Olivia Twist

by Lorie Langdon

CHAPTER 25

  Olivia awoke to music, the sweet, sweeping notes of a song mixing with the remnants of her dreams. Soft sunlight slanted through her window and across her coverlet as she stretched an arm over her head and smiled. She’d been dreaming of Jack.

  Jack!

  Excitement propelled her out of bed. When they’d opened Monks’s safe box, Judge Perkins had assured her Jack’s conviction would be overturned and he’d be free before morning. Which had now arrived!

  She was tugging her trousers on under her nightgown when a pinging sound drew her eyes to the window. The haunting strains of the song began again. In a daze, Olivia walked toward the sound, the music hauntingly familiar. It was a song from The Bohemian Girl, the opera she and Jack had attended.

  Almost tripping over her pants as they fell around her ankles, she kicked her feet free, ran the rest of the way to the window, and threw open the curtains. Just below her, in the garden, she spied a familiar dark head tilted over a violin.

  With a wordless cry of joy, Olivia pushed up the window and leaned out. “Jack!”

  He stopped playing and lifted his head. White teeth contrasting against ruddy skin, he flashed the most beautiful grin she’d ever seen in her life. “Princess Olivia, please come down,” he called.

  Olivia flew out of her room and down the stairs, not bothering with a wrap. She flung open the front door and there he was, leaning against the jamb, hands shoved in his pockets, as if he hadn’t a care in the world.

  Her heart ready to explode, she forced herself to pause in the doorway and mirror his posture, quipping, “Where’s your trusty brolly this morning, Mr. MacCarron?”

  His shimmering blue gaze caught hers, his voice low. “It doesn’t much look like rain, Miss Brownlow.”

  No, it didn’t. In fact, the skies shone a dusty pink as the sun rose on the most perfect of days. Olivia had a feeling their storms were behind them.

  Unable to take it a moment longer, she rushed out and threw her arms around Jack’s neck. She kissed his chin, his cheek, his hair, and breathed deep of his skin—the scents of spring rain and soap and that indescribable energy that was pure Jack. A fragrance she thought to never savor again.

  He pulled back, the wicked grin she loved slanting his mouth. “I guess this means you’re happy to see me?”

  “Yes, you dolt!” She pulled out of their embrace and smacked his arm.

  He made a face. “Ow! That hurts me, it does.”

  She shook her head. The sight of him stung her eyes. She couldn’t believe he was real. “How long have you been free?”

  “Not long.” All humor gone, he took her face in his hands and lowered his head. “I came to you as soon as I could.”

  Olivia blinked up at him, her next words a breathless rush. “I love you, Jack.”

  His mouth took hers and she laced her fingers into the silk of his hair. As he kissed her, tingles skittered up and down her spine, settling low in her back.

  Jack’s mouth slid to her cheek and then her ear. “How do you feel about marrying a traveling musician?”

  A daze of joy and passion clouding her brain, Olivia leaned back in his arms. “What?”

  He placed one more open-mouthed kiss on her neck, causing her brain to momentarily lapse. “’Tis how I plan to make an honest living.” He turned with her in his arms and gestured toward the fiddle leaning up against the banister.

  Olivia blinked at the violin and then back at Jack’s tense expression. Was he serious?

  “I would lower to one knee, but I can’t bear to let you go.” He met her gaze and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, brushing his knuckles along her cheek.

  As his meaning began to sink in, Olivia trembled against him, every bone in her body melting.

  “Olivia Brownlow, I would do anything for you. I love you more than my own life. Will you marry me?”

  She gazed at him for several moments, letting his words fill her heart. “Yes, Jack. Yes, I’ll marry you!” Then she kissed him soundly on the mouth.

  But he pulled back, concern clouding his gaze. “I can’t steal anymore, Olivia. You deserve better. Even though living off my music will be a struggle, if I can find a position with a theater company, I know I can provide for you.”

