Esteemed Malevolence

XXIX: The Diversion

That night, the pie shop was busier than Mrs Lovett had ever recalled it being before. She wasn't quite sure why...

But she presumed it was partly because the majority of clients wished to ask her about what she'd witnessed at the Judge's house.

After an hour or two, she must have relayed the sequence of the previous night's events dozens of times to scoffing snoopers - of course, she always missed out key details that she wished to keep to herself. Like the part where she and Mr Todd had danced together for one... not to mention the part when she'd arrived back home.

In short, the entire of her premises was rife with gossip about the Judge's ball - if customers weren't talking, they were likely to have their noses shoved in a paper, reading about the ordeal instead.

Into the third hour, when nine-o-clock finally approached, she finally had a gap to have a rest from the questions flying at her. She immediately dashed in from the courtyard, discarding the half-full tankard of ale on the counter, then let out a huff of air.

This night was taking a toll on her, and she knew it was partially due to the fact she'd had to rush herself to get ready earlier on. She was aware that she probably looked a lot more chaotic, seeing as she'd carelessly slid the pins through her hair and slung on any old dress. Luckily, Mr Todd's illness excuse kept anyone from inquiring about her state of dress - not that she was aware of what he'd told them.

Even though she'd been rushing to get dressed that afternoon, she must have been a while because Mr Todd hadn't seemed too happy when she'd finally set foot in her shop. He'd given her a hard stare, then had left almost immediately, like he couldn't stand the sight of her.

She sighed disappointedly as she remembered his look of annoyance.

Now that she was chatter-free, she headed to the bake-house to fetch another tray of pies, wearily rubbing her eyes with her half-gloved hand.

Once she finally arrived before the familiar bake-house doors, she quickly unlocked the pull latch and creaked open each one. Her movements froze once she heard a muffled commotion - the sounds of shrill shouts and the less prominent clamor of disgruntled customers catching her off-guard.

She inhaled sharply, quickly slamming the doors shut, fingers shaking slightly once she brought down the bar to secure their secrecy. Her expression evolved into one of panic, abrupt stomps of feet echoing from the stairs leading down from the barber shop - footsteps that were so hurried and dense, that the wall beside her shook.

"Mrs Lovett?!" she heard Sweeney whisper out harshly, causing her to feel like a sudden weight had been brought down on her chest.

Something was wrong.

Before she emerged to meet him, she heard him mumbling curses to himself - she could just imagine him pacing around or clutching at his dark locks of hair.

Because he desired to find her, she felt her panic reduce slightly. She knew that his alarm was likely to consume him completely. She knew that she would have to calm herself in order to make sure that they were still thinking in a practical manner.

Once he repeated her name a little more loudly, she exited through the parlour door, meeting him by the base of the narrow staircase.

"There you are." he spat out, his bloodshot eyes already giving away his stress and discomfort. "What the hell do you think you're doing?!"

Eleanor appeared to be taken aback. Her eyes had already started to well up from his sharp tone, but she didn't shy away from his accusing stare.

"Wot are you on about, Mr T? I'm doin' me bleedin' job, that's wot!" she replied, her voice trembling now that her chest was hurting far too much from the disappointment emitting from him.