Hey guys! Um . . . no real news from Verity's corner of the world, other than hooray for the official end of my school year, and many many sorries about the wait, but a new question: what's your favorite season? I'd probably say summer, because school's out and I have a summer birthday, but as far as weather goes, I prefer autumn. Thanks for answering and enjoy the chapter!
The morning after their return from the seaside, Mrs. Lovett noticed that they were nearly out of flour down at the pie shop, and that simply would not do. It had been ages since she'd last been to the market, and it might be fun, especially if she was in the mood for some discreet bragging about her posh holiday (although her favorite aspects of the trip she'd have to keep quiet about, even to her friends- at least until after the wedding) but first she had to say goodbye to Mr. T, of course.
She found him upstairs in the barber shop, sitting on the windowsill and staring darkly at the street. Sweeney Todd was brooding, no question about it. Maybe it was the contrast to how he'd felt at the seaside, but upon his return to London his thirst for revenge had grabbed him like a Venus flytrap, startling even him with its sudden intensity. Maybe it was because he'd remembered, all at once, that there was some good in the world that made him so livid about the judge, he mused. Maybe . . .
"Mr. T?" cut in Mrs. Lovett's voice. He drew his breath sharply. Why did she have to interrupt his brooding? "I was 'eaded out to the market and . . . You okay, Mr. T? You 'ave an odd look. What are you thinking about?"
When he spoke his voice was clipped and mildly irritated; he still stared at the street. "Oh, just revenge, the darkness of the world, that sort of thing."
Mrs. Lovett sighed and took a step closer to him. "Well I don't know so much about the darkness of the world, Mr. T," she said, voice barely above a whisper. "But remember that I love you. I love you more than anything else in the world, always have, just remember that."
He didn't say anything or look away from the window, but somehow his hand found hers, interlacing their fingers, and gave it a tight squeeze. And then, with a smile, she left for the market.
While Mrs. Lovett walked to the maret, she planned her wedding. Who to invite, what sort of dress to wear, what to serve (definitely not meat pies) and all the other details surrounding such an event. All of this put her in such a good mood that when she saw Anthony Hope talking to an older gentleman whose back was to her, she just smiled, waved, and went over to say hello, not noticing that the young sailor was wearing the expression of stupefied horror of one who is choking on a lobster while those around him watch with detached interest.
"Anthony!" she called merrily. "I 'aven't seen you since the ball! And who's your friend here?"
"Hello, Mrs. Lovett," Anthony squeaked, his high voice even higher than usual, managing a weak smile. "Judge Turpin was just telling me of his recent plans."
Judge Turpin! thought Mrs. Lovett, her eyes widening ever so slightly in shock. She had never met the judge, but had come to think of him as the devil himself. She had to say, maybe it was her personal prejudice, but he certainly looked unpleasant. A pompous, squinty look about him, and the way he ran his eyes up and down her body when he turned to look at her- and he nearly as old as her father! -was downright indecent.
"Well, Mrs.- Langley, was it? - I was just telling young Master Hope my excellent news." said Turpin, puffing up like a blowfish with self-importance, and not bothering to let Mrs. Lovett correct him about the name. "Aside from my latest professional accomplishments- I recently sentenced a seven-year-old who stole bread to life in prison -I have some exciting personal news."
He went on to say that he would be leaving tomorrow for a trip to the Orient. One final visit with the geishas of Japan, the harlots of India, etc., before his marriage to his ward, Johanna Barker, who was approximately the appropriate age to be his eldest granddaughter.
Mrs. Lovett could feel her face stretching into an expression identical to Anthony's, for his reason and for one of her own. The judge would be in the Orient for over a month. Imagine what a month of brooding and stewing and every so often doing in someone and making them into meat pies would do to her and poor Mr. T! Also . . . after all that time, who knew if he'd still love her? What if, after a whole month of brooding, he forgot about her? Or if they just . . . grew apart? No, she decided, I can't let that happen. And so, knowing it was most probably a lost and desperate attempt, she spoke.
"You know, sir, it's always important to look sharp when you travel, so they treat you right at hotels and the like. And sir, if'n you don't mind my being so bold as to say, your whiskers could do with a trim. Why don't you stop by my upstairs neighbor, Sweeney Todd, best barber in London. I'll even tell 'im to give you half price, you being such an estimable figure in the community."
Mrs. Lovett glared at Turpin for a fraction of a second as she noticed he'd been staring at her breasts the whole time she spoke, but was astonished to see him actually considering what she'd said. And even more astonished when he said "Todd, did you say? That name rings a bell, for some reason . . . ah, well. Hard to turn down a discount (this, thought Mrs. Lovett, from a man who once bought an entire city block to keep a man he disliked from buying a house on it), so you should expect me by this afternoon. And remember, I demand the best."
"Only the very best for you, sir," said Mrs. Lovett, inwardly roaring in triumph. Then she dashed back home to tell Sweeney. Oh, she did hope she hadn't just wrecked some grandiose scheme of his.
"Sweeney!" she called out, bursting into the shop upstairs. "I've got some news, I'm not sure if it's good or bad, but I tried my hardest and I just hope we'll be able to work it out." she paused to gasp for air, having run all the way there and blurted that whole speech out in a single breath.
"What is it?" asked Sweeney Todd, looking up from the razor he as absentmindedly polishing. He was really quite concerned, having never seen Mrs. Lovett looking so . . . frenzied.
She told him everything, and waited for his response. And then something frankly neither of them was expecting happened. Sweeney Todd's face lit up. "That's brilliant!" he cried. "Especially with the trip . . . I couldn't have planned it better myself."
"But . . . 'ow exactly does the trip help us, er, you, rather, Mr. T?"
He didn't answer her directly, saying instead, "Mrs. Lovett, would you like to go to the Orient?"
"I don't know," she answered, taken aback by the question. "I mean, I suppose it would be very interesting, so exotic and all. But then, aren't there supposed to be tigers and things in the jungles out there? Not to mention the danger of traveling alone these days."
Sweeney Todd smiled. "Exactly. Especially if you carouse with lowlife types, like our friend Judge Turpin is known to. In fact, it wouldn't surprise me if he disappeared altogether, what with his typical reckless behavior."
Mrs. Lovett saw the light. "You're right!" she whispered with excitement. "It's perfect! You're brilliant!"
Sweeney Todd laughed for a moment. "And the way you put it- 'because you're such an estimable figure in the community' -just perfect!" he grabbed her by the waist and pulled her close. "You're wonderful," he said, and she felt her heart race.
But then, in a perfect example of the phrase "speak of the devil," the little bell above the shop door rang, and the voice of the good judge himself rang out, "Excuse me, but I was told I could get the best shave in London here, and I haven't got all day."