Lucy's heart fell slightly when she opened the door that day to find it was not that same familiar face that she had longed to see for that day at the door. Of course, Anthony seemed as pleasant a company on any other day, but her expectations far outweighed what the sailor boy could bring.

"Have I come at a bad time, ma'am?" he asked upon seeing Lucy's expression. She quickly smiled and shook her head.

"No, no, of course not. Come in, lad, come in. I hadn't expected you to come back at all."

"I hadn't the chance to say a proper thank you when I was here last," Anthony said, grinning. "And a note or anything of that sort wouldn't have been nearly enough."

"Come into the parlour, then?" Lucy said with an air of a question hovering on the last word. "My... husband is not in now, I should think it would be alright."

"You're much to kind, ma'am."

Anthony was gestured to move ahead as Lucy found herself being watched by a servant not too far down the hallway who had paused in his work. Seeing that he had been spotted, he hurriedly continued his work, blinking rapidly.

"He is simply a guest," Lucy called out, forcing the servant to look up. "A guest I don't expect my husband to know of."

The man nodded hurriedly before his nerves took the better of him and he scurried down the hall in the opposite direction. Satisfied with the reply that had been given to her, Lucy entered the parlour and saw that Anthony waited with interest as he looked about the room and its paintings. He cast a smile towards her as she entered the room but his attentions again returned to the paintings, as if they were somewhat of a curiosity.

"I suppose these are all dead?" he said matter-of- factly, gesturing vaguely towards the wall.

"What makes you say so?"

"Isn't that what all rich people do? Dead relatives painted and such."

"More often than not," she agreed, walking to Anthony's side. "However, you're only partially right. If it escaped your notice, I am in the one just above the mantel and I am quite sure that the other two in the portrait are alive as well."

Anthony bit his lip but said nothing so as to stop anything that he would deem foolish to come from his lips.

"I hadn't placed you as the sort interested in arts."

"I'm not, ma'am, I must confess. But these simply caught my eye."

"I can assure you that I would not be offended if you decided to stop your interest, lad."

"Thank you, ma'am."

Anthony sat tentatively at the nearest seat after Lucy had taken her place on the usual love seat that sat more often than not lonely in the middle of the room.

"I suppose you found your way in the end, then?" she questioned, looking up with forcefully curious eyes.

"Yes, I did." Suddenly remembering himself, Anthony searched into his pockets before drawing out the map he had borrowed previously. "I thought it best to bring it back."

With a slightly distant look, Lucy stared at the map before her thoughts caught up with her and she nodded.

"I hadn't expected it back, we haven't any use for it."

"I hadn't expected to not have use of it," Anthony admitted with a smile.

"Lost so easily?"

"I'm afraid so. Embarrassing for a sailor, I have to admit."

"A sailor! I was almost sure of it the moment I saw you but thought better than to say it, though you looked so familiar to ones I have seen pass by before."

"I haven't the same will power to hold my tongue when I see similarities, I confess. Just the other day I met a young woman and could not stop mentioning the similarities she held to you, however rude it seemed."

"A young woman?" Lucy asked faintly, knitting her brow. No, it couldn't…

"A friend of a friend."

"Yes, but what was her name?"

"Oh, yes- Johanna, ma'am, Todd I assume."

"Johanna Todd," she murmured, looking down at her folded hands. "And you met her on Fleet Street, I suppose?"

"You know her, then?"

"I know of her."

"How?"

"Her...parents, lad, her parents." Shaking slightly, Lucy stood and paced the floor. Her hands gripped each other before one raised to her lips, allowing her to gnaw at the skin of her thumb in attempts to put her mind at ease, as one does. She then turned again to Anthony, her eyes watering and imploring. "You know her father then, do you?"

"Yes- should I assume you do?"

"How is he?" she asked, ignoring the question. "When you last saw him- was he alright?"

"I don't know, ma'am, I saw him only briefly and days ago."

"When?"

"Friday, ma'am- please, tell me honestly why he bothers you to this extent, you look almost ill."

"Maybe I am. Tell me what it was he said that day, what did he do?"

"I confess I don't know, ma'am! I barely spoke a word to him. He left almost as soon as I came and returned to his flat that afternoon when he returned."

Lucy stopped biting her thumb and placed the hand over her mouth, a strange, choking sound emitting from her throat. Anthony rose immediately and moved to the woman's side, placing his hands on her shoulder as tenderly as he could.

"Ma'am, are you alright?"

"I- I cannot say- I- can't breathe-"

She fell to her knees in what seemed to be a faint, Anthony following her as he attempted to bring her again to her feet. Lucy sobbed freely now, unable to stop herself. She had been reminded too quickly, too thoroughly, of her situation and the pain was far too much to bear. Anthony hurriedly attempted to quieten her, an ounce of fear in his tone as he anticipated blame for the aggravation as well as the concern he held.

