Almost over night Nellie found herself in a better mood, which continued into the following months, renewing the relish she had for her own fiendish cunning. She'd never respected a soul who entered her shop, and what was better than overcharging them and then watching as they became eager, willing cannibals? Suddenly the outward manner reflected what lay within, greed and the desire to feed off one another, and they did so with relish, every bite savored and deliberate. Punishment against their beings wasn't her original intent –the profit was fulfillment in the highest- but she liked the little bits of justification, assuring her that these swine deserved no less. And if she had no more than three months left before judgment, she wanted to cause as much sin and destruction as she could, she wanted to revel in her greed and truly be the Devil's agent; if the nuns and the beggars already called her such than so be it –she was a Witch devoid of soul, and a Woman devoid of submission.
She would cast a spell then, over the tea, with a little help from the apothecary. Nellie wasn't even sure why she'd decided this until she saw Sweeney sitting in her parlor, skimming over the paper without any real interest. Ah, that was it; the means were instructing her, rather than her using them. She would just have to be careful to track which cup was his, but of course her handle was always turned to the left.
"Here's the tea, dear," she said with the delivery, and then sat herself down heavily next to Sweeney. There wasn't any other way for her to sit now that her stomach had started growing substantially. It was lucky winter was upon them; she could bundle herself up enough to hide the growth, something she wanted to do from herself most of all. But she could tell Sweeney was eyeing her whenever she had trouble transferring her weight into a new position, as he was doing now. "How was your work today, Mr. Todd? It's hard to keep track of my stock when I don't do the butchering myself."
"The blood flowed freely," said he, "as always."
"Oh, I'm sure it did." Nellie wanted to reach for her cup but decided it was too far away, and Sweeney only watched her, having yet to reach for his own. She leaned back again with a sigh. "And how's my Mara? Are you treating her well down there?"
"Of course."
"I'm sure you're kind to her. Like a daughter, right?" She gave him a coy smile and leaned closer. "Just think, when we're married we'll already have a family, like we'd always been a couple."
"Hm."
"You love me, don't you, Mr. Todd? Just a little bit?" She wasn't pleading, no, she was taunting.
"Yes."
"You have to, you know, if you love this." Nellie took Sweeney's hand and placed it on her stomach. His eyes widened, for his speculations hadn't prepared him for its actual size and feel. She felt his fingers twitch.
"But it… It can't replace Johanna."
"Oh, your Johanna," said Nellie with a sharp breath. "Why? Because she won't be a little Lucy?" She decided to refer to the fetus as female, hoping it would lie heavily on Sweeney's mind. She watched him intently as his manner tensed. "Your Johanna is not Lucy, you know that, don't you? The way you talk of her, pine for her it's… it's… Well, you're no better then the Judge, is what I mean."
His hand had traveled to her knee, and his grip tightened until it pained her, but he said nothing in denial. Though Nellie gasped and took a shallow breath, she continued to smirk at Sweeney until he let off. Still, she was surprised; he hadn't lay more than a gentle hand on her for sometime. He was tiring of their false relationship that much was apparent.
"I don't know why you bother," Nellie continued. "You could have a new life here, with me, pretending every throat you slit is the Judge's but giving up on the real thing. Say you did kill him, then what? They'll find you and hang you in a second. You'll leave me and your daughters, is that what you want?" Maybe it was, his lack of reaction seemed to say. She put on a worried face to hide her satisfaction. "Do you know, I admired you while my Albert was still alive. Did you know that?" She leaned close again, her forehead by his ear. He smelled of shaving lather and the salt of dried blood. "Not like love, oh no, just… You were so kind to your wife. I was envious, I guess." Nellie's lips quivered in a faint smile, and she saw his eyes finally look to hers. "Did you ever strike her, as many husbands do?"
"No."
"Do you think it's right for any man to?"
"Depends on the wife." He looked away, ignoring Nellie's sudden glare that could kill.
"Oh, pray tell, Mr. Todd, what kind? Ones that lie, or are too slow, adulterous, dumb, lazy, or are they all the same to you? Tell me, Mr. Todd!" She screamed in his ear and he jumped, watching her in terror.
"What's gotten into you now?"
"What's gotten into – what's gotten into me?" She leaned back away from him, chuckling in short gasps. "Very nice." Didn't he know? She was sure he did, or maybe he'd forgotten. It wasn't seared to his mind like it was hers. "When I was a young wife all those years ago, did I deserve a beating every day?"
He had looked away, but his gaze suddenly snapped to her again. There was still a bit of gray in his eyes that hadn't been drowned out by darkness.
