The George Wickham Papers: Back to Pemberley — 24 Comments

    • Madam, it is a pleasure; I confess, I may have enjoyed a little too much brandy before I set nib to paper on this particular page.

  1. Oh my! What a cliffhanger, Catherine! And all the teasers… The tiger? ‘That’ duchess? Prinny’s breeches? And not plain Mr Wickham any more? How you tantalise us! I can’t wait to read this 🙂

  2. “Mister” Wickham, you are starting off rather melodramatic in your first paragraph! I must say I felt sorry for your poor horse…’ridden my mount to dropping’…already a lack of respect! I can hardly imagine you facing an African Tiger unless it was at Prinny’s zoo! Or did you have to go in and retrieve his breeches?!

    • Might a fellow not be excused for a little overzealous riding in his youth? I assure you madam, there is much more overzealous riding to come.

  3. George — George — George!

    African tigers are called LIONS!
    Were you so inebriated in India you thought you were in Africa?

    Is this an Actual Story? or a Factual Story?

  4. Hmm, “African” tigers eh, George. Are they anything like “pink elephants”, the sort of creatures that you might see if too much of the aforementioned claret had been consumed? “I am all anticipation” regarding the next instalment of your memoirs.

    I have to admit that your style of writing is very engaging, though how much of that is due to the editorial skills of Ms. Curzon can only be guesswed at.

  5. It is always with a certain amount of trepidation I approach reading Mr. Wickham’s reminiscences and recollections. Proceed with caution is a wise maxim when dealing with this…err…gentleman. One never knows what unsavoury past exploits may be revealed. The escapades of Mr. George Wickham are legendary and not always suitable for the sight or hearing of virtuous ladies of quality. It would appear, on reading this latest installment of Mr. Wickham’s papers, that there is, indeed, cause for concern. Prinny’s breeches. I ask you. The mind boggles. What tale could Mr. Wickham possibly have to tell of them? Other than the fact they were of voluminous proportions, no doubt, I cannot imagine what else there is to tell. My mind runs amok, though I do try to contain it, there is no controlling it, alas. Maybe they, too, were stained with Mr. Wickham’s aforementioned claret, but let’s refrain from that thought.

  6. This is precious! YOU writing an accounting of your life!? I would not have thought you would want to bare all your sins to the world. Yes, the George Wickham we knew was a rake, a cheat and a seducer in his youth. What can you tell us we don’t already know or can guess at? Me think you haven’t changed that much… Silver Fox, you. Pray, write on. We are intrigued.

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