Chapter Fifty-Nine

M r. Wickham had now been at Mrs. Harvester's house for three days. He spent most of the day lying on his straw pallet, though he was allowed out for meals. Not that the meals were anything much – usually a thin stew of some sort, accompanied by dry bread. He had complained about the food, and had been told that better food was certainly available, but it had to be paid for.

Today he managed to persuade Mrs. Harvester to allow him to send a message to Evelina. "How am I to pay off my debts or pay for better food when I am not able to communicate with my wife?" he asked.

Mrs. Harvester nodded, smiled, and allowed him to write out a small message.

***

Evelina Younge Wickham was in despair. Her George was gone, and she knew not where. Finally, a messenger arrived. He handed her a note, turned and started out the door. It had to be from George!

"Hold! Please, wait!" she cried out.

The messenger paused.

"Where is he?"

The man shrugged and started walking away.

"No, wait; here is tuppence for your trouble."

The messenger turned back to her, eagerly. Evelina held the coin out on her open palm. As the man approached her, eyes on the coin, she closed her fist.

"First, where is he?"

"Sponging House in Whitechapel, Adams Street."

She opened her palm; he snatched the coin and ran off. Evelina ripped open the message.

? Dearest Evelina,

I am in a sponging house run by a Mrs. Harvester. I do not know what part of London this is, but I beg you to discover what you can. Bring money.

? George

Evelina ran up the stairs to her bedroom and rummaged swiftly through her wardrobe until she uncovered her savings. She had been careful to keep this money out of sight, as she knew George would appropriate it and gamble it away without a second thought. She would not support his gambling habit, but she was willing to part with every penny of her twenty-five pounds in order to buy her husband's freedom.

She put on her warmest coat and boots, and stepped into the street. Whitechapel was a good distance away, but she would not waste money on a hackney. She would walk there.

***

When Evelina finally arrived on Adams Street, she realised that there was not likely to be a sign announcing Mrs. Harvester's sponging house. She stopped several pedestrians to ask for directions, but everyone she tried to speak with simply cursed at her and kept walking. Finally, she saw a constable. Normally, Evelina would avoid such a person as she would the plague, but these were not normal times.

"I beg your pardon, sir," she began.

The constable turned and looked at her. "Yes?"

"My husband is in a sponging house on this street; might you know which house it is?"

The constable pointed. "Other side of the street, look for the green door."

"I thank you, sir," she said prettily, and curtsied.

"Come, I will walk you there. This is not a safe neighbourhood."

At the doorstep of the house with the green door, he doffed his hat to her and went on his way. Evelina watched him go, and then turned to knock on the door. There was no response. She tried again, this time banging on the door with her fist.

The door swung open, revealing a woman wearing a soiled apron. "Whaddya want?"

"To see my husband. George Wickham."

Evelina followed the woman up to the second floor and watched as a large iron key was produced and the door was unlocked. "Gotta lock it once you are inside," the woman explained to Evelina. "I will give you ten minutes and then I will let you out."

Evelina nodded her understanding. The moment the door was opened, she pushed past the woman and threw herself into George's arms.