Sweeney stared at her, too dumbfounded to speak. She was dead, Albert told him she was. It simply wasn't possible. Was this one of the Watcher's tricks? Or was her death another lie? Was he losing his mind and she was just a hallucination of his sex-starved brain? His mind was too fuzzy to make sense of it, to try and find a logical explanation for the sight before him. The only thing he could do was stare.
Perhaps it was the fact that he had got used to the idea of never seeing her again but he thought she looked beautiful, far too beautiful to be a ghost. She was so very much the same as he remembered but so very different at the same time. The flowing dress she was wearing was powder pink and quite conservative around the chest area, careful not to expose too much skin to somewhat preserve her modesty, a far cry from the obscenely low cut dresses in darker tones she favoured in his original timeline and yet her corset was tied as tightly as usual to accentuate her hourglass figure. Her skin was as pale and smooth as ever, but devoid of the soft lines of age and sorrow, lines that to him only accentuated her beauty, the beauty of a survivor just like him. Her curls were still wild and bouncy but partially tamed into a chignon and they were no longer dark copper but slightly lighter in colour, chocolate brown with some chestnut highlights. Her eyes were still big and expressive but unwary, almost innocent-looking, staring back at him in amusement. And then she smiled, with that rare smile of hers that now seemed to come so easily. A smile that used to make the world stop, so radiant that it managed to conceal her wickedness to the untrained eye. She was as beautiful as she was evil.
He heard someone clearing their throat and stopped his study of Eleanor to focus on the woman accompanying her. Taller and leaner, but with a pair of eyes the same shade of brown and greying curls that would look just as crazy if she didn't have them up in a tight bun. There was no doubt in his mind that this was Eleanor's mother and judging by the deep frown etched on her face, she wasn't happy with the way he was looking at her daughter.
"I believe Mr. Lovett is expecting us" the older woman said with disdain, as if he were nothing but a servant. Her retrieved pronunciation surprised him, fully expecting the woman to speak in a variation of her daughter's cockney accent but then again, Eleanor could have very well lied about her lower class upbringing and put on her trademark accent to better appeal to the common folks that made up the most of her clientele like the master of deception she was. He threw one quick glance at her and saw her lightly shrug and look down, as if she couldn't contradict her mother. Such demure and childish gesture reminded him that in this timeline, she wasn't an independent adult fully responsible for her actions and yet, as he looked at her, carrying herself with such naïveté he quickly recognised as a façade by the glint in her eyes, his blood boiled. This was the woman who'd ruined his life, purposely walking back into it as she followed her mother to the parlour where they met Lucy and Albert.
"Nellie, darling!" Albert exclaimed when he saw her, his own eyes studying her figure just like he had barely a minute ago, except for the fact that the larger man could barely hide his lust. Sweeney saw him grab Eleanor's hands and kiss them fervently, leaving them wet with his saliva. He had to look away or he'd gag. His gaze shifted to Lucy, looking dreamily at the pair as if they were present day Romeo and Juliet and then to Mrs. Price, whose previous frown replaced by a pleased smile. Eleanor herself was smiling at Mr. Lovett but Sweeney had the feeling it was a fake smile, like those she deployed when she served human meat pies to the unsuspecting customers. Or at least that was what he willed himself to believe.
"My beloved, let me introduce you to my tenants" Albert said after a while, suddenly remembering they were in the room "Your future tenants" he winked and turned to Lucy. Sweeney moved to his wife's side, wrapping his arm protectively around her. "Mr. and Mrs. Barker, this is my fiancé, Miss Eleanor Price."
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."
"Yet here you are" Eleanor commented and Sweeney was internally cheering at her retort. What an insufferable woman, she almost made Eleanor seem likeable. He saw the older woman's eyes harden as she looked at her daughter with barely concealed anger. But Eleanor didn't avert her gaze, did not cower, which only seemed to make her mother angrier.
"I'm sorry, my sweet, but I don't think that will be possible. You see, the Barkers here have a little girl who can't be left alone for long" Albert spoke nonchalantly, seemingly ignoring his fiancée's remark and the growing tension between the two Price women.
"A little girl!" Eleanor excitedly exclaimed, once again happy as a lark. All present visibly jumped but Sweeney did not react. He was more than used to Eleanor's mercurial outbursts.
He remembered distinctly one time shortly after his return. She was morosely cleaning the shop, for what, he didn't know because she still had no customers but he supposed it had become a routine. He went down for a glass of gin but stopped on the doorway upon seeing her. She looked so sad, so lost, so hopeless and he wondered what was going on in that crazy head of hers. She certainly couldn't be like that because he ordered her out that morning when she was blabbering non-stop and he needed quiet to plan his revenge. Then she turned around and saw him, a wide smile suddenly crept into her face, lighting up her features. All the dark thoughts that were clearly plaguing her mind a minute ago seemingly forgotten for the time being as she happily grabbed the bottle of gin and led him to the parlour where they drank and talked until they were too drunk to stay awake. He couldn't help but fondly recall how happy she was that night, despite the fact that he didn't do anything out of the ordinary, didn't magically become talkative and warm like she was. It was almost like he made her happy just by being there, just by being him.
"Please, Mrs. Barker, let me see her! Let me meet your little angel!" she asked Lucy and the shier woman seemed slightly overwhelmed at Eleanor's effusiveness. Still she managed to nod and smile warmly and Sweeney could do nothing but watch as Lucy led her to the door and then up the stairs. He made a motion to follow them, unable to supress the fear she might hurt Johanna. After all, she was something that would always tie him to Lucy, something precious they would always share which in her twisted mind was probably nothing but a threat to her ambitions to fully own him. He wouldn't be surprised if she herself had handed his daughter to that monster Turpin in a silver plate so that when he arrived there were no vestiges of his beloved family, of his past life. Only herself.
