Getting Nellie up and going was more difficult in truth than it was in theory of course, but they managed somehow. With a hold of Nellie's arm so she wouldn't flee or lose her footing, Lillian led them down streets and through St. Dunstan's marketplace, while Nellie kept her face under Lillian's shawl so as not to be recognized. But she soon tired, and they sat at a wall by a large expanse of cobblestone road, out of the way of merchant carts and foot traffic.
Lillian didn't try to talk or comfort, she only waited dutifully, like a horseman letting his beast drink. Over her own ragged breaths Nellie could barely hear her thoughts, but she became aware of the apprehension that was slowly pulsing through her. She wasn't just going home to the pie shop and the poor, pathetic (if not dreadfully violent) mass of vengeance and improprieties that was her Mr. Todd. This was different, and she wasn't prepared. For, post-vengeance, what was he now? Had he descended further into madness for lack of purpose, or was he truly fulfilled and reviving his life as Mara had suggested? It was terrifying to think that he might have had another transformation, like his return from Australia, because it didn't seem possible that any kind of change could be for the better
The Redgrave Inn was up a rocky path that disappeared in a field of weeds and never quite showed up again. Nellie stopped when they reached the porch and looked up at the faded lettering, which really only read 'R…ve I'.
"Come on, come on," Lillian hissed at her and took Nellie's hand to lead her through the door. It screeched furiously through out its open and close swings, and several cats shot in and out before the exit disappeared. The Inn's deserted first floor was furnished with several tables, chairs, and benches, scattered haphazardly and without suggestion that any one was meant to function with another. Many of the chairs were even toppled and growing cob-webbings to the floor.
Lillian had stopped in the middle of the disarray, glancing about hesitantly.
"He shouldn't see me with you." Her voice was still a whisper. "He usually returns not long from this time. Why don't you wait out here for him?"
"And tell him what?"
"That's for you to decide; you're the one with the 'wit.'"
Nellie huffed impatiently and jerked her hand out of Lillian's hold.
"So I'm just expected to convincingly show up out of thin air?"
"I have a room at the end of the corridor upstairs, the broom closet on the left," Lillian said as a conclusion. She then hiked up her skirts and began climbing a narrow stairway that had escaped Nellie's attention until now. Its opening was little more than a missing panel in the wall, and looked like it could easily be hidden by a well-placed bookcase. No more than a few steps up Lillian was out of sight.
Through her uncertainty Nellie was feeling the hints of longing for her pie shop that the setting gave her, that made her adrenaline gasp and hesitate with the expectation of sweeping and serving and rushing in and out of her kitchen, listening for the bell on her door. The smell here, of yeast and crust and char, was old, merely clinging to the surroundings; if the kitchen once served baked meals to its patrons it hadn't for some time. The odor of grease and ale, however, was heavy.
Nellie sat facing the entrance on the nearest bench, sighing as it creaked under her weight, and tapped her foot impatiently. She had been trying to think of better ways to follow their deranged plan when she paused her tapping to listen as voices and footsteps came from a back door beyond the kitchen. They had a routine going about, clanking dishes on table tops, and pragmatism told Nellie it must be the Inn keepers; that or very at-home crooks.
"Well, where do you suppose she came from, I wonder?" A woman's high, nasal voice came from the kitchen behind Nellie, speaking as though she couldn't be completely overheard. A man's low rumble was more discreet, and then the whine continued; "But look at her dress! That ain't no beggar's dress, it isn't. Maybe she's lost or been kicked out by her husband."
Nellie hadn't moved at first, only shifted her eyes in an effort to look out the back of her head, but now she turned in time to see a flash of fabric flee the slight opening of the door. She could feel the apprehension from the kitchen, and after a beat the woman finally pushed through the door like she wasn't expecting to greet anyone. She was younger than Nellie, early thirties perhaps, with large deer like eyes and dark hair that sharply contrasted her powder pale skin.
