The Woman, Unrequited

(Summary: Sweeney Todd is, despite the crucial role Mrs. Lovett plays, very much about men. As much as I love the musical, the need for a re-telling was gnawing away inside of me –a woman's re-telling. And so Mrs. Lovett tells her story, which is much more riddled with the concerns of a 19th century woman, and the possibilities if she had been given the opportunity to raise Sweeney's second child.)

"Why, there they are both, baked in that pie;

Whereof their mother daintily hath fed,

Eating the flesh that she herself hath bred."

-William Shakespeare, Titus Andronicus

An Epitaph for Mrs. Lovett

A horrid way to begin telling the tale of Mrs. Lovett would be to start at the beginning, at her birth or before. Because none of that really matters, and who would care? She wasn't evil at conception, whatever you might believe. No, the way I began, and the way I propose to begin now, is by calling her Nellie, so that she's no longer Mrs. Albert Lovett, no longer the extension of a man long dead, who helped create what she became and thus still holds her in his grasp. I'm sure every meat pie was dedicated to him.

One might rebuke, of course, that excuses are fruitless; her soul was open to sin and willing to hate, and for that only she is to blame. But even Witches cry, fear, tear themselves apart from agonies of heart and mind. Maybe if she'd been given a genuine chance to love, she could have done that, too. Perhaps.

We know her story to begin when she meets the provoker of her own self-destruction; this one begins with a different provoker, and the birth of it.

Chapter 1: Waxen and Spindle

"Your baby, what're you going to name your baby?"

Nellie bent lower to the woman among the bloodstained sheets, straining to listen for a coherent answer. "God almighty, can't you make some sense for once?" But all that came from Lucy were sharp hisses as she whispered to herself. A slap in the face did no good, so Nellie stood up to address the mid-wife. "How could this happen?"

"I surely don't have to explain how babies come?" the girl replied; though just a teenager she was the only aid Nellie had been able to find.

"No no! This woman has never looked pregnant, even now." She remembered how Lucy had thought she was expecting again, back before Benjamin had been shipped off, but months passed without sign of pregnancy, and they'd decided it wasn't so. How could she mistake a thing like that? And it's what Benjamin believed, what he still believed…

"Well," said the girl, "some women don't show, I suppose, and the baby's rather small." She was still cleaning the thing off as it wailed in her arms. Nellie didn't dare look at it again after her first brief glance. Wouldn't Lucy's poison have affected it? It was too unnatural; this child shouldn't be alive.

Nellie went back to the stairs, eager to be away from the blood and fresh odor of birth. It was too human to be anything but foul. Halfway down the steps, however, she was stopped by the mid-wife's cry.

"Where're you going, miss?" The girl didn't dare stick more than a head and an arm out of the doorframe, but the wind still caught her shawl and whipped it across her face. "What about the baby?"

"What about it?" Nellie paused on the step, turning her head only slightly before continuing.

"You can't just leave me with it! Do you know how many I've already had to leave out with the garbage because nobody'll take 'em? Crying and writhin' like the possessed as they do, it's more than a woman should have to bear."

Nellie Lovett paused again. "Save your pity-pleas, child, I've had my share of babes lost in my arms before they had a start." This made her sigh and place a hand to her chest, but it also made her heart stir. She didn't look up. "What's the poor babe have, anyhow?"

"If you mean man-hood, miss, she hasn't got any. She shares our plight."

Nellie waved off the mid-wife's social commentary as she saw her secret desires flee. "Well, my breasts aren't suited for suckle, anyway; they'd refuse to give from lack of use." She gathered her skirts and took the steps two at a time until she was safely in her kitchen, ignoring the mid-wife's grumblings about reimbursement. Her thoughts racing, Nellie shut the curtains and holed herself up for the evening. Another child, another little Lucy? The very idea was utterly revolting, but… While this one didn't seem to resemble her mother quite as much, it was still female. Could she live with that? Did she want to try?

The next morning there was a sharp rap on her back door. It was so urgent and sudden that Nellie had already dusted flour off her apron and gripped the knob before stopping herself. The rapid knocks came again, rattling the door, followed by some squeaky gasps.

"Mrs. Lovett! Is anyone here? Oh, please, please!"

