“Can’t get your man to stand for the fee himself? Can’t be a terribly good matter of blackmail.” She sneered.
“I’ll pay you back double when I have control of her fortune.”
“Ha!” Mrs. Younge replied. “You charmer.”
“Triple!”
“Don’t have many people who’ll trust you with money, do you?” She sneered. “Only way I’d trust you with twenty guineas is if you chopped off your favorite body part and left it as security.”
“A thousand pounds, Wickham?” the dingy man asked.
Wickham paused. Opened and closed his mouth. “Don’t be ridiculous.”
“I’m not. You want me to keep this girl here till she’s married, I’ll do it. You want me to loan you the ready for your license, I’ll do it. But we’re sharing in your blessings.”
“This is robbery.”
He laughed and laughed. “You mean to rob the damn woman blind — you are the robber. I’m just sharing the blessing that has landed on an old friend. But good luck otherwise. Always pleasure to see you.”
Wickham stared at him.
He cackled. “Off with you. Off — don’t want our other visitors to be shocked off by seeingyouhere.”
“One hundred pounds.”
“You must visit more often. Bring more trollops. Best of luck in finding someone else who’ll take you in and loan you such money. Best luck.”
“Two hundred.”
The man then suddenly stepped forward in a terrifying motion that Caroline couldn’t track with her eyes. Muscles straining, he picked up Wickham by the lapels of his coat and pounded him against the wall. There was a sound of a crack, like some of the wood paneling broke. “One thousand pounds, or I fucking go to the Bow Street Runners myself with the girl, and tell them everything I know about you.”
“Fine, fine. Fuck you.”
He dropped Wickham, who stumbled to the ground, but he picked himself up instantly. “Give me the twenty pounds, and I’ll go off to Cartwright.”
“A thousand pounds when you have her fortune?”
“Damn you. Yes, a thousand pounds.”
He grinned and shook Wickham’s hand. “Let’s fetch the ready.”
Mrs. Younge exclaimed, “John, you can’t possibly trust that he’ll pay.”
“Oh, he’ll pay all right.” The man pulled a long knife from some pocket hidden in his coat and admired the edge, turning it back and forth in the candlelight to make it glitter. “He’ll pay, or I’ll sneak into that rich house he’ll buy for himself, climb up through the window one night, and slit that pretty neck.”
Wickham replied in a disgusted voice, “No need for threats. I said I’d pay. I’m a gentleman, aren’t I? Isn’t my word of honor worth something?”
That set off another bout of laughter which Wickham joined in. Caroline was then grabbed by the arm by Mrs. Younge and pulled into the next room.
A dozen women were present in this room, flopped in chairs and leaning against a fancy bar in red dresses that were so low cut that Caroline imagined that she could see the navel. Two men sat on different couches pressed against the sides of the room, one of them with a woman in his lap. The woman’s dress was half pulled off and hanging around her waist, leaving her breasts bare for everyone to see.
The same thin mahogany paneling and red drapes that were in the hallway covered the room, and guttering candles sat everywhere. There was a strong scent of cigar smoke, and, somehow shocking Caroline more than the rest, one woman sat on a stool by the bar puffing at her own cigar.
Caroline was quickly pulled through the room and up the stairs. And then up higher, and higher again. Wickham followed behind her and Mrs. Younge, while the man stayed in the main room of the bawdy house.
Terror grew in Caroline’s stomach with each step.
At the highest floor, Mrs. Younge used a pair of keys to open a heavy door. The room was completely dark, except that moonlight peered in through the barred window. As Caroline’s eyes adjusted she saw that the room was bare, except for a wide bed with brass posters. Mrs. Younge pushed her into the room, and Wickham leered at her. His face was lit up by the candles that Mrs. Younge set down on the windowsill.
