by Maureen Lang
Meg nodded again, every bit as miserable as she’d been a moment ago. She loved a thief, one who was in jail. There was no future for her, none at all. She might as well be in jail beside him.
“I certainly cannot tell someone to stop loving another,” Claire said, sending a quick smile Jude’s way, “but, Meg, he’s clearly not good for you. You see that, don’t you?”
“I know that I should see it that way. I hoped . . . oh, I don’t know what I hoped. I know after this I never want to be involved in anything remotely illegal, and unless he’s changed his ways, I don’t see how I could ever . . . love him.”
“Meg, listen to me,” Nelson said. “I’ll talk to him and find out his side of this story. There must be a reason he stole only the single brick. Perhaps he meant to be honest from now on and start that business he talked about. Someone with his history would have a unique perspective on how to prevent burglaries.”
“Nelson might be right,” Claire said. “Ian didn’t want you to get into any trouble. That must mean he cares.”
Meg sniffed again. “It’s inconceivable to me that you should be standing here trying to comfort me, after what I’ve done.”
Evie crossed her arms. “Don’t think I have any part in it.” She stomped from the room, back into the library.
“I’ll go to the jail and speak to him right away,” Nelson said. “I planned to do so at any rate, but I won’t put it off, not even until tomorrow.”
Then he, too, left the room, by way of the door that led to the foyer.
Claire smiled at Meg. “Heaven knows I’m far from perfect, but I’ve learned offering grace brings peace. And I do offer you that, Meg. Grace. Just so you know.”
When Meg burst into tears, Claire returned to her side, and she and Meg clung to one another. Never before had Meg believed God loved her, not until this moment when He’d sent someone so precious to show her that His grace went beyond mercy.
Ian leaned back on the cot, though he was convinced a comfortable spot was not to be found. He’d been in the cell less than an hour, the first two hours of his stay having been spent waiting for, then being interrogated by, the police detective and another officer Ian hadn’t met before. He told them everything he did at the Pemberton mansion, leaving out Pubjug’s name entirely. He might have betrayed Ian, but Ian was no snitch.
In the hours since he arrived, he’d been thankful for only one thing: in here, he was safe from Brewster’s revenge. Not that he’d be safe for long, not if he found the courage to admit who he was, how he’d evaded arrest despite his many crimes in the past.
The damp permeated the dark hallways and narrow cells, and straw on the floor did little to absorb either the dank or the stench.
No wonder they called this the Tombs.
“Vandermey!” The bulky guard, easily twice as wide as Ian himself, rattled his keys before fitting one into the lock on Ian’s bars. “Visitor. Come with me.”
Ian had trouble following the pace set by the guard, hampered by the shackles on his ankles. Perhaps humiliation was part of the punishment, since Ian felt like a toddling child behind him. And for what? Who could be visiting him, anyway? Common sense told him it couldn’t be Meg, and Ian didn’t care to see anyone else.
To Ian’s surprise, it was Nelson Pemberton.
The visiting room was starkly lit with gas lamps. Narrow tables formed rows, and this late in the afternoon all were empty. Ian had heard someone say visiting hours had ended, but somehow he wasn’t surprised they’d bent the rules for a lawyer of Pemberton’s status.
Ian sat, letting the manacles he wore around his wrists clank on the marred wooden table between them. “I’m surprised to see you.”
“Are you? Don’t you imagine I’m having a hard time figuring you out? Why steal only one brick, for example. Why, in fact, come back to my home at all, after the deed was done. You must have known that security business story was useless once the missing brick was discovered. Were you just revisiting the scene of the crime?”
Ian didn’t answer.
“And another question,” Nelson said quietly. “Why bother to steal the seal?”
“Isn’t it obvious? Have you any idea how many cons a thief can concoct with a seal as well known in banking as yours?”
“But only until the theft was discovered. Now that I know about it, the seal is worthless. We’ll issue a new seal and notify our holding managers not to honor anything with the old one. It doesn’t make sense that you should return to my home today.” Nelson paused yet again, eventually shaking his head at whatever thoughts he had. “My sister said you admitted to the break-in only after she told you Meg was under suspicion. If you truly hoped that security business story would work, then why wouldn’t you have come to us immediately? The morning after the break-in, for example?”
“I’m afraid I don’t have an answer for any of that.”
“Were you working alone—other than with Meg, of course?”
“I’d hardly call Meg a partner.”
Pemberton’s gaze was a bit too intense for Ian’s comfort, and he began to wonder why the man limited his services as a lawyer to banks. He’d make an effective criminal prosecutor.
“It seems to me you’re protecting her as much as yourself.”
This wasn’t going as well as Ian had hoped. “Look, when I knew there was real trouble, I pulled out the same old con I’ve used before, about the security business.” He sneered. “Even rats like to keep their head above water when everything around them is sinking. Whatever protection I offered was for myself. Meg wasn’t involved.”
Pemberton shook his head. “She told us the truth. She admitted she supplied you with the whereabouts of the key, the location of the latch, the safe, everything. I’d call that something more than someone you negligibly used.”
