Four And Twenty Day, The End Of The End.

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24, creative writing, Duchess, Period Drama, regency parodies, short stories, TV spin off, Westminster palace

Catherine, the silence that followed Mr Pravos’decalration was of both prodigious length (indeed it seemed nigh on interminable) and profundity.

T’was the king who spoke first and he was all fearful disbelief as he said “An amassment of gun powder barrels large enough to extirpate London! Surely such an amount could not exist. It is all hollow hearted disseminating, it must be!”

I looked upon Pravos’ ill humoured visage and everything about this villainous wretch, from his brow to his distinctive gait, spoke of a man capable of considerable forethought and ingenious scheming. It was with regret therefore, that I found myself to be of the decided opinion that Mr Pravos was the very personification of one in possession of a plan of contingency.

Four And Twenty Days, The Middle Of The End.

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24, Austen Parodies, creative writing, Fiction, jane Austen, Parodies, Regency Spoofs, short stories

My Dearest Sister,

I hope that you have regained your composure and recovered from the nervous hysteria that my previous missive indubitably caused you. The provoking of such an affliction, while regrettable was quite unavoidable, and I flatter myself that I have endeavoured to recount all that has passed in a sufficiently scandalous manner, which renders it akin to that of that source of fictitious fact; the novel.

I stood at my husband’s side once more, and while such proximity to my beloved was most agreeable following the pangs of so long and tumultuous a separation, the circumstances were hardly conducive to the finer sentiments of reunification. Surrounded as we were upon all sides by violent and vexatious churls who were solely desirous of our immediate and exquisite expiration.

Four And Twenty Days, The Beginning Of The End.

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24, creative writing, Fiction, jane Austen, Jane Austen Parodies, Period Drama, Regency Fiction, Regency period, short stories, Television Adaptations

Dearest Catherine,

I crave your forgiveness for the nervous torment I have undoubtedly caused you. For what refined lady could remain quite sanguine as she pored over a letter which informed her, in no uncertain terms, of her favourite sister’s perilous proximity to a massif of gunpowder barrels and their lit fuse. Might I suggest, my poor sister, that you continue your perusal when in the vicinage of a chaise and your smelling salts, for I am afraid that I cannot alter the tone nor the content of my missive if honesty is to exist betwixt us.

My Footmen and I stood in that crepuscular chamber of Windsor Castle, in the shadows of the gunpowder barrels.