"Hello, dearie, where did you come from?" she asked, giving Nellie a toothy smile. When she didn't answer the woman approached her, hesitating slightly when she saw how pregnant Nellie was. "Well, you poor thing, what have you been dragged through?"
"A good deal of filth, by the looks of it." Nellie tried to brush some of it off her knees, but it was stained to the cloth. The woman sat next to her, her legs splayed un-modestly, as though she had nothing better to do, and she probably didn't. Her hair was barely held together in a knot, and coming a little more undone with every movement.
"Do you need some help, dearie? I'm afraid we can't afford much charity, but…"
"I'm just waiting for someone," said Nellie.
"There ain't much folks to wait for around here, I'm afraid. Except for that tall bloke with hair like he fought a hurricane." The woman slid her feet under her with a jerk. "He ain't your husband, is he?"
Nellie looked at her hands. "What makes you say that?"
"Well, it's just that he has those two girls with him, and I was hoping to myself that they had a mother some where."
"Hm." Nellie gave no other answer, scratching absently at her dress fabric.
"I have some little ones myself; an older girl, too, but she's off and married already." She turned behind them, where a large man with poorly cropped hair was standing behind the counter. Nellie hadn't even heard him come out. "George, are the kids still out by the Morrisons' yard?"
George grunted some kind of answer.
"They'll come back when they're hungry," the woman said affectionately. "Oh, this is my husband, George Redgrave; my second husband, really. My first husband's name was George, too…" Her current George grumbled a response. "Right, I was just about to. I'm Louise." She grabbed Nellie's hand to shake it, but only got a dead fish. "If our Mr. Whoever is the one you're waiting for, he usually comes back around this time for supper."
"You don't happen to know where he goes off to, do you?" Nellie asked.
"Can't say I do, dearie. As long as he pays his fees we don't pry."
If only God could hear them now. The couples' pointed lack of knowledge about their guest, even his name, was as purposeful as she'd thought; they knew perfectly well who he was and what he'd done, but as long as he paid them it didn't matter. Could Nellie hardly be called the villain of this penny dreadful now?
Louise chattered on a while longer, but Nellie found she had lost interest in mindless conversations with strangers, and it gave her an empty feeling, like organs had been physically taken out of her. But Lovett busied herself with the ale she was offered, to calm her nerves, and as long as her mouth was on the mug's lip she wasn't expected to respond. By the time a tall figure came through the entry door Nellie was being lulled by the buzz in her mind, and nearly missed him as he took long, quick strides towards the staircase.
"Mr. Todd!" her mouth cried out even before her mind recognized him, and he paused, turning stiffly. Nellie leaned forward, almost too far, to push herself to her feet, but as soon as she'd approached him he snatched a grip on her wrist. Nellie gasped and stared openly at his face, trying desperately to read the blank stone features. Sweeney looked over her at the Innkeepers until satisfied they were making themselves busy, then pulled Nellie close to lead her up the stairs.
"Mr. Todd, can't you be gentle? I haven't much balance." But Sweeney ignored her complaints, pulling Nellie around the top stairs banister and shoving her into his room.
"How did you find us?" he snapped out, stopping just inside the closed door. "What did you come for?"
"What would I come for, Mr. Todd?" Nellie turned, casually looking about the small, dark room. As Sweeney spoke she approached the two beds crammed head to head in a corner, rolling onto the nearest one with awkward difficulty.
"You plague me, woman. You hide yourself for months and then show up when I'm convinced you're dead? Do you expect me to believe you won't turn me in?"
"What, and get myself arrested, too? I'm not here for any of that." Nellie leaned back against the wall, resting her hands on her stomach. "The baby's nearly here, Mr. Todd. I only need somewhere to stay until then."
Mention of the baby made Sweeney finally look at her abdomen, which he'd tried to avoid up until then, and he then took an agitated turn about the room, not able to escape his own muddled feelings.