"I wouldn't know."
"But you did know, you- Oh, never mind." Nellie leaned forward to retrieve the cups, but he took her arm.
"Don't be foolish, Mrs. Lovett. It's not what men are expected to do, interfere with one another's home affairs. I-"
Nellie heaved herself to her feet, cups in hand, and promptly dumped Sweeney's tea in his lap. She couldn't be sure what he was about to say, but damned if she was going to let him apologize. That wasn't what she wanted; she wanted his pain, his agony, not his sympathy. It would be an oxymoron to their existence if the wrongs against one another weren't repaid in blood.
Sweeney was still staring down at his wet trousers when Nellie left the room.
What was she thinking? Obviously nothing sane. She could have ended everything right here, and while it would have upheavaled her life-style, killing Sweeney would have freed her from this mess. But she couldn't do it. The blood she lusted for was warm, and she wanted him to use, his flesh to serve her. It was a desire too great to disobey. She hadn't even put in enough poison to kill him, and Sweeney never drank her tea anyway. Feeling self-thwarted, she practically tossed the teacups into a wash bin in the kitchen, startling Toby and Mara as they did their chores. Nellie stood and watched them, sighing airily, with a hand pressed against the small of her back to relieve it. She didn't bother asking how things were going.
"I brought back some of your pans from the tinker, mum," Mara finally said, tentatively. "They're in the cupboard."
"That's fine, dear." Nellie sighed again, remaining oddly quiet.
"Is everything alright, mum? Do you need anything?" Toby paused from his mopping and stared at her with large brown eyes, like a startled rabbit.
"No, dear."
But he was still watching her, not giving the mop any attention as he leaned it against the wall. Something was strange and urgent about his manner, and he came forward to take her hand. Mara looked away, as she always did when the boy was being loving to her mother.
"You look sad, mum." He squeezed her palm. "Did Mr. Todd upset you?"
Nellie smiled but pulled away.
"No, dear, I'm just weary." She placed a hand on her stomach. "I feel heavier everyday."
"Here." Toby dragged up a chair and helped Nellie into it. Then he knelt by her side. "Mum… can I… can I touch it?" Nellie looked down to see he meant her stomach.
"Go ahead, dear, it won't do any harm."
Still, his hand was as careful as though it would. And he was so intent, so focused on the bulge as his fingers caressed the fabric of her dress. Nellie could tell he had something to say, and wished he would hurry up with it. For a moment there was only the slosh of water as Mara continued her laundry with a quickened pace.
Toby looked up again. "I want to protect you, mum. You and the baby."
"From what, dear?"
"From… men, bad men. Demons that would want to harm you."
Mara paused, both arms in the wash bucket. Her and Nellie's eyes met.
"Well, that's very sweet of you, child," said Nellie. "If I'm ever attacked by one I'll let you know."
"But, what if you didn't know? What if someone you thought you could trust was planning against you?"
Nellie's cheek twitched, thinking of the people she herself had plotted against. Premeditation. "Well, that's a silly thing to say. Isn't that a silly thing to say, Mara?" The girl grunted. "If anyone's out to get me it's my girl; look at that wicked thing, all covered in suds."
"But, mum…" Toby scoot closer to her. "It's… it's Mr. Todd what's got me worried. I know he's the babe's father, but he doesn't seem like a father, doesn't act like a good father, does he? He seems rather… not nice to you, sometimes."
"Oh, he's just worried, dear, he's not cruel."
"But, mum-" Toby grabbed her hands, but winced from how ice cold they were, and Nellie took the opportunity of his falter to pull away.
"What are you going on for? You just don't understand things, dear, no need to fret." She looked to Mara for help, but the girl was choosing to not pay attention. "And, I… Would you like a bon-bon, dear?" Nellie reached down the front of her dress to fish out her purse.
"Is that what you call your breasts, mum?" asked Mara, choosing to look up. "Bon-bons?"
"No!" Nellie meant to hiss under her breath, but it came out more frantic than she'd intended. Toby stared wide-eyed at her again, but in a breath she'd shifted back to a smile. Nellie pulled the purse out and fingered through it. "Oh… Well, I'm afraid I must have eaten them all, dear. I really shouldn't have so many, but I just can't help myself sometimes…"
"That's- that's-" Toby gasped, and Nellie wondered if he was choking. "Signor Pirelli's purse!" In a flash it was back down Nellie's dress.
