It was just another day with a few lucky and one unlucky customer. Sweeney was currently washing the blood from his sleeve when he was distracted by the sound of hurried footsteps coming up the stairs. He reached for his razor instinctively but released it as soon as Mrs. Lovett burst into the barbershop. She was paler than usual and she leant against the closed door with her back, pressing a hand to her chest and panting quietly.
"What's wrong?" Sweeney asked, stepping forward. There was no emotion in his tone, yet he was feeling uneasy. "What has happened?" He came to a stop in front of Mrs. Lovett and through a pair of fluttering eyelids caught a glimpse of panic. "Nellie?" He raised his hands to her shoulders and the touch awakened the woman.
Mrs. Lovett's eyes opened wide and she hissed with urgent secretiveness, "'E's guessed! The boy!"
"About what?" Sweeney retorted impatiently although he had an idea of what Mrs. Lovett might be trying to tell him.
"Abou' Pirelli!" she said, her voice trembling with emotions of panic and anguish. She took a deep breath and added, "You've got to take care o' 'im." And the hand that had been placed on her chest rushed to her lips as if she had shocked herself with her words.
Sweeney saw tears gathering in Mrs. Lovett's eyes and he asked thinly, "Are you certain?" He had never cared for the boy but had witnessed him winning a place in Mrs. Lovett's heart. Therefore it must have taken great courage for the woman to decide the boy should die in order for them to keep their secret.
Mrs. Lovett nodded her head determinedly, yet the pain in her eyes told Sweeney that she was liable to change her mind any minute—he had to work fast. He gave her a curt nod and reached for the razor he'd left on the cabinet nearby.
Mrs. Lovett moved out of the way and held the door open for him. "I locked 'im in the bakehouse." Sweeney listened to her words and dashed past the agitated Mrs. Lovett on his quest.
It had not been hard to find the boy—the bakehouse wasn't exactly a large place and Tobias hadn't been expecting him. For a young boy he could run quite fast and make one hell of a racket, Sweeney had granted him that. And in the dark Sweeney had been quite lucky he hadn't made for the door, which the barber had left ajar in his haste. The only thing that really had gone wrong, however, was that due to him not checking the bakehouse door before sinking his razor in Tobias's neck, once he did, a muffled cry sounded from behind him, followed by the sound of something or someone heavy hitting the floor.
Sweeney finally removed his arm from around Mrs. Lovett once she had sat down at the kitchen table and buried her face in her arms. The poor woman had followed him to the bakehouse—perhaps she'd reconsidered the terms of Tobias's execution—and witnessed the gruesome scene herself. Sweeney could only imagine what that must have been like for Mrs. Lovett's motherly heart. He had lost a loved one once but only ever heard the news second-hand.
He had no words of consolation to offer. Nothing he could think of could have eased the pain and the guilt. His hand had driven the razor through Tobias's neck, but it might as well have been Mrs. Lovett's own. And nothing Sweeney had ever done could be compared to killing one's loved one. Cautiously he placed a hand on Mrs. Lovett's shoulder, although convinced that the gesture came off a lot less meaningful than it was meant to.
Mrs. Lovett's whole body was shaking with silent sorrow. Unlike everything else about her, her despair was displayed in a quiet, restrained manner. Having the lively personality she did, this was something completely out of the ordinary, if not even concerning.
After a minute of standing idly by the weeping woman's side, Sweeney retreated farther into the kitchen to put the kettle on. The tedious ritual of waiting for the water to boil was, thankfully, interrupted by an urgent knocking on the door of the closed pie shop. Mrs. Lovett didn't move, so Sweeney took it upon himself to stride over and unlock the door.
"Thank God it's you, Mr. Todd!"
For a moment Sweeney felt as surprised as Adolfo Pirelli upon taking a gander at his razors. Outside in the dusk stood Anthony Hope and on his arm a beautiful young woman possessing each and every one of the features that had once attracted Sweeney to his wife. Staring inadvertently at the beauty, Sweeney almost didn't notice himself gesturing for the pair to enter. When she passed him, Sweeney registered the pleasant scent the young woman carried.
"Mr. Todd, this is my future wife, Joanna," Anthony declared once Sweeney had closed the door and blinked his eyes for the first time in a while.
"Yes, I gather," Sweeney replied. The resemblance to Lucy was remarkable; Sweeney was glad his daughter had inherited nothing from her father. However, she looked too frightened for him to take her hand for a greeting. Instead he nodded his head respectfully and forced himself to look at Anthony in order to not scare his girl even further.
"I have rescued her from the horrid judge Turpin, and I was hoping to leave her here until I can hire a coach to take us home to Plymouth," Anthony said with eager excitement. He turned towards the woman he'd noticed at the kitchen table, only now realizing the baker had hidden her face in her arms upon the table instead of greeting the young pair. "Why, what has happened here?" he asked with admirable worry.
Alert, Sweeney moved his left arm behind his back to conceal Tobias's blood, which had completely soaked his sleeve, and stepped over to Mrs. Lovett's side quickly. "Nothing to concern yourselves about at all," he answered, an overenthusiastic airiness in his tone. "Merely a minor disagreement. Mrs. Lovett is a tad over-dramatic." Mrs. Lovett's shoulders shook and a quiet sob escaped her.
"If you're certain, Mr. Todd," Anthony said, watching the baker doubtfully.
"And by all means," Sweeney added helpfully, "leave the young lady here. She shall be safe here."
"Oh, thank you, Mr. Todd!" Anthony said happily and rushed forward to shake hands with the barber. A moment later he all but flew out of the pie shop, promising over his shoulder to the little blonde woman, "I shall be back before you even take notice of my absence, my love!"
The door swung closed behind him with a dull thud, giving way to an unsettling silence. One that was in a minute broken by a shuddering intake of breath on Mrs. Lovett's part. Her lachrymose face appeared as she straightened up and looked from one standing figure to the other. It was possible she, too, noticed that the girl looked nothing like her father, although Sweeney couldn't have been certain if she found it a blessing or a shame. She had told him herself upon his return to London that she'd found the barber quite beautiful.
"You poor thing," she piped up, tearing her eyes away from Sweeney's dark red sleeve. "You must be so scared." She heaved herself up from her chair and crossed the kitchen to where Joanna was standing. "That awful judge won't touch you 'ere," she said, her soothing tone an astounding contrast to her dishevelled appearance. She stood beside the young girl, put her arm around her shoulders and started steering her towards the counter upon which she'd placed a tray with freshly baked pies earlier. "Mr. T is gonna make sure o' that." Sweeney was relieved to see her giving him a secret wink. "Why don't you 'ave a nice meat pie while Mr. T an' I pop upstairs for a moment?"
"Thank you, madam," Joanna replied timidly, although it was fairly obvious that the judge hadn't exactly been starving her. She picked up a pie, bit into it, and a small satisfied smile softened her frightened expression.