"We're in a delicate situation, Mrs. Lovett. I can't afford to wait around much longer."
"Oh, come now. You've waited around this long, what's another week or so?"
"Another week or so!" Sweeney snapped, and though he didn't move Nellie still jumped. "They could find evidence enough to arrest us at any moment! Because of you we couldn't flee like I'd planned to, and I refuse to let you delay us again."
"Mr. Todd…" Nellie whined, pouting her lips as pathetically as she could muster. "I made it here, but my body won't let me go much farther. You want to carry me the whole way?"
"I doubt that'd be possible."
"Then let me rest, won't you? Good heavens!" Nellie chuckled, letting the ale take over as her adrenaline was calming, and she leaned over slowly until she was lying on her side. "I'll be out of your way soon enough, and you'll have your child. If you want her to live you'll have to let her come on her own, which means not stressing me into an early labor."
Sweeney stopped and stared, something turning behind his blank eyes. Concern, perhaps.
"Can that happen?"
"Of course it can, ask any mother." She wasn't quite aware of the smile on her face, which made her seem strangely content with the situation. Sweeny sat down on the opposite bed and hunched over, until his forehead was nearly on his knees, and didn't move again. Nellie watched him, wondering if he was so agitated that his brain just went on time out. His pointed immobility might have gone on forever, but footsteps were soon heard on the stairs, and Sweeney looked up, knowing whom to expect.
"Sorry I'm late, Mr. Todd, I'll get started on – Oh!" Mara froze just inside the door, the basket on her arm swinging back into Johanna who was trailing right behind. "Oh God, mum! How did…?" She stared at Nellie, not in surprise but shocked fear.
Johanna looked over Mara's shoulder. "Mrs. Lovett! Good to see you again."
"Shut the door," said Sweeney, finally standing to direct them, and the two girls quickly obeyed before settling themselves on the floor, awaiting his next wishes. Nellie sat up to watch them, worried that their obedience came from actual respect for their twisted father figure, rather than a pure instinct for survival. But while Johanna was staring intently at her knees –pretty Johanna, still a golden beauty despite her humble dress and matted hair- Mara was looking straight up at Sweeney, with Lucy's wide eyes that must have made the man long for her at every glance. Oh, how these women made him suffer – each one a broken piece of his past and his desires, but never able to fit together and make him whole again.
"We're going to stay a short while longer," Sweeney told them, "until Mrs. Lovett has had her child." Mara shot a quick glance at Nellie, as though to ask, 'It's coming soon?' but betrayed no concern to Sweeney.
"You still want the child?" Mara asked coolly. Sweeney gave a harsh sigh.
"She can't travel until it's out of her, so we have no choice but to wait."
And what a fib it was; how could they know what he was planning to do to her after the birth?
"Shall I start supper now?" said Mara, but gave him a hard look, a woman's look, a you will never truly own me look. Sweeney grunted and turned away, as though he recognized the look, too, and was disgusted that it should be on a face that was otherwise so like his Lucy's. Ever faithful Lucy.
Sweeney soon left the room with a claustrophobic's haste, as Mara gathered some pots and utensils piled by the lone window.
"Mara…" Nellie said softly, with a new fondness she hadn't expected. Or perhaps it was just the ale. "My little Mara, all grown up and playing the role of wife."
"I'm not his wife," Mara muttered.
"Soon?" said Nellie, with a chuckle that fueled itself. Mara threw the cooking ware into the largest pot, with a purposeful crash that made Johanna squeak in surprise.
"You're horrid, mother," Mara hissed, standing to stare at Nellie. Her actions seemed like a challenge, but they soon became an observation, if they weren't initially. "Are you drunk?"
"Only a bit. It seems I can't quite hold my ale like I used to."
"You shouldn't be holding it at all. If you get back in that habit now, you'll get yourself too drunk to walk and end up hurting the baby."