  “Jack, I would follow you anywhere.” His face shone with such happiness, Olivia had to swallow before she could continue. “I would marry you if we had to live in a gypsy wagon and eat gruel for every meal. But …” She let a teasing grin flit across her lips. “That won’t be necessary.”

  He arched a dark brow.

  “Turns out my father didn’t squander his fortune. In fact, it’s been growing larger every year from all the inventions he had patented before he died.”

  Jack froze, motionless save for the vein throbbing in his neck.

  “Mr. Appleton discovered my father’s accounts last week. We just needed the missing will. Which Monks conveniently provided in his safe box, and Judge Perkins had delivered here last evening.”

  Jack stepped back from her, blinking like a startled barn owl.

  Olivia took both his hands in hers. “Jack, if you want to open a theater and play your fiddle every night, I’ll be a happy woman. But I have a better idea …”

  A slow smile spread across Jack’s face, a chuckle rumbling up from his chest. He pulled her against him, his laughter shaking through Olivia’s body and lighting up her soul. After a moment, he grew quiet and cocked his head to one side. “What’s your better idea?”

  “How do you feel about kids?” Olivia grinned. “Lots of them!”

  EPILOGUE

  1861

  The outskirts of London, Hill Orphanage

  The mansion vibrated with the pounding of feet as the children ran along the second-floor gallery. Olivia counted twenty-one boys, five girls, and one massive dog tromping down the main staircase. Chip led the pack, leaping from the second step and landing with a grin at her feet. “Miss Livie! Aren’t you playing with us?” The boy eyed Olivia’s skirts.

  She tousled Chips silky blond curls. “Did Miss Bridgett finish with your studies already?”

  “Yep, she did!” Chip pursed his little mouth and shook his head before correcting himself. “I mean … yes, Miss Livie, on account of the beautiful day, Miss Bridgett let us out early for a bit of exercise.”

  Children surged around them and scampered down the hallway, presumably headed for the back garden. Several of them called for Olivia to join their team for a cricket match.

  “That was perfect, Chip.” She grinned and bent to kiss his baby-soft cheek. “You’re becoming quite the little gentleman.”

  “Thank you, Miss Livie!” Chip called over his shoulder as he joined the fray.

  Olivia turned back toward the staircase to see Brit and Jack bringing up the rear. Dark heads tilted together, their hair almost identical in shade, except Brit’s curled at his collar. From their good-natured ribbing, it would seem they were both team captains for the pending match.

  “That’s not fair. You got her last game!” Brit complained as they reached the bottom of the staircase.

  “Well then, let’s ask her whose team she wants to be on, shall we?” Jack replied before he stalked forward, his gaze locked on hers.

  Olivia’s heart skipped a beat and then galloped forward. Amazed that he could still send her pulse racing with just a look, she closed the distance between them and wrapped her fingers around the exposed muscles of his arm beneath his short-sleeved jersey. It was safe to say, cricket had become one of her favorite pastimes.

  “Good afternoon, Mrs. MacCarron.” His voice was husky as he leaned in and kissed her lips.

  “Oh, brother! You don’t play fair, Mr. Jack.” Brit’s nose crinkled and his mouth twisted like he’d just eaten a rank turnip. He spun away and jogged down the hall calling, “Archie’s mine!”

  Jack’s arm looped around Olivia’s waist and he pulled her close. “I need you, my sweet. But you’re going to have to get out of those clothes first.
”

  She turned into him and threaded her fingers into the hair resting against his broad neck. “You’ll have to play without me today. I have guests arriving. If Aunt Becky saw me in trousers and wielding a cricket bat, she might have a conniption.”

  Jack grinned devilishly. “That might be interesting. Are you sure I can’t persuade you?”

  “Excuse me, Mr. MacCarron.”

  They turned to see Thompson approach, his face carefully blank, but a joyful spark shone in his eyes. “Will you be requiring my services this afternoon?”

