all to be upset by her new pet disappearing. He walked over and carried her back to bed, her eyes still glued to the window as she was placed back under the sheets.
"Never mind, Johanna," Turpin said to her, "We'll buy you another bird."
That was the last time he spoke to Johanna face to face. Something had changed, something had shifted between the relationship of Sanders and the Judge. Turpin opted to meet him outside the house more and more. And what could Sanders do? It didn't matter much though, as Figaro helped in keeping communication. The small letters were never long, in fact mostly they were little riddles they sent to each other to try and figure out, or amusing quips or proverbs. Just two or three small lines. But that was enough. It was a lifeline for his little Jo, that her secret thoughts could fly and be accepted by another. By a friend.
Sanders could see she was watched like a hawk as she grew into a young woman and it didn't take him long to realise why. And it sickened him. The Judge was grooming his innocent young ward to be his eventual bride. She was no more than a child. Had this always been the plan?
Oh, he never did anything sordid. He educated her, clothed her, showered her with gifts, raised her in luxury. But she was no more than a prized mare.
Sanders was a lawyer. Research was a part of his occupation. It had always intrigued him just how Johanna Barker became Turpin's adopted ward, and the more he dug into that past the more frightened for the girl's welfare he became. He looked over her available records, the court transcripts of her criminal father – there were so many flaws in the case of Benjamin Barker…Why would Judge Turpin be so interested in the wellbeing of the daughter of a criminal he had sent to the penal colony in the part of Australia known as Van Diemen's Land?
Why?
Sanders found his answer, and it shocked him to the core – the power the law had on ignorant people!
He shouldn't have gone. He knew that now, after the mess of Turpin's murder. He should have waited…But he had been so mad, so unbridled with rage about the injustice of it all. And how the young woman Johanna Barker was tangled in the web of control he now had her in.
She was sixteen now. And ripe for his taking. It disgusted Sanders, repulsed him. For God's sake, he couldn't live with himself knowing what Turpin had planned for the girl. To marry the only sorry excuse for a father figure she had ever known, because he had disposed of her natural one…
Sanders was thirty three. A respectable age. He had accumulated his own wealth in his own right over the many years he had now been a lawyer. And his talent had seen him win substantial cases – he was respected, even if his methods were unorthodox. He would marry the girl himself.
He remembered standing in the Judge's study that last time, feeling so much anger and righteousness he felt like laughing as he stared the old bastard down.
"Marry my Johanna?" the Judge had said, unbelievably shocked.
"Yes," Sanders replied confidently, "I'm wealthy, I can provide for her. I'm a good match. And I want a wife. Jo is accomplished, beautiful, clever – I'm asking for her hand in marriage."
"…Jo?"
Shit, Sanders could have cursed himself for bringing up such a familiar term. He corrected himself, "Miss Johanna."
The Judge stood and walked around to the front of his desk, staring at Sanders warily, "You above anybody else knows a thousand meanings can spring forth from just one word. You called my Johanna Jo as if you've had some sort of acquaintance with her…"
Sanders swallowed nervously but stared at him unperturbed, "I think yeh're imagining things sir. I did not mean anything by it."
"I think not," was all he would say on the matter, "I wish for you to leave my property."
"Leave yehr property?" Sanders retorted, "Why? I have done nothing wrong. I simply asked a question and I have not received an answer –"
Turpin hissed at him, "No! A thousand times no! How dare you come to me expecting you would be good enough for her!"
"I have as much right as any other man! And even more so, since I know yeh well and yeh trust me!"
"Trust?" Turpin spat, "After all I have done for you in your career! I trusted you and you throw it back at me now by asking for such a preposterous thing far above your station and expecting me to gladly say yes! It's money isn't it? You believe when I die you'll gain it all!"
"Yeh paranoid old goat! I want to marry her because she'll make a suitable wife!" Sanders shouted back.
"Get out! Get off my property at once!"
The noise brought the snooping Beatle forward into the room, who looked bewildered at the scene of the Judge tearing down a trusted friend.
"Get him out Beadle! I never want to see him again near this place!"
Beadle went to take Sander's arm but Sander's shoved him off and lunged forward, hissing, "I've been doing my own sort of research on yeh Judge Turpin! And what are yeh going to do old man? Send me away on bullshit charges like yeh did to that Benjamin Barker all those years ago? Ah, yes, I know all about yehr past!"
There was silence. Beadle had dropped his arm in horror at what he just said and Turpin looked absolutely mortified as he spluttered "After everything I have done for you over the years –"
"Yeh have done nothing for me yeh arrogant joke! I worked myself to the bone to get to where I am today! And yeh know why yeh're a joke, Turpin? Because yeh have to force a beautiful young girl to be yehr bride! Yeh don't even have it in yeh to win her by giving her a choice!"
Turpin had managed to compose himself, as he snarled calmly this time, "Get off my property, before –"
"Would yeh like me to tell little Johanna just what yeh did to her poor father? And just what became of her moth –" Sanders continued.
"Remove yourself from this house at once."
"Yeh can't lawfully keep me away from Johanna! Yeh forget I'm a lawyer, I know the legalities of things! When she is of age – which she is now – she can do whatever she pleases! Why do yeh look so worried there Judge Turpin? I'm just a man she barely knows yet yeh look as if what I say concerns you! Why do yeh worry that she would rather marry a stranger than stay here with yeh?" by this time Sanders knew he was placing his head and career under the French execution instrument called a guillotine for his boldness, but at that moment he did not care in the slightest as he sneered, "And I don't think the law would be too pleased with yeh either. Yeh may have power with ignorant common people but yeh forget I'm rising in ranks too! I know my rights! Yeh can't erase me like that poor Barker sod! I'll forever be a stench on your boot yeh can't get rid of – as if yeh stepped into a pile of dog shit!"
"For God's sake Beadle, get him out!"
And that was the last contact he had with the honourable Judge Turpin before he was found, his throat slashed apart in the basement of Mrs. Lovett's Pie Emporium.
He had been a fool for his insubordination. Turpin announced his engagement to his ward a few days later in order to shield her from the evils of this world. In other words, in order to shield her from other potential suitors. From Sanders himself.
He had been suspended from court for threatening a judge. Not barred completely, for as much as Turpin may loathe him now, he knew Sanders was right. He had a reputation in his own right now. Turpin didn't fear for his own neck, as he was too far up the pecking order for Sanders to carry out his threat about revealing the flaws of the Barker case, but he could not stamp him out completely from London's courts…
And he could not stamp him out from pursuing Johanna. Engaged or not, he would still pursue her.
He was sitting at one of the tables in Laura's tavern waiting for a drink with the boy, staring absently as he wondered how on earth he would tell the boy Johanna's history.