"And just who's the mother here? You think it's any use lecturing me?" Nellie raised her eyebrows emphatically, but couldn't help giggling at her own serious tone of voice.
Mara's eyes flickered between the bed and Nellie on it, and then she looked from left to right, shifting her weight to the other hip.
"Take these to the kitchen." She dumped the pot and basket into Johanna's arms, who buckled under the weight.
"Are you going to come down soon?" Johanna's voice seemed higher than before, with a slight rasp. "You'll come and help me, right?"
"Of course, I'll be down in a minute," said Mara, having a strange motherly manner towards the girl who was more than a year older than her. Johanna was satisfied, and smiled at Nellie before nudging the door open with her foot and struggling out to the stairs.
"Mum, come downstairs and wait for dinner." Mara grabbed Nellie's arm and pulled it, causing her mother's torso to jerk forward and back.
"But I just got up here."
"Just for a bit. I'm sure Mr. Todd's down there brooding and trying to be left alone, and you can go bother him by being romantic and such."
"You're being blunt," Nellie muttered, but allowed Mara to hold around her back to push her to her feet.
Sweeney was just as Mara said he would be, sitting in a far corner with his elbows on the table and forehead in his hands. There were children's voices chattering from somewhere, either the kitchen or outback, and Louise's voice was cutting above the noise, drowning out whomever she happened to be speaking to. Mara led Nellie to Sweeney's table and was careful in helping her sit next to him.
"Now you two wait here," Mara said, knocking on the table twice, "and I'll come out with supper in a while." Sweeney watched her leave for the kitchen, the swaying of her hips, but Nellie's eyes stayed on him.
"Do you love her, Mr. Todd?" she asked when Mara was out of earshot.
Sweeney's gazed shifted down to her.
"What?"
"I'm no fool; I see the way you look at her."
"I imagine you'd be furious if that were the case."
"No." Nellie leaned into Sweeney's shoulder. "I'm used to men whose lust wanders. I was married to one once."
"You could have been married to any man," said Sweeney, resting his chin on the top of her head as he placed a hand on her stomach. "I'd take care of Mara, protect her, and never let anyone take her away."
"I'm sure you would."
"I thought it's what she wanted, too, but now she's reluctant." He turned his head towards the kitchen door, his thumb rubbing the fabric over Nellie's stomach.
"Hey!" Nellie chuckled as she grabbed Sweeney's thumb. "Love, that tickles."
"Hm."
"Oh, well, look at you two!" Louise came out of the kitchen, side-stepping the cats and small boy who rushed out ahead of her. "Jimmy! Jimmy, don't pull out its whiskers! Sorry, don't mind the chaos, dearies." She made it to their table and set a mug down in front of Sweeney. "Here you are, sir. Sorry, missy, none for you, your girl threatened to burn the place down if I did."
"Prudish and violent," Nellie mumbled.
"I just knew you two were together, I did. I can tell these things." Louise gave them a smile and wiped off the table, not noticing their lack of response. "It's nice to have another family around; one without small children, of course. But that won't be for long, will it? I'm okay with having babies around of course, and if you ever need any help just ask, I know the process well myself."
"At the moment I just need help waiting for the birth," Nellie sighed, hoping the discomfort she was beginning to feel was just indigestion.
"Don't
worry, dearie, it'll come soon enough." Louise gave Nellie's
shoulder a sympathetic pat and began prattling on again, but Nellie
was too focused on the pains in her hips and sides to listen. She
shifted in her seat and the pain faded, hopefully only caused by
false contractions.
"What's wrong?" Sweeney asked her, not
paying attention to Louise either.
"Nothing," said Nellie, but she could feel her face flushing. "I'm just not feeling well."
"Is it the child?"
"No, no." Nellie stood up, not letting Sweeney help her. She was very conscious that he and Louise were staring at her. "I'm going to go back upstairs."
"I'll bring your supper up when it's ready," Louise offered, but didn't get a response from Nellie as she left.