"What was that, dear?" The fool boy must have seen her with it a dozen times, and now he'd decided to recognize it. Mara paused to watch them, biting her lip.
"It's just what I've been thinking," Toby said too quietly. He knew Sweeney could be in the next room. "That's his purse, which means… But how did you get it?"
Not realizing his implication, Nellie twisted her mind for a plausible explanation.
"It's just something Mr. T gave me for my birthday. Isn't that sweet of him, to give me something early?" But her response made Toby blanch even more.
"That's it, then, it is Mr. Todd. I bet he said he got it from a pawn shop or something like, but…" He glanced at Mara, and then came closer to Nellie's ear. "It was in Mr. Todd's parlor that the guv'nor disappeared. I wouldn't expect you to be imaging something so vile, mum, but you have to believe me that it's foul play."
Perhaps Nellie should have played the part and feigned surprise, but her expression froze as though she had a bitter taste in her mouth. She was done being kind, easy enough, yet she was angry that more destruction would come about without her calling on it herself. She cleared her throat.
"Now, Toby, you need to listen to your Aunt Nellie, alright? You can help me –us- but first you have to go hide in my bedchamber and wait for me there. Can you do that?"
"Why, what are you-?"
"Just trust me, dear," said Nellie softly as she looked into Toby's eyes, perhaps imitating a gesture of honestly she'd once seen. And while Toby only looked more frightened by her gaze, he seemed set to prove his love.
"If you think it's what I should do, I will, but not for too long." He rose to his feet, brushing his hand across her shoulder. "But, be careful, mum, please."
Nellie listened for the door to close down the hall. Then she stood up as quickly as she could to approach Mara, and the girl got up, drying her arms on her dress, to meet Nellie half way.
"Make sure he doesn't come out, Mara, while I get Mr. Todd."
Mara gasped, grabbing Nellie by the sleeve. "You can't, mum!"
"I have to, there's no choice. The boy'll reveal us and we'll all be hanged, you know that."
"But…" Mara whipped her head around frantically, searching, and her grip tightened as Nellie tried to pull away. "What if we- We could say he'd gone mad, accusing everyone of murder, and put him away at Fogg's."
Nellie hissed slightly as she breathed through her teeth.
"If Mr. Todd found out we'd be-"
"I know." The girl had become surprisingly calm, her eyebrows firm. Benjamin's eyebrows? Nellie wondered. If nothing else she has his mind for outwitting me.
"But we won't let him find out," said Mara. "He thinks Toby's never suspected; we'll keep him thinking that."
"God…" Nellie hung her head and bobbed it back up again. "Fine, if you're so sure, take him." Mara took a few steps backwards without looking, and then righted her path. Nellie wasn't finished. "This isn't a game, you realize, child? I didn't want you part of this because me and Mr. Todd are desperate lunatics at the end of our wits, headed for Hell at any rate, but you have so much more to lose."
She didn't have any way of knowing whether the girl had heard.
Mara stole Toby away from the shop quicker than she could recognize; her mind was calculating every fleeting second, and while to her their escape was too many long minutes, to Toby it was only so many breaths. Mara barely glanced at the lad as she towed him through the darkness of Fleet Street, but he was soon whimpering so pathetically she had to side step into an alley. The stank was denser here, as assaulting to her nostrils as the fog was to her sight, but at least she couldn't see the filth they trod over. The closest sounds were the drunken cries that echoed from the tavern, nearly a block away.
"Now, Toby, don't lose your nerve." Her own voice was quivering in her throat, despite how focused she kept her mind. It didn't help that Toby had grabbed her in a tight hug and wouldn't let go.
"We can't just leave without mum! Where are we going? Are we going to tell the Bow Street Runners?"
"No, Toby, now look at me, listen to me, boy." She held his chin firmly and pulled it back from her chest. "We can't save mum because she already knows; she helps Mr. Todd."
"He makes her? Why wouldn't she try to stop-"
"No, Toby, no." She'd planned on giving him the truth, but it now seemed too harsh, cruel, like feigning the tenderness of a kiss before bashing his head against the wall. "She-he… The flying squad won't be able to stop him, nor the inspectors, he hides everything too well-"
"Everything?" Toby's voice cracked. "He's done it more?"
Mara swallowed, and found this was where her lies turned to the evading of truth. After all, her mother had taught her to always leave a route open to innocence, no matter how detoured.
"Never mind that, just realize we don't have proof enough to get him hanged. And if he finds out we tried to turn him in, he'll kill us, even mum."
From his shocked face she could tell she'd sent her intent home. He wouldn't risk Nellie being harmed.