Nellie considered the voice, patting her thighs and turning away for a moment, but she decided to take her chances. "Yes, hullo? Who's there?" She swung open the door to find a woman nearly hunched over in panic. Her blonde hair made Nellie think it was Lucy standing before her and her breath caught in her throat.

"I'm here to see my cousin Lucy! I heard something terrible happened to her, where is she?"

Nellie's breath came back to her. "Oh… Oh, she's upstairs, dear." She gave the cousin's shoulder a pat, leaving flour residue on her navy mantle. "I'm afraid she's in a sorry state, poor dear. Hasn't stirred an inch all week."

"Please, take me to her!" The cousin gripped Nellie's arm like a sister's, so the two climbed the stairs side-by-side. Nellie took her through the abandoned barber's parlor and into the back bedchamber. Upon seeing Lucy, the cousin gasped and flung herself at the limp form on the bed. "It's me, it's Lillian! Can you hear me, Lucy?" She squeezed her cousin's thin hands, but there was no response. "And where's her baby? Mrs. Lovett, where's Johanna?"

"Oh." Nellie tapped her lips. "Mmm… I'm not quite sure."

Lillian glanced around the room before spotting the child curled up in sleep on the floor. She scooped Johanna up, holding her close as she sat at the end of the bed. Nellie briefly wondered if there was a term for a group of blondes.

"I'll stay here with you, Lucy…" Lillian whispered. "I'll take care of you…"

Nellie took a step back towards the door.

"I'll just leave this here for you." She hooked the key on a nail in the wall. "If you need anything you know where to find me, dear." Lillian only nodded, soothing Johanna as the child began to fuss, so Nellie took her leave and rushed back downstairs. She resisted the urge to sink to the floor as she closed the door behind her.

"Neighbors are more trouble than they're worth," she whispered to herself. "You'd agree if you could." Nellie addressed the infant she'd wrapped up and put to bed on a large sack. Its wrinkled eyes opened a bit to look at her. Lovett smirked to herself. "They can't handle more than one babe, then, can they? I'm doing them a favor."

Mrs. Lovett's pie shop had a bell on the doorframe that jingled as it hit the wood upon every entrance and exit. In theory, it would alert Nellie of customers while she was in the back, but recently it'd lost its ringer and only made a low hollow clunk, which was less affective. Add the fact that a baby was occupying her attention half the time, and it was no small wonder that no one was getting their pies as promptly as they used to. Luckily, many of the women were sympathetic.

"You really ought to hire some help, Mrs. Lovett," Mrs. Johansson told her, holding the infant in exchange for having her pies done on time for once. Nellie snorted.

"I'm barely making enough to keep coals in my oven, and the little one'll need her share of clothes and food before I know it." She waved a cloth furiously over her mixing bowl to shoo the flies away, then went into the back to check on trays of pies that were cooling. She didn't hear the front door open and shut.

"Does she have a name?" Mrs. Johansson called to Lovett, paying no attention to the men who had taken a seat at one of the tables.

"Who?"

"The baby, dear."

"Oh, well, not-" Nellie rushed back out with the baked goods, and nearly toppled over her wooden counter when she saw who else was in the front. "Judge Turpin…" She couldn't think of anything appropriate to say, so she charged Mrs. Johansson for the pies and let the Judge make the first move.

"Are we too late for your noon specials, Mrs. Lovett?" the Beadle asked, doing a poor job of acting nonchalant while another customer was present.

"Well, Beadle Bamford, you're actually a bit early…" She looked at the mixing bowl, forlornly watching the dough stretch and rip as she pulled the spoon out of it. "I haven't quite got them started, yet, I'm afraid. These hectic mornings just spring on me and I lose track of time."

"But, it's four o'clock."

"Can't help that, sir."

"Will you be wanting this back, then?" Mrs. Johansson held out the baby, which Nellie took with a gasp of recognition. She placed her back in the carrier she'd made out of empty sacks and strapped it around her chest.

"A child, Mrs. Lovett?" The Judge finally spoke up. "I hadn't realized you were expecting."

"Well, she's a foundling, poor dear. Abandoned out by the ash-cans not a week ago, she was, and my woman's heart couldn't leave her there."

The Judge hmm'd and nodded as though, by some stretch of the imagination, he could understand. After Nellie's last customer left he stood up resolutely, smoothing the front of his coat jacket as he did.

