Caught Somewhere in Time

Alive

The penny dropped in Sweeney's head. It all made sense now. Albert Lovett's wife, the old Mrs. Lovett, was dead but Eleanor was to be the new Mrs. Lovett and thus, she was very much alive. He felt stupid for the week he wasted mourning her instead of enjoying his time with his family or planning ahead how to avoid falling into the judge's clutches. Why hadn't he remembered Eleanor was Albert's second wife? The last name Price should have rung a bell but then again he didn't remember whether she ever told him what her maiden name was. How fitting, he thought, that her surname Price because everything about her came with a price. What he did manage to remember, albeit just vaguely, was her telling once telling him she only married Albert five months before he was sent to Australia. But it was more than enough time to fall in love with you. I loved you since the first time I saw you, she'd said and he clenched his teeth at the unwanted memory. He tried to bring his thoughts back to his past—or technically, his future— to dig up any memory of her that could be useful, but was irrevocably brought to the present when he felt her presence dangerously close to him.

He watched the petit woman effusively shaking Lucy's hand, only releasing it to shake his. Out of politeness he complied but hastily dropped it as he felt a sudden jolt of electricity that coursed through his body. He had avoided looking into her eyes but he could feel Eleanor's confused gaze on him as he stepped back, widening the distance between them. He and Lucy were then introduced to Eleanor's mother, Mrs. Price, whose cold demeanour did not soften in the five minutes they spent chitchatting. Five agonising minutes in which Sweeney watched his Lucy literally fraternising with the enemy.

They seemed to be getting along really well and he wondered if that was always the case in his original timeline. He hadn't witnessed much of their relationship, as most of their interactions happened when he was away working and Albert was tending his shop, leaving the two women alone to keep each other company but he had a hard time imagining them as friends. Because what kind of friend would sit idle as you poison yourself, throw you out to live on the streets, let the man who ruined your life take your baby and years after, lie about your death so she could steal your man? No, Eleanor had no friends, she only cared about herself. He wondered what would happen if he outed her now, if he told all present the lengths this woman would go to have him. But that would mean revealing his own circumstances and he couldn't risk everyone thinking him a lunatic.

"Can they join us for dinner?" Eleanor asked her fiancé sweetly, her posh accent feeling like nails on chalkboard to Sweeney's ears. It simply sounded so unnatural on her, as if it weren't the same woman he knew. But then again, who was the real Eleanor? She looked at Lucy and smiled and much to his dismay, his wife returned the smile. He made a mental note to have a talking with her to impede their budding friendship from progressing. He would not have his beloved Lucy befriending an actual snake. "Please, darlin' I would lave to get to know them better."

Sweeney's eyes shot open. There it was, that little slip of the tongue was the proof he'd been expecting to find, the proof that this new posh accent and ladylike appearance were nothing but a façade. It made him feel oddly glad that at least that part of the Eleanor he knew was real, that not everything he knew about her was a lie. No one else seemed to notice except for Mrs. Price, whose frown had returned upon hearing her daughter's diction mistake. He gritted his teeth, realising her mother was in on her whole proper lady farce. Lying must run in the family. He wondered why she was pretending? He certainly hoped it wasn't just to become a better marriage prospect for fat old Albert Lovett. After all, judging by the way his eyes kept venturing south instead of focusing on her face when she spoke, he couldn't care less if she were highborn or low.

"What a nonsensical request!" Mrs. Price exclaimed, craning her neck and scrunching her nose in disgust at the possibility of having to share the table with such a lowly company. Sweeney almost wanted to chuckle, the woman was probably lower class than both of them if Eleanor's true accent was any indication but there she was, acting high and mighty as if she were nothing short of Queen Victoria's lady-in-waiting. "Eleanor" she addressed her daughter sternly. "This dinner is for you and your future husband to better know each other. It is supposed to be intimate so you have the chance to discuss your future life together. You do not need other people meddling in your affairs."