  “Of course, Thompson. We couldn’t play without your precise refereeing skills. It would be a bloodbath out there.” Jack winked at Olivia before turning back to the butler. “And if you would be so kind as to escort Mrs. March to the field, Olivia will need company in the cheering section.”

  “Yes, sir. Right away, sir,” Thompson responded with enthusiasm just as the front bell sounded.

  The butler stepped quickly to the door and opened it to Topher and Violet. The newly engaged couple entered the house arm in arm. Topher had asked for her cousin’s hand as soon as he’d been able to gather the funds to purchase March House. Lois had moved into the Hill Orphanage and greatly enjoyed teaching decorum to all the children. She loved to remind Jack that if she could turn the Artful Dodger into a gentleman, these children didn’t stand a chance at remaining street urchins.

  “I’m so glad you’re here, old man.” Jack clapped Topher on the shoulder. “I’m down a cricket player.”

  Olivia looked past Violet’s bright coiffure as Thompson shut the door. “Where is Aunt Becky?”

  Violet’s meadow-green eyes widened before she explained, “Mother isn’t much for long carriage rides, you know. And doesn’t get out of the city often …” She trailed off and looked around the foyer. “I really like what you’ve done—”

  “She still hasn’t forgiven me, has she?” Olivia’s shoulders slumped. Between the murder scandal, her unconventional marriage to Jack, not to mention the wildly unpopular notion of taking in street kids and starting her own orphanage, Olivia had been shunned from London society with a speed akin to lightning. And her ultra-proper Aunt Becky had followed suit.

  Vi took Olivia’s hand and shook her head with a sad smile. “I’m sorry, Livie.”

  Olivia glanced away from her best friend so she wouldn’t see her eyes welling up. It wasn’t that she missed the fancy parties or even the favor of society; she mourned the loss of the woman who’d accepted her like a daughter. On top of losing Uncle Brownlow, it was almost too much to bear. Her uncle had passed on in peace, trusting that his sister would watch over Olivia after he was gone. Olivia had allowed him the misconception because she believed Aunt Becky simply required time, and that she cared about her beyond society’s predications.

  “Violet, I need a moment with my wife, please,” Jack said before he turned to Topher. “If you could head out back and organize the teams, I’ll join you momentarily.”

  After Violet and Topher left, Jack took Olivia’s hand in his large, warm fingers. “I have something for you. Wait right here.” He planted a quick kiss on her lips and then sprinted up the stairs.

  Olivia sank down on the foyer bench. Some days her uncle’s absence was like a physical ache, but he hadn’t left her alone. He’d blessed her union with Jack and had been able to see the orphanage grow into a home bursting with joy and love.

  Jack skipped down the stairs, his right arm tucked behind his back. He came to her and lowered to one knee, his raven hair falling over his eyes. He raked the lock off his face with an impatient, but perfectly familiar gesture, and smiled. “I was going to save this for your next birthday, but now seems an appropriate time to give it to you.” He handed her a small, velvet-covered box.

  Having no earthly idea what he could give her that she didn’t already have, Olivia lifted the lid and gasped. There, nestled in a bed of scarlet silk, was a gold, egg-shaped locket. “Is this …” Her words deserted her as she lifted the familiar weight and unlatched the tiny clasp with trembling fingers. Her mother’s angelic face stared back at her from the tiny portrait.

  “Jack! However did you find it?” Her eyes flooded with tears as she grasped the beloved piece of her past to her chest.

  “Well, I thought it was high time I used my talents to do some good. I’ve been tracking it for months. Finally, I followed the trail to an old woman who wouldn’t part with it until I told her the entire sordid tale and why the locket was important to you.” He shrugged one shoulder. “Then she refused to let me pay her for it.”

  Olivia gazed at the beloved portrait again and Jack moved to sit beside her, looking over her shoulder.

  “I’m certain she would be proud of you, Livie. And all that you’ve done with your father’s money.”