"And how is Lucy?"

"You're a blunt man, Judge Turpin," Nellie said as a kind of scolding and went back to her dough. "Coming in here and speaking of Lucy like nothing's happened. Don't think she didn't tell anyone before she took that poison." She turned with a strong grip on her mixing spoon, half expecting to see the Judge behind her, but he had just begun to approach the counter. Nellie placed her right hand to the child with an instinct that surprised her, still brandishing the utensil with her other hand.

"Tell me, Mrs. Lovett," said the Judge in a low voice. "How is she? Half-dead?"

"Her pretty little body lives, if that's what you mean, but her mind's as good as dead." Nellie put her spoon aside and sprinkled flour on the counter, dusting off the excess in the Judge's direction. He leaned back a bit and cleared his throat.

"And her daughter?"

"Mother and child are both being nanny'd by some country cousin," Nellie replied, grabbing the amble flesh of dough and smacking it down on the tabletop. As she started kneading it she added, "The women are upstairs right now in case you and-" she lifted her eyebrows suggestively towards the Beadle, "-are both idle."

Turpin's frown twitched lower.

"That won't be necessary, Mrs. Lovett," he said louder than he'd meant to, or perhaps not as loud. "Now, I've been your patron for some time and your services have not gone unappreciated-"

"You make me sound like a lady of the night," Nellie said with a straight face. The Judge groaned deep in his throat, reminded of what he'd had to put up with to get to Lucy.

"Not intentional, of course. But, you see, some of the gossip coming from your store has come to my attention."

"I give my customers the truth when I can afford to, Judge," said Nellie.

"However," said Turpin, "I've heard my own gossip, from a mid-wife."

There was a pause, and Nellie didn't dare look up. "I don't… I-"

"Now don't fret, Mrs. Lovett, I want nothing to do with your child, as you now call her."

"Just because she's not a pretty little thing like Lucy," Nellie exclaimed, almost as a defense. She didn't notice that the infant had started to stir as she placed her hands to it again. "You come in here- you and your men, all of them – with one thing one your minds. And I've given her to you, haven't I? Haven't I?" She blanched with the impending hysteria, and the men grew tense. "You've had your way with Lucy and you still come back, never satisfied while blood still flows through her-"

"Shall I remind you that I can have you put back in jail, Mrs. Lovett? And give you the sentence you had before we made our deal?" The Judge raised his voice over the din the wailing child had created. Nellie instinctly jumped back until the wall stopped her.

"What does it matter what I tell people? Who would believe me?"

"You were told to keep quiet. What if you let slip the whole affair?" He reached over the counter to take a strong grip on Nellie. "If the newspapers made it public, we could both be lynched by your own customers-" What he didn't anticipate, however, was for Nellie to scream and thrash like a fury as soon as he grabbed her. The Judge, usually so unmovable, was absolutely terrified by her hysteria, and Beadle Bamford chose to make a quick and immediate retreat out of the shop.

"In the name of all that is holy!" A piercing voice suddenly shrieked; Lillian had made her way downstairs, unable to ignore the commotion. "Jesus Christ! You're absolutely mad, all of you! Bleedin' mad!" She didn't venture further than the doorway, but her presence was all that was needed to make the Judge back off entirely. He made one last attempt at innocence.

"I'm sorry, madam, there's been a misunderstanding-"

"Get out! Get out of my shop!" Nellie screamed, throwing her mixing bowl at Turpin. It missed completely, but the assault was enough to scare him off. She was still throwing utensils at the door when he was halfway down the street.

"Mrs. Lovett, get a hold of yourself," Lillian said. "You've scared your baby half to death." Nellie responded by shoving Lillian out of her way and fleeing to the backroom, slamming the door behind her.

Lovett collapsed in a chair by the fireplace, the only source of heat indoors. Her throat seemed to close up the harder her chest heaved for air, and the result weakened her consciousness. What might have been five minutes later she was finally aware of the screaming baby in her lap. The only solution she could muster was to unbutton the front of her dress, a process that was still slow and shaky, and offer a breast to the child, who accepted it. Something had snapped within Nellie, and she was suddenly terrified of every element of her life. In the center of it was the little beast who, even now, was sucking the nourishment out of her. How was she supposed to run a business when this child was constantly attached to her? For years to come it couldn't leave her side, requiring attention she wouldn't be able to give. It was overwhelming to know that she had orders to finish, a shop to clean before the morning, diaper cloths to wash, and another sleepless night ahead of her. Nellie hadn't even found time to put some food in herself, and now the paranoid Judge had added another pain to her gut. She leaned her head back and let the tears slide down her temples, slowly dripping into her ears. The panic drained from her eventually, and she was left with a clouded mind.