Ian shifted in his seat and the chains rattled again. “All right, I used her blatantly. But it was all my doing. I took advantage of her when her father died. I made her think she could be just like him, to get the information I needed.”
“Good grief, man, have you no shame at all? To use a woman floundering after the death of a loved one?”
Ian sent the man a cynical smile. He must use this opportunity to accomplish what he’d been unable to finish earlier. To send Meg to a better future. “I’m a thief and a liar. What else would you expect, except that I mistreat women, too?”
“So now you admit to having stolen the brick?”
He shrugged.
“And you don’t care that Meg might have gotten into considerable trouble had she not become so dear to my sister and me?”
“That’s why I took only one of the bricks,” he said. “I could have taken more—I wanted to take them all—but I have a certain amount of loyalty to her father’s memory, so I restrained myself.”
“Loyalty to her father? Not to her?” He appeared less confused but more irritated with Ian than ever. “If you return the brick, I’ll see that any charges against you are dropped. You’ll be a free man in no time.”
Ian shrugged. “There are only two things wrong with that idea. One, I really am a thief. And two, I have no idea where the brick is.”
“But if you stole it—”
Ian had been about to pound his fist on the table, but the clatter of the chains proved satisfying enough. “I don’t have it!”
Nelson studied Ian for a long moment. “You may be a thief and a liar, but even your lies don’t add up correctly. I’d like to know why.”
Ian leaned forward, never more earnest in his life. “Keep your charges against me; I don’t care. Go back to Meg Davenport, Pemberton, and tell her whatever you want about what a rat I am. She’s well rid of me, wouldn’t you say?”
“Yes, I would. I have little left to say to you, except to tell you one day you’ll face a Judge far more fair than any you’ll find here on earth. Think about that day, sir, and see if you don’t mend your ways.”
“Then why don’t you pray for me?”
/>
Ian had intended the request to sound as sarcastic as the man he meant to portray. But he was afraid a touch of sincerity seeped into the question—because prayers spoken by this man, whose faith seemed so like Ian’s father’s, were exactly what Ian desired.
He stood with a shove to the chair he’d been sitting on, leaving as quickly and steadily as the iron around his ankles allowed.
Meg stood eagerly when Nelson arrived in the parlor. It was already dark outside. Although he hadn’t been gone long, the minutes had ticked slowly, even with Claire and Jude trying to make the best of it.
The moment she saw Nelson’s face, Meg knew she wouldn’t welcome his news.
Nelson refused an offer of coffee from Claire.
“You can say it, Nelson,” Meg said. “Whatever it is that’s making you frown.”
He sat on the settee beside her, taking her hand gently. “He confessed to taking the brick and that he’s every bit the scoundrel he seemed to be. He admitted his security company idea was some sort of scheme.”
Meg nodded, unable to look at him or anyone else in the room. “I knew that it was. I knew he was a thief.”
“He said that he used you, though why he only took one of the bricks remains a mystery. Something about loyalty to your father’s memory and not wanting you to get into too much trouble.”
“He’s not worthy of you, Meg,” Claire said, “but at least he cared that much.”
Nelson shook his head. “I’m afraid he made a point to say he restrained himself out of respect for Meg’s father, not for Meg.” He patted her hand. “You’re well rid of him.”
Meg nodded, feeling more tears prick at her eyelids. “I’m sure you’re right. If you’ll excuse me . . . I . . . I’m very tired.”
Then she found her way to her room, where she once again burst into tears.
36
If a young lady has mistakenly offered her tender affection to a man who, upon closer acquaintance, proves himself to be a boor, she may quietly withdraw herself from his attention. It is better to learn this before marriage than after, when it is too late.
Madame Marisse’s Handbook for Young Ladies
Meg did not leave her room until the following morning, well after the meetings and breakfast. How she’d longed to go to the parlor to pray with Nelson and the rest! But knowing the depth of deserved loyalty from each and every person in the Pembertons’ employ would surely make them hate her all the more, she stayed hidden in her room, where she prayed alone. She begged God’s forgiveness again, though in her heart she knew she already had it, and she wept once more with gratitude. Finally she asked direction and guidance.
She knew she must leave the Pemberton household, but she wasn’t sure where to go.
She’d always intended to go to Ian’s home on the Hudson. Had all gone according to their misguided plan, they would have met there and continued as partners. But the more she pondered what Ian had done, how ignorant he’d kept her, the more she realized one thing: he’d never wanted to be her partner, not even when he’d pretended he did.
She must find a new life, one without schools or thieves or high society. If only she knew what that new life should be.
Kate was likely the only person on earth who might welcome her company, especially if Meg confessed to her what had become so clear: not only had Meg’s earthly father loved her, but so did her heavenly one.
She went to the stairs, intent on looking for Claire. She would talk to her about the decision to join Kate if she was still in the city, and to travel with her. Although it might mean unveiling yet another liar. . . .
A servant was just leaving the parlor but stopped at the foot of the stairs when she caught sight of Meg descending.
“A visitor for you, Miss Davenport. In the parlor.”
Her first thought went to Ian, but she knew it couldn’t be him. Kate? Had she known about Ian’s plan, that it would leave Meg without him? Perhaps she’d come to pack Meg’s bags. This time, Meg might even help her.
