I Doubt If Anyone Would Know

Summary: AU. Nellie Lovett is transported for knifing her husband in self-defence. Now she has returned ten years later to find that London isn't the way she left it – and that one barber in particular is in need of help.

A/N: Yes, I must be crazy for starting a new series, but I had this plotbunny and it's gnawing my foot off trying to be written. Also, I kinda wanted to get this up before anyone else had the same idea, if they haven't already. Probably someonehas done this before, but oh well. There will be several key AU points to this fic. One: Nellie being transported happens five years later than Benjamin would have been, so she's been away for ten years not fifteen. Two: Lucy is dead. As a doornail. How and why will become clear, but she is most definately dead. Three: The plotline will essentially be similar to the original universe, but obviously AU's have to differ somewhere, as this will. So, for instance, Benjamin will still become Sweeney, but under different circumstances, and he's obviously not going to be so 'kill-kill-kill', and even though Nellie will still be kind at heart, it's buried pretty deeply and only shows through once in a while.

Prologue – Moonlight On The Decks

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As salty sea air streamed over the darkened decks on the Bountiful, only two figures stood upon them, the reason being that the hour was late, and the wind bitingly chilly. One of the figures, a woman of around thirty years, probably a little more, stood looking out over the opaque black water sloshing against the ship's hull, stray auburn hairs captured and toyed with by the breeze. Yet the woman did not seem to notice the chill, for she had neither a shawl nor a coat around her shoulders – just a simple dress, worn from work, and ragged along the hem. She was humming to herself, the tune so quiet that it was all but lost in the wind, tapping her fingers.

Tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap-tap.

The other figure on the deck was a young, naïve sailor by the name of Anthony Hope. He was just past seventeen, a man in some ways, but still an innocent boy in so many others. Hesitantly, he approached the woman stood by the deck without the slightest shiver, though Anthony himself had his jacket held to him tightly. He had learnt little of Susan Linnet, except that she hailed from London originally, and – as far as he could tell – once had a thriving meat pie business. Yet, on the rare occasions Mrs Linnet had spoken of her past in the weeks since Anthony had spotted her adrift on the ocean, the young sailor had noted that a tussle of emotions sparked momentarily in her dark brown eyes. It was so brief that Anthony couldn't register them all by any means, but he definitely identified sadness, and anger.

Yes, Mrs Linnet was mysterious, all right, but in some ways she reminded Anthony of his own deceased mother. The way she would purse her lips sometimes, the way she'd put her hands on her hips and glared when one of the other – more foolish – sailors had commented about the bad luck a woman brought to a ship.

So Anthony had, in a way, attached himself to the strange woman, some deep instinct telling him that she needed a companion. And even though the same instinct told him that Mrs Linnet had someone in mind she'd rather talk to, she seemed happy enough at times to converse with him. It was this fact, this feeling of protectiveness almost – even though Anthony had already seen that she was more than capable of taking care of herself – that drove the sailor boy to take a coat to the woman.

"Mrs Linnet?" He spoke softly; almost unwilling to break the trance she seemed to be in. His mind automatically filled in the words to the song she was humming. It was a melancholy tune, haunting, like a nursery rhyme sung out of place, thus being twisted into something disturbingly unfamiliar.

Down by Fleet Street

Up by the market

I've got sixpence

Sixpence to spend

Should I buy a linnet bird?

Or perhaps some lemon curd?

Should I buy some toffee?

For my friends and me?

Should I buy a meat pie?

The best I've had, no lie?

Or should I save it for a day?

A day for when it's needed, say?

When he got no response, Anthony dithered as to whether or not he felt bold enough to rouse Mrs Linnet. But as soon as he had made the choice to leave her be – not through cowardice, per say, but thanks to a choice memory of an event that somehow hadn't seemed to reach the eyes and ears of the captain – the woman blinked several times and turned towards him.

"Anthony." She stated blankly, and then… she didn't smile – Anthony had yet to see her actually smile – but her features seemed to warm. "Supper up in the galley already?"

"No, Ma'am." Anthony hesitated. "Um, supper was several hours ago. It's almost midnight, Ma'am."

