“That is all I know, sir, and I heard it only from Lydia. She was telling Kitty of the handsomest man she had ever met.”
“And now she has gone and ruined herself with a vagabond. That a daughter of mine should fall so low.”
Once they entered the city, Mr. Bennet watched the passing streets and buildings. Then Elizabeth heard him groan.
“He makes for Covent Garden, where every form of vice may be found.”
They continued in silence, both aware of the urgency.
Chapter 3: Escape
“We are upon Russell Street.” Thomas Bennet passed a hand over his face. “This is very bad, Lizzy. Either Wickham’s lodgings lie in a most notorious quarter, or he means to sell your sister.”
Elizabeth groaned. “Oh, Lydia, what will become of you?”
The street grew more crowded as they advanced, until the coachman drew up. Mr. Bennet stepped down.
“What is it, Dawkins?”
“Sir, I see the carriage ahead, but we are held fast in the press. I cannot move forward until this coal cart clears the way.”
“Lizzy, I shall ride beside Dawkins to keep Lydia’s carriage in sight.”
He closed the door and climbed up beside the coachman.
The press of traffic delayed them, and by the time they were able to proceed, Wickham's carriage had vanished. They continued along Russell Street for some distance, but there was no trace of Lydia. At last, they turned into a side street and drew to a stop. Mr. Bennet rejoined Elizabeth.
“Lizzy, I fear we have lost your sister. We shall go to Gracechurch Street and seek your uncle’s assistance. Perhaps we may engage a Bow Street Runner to track her.”
Elizabeth broke into tears, mourning the loss of her youngest sister, a mere child, now alone in a quarter of the city given over to every form of depravity. What horrors would she suffer?
Lydia woke when the carriage jolted over the stone paving of London. Wickham appeared more terrifying than before. Shewas careful to keep silent and passed the time looking out the window at the busy streets.
At length, the carriage turned from the main road into a narrow street. Lydia’s expression changed. Dirty children played along the sides, and poorly dressed women passed with baskets of provisions and other wares. The street was narrow and dirty.
She asked, “What place is this?”
He did not respond but kept his attention upon the passing buildings.
Soon, the carriage drew up before a three-storied brick house, and he rapped upon the ceiling. The equipage came to a halt.
“Remain here,” he barked. “I shall secure rooms for us. Stay in the carriage.”
Lydia flinched. He sounded angry; his glare frightened her. The minutes passed, and she grew impatient.
She wished to step down and stretch her legs, and so she did.
The coachman called out, “Girl, stay in the carriage, or someone will snatch you up.”
She laughed.
“Are you daft? Why do you laugh? That man has brought you to the worst part of town. Do you not know a house of ill repute when you see one?”
She frowned and moved nearer. “What place is this?”
He snarled. “It is a house of ill repute.”
She only stared at him, not understanding.
