Lydia Bennet was a pretty young thing, but rather vacuous. She took his mind off his troubles though, made him smile. When she proposed the idea of running off together, he initially resisted. After all, she wasn’t from a wealthy family. But she was adamant that if they forced her father’s hand, he would give them at least a few hundred pounds a year and pay off George’s gambling debts rather than face a scandal.
Lieutenant George Wickham grimaced and set down the empty glass.
He’d done a fine job of becoming a rake and a ne’er-do-well.
Running off with Lydia Bennet would set his well-earned reputation solidly in stone. Continue reading “Wickham”
“She’s a pretty little thing,” Eve said as she watched the young woman.
Doug made his way through the crowded corridors of O’Hare. His bag hung over his shoulder and the pain in his back letting him know that his body didn’t appreciate the long flight. He wasn’t so young anymore, but the sleepless nights had taken their toll and left him feeling far older than his sixty-two years. He trudged outside through the doors and a rush of cold air blasted him in the face. He pulled the collar of his coat tighter and glanced around. The sun had long-since set and the city was lit by street lamps and neon signs. Cold flakes of snow were just beginning to fall from the black night sky.
“What’s your Ebenezer?”
She felt the blood trickle down her leg and the scent of raw earth whispered in her face. Pine needles pricked at her hands and agonizing pain shot through her knee.
Sold: one soul to the devil, he thought as he leaned back in his chair and stared at the final word on the page.
Whitney L. Schwartz 