And, she realized with a sinking heart, she would have to do just that-tell him the truth-all of it, thus extinguishing the tiny flame of hope that she might be able to convince him of their incompatibility without revealing her past. But she knew him well enough to realize that as long as he harbored the belief that he loved her, she would never convince him that a marriage between them was impossible. And if his heart wasn’t free of her, he would not pursue another woman. So she’d have to prove to him that he didn’t love her after all. Give him back his heart. So he could give it to someone else.
Feeling far too vulnerable in her reclined position, she said, “I’d like to sit up, please.” He helped her, his hands warm and firm on her shoulders. Once she was upright, he poured her a tumbler of water, from which she gratefully sipped. Then she looked down at her forest-green gown and grimaced at the dirt marring the material, a fitting symbol of the mess her life had recently become.
She turned toward Philip, who now sat next to her, his eyes serious. And hopeful. Gathering her courage, she met his gaze and forced herself to speak the words her heart wanted so desperately not to say. “Philip, I cannot marry you.”
“May I ask why not?”
How she longed to snap out, No, you may not. But she owed him the truth. Unable to sit still under his regard any longer, she slipped her hands from his, then rose. Drawing a bracing breath, she lifted her chin. “I’m afraid I have not been entirely honest with you, Philip. There are things about me, about my past, that you do not know. Things that prevent me from considering marriage.”
“Such as?”
She began to pace in front of him. Her muscles protested, but she simply could not remain still. “We are not just simply from different social backgrounds, Philip,” she began. “I’m afraid that my past is the sort that, if the circumstances were to come to light, would cast shame and scandal upon your family’s name and render us both outcasts. I… I left my home at an early age. It was an unhappy place from which I could not wait to escape. I made my way to London, but unfortunately I did not realize the hardships I would face on my own. My meager funds quickly ran out, as did my choices. My options narrowed down to dying of starvation or doing what I had to in order to survive. I chose to survive. In order to do so, I had precisely two choices. I could prostitute myself, which I adamantly refused to do.” She paused in front of him and pressed her hands to her jittery midsection. “That left stealing. And that is what I did.”
She quickly resumed her pacing, not wanting to see the inevitable disgust enter his eyes. “I stole anything I could. Money. Jewelry. Food. At first I wasn’t very good at it, and the only thing that saved me from capture on numerous occasions was my ability to run fast. But I learned quickly. I had no choice. There were times I was so hungry, I risked my life for a slice of bread.” Images she’d spent years forgetting rushed to the front of her mind. Huddled in dark, frightening alleyways. Running for her life.
Shaking off the memories, she continued, “I became an amazingly adept pickpocket. I moved about to different places to avoid capture, saving every farthing I could, because I wanted to leave the sordid life I was leading as soon as possible. I was determined to become respectable. To lead a decent, honest life. As far from the one I’d run away from as possible. When I’d stolen enough money, I purchased some decent clothing, then set about finding employment. I was fortunate enough to meet Mrs. Barcastle. She was a wealthy widow in need of a traveling companion.”
Pausing in her pacing, she turned and faced him squarely. “Traveling with Mrs. Barcastle over the course of the next year, I pickpocketed my way through Brighton and Bath, Bristol and Cardiff, and every place in between.”
Something that looked like compassion, but surely could not have been, flickered in his eyes. “You are fortunate you were not caught.”
“I was very good. And quite invisible. In the social circles in which we traveled, no one glanced at me-the plain, hired companion. I was like a white spot on a white wall.”
Drawing another bracing breath, she continued, “Under Mrs. Barcastle’s kind tutelage, I practiced to improve my speech and manners. By the time we returned to London, I had enough money to abandon my larcenous ways and begin establishing my new, respectable identity. As I possessed a flair for matching compatible personalities, I decided to try my hand at matchmaking. I was successful almost immediately, with Mrs. Barcastle herself being my first client. She recommended my services to her friends, and little by little my reputation grew. I eventually purchased the house where I now live, and have managed to maintain a comfortable existence. The marriage I arranged between you and Lady Sarah was the culmination of fifteen years of hard work, and a lifetime of dreams.”
Standing before him, she gripped her hands together at her waist and forced herself not to avert her gaze. “After much soul-searching, I have come to terms with my past. But I’m not naive enough to believe that anyone else would or could do the same. Especially the members of Society. Now that you know the truth, I’m sure you can understand why I cannot consider accepting your proposal. For a certainty, you never would have issued a proposal if you’d been in possession of the full truth.” A little voice reminded her that he still was not in possession of the full truth, but surely she could be spared telling him the rest…
Without breaking eye contact, he rose and stood before her. He made no move to touch her, a fact which did not surprise her, but hurt just the same. Clenching her hands, she braced herself for the recriminations she knew were coming.
The most deafening silence she’d ever heard stretched between them, until she thought she would scream. Finally he said quietly, “Thank you for telling me, Meredith. I can only imagine how difficult it was for you to do so.”
Dear God, he had no idea how difficult it had been. To say the words that would cost her him. And free his heart. “You’re welcome.”
“You’re wrong about one thing, however.”
“What is that?”
“That I never would have issued a proposal if I’d been in possession of the full truth.” Reaching out, he lightly grasped her shoulders. Looking directly into her eyes, he said, “I knew, Meredith.”
Her heart seemed to stall, then stumble over itself. Surely she’d misheard him. “I beg your pardon?”
“I knew. About your past as a pickpocket.”
She could only stare at him in stunned amazement, grateful for his grasp upon her shoulders, as her knees suddenly felt decidedly wobbly. Her mind raced. The only people who knew were Charlotte and Albert, and they would never reveal such details about her to anyone. “How…?” It was the only word she could manage.
“Quite by accident, I assure you. The night I made inquiries regarding Taggert, I spoke to a tavern keep named Ramsey who’d been acquainted with Taggert. Ramsey told me quite a bit about the vile bastard, including a story of how he once witnessed, through the tavern window, Taggert dump a chimney boy on the side of the road like a sack of garbage. Ramsey left the tavern and started toward the boy, but before he reached him, a young woman, scarcely more than a girl, ran to the boy. She knelt next to him, then scooped him up in her arms.”
“Dear God,” she whispered. “A man came up to me. He asked if the boy was all right. I said, ‘He’s hurt. I must bring him home.’ He asked if the boy was my brother. I lied and said yes. I was afraid if I said I didn’t even know him that someone would take him away from me. Toss him into the street again and leave him there. Or give him back to that horrible man who’d thrown him away like yesterday’s trash.”