Esteemed Malevolence

XXXII: The Oversight

There was something comical about Eleanor Lovett sneaking downstairs from Mr Todd's tonsorial parlour, avoiding her nosy customers' gazes - she was well and truly flushed as she over-cautiously stepped down each stair, holding the banister as she attempted to mask her heavy breaths of fatigue.

Something had been slightly different about Mr Todd that night, but she couldn't quite put her finger on what it was exactly.

Although, she had realised he was growing more insistent where their intimacy was concerned... it was rare that he'd go a night without at least lying next to her in her bed - yet every time she tried to communicate verbally about their affair, his answers (or often, his silence) conflicted with his actions.

It was no wonder the woman was still so confused, given that he was to begin with.

Eleanor had almost reached the bottom of the stairs, attempting to steady out her breathing as she skimmed her eyes over the rowdy crowd of gobblers, a small yet sinister smile touching upon her lips.

Even the dynamic of her customers tonight had shifted - they seemed louder and brasher, the majority of them had even bought a second - perhaps even a third - pie to feed their nauseating appetites. Eleanor had been excellent at holding back her shock of course... but internally she did wonder why everyone had suddenly grown to be greedier...

'Well... long as they's payin' there's no concerns to be 'ad.' she told herself, stepping onto the terrain of her courtyard and adorning a supposedly warm smile.

She still had pink blush over her cheeks and her lips were a glorious shade of red, not to mention, one side of her dress was higher up than the other. She wouldn't have been surprised if someone had put two and two together seeing as she'd just left Mr Todd's shop... but quite frankly, she didn't care.

Confidently wandering through the maze of packed tables, she briefly glanced over to the bench in the corner - now known to be Miss Fiori's usual table.

Toby Ragg was sat there alone, looking rather fed up with his chin resting upon his open palm - his other hand's fingers lightly drummed the table, his focus on the busy sight of Fleet Street... though it was clear that he was caught up in his own thoughts.

Mrs Lovett couldn't help noticing how sullen the lad looked, especially since he'd usually be so sprightly. Now having a burning need to cheer the boy up, she bustled over to him, adjusting her sleeves so that they sat in a more symmetrical fashion - she also did this because she didn't want the lad conjuring up any ideas about her and Mr T... partly since she knew how much the boy despised her beloved barber.

"Wot brings you 'ere, lad?" she asked, and he sat up straight at the sound of her airy voice, ears pricked up with interest. "Y'never usually 'ere on ya lonesome, 'specially wi' that great sulk on ya face."

"Thought I'd save the table - for Miss Fiori, I mean." he replied, not turning around to face her. "Ya wouldn't've 'appened to 'ave seen 'er, would ya?"

Mrs Lovett rounded the corner of the table in order to address him properly. She placed her hands on her hips, shaking her head and huffing out with exasperation.

" 'Fraid not, dear. 'M not expectin' 'er tonight, so you best not get'yer 'opes up." she told him quietly, bending forwards so that she could rest a hand on one of his shoulders.

He sighed, still not lifting his head up to face her.

"You're still gonna wait for 'er, aren't ya?" she chirped, a slight chuckle cutting into her words - she admired the lad's insistent optimism.