"Oh." Mrs Linnet cast her eyes towards the moon – a full one, colouring the decks a ghostly silver. "So late already?"

"Yes, Ma'am."

Mrs Linnet lapsed into silence, and Anthony couldn't think of anything to say to pierce the sudden silence. No, he corrected himself, not silence – there was still the comforting creak of the ship, the soft, silky sound of wind filling the sails, and the gentle, constant slapping of waves against the hull. Yet these sounds were so quiet they seemed to be barely there. Surely, the only time one heard them properly was at a time like this, in the dead of night.

"We'll be nearin' London roundabout now, won't we?"

The question, spoken in normal tones, made Anthony jump slightly, the volume so different from the subtlety of the environment that it seemed louder than it should.

"Yes, London should be in sight by tomorrow night." Anthony confirmed. "Perhaps sooner, if this favourable wind stays with us. We should dock by the day after, with any luck."

Mrs Linnet nodded, taking this in, and the words she whispered next seemed to be directed at herself more than Anthony.

"Be back soon then. Back at long last. Too bad I'm alone."

Anthony cleared his throat quietly, feeling as though he was witnessing something private, and gestured to the jacket thrown over his arm.

"Well, I just came to bring you this, Mrs Linnet. Thought you'd perhaps have a chill by now."

The woman looked at him, something akin to surprise in her eyes. This was another thing that triggered Anthony's interest. No matter how many small kindnesses or favours he and various other crewmembers showed Mrs Linnet, she always seemed surprised that they'd bothered. He was curious as to what prompted this reaction, though he would never ask. After a moment, Mrs Linnet nodded and took the proffered item of clothing, slipping it around her slim shoulders.

"Thank you, lad." She said softly, her gaze drifting once again towards the sea –or, perhaps, the horizon, where London was approaching – her pale skin seeming to glow almost in the moonlight. She seemed to deliberate something before speaking. "Anthony, why d'you care?"

"Pardon?" Whatever Anthony had been expecting, this was not it. Was this a trick question, designed to catch him out? If so, why?

"Why did you point me out when you saw me?" Mrs Linnet continued, not meeting his eye. "Why d'you keep doin' me favours? I've nothin' to give you in return."

Comprehension dawned, like a ray of enlightenment. This wasn't a trick, or a ruse. This was simply a lone woman wondering how she would pay back her rescuer. Anthony felt a wave of relief crash over him, and he almost tripped over his words in his haste to assure Mrs Linnet he had no intention of seeking repayment of any sort.

"Is this not what any good Christian would do, Ma'am?" He asked with a small smile, the expression faltering in his companion's snort at his words.

"There's many a good Christian would 'ave let a body drown afore puttin' 'emselves out." Mrs Linnet remarked. "So I'll ask again: why?"

Anthony was an honest lad, and so even though it briefly crossed his mind to lie, he shoved the thought away. Mrs Linnet, he felt, deserved his honesty. So, blushing, and avoiding the woman's eye, he muttered his response.

"Well, Ma'am, it's just… you remind me of my mother some."

He didn't know what to expect next, but he certainly had no inkling that Mrs Linnet would do what she did.

"Look at me, Anthony." She said softly, and when Anthony rose his eyes, he saw an expression of tenderness, almost on the woman's features. Gently, she reached out and held his chin, turning his face one way, and then the other, examining it in the moonlight. Finally, she let go and sighed.

"Funny thing, that." She remarked. "You make me think o' 'ow me boy would'a turned out."

Silence stretched between them, and Anthony thought he might burst with questions. Eventually, Mrs Linnet spoke in a voice so quiet, it was all but lost in the wind.

"Anthony… I'd appreciate it if you left me to me thoughts."

"Of course, Ma'am." Anthony backed away quietly, his thoughts all concerning the mysterious woman he was leaving on the deck. As he walked away, the sound of tapping, which had stopped whilst they conversed, began again, echoing around the deck.

Tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap-tap.

A/N: Well, what do you think? Review please, or else I'm going to assume nobody likes this and it will be deleted. So if you read this and enjoyed it, click on the little blue button that says 'Submit Review'. Reviewers also get an Easter egg of their choice xD