Instead, she found Geoffrey Mason. He stood at the window, his back to her.
“Geoffrey, so you’ve returned from the country.”
He rotated to face her, then closed the gap between them with a few quick steps. “I’ve heard what happened. We expected to come home to servants buzzing about a picnic they felt deprived of, but instead they cried tales of police carts and missing gold. I’m so sorry, Meg.”
She eyed him curiously. “You’re sorry? For what I’ve done?”
He took one of her hands. “You’ve done? But they said it was Vandermey who was arrested. Just because you introduced him to the Pembertons doesn’t make you guilty of anything at all.”
She pulled her hand away, shaking her head, turning from him. “No, Geoffrey. You’ve always been honest with me, and for once let me return the favor. I came here under false pretenses. My father was a thief. I didn’t know it, of course, but when I learned the truth, I thought I could prove I was just like him. That I could have fit into his world, if only he had let me. And so I volunteered to make the Pembertons victims. I was wrong about so many things. Not only in doing what I’ve done, but also in believing myself fit to live as he did.”
Geoffrey stepped around her, putting a gentle hand beneath her chin so that she had no choice but to look up at him. “If anything, Vandermey must have taken advantage of you, misled you.”
She gently pushed his hand away. “Do you honestly think me naive and featherbrained as well? That I would have allowed myself to be so misled?”
“Then you must have misled yourself. I cannot believe you capable of malicious intent. I won’t.”
“Then you don’t know me because that’s exactly what I did. I may not have known how much gold the Pembertons possessed, but I was willing to allow someone else to take it from them. Illegally, unfairly, and yes, maliciously.”
Her voice crumbled on the last few words, filled once again with remorse. Perhaps she’d been better off hating her father rather than trying to be like him. But she knew that was wrong, too.
Even as she wanted to refuse allowance of any more tears, they appeared anyway. Geoffrey took her into his arms.
“Someone as coldhearted as you claim to be wouldn’t be standing here this way,” he whispered. “I know you well enough to believe there is true goodness in you, Meg. Enough so that I hope you’ll agree to marry me. Your tears prove you don’t fit into the world you think your father would have provided. But you do fit into mine. This summer held evidence enough of that.”
“Oh, Geoffrey,” she said quietly. Sadly. Perhaps this man before her was exactly the kind her father would have chosen for her. Even Ian had said so. But the choice was Meg’s, not either of theirs. And as fond as she was of Geoffrey, she did not love him.
“That wasn’t exactly the kind of sigh attached to my name I’d hoped for, but I’m willing to be patient.”
Meg wouldn’t let him wait for something that could not be. She didn’t know what her future held, but she would not agree to marry someone only because it was the best of her few unwanted choices.
“Geoffrey!”
Meg had no chance to voice her refusal. Mrs. Mason’s call for her son preceded her appearance only by seconds—and close on her heels was Evie, a look of glee sparkling in her eyes.
Geoffrey dropped his arms from around Meg, and they both faced his mother.
“Geoffrey, you are to come home this instant.” Mrs. Mason stopped at the parlor entry. Her hair was not quite coiffed, and she wasn’t wearing any gloves. “I’m terribly sorry, Miss Davenport,” she added, her tone hard enough to reveal a lack of sincerity in the sentiment, “but certain information has just been revealed to me, suggesting you might not be all you’ve presented yourself to be.”
Meg glanced at Evie again before speaking to Mrs. Mason. “Yes, I’m afraid whatever you’ve heard is true.”
“Geoffrey, you’ll come home with me. Now.”
“No, Mother. I was just
waiting for Miss Davenport’s answer. I’ve asked her to marry me.”
Dread reached both Mrs. Mason and Evie at the same time.
“But, Geoffrey!” Evie said. “Don’t you understand? She’s a fraud. She came here to help a thief!”
“A thief who is entirely responsible for all of this trouble, so what harm has Meg done?”
“But she helped him from the start!” Evie insisted. “That makes her a thief too.”
Mrs. Mason took another step closer to her son. “The degree to which she was involved hardly matters. She was associated with criminals, Geoffrey. She is a liar and a fraud. Do you know what everyone will say this fall? Oh, what a laugh they’ll have over the summer antics of those unfortunate enough to have stayed in the city. All fooled by nothing more than an actress!”
“She was as much a victim as any of us, Mother. Persuaded by the wrong man.”
“Geoffrey,” his mother said with such steel in the single word no one else dared speak, “if you disobey me in this, your father and I will write you out of our will. You’ve been foolish enough to put off the rest of your schooling. You won’t go far without a penny to your name.”
“Now, Mother, you don’t mean that.” He might have meant to issue the words forcefully, but even to Meg there was something lacking. Not in volume, but in conviction. She could tell this was not the first time he’d feared his mother.
“I most certainly do mean every word I’ve said. I’ll not have people snickering behind my back over the choice you made for a wife. Choose carefully because I will not change my mind, and your father will most certainly agree with me. We’ll leave everything we have to charity rather than to you. At least our name will be attached to something worthwhile rather than an ungrateful offspring and a woman who creates scandal.”