"You have to get away now, Toby, or else I'll have to take you to Fogg's asylum. Please go."
Clearly she'd scared the boy out of his mind, because he didn't protest, he just shot off down the street, leaving Mara to listen to the clapping steps as they echoed off every surface.
All was dark in the shop when Mara returned, all but the parlor, where Sweeney was talking to a young man. She hid herself in a shadow just behind the doorway, but all she overheard was some nonsense about the differences in hair types. It was ridiculous how suited Sweeney was to lecture on the subject, and almost humorous in its repetition of what she knew about him. In truth, she was so terrified she could laugh at him. You need a new hobby, Mr. Todd. Hair and death, what kind of purposes were those? But Nellie's whispers from her chamber startled Mara out of her eavesdropping.
"Get in here, girl, leave the men to their business."
Mara didn't move at first as she stared at her mother with a desperate grin, an anxious parting of the lips. Nellie had seen the look before, in her own reflection on windowpanes or newly washed pans. In that moment, just before she grabbed the girl's wrist to pull her in, she couldn't remember hating anyone's expression more in her entire life.
Nellie closed the door behind her and shoved Mara furthered into the room. "You weren't gone long."
"Oh, I… well-"
"Never mind, whatever you've done is done. Now keep quiet." She opened the door again, just a crack to hear what Sweeney was up to. But Anthony was already gone, and Nellie huffed impatiently. "Well, there he goes, gone and left and I didn't get to hear the end of it."
"Who was that?" Mara whispered behind her. Nellie shut the door once more as she turned.
"The sailor lad; he's going to get Mr. Todd's daughter, it sounds like. Try to get her, that it. Again." Lovett licked her thumb and scrubbed at a smudge on Mara's cheek. "That's all he talks about sometimes, that Johanna."
"Well, she is his daughter," said Mara as she tried to shoo away her mother's preening. "Of course he wants her back."
"Yes, yes, now why don't you go on to bed, dear?"
"Aren't you going to bed, too, mum?"
"I'm going to go see what Mr. Todd's up to." Nellie turned Mara around to face her bed before heading to the door. "If Mr. Todd thinks he can meddle in my parlor without me knowing about it, he has more nerve than a man should dare have."
Sweeney was hunched over the harmonium when Nellie came to the doorway, writing furiously, as if he were playing a wild, ravenous piece on the instrument. His muttering was so loud he could have been dictating to his own hands.
"I have… No, Johanna will be-"
"Excuse me, Mr. Todd." Nellie cleared her throat. Sweeney lost his grip and the pen rolled down the keys, but he didn't turn.
"Not now, woman, I must make haste. Leave me."
"You can't banish me from my own parlor."
"Why don't you turn in for the night?"
"I can't go to bed this early." Nellie had already proceeded to the couch. "And Mrs. Smith told me to keep my feet up at this hour; you know that. I can only do that properly on the couch." She was already making herself comfortable, and once she did there was no getting her up again, so Sweeney only growled rabidly as he continued the letter. Nellie took her figures book from the end table and tried to busy herself with checking her earnings, but she couldn't find a comfortable place to prop the book with her stomach in the way, so the idea was abandoned.
From his tone, manner and what facts she could discern, she knew Sweeney was close to achieving some part of his vengeance, for nothing else could excite him so.
"Mr. T, whatever you're up to, is haste really necessary?"
"Don't play your games, woman." With a whip of his arm he flourished his signature and then jumped to his feet. "You've stalled me long enough, more than half a year, but now wrongs will be repaid."
Nellie sat up as much as she could, one arm behind her to prop herself up. "You're going after the Judge, aren't you? Do you know what kind of danger you'll put us in? Put me in?"
Sweeney paused before the door, watching Nellie, who seemed so prone and pregnant without her layers of coats on. Did he remember her as she was when he first moved in, a skinny girl of barely twenty, when she wore a giddy smile from anxiety, when her eyes were brighter, when she was always with child but never a mother? How fruitless it had been, all of the pain and discomfort; death and blood back then were just as prevalent in her life as they were now.
"It's what I have to do, Mrs. Lovett. I thought you understood."
"Sacrificing yourself for it, fine, but your family, your chance to be with Johanna?" She was really just pulling at straws now, hoping something would strike a cord with him, but he saw through her ploy.
"Save your breath and your energy, Mrs. Lovett, the child deserves it more."