There was a slight shuffle of footsteps in the hallway that stopped abruptly alongside the minor conversation that was being held. Anthony turned his head sharply to find himself confronted by a young woman- younger than himself- and a portly man. The girl uttered a shriek when she saw Anthony and the man stepped forward, taking hold of the neck of Anthony's coat and dragging him from the room.

"I'll show you what we do to trespassers," he muttered under his breath as the girl ran forward and knelt by her mother's side, embracing her.

"Mother," Roseanne said quickly, placing her hands on her face and wiping away tears with her thumb.

"Mother, what did he do to you?"

"Don't- blame him, Rose- he didn't-"

"Don't be so lenient, mother; tell me what he did to you!"

"No! No, he did nothing, I was- I was simply impassioned by something he said, he meant no harm, Rose."

Roseanne tilted her head, scrutinising her mother's features for a moment before deciding them honest.

"Then I'll go stop the beadle," she said with a sigh, kissing her mother's forehead before leaving the room at a slightly quickened pace.

It was no surprise to her to see that the beadle had quite readily taken his cane to the boy out in the back courtyard- it happened often, whenever a passerby seemed too appreciative of the house or anyone inside it. Though it was not a surprise, it remained a gruesome sight, one which Roseanne was unable to abide by even in the best of times.

"Sir, the situation has been explained," she said, placing a hand on the beadle's shoulder. He looked reluctant to stop, but did so. "He didn't do anything."

"He was uninvited, I'll remind you."

"I really do believe that Mrs Turpin would not be foolish enough to abide the company of a trespasser, don't you?"

With what seemed like a scowl, the beadle stood straight and held onto his cane as he often did. He offered an arm to Roseanne, which she shook her head at, instead taking hold of the young sailor boy's elbow and pulling him to his feet. As she made her way towards the door again, the beadle's cane barred her way.

"And where do you think you're taking him?" he asked severely.

"You've left him in a more than bloody state," she replied lightly, looking pointedly towards the lad's cut lip and bleeding nose. "I'm not cruel enough to leave him out by himself."

"Be that as it may I can't allow you to take him back in there."

"This isn't your house."

"And nor is it your property, miss."

"Nor am I yours, though you quite openly summoned me out today," Roseanne retorted, suddenly more

sharp with her tone. "I will gladly oblige to the request if you allow me the right to help this boy."

"I'm fine," Anthony muttered under his breath, not daring to look up. Clucking her tongue, Roseanne ignored him, staring instead towards the beadle. He himself refused to back down in his demands and stood firm.

"Fine," she said simply, pulling Anthony in the opposite direction. "Then you will have no objection to me denying your request and taking your coach so as to find someone who will allow me to help."

"Your father won't be happy," the beadle said as he watched the girl walk away.

"I don't live by my father's rule."

Ignoring whatever next came from the beadle's mouth, Roseanne pulled Anthony towards and into the awaiting coach. He barely struggled, though mostly due to his shock disabling his ability to fight back.

"I really don't need help," he said as defiantly as he could, wiping his lip on his coat's sleeve. "It's only a cut or two."

"And a soon enough black eye."

"I've had worse, really."

"Well, how much happier would you have been then with someone offering you help?" He shrugged in

return. Roseanne thought for a moment before knocking on the roof and calling to the driver.

"Fleet Street, if you don't mind, sir."

The coach started to move with a softly rough motion in which there was a silence of awkward tension that neither wanted to break. Finally, Anthony broke it, his curiosity far surpassing his need to maintain the silence.

"Why Fleet Street?"

"I know a man there, a barber, in case you need stitches or such. I haven't much of an idea about them and I'm not allowing you to try it at home."

"Mr Todd, I assume?" he asked weakly.

"Yes, actually. You know of him?"

"A friend of mine. It seems your family is almost infatuated with his existence."

"Pardon?"

"Your mother. It was what we spoke of before you came into the room- that's what put her in that awful mood."

"But she doesn't know of him, nor any Mr Todd I imagine. Perhaps she was... confused? Perhaps. I haven't at all asked her. I didn't believe she'd met him."

"It seems she has."

Roseanne bit her lip and allowed the silence to settle again for the remainder of the journey. She had briefly moved only to take out her handkerchief and hand it to a grateful Anthony whose nose seemed to be unable to stop bleeding. It was a wonder he was able to walk on to legs by the time he got out of the coach, even with Roseanne's shoulder to lean on. She brought him to the pie shop door and knocked on it loudly, unable to assist Anthony up the stairs.

It was the familiar young lady who opened the door, Mr Todd's daughter if Roseanne remembered correctly. Her face went pale when she came to the door.

"Anthony!" she cried, quickly placing his spare arm over her shoulder and heaving him into the room with Roseanne. "Lord, what happened to you?"

"I fell over," Anthony said, his tone so humorously false that Johanna could not help but laugh.

"Don't lie to me," she said, letting go of Anthony's arm and sitting him in a booth. She turned to Roseanne, her features slightly dazed in the same way they had been when the two had first met. "You brought him here?"

"It seemed the best place to bring him."

