Esteemed Malevolence

XXIII: After-Thoughts

Eight-thirty, every night for a week, like clockwork - Miss Fiori was there at Mrs Lovett's Emporium.

She'd occupy the same booth each time - the one directly beside the windows, hat tipped over her eyes (which completely defeated the point of her being next to a row of windows). She was never talkative. And she never once reminded Eleanor of her strange offer. It seemed like the only time she ever attempted to converse was to either politely greet Mrs Lovett, or in thanks after she paid for a shot of gin or two.

Her little routine continued until the day of the Judge's ball.

On that day she arrived during the lunch hour, which took Mrs Lovett completely off-guard. The baker shouldn't have been so irked about the undertaker being there... but she was because her early attendance clearly inferred that the young girl knew that the shop would be closed for the evening...

Though the presence of the girl was persistently invading Eleanor's thoughts, she managed to focus on the work of her lunch hour. She told herself she was being ridiculous, especially considering that Mr T never strayed from his shop during the day - so any confrontation between them two would be unlikely.

Not only was the presence of the undertaker off-putting, the behaviour of the lunch-crowd was obnoxiously loud. It was countless the amount of times that Eleanor had to refuse to serve someone because of their rude insistence, countless the number of times she had to chuck someone out for trying to initiate a fight with another customer.

Their custom was becoming less desirable.

But at least she didn't have to deal with them that evening.

She closed up at five in the afternoon - the young undertaker was the last to leave. As Mrs Lovett opened her shop door in order to lock up - more like politely infer that the last one left was to leave - the girl glided towards her, tipping her hat.

"I hope you have a bearable night." the girl murmured, her tone deadpan as she finally set on leaving her usual place. "You ought to tread carefully, Mrs Lovett. The Judge's celebrations are always notorious for laying out... assumptive judgements."

Eleanor had her hand poised over the door's latch as she held it open, Eva turning to face her more directly once she had neared - something about the smudged soot around her eyes and mouth seemed worse on this particular afternoon. Now that Mrs Lovett had noticed such a thing, it unsettled her.

"Please, do be careful."

Eleanor frowned at her, about to unleash a bombardment of confused questions but the girl had already passed by her to exit, adjusting the coat over her shoulders as she slowly faded into the current of civilians pouring into Fleet Street.

She had sensed something off ever since she'd woken up that morning. And she got the feeling the her sense of ill-will wasn't just going to disappear.

It already seemed as if it was swelling.

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ 

She sighed as she pulled out an old burgundy dress that she'd found at the back of her wardrobe - presumably one she'd not only acquired, but most likely stolen at some point... she didn't occupy her brain with such trivial matters and she slung the thing on, tightening the laces so that her breasts popped up and threatened to spill out from the so-called neckline of the corset.

Well... she knew Mr Todd would still be attending the ball, so there was always the chance to impress him - or make him jealous - so there was no need for scrimping with her appearance.

At the thought of the barber, her once cheerful excitement dropped. The look of sadness swept over her features as she peered back at her own reflection - each pane of mirror-glass was slightly warped due to the age of the vanity, and she suddenly felt disappointed... not to mention, vulnerable. She'd be without him the entire night, even if she saw him she wasn't to approach him. That's what he'd said.

And she did not dare disobey the man. The Judge was likely to die that night, and the last thing she wanted to do was delay the rat's death even further.

She was aware she'd told Mr Todd to wait but...

... she too, was growing slightly impatient at this point.

She blinked out of her thoughts and twisted her hair up into its habitual mess, where the pins strained against her skull from all the auburn curls they had to hold.

Seeing as her face looked rather peaky, she reached into one of the vanity's drawers, snatching out a small tin of red lip salve. She'd bought the stuff years ago and seeing as it had been such a heart-wrenching price, she hardly used the stuff... but seeing as this was a one-off occasion, now was a good time to put the stuff to use.

She dabbed her finger into the pale-red substance, smearing a small amount on both of her lips. Shoving the tin back into the murky depths of her dresser's drawers, she applied some rouge powder, but took care in not going completely over the top.

Once she was finished, she adjusted a couple of the pins taming back her curls, giving herself an unsure look as she stared back at her reflection.

"S'pose it'll be good enough..." she murmured, sighing from low-esteem once she turned away and returned to the wardrobe, unhooking her overcoat from its coat hanger.

" 'Ope I'm not too early..." she muttered to herself worriedly. She and Mr Todd had agreed to attend the event separately. If it was to go to plan, Sweeney was to arrive first, some half-an-hour before her, so no suspicions were to be aroused.

It was killing her not being able to be with him, but she was sure she'd bear it, so long as it was one night...

She huffed to herself, buttoning up her coat over her. She headed towards her bedroom door... and glanced back to the invitation she'd left on top of the dresser...

That had been more than an after-thought...

It was a good job it had been, otherwise she'd have bumped straight into the barber - he'd been stood in front of her closed door, black eyes glued to the doorknob. The look he wore was unreadable, but it was clear from his actions that he didn't truly wish to spend the night alone...

Upon hearing the scuffles of her feet from inside, he sighed heavily, swiftly turning on his heels.

Leaving without Mrs Lovett by his side seemed to be his after-thought.

It was an after-thought that she'd never know about.