All Nellie could do was watch Sweeney leave, slamming the door behind him. She lay back on the couch and stared at the ceiling, not having the strength to pray, just hoping she would find a way out of this somehow. But you can't, Helen, a small voice whispered in her mind. No matter what you do you're stuck. If you're imprisoned they'll keep you until the baby's born before hanging you, and even if you escape the birth will still kill you in the end. Remember death, Helen? She remembered, how clear it had made her feel, how complete as the darkness was turning into an overwhelming light. But she was revived just before it had taken her completely, and the midwife told her that her heart had stopped for nearly a minute. The feeling would haunt her always, how much she longed for it when she was pulled away. And Albert… He'd seemed so frightened, as pale as Nellie was from the blood she'd lost. But his distress never left after that day, it lingered and deepened, turning into hate, like a wound that develops a coarse, grotesque scar. He'd lost every one of his sons, but was he also distraught that continuing to try for one would kill not only the next child but also his wife? She held this fragile thought close, for it kept her sane.
It seemed like the lighter and more disturbed her sleep was at night, the heavier Nellie slept at any other given moment, and such moments were becoming more frequent. She barely stirred when the Beadle entered her parlor, and Mara had been trying to persuade him to leave for nearly ten minutes before Nellie was woken by the pounding of the same group of notes several times in a row. She blinked for a moment, waiting for her eyes to focus, and when she sat up and looked over the back of the couch, she saw Mara leaning against the harmonium as the Beadle was feeling her chest and up her skirts. Nellie had never thought of Beadle Bamford as an actively sexual man, only as someone who liked to watch, but if he enjoyed what he was doing now there was nothing about his manner that betrayed it. He might as well have been repairing the instrument, and the girl just got in the way.
All Nellie could think to say was, "Huh," as she wondered why they were doing this here. That was enough for Mara to notice her, and she turned her head like she'd been caught.
"Mum! Mum, I…" She freed herself from the Beadle, whose only response was to smooth his jacket and sit at the harmonium's bench. "Beadle Bamford's here to see about the smell from our bake house, and I told him we can't get in until Mr. Todd gets back with the key, so…" Mara frowned anxiously to ask if she'd lied well enough. Nellie nodded to her, then sighed and tried to stretch her back.
"And you were keeping him busy in the mean time, right?"
Mara leaned over the couch back, close to Nellie's ear. "There wasn't much I could do, he just started… And I thought he might leave if…"
The Beadle was trying out the keys, humming a tune. Nellie put her arms around Mara and used her as leverage to pull herself up enough to stand, causing the girl to nearly topple over.
"Mum! Just ask me to help you-"
"Shush, dear." Nellie got to her feet and was about to approach the Beadle, when Sweeney burst through the door, looking hurried and out of breath. "Mr. Todd!" she nearly screeched, rushing at him. "Beadle Bamford's here to inspect our bake house."
"Oh?"
"Yes.
And we've had to keep him waiting; why don't you give him a free
shave for his troubles?" But there was no need for Nellie to voice
the idea, for it was already coursing through Sweeney. His posture
straightened, and he, Nellie and Mara all stared at the Beadle. The
man plinked a random note of discord as he half-heartedly returned
the gaze.
"Yes," said Sweeney. "Come with me, Beadle Bamford, I'll give you a fine grooming, on the house." The Beadle took the bait without a breath of hesitation, obviously used to accepting bribes and having no shame in expecting them. The two men climbed up to the barbershop, shutting themselves off from the women below with a slam of the door.
"Do men do this all the time, mum?" Mara asked as she stared after them. "Destroy each other?"
Nellie chuckled openly, giving her daughter a gentle pat on the cheek.
"Dear, we're doing just the same, you have to realize that by now."
Mara hesitated.
"Mum, I… I really don't want to do this anymore."
Nellie came up behind her daughter, rubbing up and down the girl's arms.
"It's too late now. Mr. Todd's out to kill the Judge as we speak." Nellie kissed Mara's ear and held her as close as her stomach would allow. "I don't know what we'll do then; we'll be found out that much is certain."
The girl stiffened, unnerved by the physical attention she was receiving. Growing up, she'd barely even been hugged by Nellie, and now this, she couldn't comprehend.
She was the only one who jumped when the chute banged and the body slid past.
(I want to make a note about the line "…and truly be the Devil's agent; if the nuns and the beggars already called her such…" According to what I've read, even as late as the 19th century convents were still teaching that left-handers were agents of Satan. If you've caught the few descriptions of Nellie's handed-ness, you'll know I've made her a lefty, and she wasn't forced to change as a child for whatever reason. I only made this decision as a fellow lefty, of course.)