"Bloody 'ell," cried Nellie who made herself quite suddenly apparent in the shop. "What yeh gone and done to yehself 'ere, Anthony? Johanna, go and get the spare tub from the bathroom- and hand us the gin on yehr way in."

She nodded quickly and quite literally hopped to it, tripping over her feet and awkwardly skipping from the room. Nellie looked briefly at Roseanne before her cheeks flushed.

"Thanks for bringing 'im, love."

"Better than anywhere else I could get him."

Nellie nodded, taking the handkerchief that Anthony still held against his lip, as if unaware of any other damage. At that moment, Johanna entered the room with a basin readily filled with water and placed it at the booth, disappearing for a mere few seconds afterwards to grab the bottle of gin.

"'ow about you 'elp 'im out, Jo?" Nellie said, glancing upwards. "I'll go and get Mr T."

"I must ask him something myself, if you don't mind me joining you," Roseanne said, reasonably confident for a woman in her position at that moment in time. Nellie moved to respond but could not and so simply nodded again, walking on without a word. Johanna and Anthony barely noticed the two leave as Johanna began to soak a clean rag- or, at least, the cleanest they owned- in the bowl of water.

"Now really," she asked quietly, wiping away at the now drying blood. "Don't lie to me. What happened?"

"Little run in with the law," he replied as nonchalantly as he could. "Nothing serious."

"You must be more careful, the law in this city won't think twice about sending you away for something like an odd look."

"It won't happen again."

"You'd best make sure it doesn't. We've grown accustomed to you being here."

"So have I," he admitted. Johanna smiled and dropped the rag into the bucket of water, taking hold of the bottle of gin. She used the handkerchief that remained lying on the table beside her and soaked it as minimally as she could.

"This'll hurt a bit."

On cue, Anthony hissed slightly as the cloth was placed against his lip. The mild pain only lasted a few seconds, though, before it chilled itself and disappeared.

"I can imagine you're enjoying this far more than you let on, you know," Anthony said as playfully as he could.

"Your opinion of me is far too low. Though it is quite a joy to have you here, despite your situation."

A slight blush formed on the boy's cheeks as he bowed his head, refusing another ounce of it through only briefly, Johanna leant forward and pressed her lips on Anthony's forehead, lingering for only a second before blushing violently and scurrying from the room, carrying the bowl of water with her. Anthony was left in a form of wide eyed surprise, staring off into the silence only broken by Johanna's movement.


Roseanne waited in the corner as Mrs Lovett quickly summed up the story of Anthony's condition, taking for too long in the young girl's opinion. She did not stop her, though, and instead waited patiently, looking at Mr Todd who in turned stared back.

"I believe Miss Turpin has a word to say," Mr Todd said pointedly once Mrs Lovett had stopped speaking and waited for a reply. She frowned, unable to think of how to reply. Finally she gave in and turned, muttering to herself incoherent words in an irritable tone.

"I don't think she likes me being here very much," Roseanne said a moment after the door had closed.

"Probably not. But that little effects whether you are here or not."

"I hope you don't mind that I brought Anthony here, it was the only place I could think of."

"Were you not at your home?"

"He has been somewhat forbidden from entering the house again."

"I hadn't known he'd entered it before."

"Oh, yes, though I hadn't known it myself." She paused, thinking to herself. "He visited my mother."

"Did he?" She could not help but notice a slight stiffening in the man's posture.

"Yes. But the curious thing is, Mr Todd, that when he mentioned your name to her, she was driven into an absolutely awful state."

He did not reply to this, but continued to look at Roseanne, no emotion betraying his features. It was somewhat uneasy to look into those blank eyes at that time, but pride disallowed Roseanne to do anything but that. She cleared her throat, as if to urge Mr Todd to speak, but when he did not she simply continued.

"She gave me no explanation of the reaction, and Anthony did not say that she had mentioned knowing you once directly. She told me that on the day you came to our home, she would be in the garden."

"She was not in the garden, she answered the door to me. But I refuse any explanation to why she reacted in such a way to the mere mention of my name."

Roseanne bit her lip and closed her eyes, biting back the temptation to shout or whatever reaction it was that she wished to express.

"What did you do to her when she opened the door?"

"I did nothing to her. Not anything of the sort that I'm sure you are insinuating- we merely spoke briefly."

"About what?"

"Nothing that concerns you."

"I won't allow you to leave me with an explanation as vague as that."

"I wouldn't call it vague as much as I would a direct answer: it does not concern you and therefore you won't find out."

"You should know, Mr Todd, that I make it by business now to know what it is that you have done."

"And why are you so determined that I have done something? I have no ruling in how she acts and nor do you have any say in how it is that I am to react to your questioning. Now if you have nothing else to say I'll ask you to leave."

With a look that barely hid her contempt, Roseanne turned from the room, pausing only briefly at the doorway to turn her head.

"I still expect you in a fortnight- father's been somewhat more cheery when well groomed."

"If you wish it."

Nodding briefly, Roseanne then opened the door and disappeared towards the streets of London.