It was only when she felt a small hand on the tender skin of her breast did she come out of her mental numbness. The babe was already half-asleep, and the fire had grown low. Even her tears had dried. Nellie started to button her dress up just as the door to the shop opened, and the small form of Johanna took a few steps inside. The toddler stopped and stared at Nellie with a finger shyly at her lips, as she always did when they met. When some clunks and scrapes were heard from the front Johanna turned to look back, her fair tangled hair bobbing behind her as she did. A moment later Lillian appeared in the doorway.

"Oh, Mrs. Lovett, I thought you were… Well, you were sitting here so limp, with your eyes open like the dead, I thought you were having some kind of fit." Lillian's voice was as light as Lucy's, but there was a harsh undertone to it, and Nellie wouldn't be surprised if she one day started spouting obscenities. At the moment, her condescending nature alone made Nellie want to break the woman's pretty little nose and pull out every one of her crooked teeth. "I closed up the shop for you, but I can't nanny you, too," Lillian said when Nellie only sighed at her. "So you'd do well to come to your senses."

"That's enough, I'm alright," Nellie finally said in response. She supported the child and stood up slowly, while Lillian continued to watch her.

"I'm going into Wapping tomorrow, and bringing Johanna with me," said Lillian. "I won't bother to ask you to watch Lucy for me, seeing as you can't even handle things down here, but I'm telling you all the same. Come on, dear." She picked up Johanna and carried her back out to the stairs without a backwards glance.

That night, Nellie's body finally forced her into sleep between tending the baby. This made her even drowsier the next morning, and she decided not to bother opening the shop, considering she didn't even have enough coordination to unlock the front door. Her desperate state of mind also kept one thought near- that of the child, and if it should exist or not. Whether her reasoning was in the child's interest or for her own selfish reasons wasn't clear to Nellie, but when she was sure Lillian had left for the day, she went upstairs regardless.

The place was as gloomy and bare as the first time she'd led the cousin up, and Lucy's still body was just as unresponsive. Nellie placed the baby in Lucy's arms, like an offering to a stone idol, and knelt on her knees next to the bed. Lucy's glassy eyes were open and staring at the ceiling.

"Well, Lucy, this is your baby," said Nellie. "You and Benjamin conceived her in this bed, back when you had his passion –when you had everything- but even those memories are probably lost to you." The baby sighed and flexed her fists, and Nellie unconsciously brought a soothing hand to it. "Here's the result, flesh and blood, it is, and I stole it for my own. Don't suppose it did much good, but… She's a good babe, doesn't fuss much; probably'll be a calm thing, like her father."

She couldn't bring herself to say 'would have been.'

The baby stirred in Lucy's cold, nearly lifeless arms as Nellie bent her head to say a prayer. Suddenly, small sounds came from Lucy's lips, incoherent at first, but some became clearly discernable as words. Nellie sat up in breathless terror; what if Lucy was coming to her senses and had heard what she'd said?

"They brought him… frankincense and…" Lucy's voice was barely a sigh. "Myrrh…" She slowly brought her arms closer to the baby, as though she was aware of holding her.

Nellie quickly snatched up the child and held her to her chest, watching Lucy with a frozen stare, but the woman was still once more. That didn't mean anything, Nellie told herself. Just her crazy mutterings…

"Nothing more…" she suddenly heard herself whisper, and was frightened back into consciousness. As Nellie fled the room, Lucy's body convulsed and her spine arched, her chest rising as she clawed at the bedding. The gasps that escaped her throat were nearly anxious, partly mad humor, and in complete desperation.

Nellie stoked her oven's fire furiously with a poker, and when it finally burned decently she slammed the grate shut. She was so close to opening the oven door and throwing the baby in that the veins in her hands ran cold with adrenaline, but she still only stared at the infant dozing on her sacks. What had Lucy said to it? The top of her head prickled. Myrrh? Did she think the child deserved frankincense and myrrh like baby Jesus? What a queer thing to say… But now Nellie was pacing furiously around the bake house, stalling any sort of decisive act.

