Olivia Twist(79)

Even though she hadn’t been the one to harm Frannie, guilt pressed hard on her shoulders as she glanced back at the imperial arches of Newgate, the doors guarded by gaping mouths full of iron teeth. She could almost hear their snapping as they tried to devour her.

“Livie?” Violet tugged on her fingers. “Is something wrong?”

With a slow exhale, she pushed out the darkness permeating her soul and blinked through her blurred vision. She’d endured countless horrors in her lifetime. This place would not defeat her. The real murderer had turned himself in, after all. She took a step and then another away from the prison, and walked hand in hand with Vi to the waiting carriage.

The driver held open the door, and Olivia stepped into the darkened interior to find her uncle tucked under a fur lap-blanket. “Uncle!” She sat beside him and threw her arms around his neck. “You came to get me.”

“Of course I did, my darling girl. Those sawbones could not keep me away.” He pulled back and gazed into her eyes, but something in his expression froze her to the spot.

“Uncle, what is it? Have the charges not been dropped against me?”

Violet had settled on the seat across from them, and when her uncle didn’t reply Olivia’s gaze darted to her best friend. “Violet, has something else happened? Besides—” Olivia swallowed hard and then whispered, “Besides Fran?”

Her uncle patted her knee as the carriage jolted into motion. “Your name has been cleared, my dear. You’ve been through so much. Let’s just get you home, then we can have some tea and talk.”

The tiny hairs on the back of her neck rose. “Wait. My half brother turned himself in, did he not? Why else would I be free?”

An oppressive silence pierced the atmosphere in the carriage. When she met Violet’s tearful gaze, a shiver passed over her shoulders. “What is it, Vi?”

“The authorities really didn’t tell you why the charges were dropped against you?”

“Yes, they said the real murderer turned himself in.” Olivia’s voice rose in pitch, her worry and impatience making her snappish. “I already told you that.”

“Livie . . . he did turn himself in, but . . .” Vi paused and swiped at her wet cheeks. “It was Jack. Jack MacCarron confessed to killing Frannie.”

Olivia grabbed the seat as the world tipped. “What?” She shook her head so hard she felt sick to her stomach. “No! Jack didn’t do it! He would never—” Her words broke off in a sob. No, no, no. She wrapped her arms around her middle and bent in half.

Bony fingers gripped her arm. “Olivia!” Her uncle’s authoritative voice cut through her moaning. “We know he did not do it.”

Olivia stilled, her gaze swinging from her uncle to Violet. “You do?”

Vi nodded with a sad smile, tears still streaming down her cheeks. “He did it to save you, Livie. He told the police he hid the necklace in your room because he thought no one would ever think to look there. But we know he didn’t . . .”

“He’s been scouring the city for your half brother and his goons, but to no avail,” her uncle said as he rubbed her back in slow circles. “He came to the house early this morning and told me his plan. Perhaps it was selfish, but I did not try to stop him.”

Then it hit her like a house crumbling on top of her brick by brick; he’d lied to protect her, and if the authorities found out about Jack’s past as the Artful Dodger, he would hang for certain. “Oh, God,” Olivia cried out, praying she would wake up from this nightmare. She doubled over again, whimpers tearing from her gut. “Why? Why would he do this?”

“I’m fairly certain I know why he did it, my dear,” her uncle soothed. “But we’re not giving up. We will do everything we can to help him.”

But Olivia knew that if Jack hadn’t been able to find the real killer, using all his skill and connections, they had no chance. It was over and she’d never told him how she felt . . . never told Jack that she loved him.



Olivia woke from a restless sleep, the covers tangled around her waist. Disoriented, she rose on her elbows and turned her head to the window, the gray light edging the curtains only deepening her confusion. She was home in her own bed, but a monstrous darkness hovered at the edge of her mind like a demon ready to pounce. Her heartbeat accelerated, and a fine layer of sweat broke out over her skin.

When the memories hit, they knocked her on her back like waves. Brit had been beaten and almost killed. Frannie was gone; Jack in prison for her murder. Olivia curled onto her side and clutched a pillow to her face to muffle a sob. She couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t live.

She couldn’t go on knowing Jack was sacrificing his life for hers. She yanked the fabric away from her mouth and fought for air, but the waves of pain were unrelenting. Her evil brother’s blood-drenched face flooded her mind as he told Jack he’d kept him alive so that Jack could enjoy every moment of what he had planned next. Another wave of horror crashed down.

It was all because of her.

She sank deeper, her fingers clawing at the heavy water, her petticoats tangled around her arms, liquid flooding her lungs. Olivia sucked in a ragged breath. And then she stilled. That day in the Grimwigs’ pond when she’d believed her life was over, all she’d had to do was put down her feet.