Hey gang! Thank you all for the lovely reviews that make your Auntie Verity smile. By the way, I just realized why I never get anonymous reviews: clever Verity accidently disabled them! But I enabled them again, so it's all good. Also, new question: what's your favorite ice cream flavor? Mine's mint chip, but I also like coffee. And now, on to lucky chapter 13! (sorry if it's kinda filler, but I had to for the story's sake, and there's something major next chapter)
Aunt Jane had never been known for her powers of observation, but even she was pleased to see how cheerful her niece looked at breakfast that morning. Even in her dark blue dress from last night, she was all smiles and had some color in her cheeks, and always looking over to share a quick grin with their host. He seemed in a good mood too, charming man, really, and so handsome too, offering them seconds on toast and eggs and kippers, and putting his hand on Nellie's. So nice that those two got along. It must be the healthy sea air, thought Aunt Jane, that's got the two of them so chipper.
"What a storm last night!" said Uncle Freddy, glancing out a picture window at the now-perfect weather. "I haven't heard wind howl like that for twenty years!"
"Oh I know," agreed Aunt Jane, turning to Nellie and Sweeney. "We thought we heard something like a man and a woman screaming last night, but it must 'ave been that dreadful wind."
For whatever reason, Nellie and Mr. Todd both blushed.
"Well, Auntie Jane, weren't we supposed to head back to London today?" asked Mrs. Lovett, eager to change the subject. Frankly, though, she was shocked her aunt and uncle hadn't been able to figure out that something had happened last night the moment she sat down to breakfast, what with the grin she couldn't keep off her face and how she and Mr. T kept finding little excuses to touch each other, her running her fingers through his delicious dark hair as she sat down, him putting his hand on hers while they ate.
"Well we were supposed to, but I can't see 'ow we can, what with our trunks still being at the inn and us 'aving no carriage."
"I have three carriages here," said Sweeney Todd suddenly. "I was planning to go back to London today myself, and I'd be happy to lend you a carriage. It can swing by the inn you were staying at, then drive you straight to London." Now why hadn't he thought of that last night? he asked himself irritably. You had a reason, said the voice in his head from the night before. For once he was in too good a mood to argue with it. He did have a reason, and it was sitting next to him, wearing a dark blue dress.
Always so thoughtful, thought Mrs. Lovett, but she knew better than to say so. Instead she just said, "Thank you, Mr. Todd. That's very generous of you."
"Ooh, imagine, Freddy!" cooed Aunt Jane. "Arriving back in Cheapside with the Todd Hall crest on our carriage! Won't it be grand?"
"What?" said Uncle Freddy, looking up from his toast and jam. "Oh, yes, yes quite. Good show, Mr. Todd. Right decent of you."
An hour later, Mrs. Lovett and family were on the road headed for the inn, and Sweeney Todd was preparing to return to Fleet Street. Two hours after that, both parties were rumbling towards London, although Mr. Todd was traveling at a considerably faster pace (Aunt Jane had insisted they stop by the tea room again. "Ooh, I see you got in a few Oriental selections . . .").
As the air grew slowly grayer overhead, Mrs. Lovett stared out the window, smiling to herself and pondering what would come next. She supposed they might get married . . . Oh how much she'd love that, for him to be her husband, "till death do us part" and all. Also, it would be nice to be married, to have the whole world know how they felt. To be able to (she giggled at the thought) kiss him smack in the middle of London market, perhaps between the vegetable lady's stall and the jewelry shop, and have it be perfectly respectable. But then, Mr. T'd probably die of embarrassment if she did that . . . Mrs. Lovett decided she would think (think, fantasize, close enough) about that later. For now . . . what sort of flowers should she carry in her bouquet?
As Sweeney Todd approached the London skyline, he was relieved to find his thirst for revenge returning again. Only Sweeney Todd would worry that a weekend in which he killed a man- albeit by semi-accident -would make him go soft. But there was a danger, because while he was still in the country, all he could think about were things like Mrs. Lovett's eyes, and the day George Todd taught him how to fish for trout in a little brook by Todd Hall, and how a properly made cream trifle tasted (though you'd never guess it, Sweeney Todd actually knew a bit about cooking, although he was hopeless at baking and couldn't even make sugar cookies without somehow destroying them). He was feeling almost content, or even . . . happy. It was really quite disturbing.
Thankfully, as the carriage rolled into London, he could feel the vengeance coming back into his blood. He smiled as he muttered a little tune under his breath.
There's a hole in the world like a great black pit . . .
With one thing and another, it was late at night by the time Mrs. Lovett and Mr. Todd were back at Fleet Street with their luggage safely delivered to their rooms. Mrs. Lovett was just about to start the task of unpacking when she noticed Sweeney Todd had taken the first step upstairs. "Goodnight, Mr. T," she called.
He turned around and took a few steps towards her. "Goodnight, Mrs. Lovett." And then, though neither could say who started it, they were wrapped in a long, deep kiss.
Eventually, they broke apart with great reluctance (because here there really was a danger of busybody neighbors hearing too much). "'Night Sweeney," said Mrs. Lovett, feeling a shy smile slide onto her face.
"'Night Nellie," said Sweeney Todd with a wink, and despite a few minor issues on the back burner (Mrs. Lovett's wanting to get married, Mr. T wanting to kill the judge, the occasional murdering someone and baking them into a pie), it seemed like for once everything might turn out okay at the barber's and the pie shop on Fleet Street.