"Don't just stare at me, child," Nellie told the infant. "You got me into this mess. Now you need to get me out of it, Mar-" She paused, a hand at her collarbone. "What a silly thing… I almost called you Mara. That was my cousin's name, you see, but she always complained about it because it meant 'bitter.' Fitting, I suppose…" Nellie took a deep breath, forgetting to breathe during her rambling. "But my Aunt Nettie said it was a word for myrrh. Probably why I thought of it just now."

A log suddenly snapped and sparked in the oven, making Nellie jump, and when she looked back at the baby that word came up in her mind again. Mara.

"Oh, Lord… I've named you, haven't I? Jesus, mercy, what am I supposed to do with you now?"

Mara only sighed with contentment.

As the weeks passed, the baby began sleeping more regularly during the night, which meant everyone else did, too. Life became clearer in Nellie's mind once she wasn't crazed by sleep deprivation, and she decided things would be all right. By now she was used to tending the baby while running the shop, having mastered multi-tasking, and she couldn't fathom why she'd considered giving up Mara before. Nothing could part her from the little darling who made her feel needed for the first time in many years. Even Lillian seemed to be in a better mood, and the two silently reconciled that the trying situations they suddenly found themselves in had created the tension between them. Nellie couldn't say she'd ever felt the tension lift, though, just lessen slightly.

The months went by a day at a time, the second faster than the first. Before she knew it, Mara was no longer helpless and wrinkled but handsome and sitting up on her own, while her dark hair had become nearly reddish. Nellie knew the baby wouldn't grow to resemble her, but maybe if they were both gingers together, none would be the wiser.

Wondering who Mara might become, Nellie's mind spent the daylight hours picturing the Barkers; Benjamin, with his tall, lanky frame, and the dark wiry hair that seemed far too unruly to belong to a barber, and Lucy, who was petite, and a head shorter than Nellie, with a heart-shaped face and overall recessive traits: pale skin, nearly non-existent eyebrows, clear blue eyes, and that hair. It was practically color-less and the men dared to call it gold. But during the night her old fantasies returned and she saw only Benjamin, in greater detail than she would dare without the cover of darkness. Eyes she once thought were dark but had surprised her one day by turning out to be gray flecked with hazel. A somber face, but not from melancholy, just pensive. True, he was a quiet fellow and let on to few folks, but Nellie knew that his kindness ran deep, and his loyalty to Lucy was evident with every glance and touch he had made her way. His skin was neither as pink as Lucy's nor as yellow as her own, but nearly olive like a foreigner's. And his voice… Just thinking about it made her chest flutter and excitement fill the parts of her that made her a woman. Its deepness seemed to belong to a much larger man, and every word was smooth and deliberate, as though he'd rehearsed each one beforehand. And what could come from these two, a man and a woman so different in color temperatures? Already little Johanna was golden and cherub faced like her mother, but that had been evident since she was Mara's age. So, perhaps this one would be a moderate, which was the best Nellie could hope for, ever since the baby had come out disappointingly female.

"Thought I'd find you in here again," Nellie said coyly as the Judge entered her shop one morning, too early for pies, which were always sold at noon. "Just a matter of time, I told myself. What with you passing by the shop every day and night." This was more than true, considering how close Fleet Street was to the Royal Courts of Justice, though it wasn't exactly on the way. "Where's that Beadle of yours, Judge? Tired of coming round here with you every day for half a year?"

Turpin's mustache twitched as he glared at the woman who never addressed him with a respectful 'my Lord' or 'your honor.' He took a breath to speak when, encouraged by her mother's chatter, Mara's squeal punctured the silence from the backroom. The Judge looked over Nellie's shoulder to see the baby on the floor, holding her feet above her as she lay on her back. Lovett watched the man's gaze hawkishly, sensing that it had been held for far too long.

"What've you come for this time?" she snapped.

"Another favor, Mrs. Lovett," said the Judge. "I know our original arrangement's fulfilled, but if a monetary reward interests you…"

"Oh?" Nellie let her bitterness fade as she became receptive once more. Mara squealed again but no one listened. "Well, I haven't failed to do your dirty work for you yet, have I?"

