Wickham is not the young man to refuse a companion…
August 1, 1812
“Look here, Lydia,” said Wickham, getting out of bed and standing by the window, watching red coated troops march by on their way to the Downs. “I have got to leave town.”
Lydia sat up, clutching a bed-sheet to her bare shoulders. Her hair was tousled, her face flushed, her eyes bright.
“Darling Wickham! But why? What about your duty to your regiment?”
“Pish.” He dismissed it with a contemptuous gesture. “It’s nothing but the m...
Published on July 31, 2024 22:00