  “All we have done, Jack.” Olivia smiled into his eyes. She had so very much to be thankful for. “It’s a fine life we have, isn’t it?”

  A whisper of Jack’s old intensity captured her gaze as he brushed a tear from her cheek. “I couldn’t imagine a finer life than spending every day with you, Olivia MacCarron.”

  And just like that, the Artful Dodger stole her heart, again.

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  Sometimes authors declare a certain story is “the book of their heart.” Olivia Twist is that to me and more: this story has been thirty-five years in the making. Yes, you read that right … thirty-five years.

  After seeing the musical Oliver! as a child, I fell in love with the Artful Dodger and the orphan Oliver—who, in my peculiar mind, was always a girl in disguise. I would sit in my bedroom for hours and stare at the album cover as I listened to the soundtrack, belted the songs at the top of my lungs, and then let my imagination run wild as I created further adventures for these beloved characters.

  Years later, I read the Dickens novel, Oliver Twist, and although it didn’t line up with the romanticized vision of the musical, it introduced me to the hideously selfish Monks. At this point, I had all the elements of a great book: the altruistic orphan, the reluctant hero, and the evil villain. What I didn’t have were the skills to bring my story to the page.

  That changed over many years of study and practice, and in 2011 I began researching the Victorian era and writing the first draft of this novel. I worked on Olivia and Jack’s story in between writing the Doon series, and finally finished it in 2013. But the young adult publishing world wasn’t ready for a historical novel without steampunk elements or vampires, and I received rejection after rejection. But I didn’t give up hope, I had faith that this book would find its place in the world, and I have many of you to thank for that…

  My superstar agent, Nicole Resciniti, for being the first to fall in love with this story and for never giving up on it!

  I am beyond grateful to my publishing team at Blink; Annette Bourland, Matt Saganski, Sara Bierling, Sara Merritt, Marcus Drenth, Liane Worthington, Jacque Alberta, the design team, the sales team, and everyone at Blink who worked to bring this story to life.

  Love and thanks to my family, the Lunekes and the Moeggenbergs. Your encouragement and support continues to be my safe place to land!

  To my sons, Ben and Alex, for falling in love with the musical Oliver! and quoting it even more than I do. “Whot did you say?”

  To the friends who keep me sane: Jennifer Osborn, Laurie Pezzot, Mindee Arnett, Tricia Lacey, Angie Knopp, Brenda Hess, Deanna Miller, Amy Wolf, Maryann Murad, Jennifer Dilly, Lisa Litz, Jennifer Egbert, JR. Forasteros, and my Southbrook Bible study crew!

  Thanks to my early readers: Jessica Lemmon (who was surprised that historical could be funny), Sienna Condy, Jennifer Stark, and Jennifer Osborne.

  To my book besties and critique partners, Carey Corp and Melissa Landers, for being the best travel buddies a girl could have. And most of all, for not letting me turn this book into Oliver Twist “With Magic Mother &#^%@*!” I love you both!

  Thanks to Kirk DouPonce for using your artistic brilliance to
design a cover that says, “This is not your grandmother’s historical!”

  A big thank you to Marisa Miller, Lee Slater, Lilly Santiago, and Sasha Alsberg for your support and inspiration.

  Thanks to the band One Republic for the music that stitched Jack “the Artful Dodger” MacCarron together in my mind. (If you’d like to hear the full playlist for Olivia Twist, please visit my website, www.LorieLangdon.com, for the link.)

  To my readers, I am grateful for each and every one of you! Thank you for the letters, art, book photos, for coming to my events, spreading the word about my books, and welcoming my characters into your hearts. You are the reason why I love writing young adult literature!

  A special thank you goes out to my Grandma Joyce, who started this whole journey by taking me to see a revival of Oliver! in the theater. And to my Grandpa Leon, who left us the week I typed “The End” on this book. Our story will continue one day when I’m with you both in eternity.

  And last, but always first, my Father God, who has given me more than I could ask or think possible!