"I notice the nanny's still here, and the child."

"Johanna?" said Nellie. "'Course they are."

"Persuade them to come stay with me; I wish to raise the girl as my own daughter." There was no need to say what had inspired him. Lovett leaned across the counter, sensually excited by a fiendish plot.

"Well, Judge, I can tell you now that she won't take to the idea." She sucked on her bottom lip. "No, not atoll."

"This I know, I've tried it myself, but she'll trust her own neighbor. Just get her to come down and then bring the child yourself. I'll take care of everything else."

Nellie wasn't sure what he meant by that, but she couldn't bring herself to be too concerned.

"You like your women young, Judge?" she added as she turned for the backroom.

"I like them pure, faithful, and silent. Like any man."

Nellie frowned. "The cousin's nearly 30, you know, and I'm younger than her. But, I suppose that's the only condition I meet, right? For any man, I mean."

"I have no time for idle chatter, Mrs. Lovett."

"No, don't suppose you do…" Nellie sighed and shut the door behind her, to separate the Judge from her own Mara.

Was she so desperate? She'd practically thrown herself at him, only because he'd sought constantly for Lucy and overlooked Nellie completely, like every other man. She'd been widowed for nearly two years and hadn't had so much as a fling or one night stand. Was it so wrong to wish for attention? The men around her always got what they wanted, why shouldn't she? Filled with this savage deprivation, she entered the former barbershop without so much as a breath of hesitation. Johanna was playing on the floor, much like her sister was downstairs. Nellie paused to listen for Lillian, and after a moment heard her whispers in the bedroom as she spoke to Lucy, in hopes it would help her cousin recover. What Lovett didn't notice was that a softer, slower voice was answering every so often.

"Ms. Oakley," Nellie called, "do you have a moment?"

Mrs. Lovett went back to her Mara when her job was done and paid for, and the two of them sat quietly as the Judge continued his business as he pleased. Apparently he'd brought the Beadle with him after all, and Nellie heard the clumping steps above her as he and another man went to collect Lucy. She then got a terrible fright when she heard Lucy's cries just outside her door – and they were comprehensible. Ignoring her sensibility, Nellie opened the back door to see what was happening. Lucy was being dragged away, screaming for mercy, for her cousin, for her child, for her husband.

"Take her to Bedlam," the Judge ordered gruffly, as Lillian and Johanna were being loaded into his own carriage.

"Mercy, mercy, please, my Lord!" Lucy shrieked, falling to her knees as the men continued to pull her along. As they passed the shop's door, Lucy suddenly reached out and grabbed Nellie's dress. "Please, ma'm, mercy on a poor soul! Can't you see, I can't be expected- I can't hold off-" Despite her muddled tongue, Lucy's pale and pinched face described her desperation in its entirety, her eyes so wide that the irises were surrounded by white all around. Nellie's only reaction was in disgust, however, and she kicked the woman away as soon as contact was made.

"Off, filth," she muttered, hoping Lucy could hear her. The blonde, once so prized, was now pushed to the muddy streets she would one day call home, and Mrs. Lovett had done the honors. The men disappeared with the women, carrying Lucy as she screamed like a scorned child.

That evening, Nellie went back upstairs to lock up the place one last time. She didn't bother packing anything or cleaning up; she'd only come for the key still hung on its nail. But a black box caught her eye, sitting open on the bed, as if Lucy had been examining it before she was taken away. It contained the razors –his razors- the ones he'd cherished and cared for as much as he had his wife. There was something – no, nothing stood in her way of stealing another bit of Benjamin Barker. She grabbed the box without another thought and quickly left the hollow rooms, hollowed by her own hands, and locked the door behind her.

Ever since that morning, Nellie could feel a deep pit filling her stomach. It seemed that even though her own conscience wouldn't, her body saw fit to physically punish her. Nevertheless, she recognized how empty the building was now that the dreaded inevitability had been fulfilled: she'd helped the Judge, who had sent Benjamin away, and now the whole family was gone and the Judge would never come around again. It was as though a small microcosm had spun out of control and collapsed in on itself. Atleast Nellie had caught some debris from the wreck –Mara- and wasn't completely alone. She wouldn't lose the child like she'd lost everyone else, and she said a silent prayer that she would never have to destroy another life ever again.