"She loves babies" Albert commented, forcing him to stay longer in the room out of politeness. "She is going to be a great mother to our children. Ah, I can't wait to start trying for them, if you know what I mean" he chuckled as he playfully elbowed Sweeney who once again fought not to gag.
What did Eleanor see in him? In this forty-year-old pervert who clearly only coveted her body? Sweeney allowed himself a few seconds to briefly study Albert Lovett; bald head, protruding stomach and pudgy fingers currently curling around one of the muffins Lucy made. He didn't know why Eleanor seemed interested in marrying him. After all, with her cunning ways and her... outer beauty, she could find someone better. Someone richer and better looking and a lot less disgusting. Looking as he gobbled the muffin, he couldn't help but be reminded of Beadle Bamford. He's repulsive, she'd said about the judge's side kick. Not only as a person but as a man. Have you seen him? His body? His face with those tiny blue eyes that leer not only at me but at anything that moves? He's disgusting. I swear that if he were the only man left in the world, I'd go celibate. And he'd almost laughed, because he had a hard time imagining her as celibate when she was lying next to him completely naked after their third romp of the night, which certainly was not to be the last one judging by the way she was now looking at him. Be glad you are nothing like the beadle, were her last words before she crushed her mouth to his and he'd smirked against her lips because she was insatiable and he liked her that way.
"We should go up. There's nothing more dangerous than two women alone together. Who knows what they can be conspiring about" Albert chuckled as he wiped his face off breadcrumbs with his sleeve. Sweeney just nodded in agreement and he turned to Eleanor's mother, whom Sweeney had forgotten was even in the room. The woman was quiet as a mouse, a far cry from her boisterous daughter. "Would you like to join us, Mrs. Price? I wouldn't want to leave you here all alone."
"Oh, no, thank you, Mr. Lovett. My poor knees wouldn't be able to handle such a steep flight of stairs. But you go and join my daughter and I'll be waiting here. Do not worry about me and take your time, spending time with a baby will certainly help you for when you have your own family" Mrs. Price replied and Sweeney immediately recognised the 'poor knees' phrase as an excuse. How many times had Eleanor used it on him so he helped bring her things up and down the bake house just to have him close, when she was perfectly able? But regardless, he was glad Mrs. Price was not accompanying them. He didn't like her haughty attitude but there was something else, something sinister, something only a person who'd done as much evil as he had could recognise in a kindred spirit.
He and Albert ascended the stairs in silence, with Sweeney trying to convince herself that Johanna would be alright. Even if Eleanor wanted her out of the way, she was clever enough not to show her true colours right from the start. Besides, if what the Watcher said about Eleanor not loving him was true, then she had no reason to want Johanna gone. However, he was not prepared for what he saw when he opened the door. Eleanor was running around the room, carrying Johanna piggy-back style as the little girl giggled and gurgled in appreciation. Lucy was sitting on an armchair, beaming contently as she watched them play. The scene before him was so wholesome that Sweeney couldn't recall the last time he witnessed such a joyous display, especially in a room that had become his brooding and grieving sanctuary. And then, a stray thought crossed his mind; how joyous would she be if instead of Johanna it was her own baby, the baby she'd been desperately wanting all her life? Their baby, the one he wanted to kill just like he wanted to kill her. All warmth he might have felt was replaced by ire, by pain, by betrayal-tinted darkness.
Without thinking, he strode towards Eleanor and unceremoniously snatched his baby from her arms. She looked at him shocked and he could see how her chestnut orbs started to brim with unshed tears like a child whose toy was taken away before she blinked them back and regained the composure that befitted the lady she was pretending to be.
"Is there something wrong?" she asked but Sweeney ignored her. How could he tell her that he didn't want her to ever touch his child again? That he wouldn't let such a cunning, sinful woman get the chance to corrupt his innocent Johanna? That the woman who completed the breaking of his heart and whose lies killed Johanna's own mother had no place near her, when she hadn't done that yet? So he remained silent.
"Oh, it's nothing. You, see, Johanna was sick a few days ago and I'm sure my husband is just worried all this rough and tumble is going to upset her tummy again. This little angel here gave us many sleepless nights" Lucy interjected and picked up Johanna from his arms as Eleanor managed a small smile, clearly still bewildered by the tall man who looked at her with dark eyes full of hatred despite having just met her. He, on his part, was trying to guess whether Lucy was simply lying to cover for him or whether Johanna had indeed been sick before he awoke in the present timeline. He hoped it was the latter because his Lucy never lied. Her honesty and her purity were two of the things he adored about her and he did not want to be the one to commence the blackening of her soul. Although, technically, Eleanor was the one to blame here. If she had simply stayed out of the way and not tried to get close to Johanna, he wouldn't have had to rudely take his daughter from her and Lucy wouldn't have had to step in. Everything was always bloody Eleanor's fault.
"I'm sorry, I didn't know" she apologised and he thought he could feel some sincerity in her voice but with her, one could never be sure. She turned to Lucy and the two of them started chatting for a while as Eleanor made funny faces to Johanna, who giggled hysterically as if she'd seen nothing funnier in her life. Sweeney was seething.
"I think we should head downstairs, Nellie. Your mother is waiting" Albert said as he approached Eleanor. He grabbed her hand and led her to the door, where he two of them bid adieu to the Barker family before going outside. Sweeney's gaze was fixated on the door she'd just disappeared into, knowing fully well she might have left the room but not his life. And unless he did something, she was there to stay.