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opinion entirely this year and that he remained my friend. But I must be careful if I am to keep it, for until I marry an heiress, I need influential friends on my side.

30th October 1791
    I have taken to carousing in London rather than Cambridge, where I comport myself with more or less dignity. Peter’s family have a house there and we often escape and go to town, where we have several sweet little dancers and opera singers who keep us amused, as well as several taverns where the serving wenches are willing, when we are in a mood for lower company.
    We were escorting two dancers back to our rooms tonight and were just having fun in the carriage when it stopped outside Peter’s house at an inopportune moment.
    ‘Oo, don’t stop,’ begged my partner, and like a gentleman I obliged, only to hear the door open.
    I looked up, annoyed, only to see Darcy standing on the pavement!
    By some ghastly chance he had been to the theatre and had decided to take a hackney cab home instead of walking. Thinking the stationary cab was empty, he had opened the door, meaning to climb inside. He had then been confronted by more than he had seen since we were boys swimming naked together in the river at Pemberley, and more of Molly than anyone has ever seen without paying her.
    To his credit, he simply raised his eyebrows, said, ‘I beg your pardon, I did not know the cab was taken,’ and closed the door again.
    I burst out laughing, Molly did the same, and I hastily fastened my breeches and tumbled out of the cab.
    ‘Darcy!’ I called. ‘Darcy! Wait.’
    But he did not stop.
    My little dancer followed me, for she had not been paid. I handed her what I owed her as I watched Darcy’s retreating back and I thought, It is all up with me now.
    I felt a sense of relief, for going into the church is not something I have any desire to do, no, not even for a large rectory and an easy living for the rest of my life. But I felt a sense of disappointment, too, that he should have found me like that.
    Damn! Why is it that he makes me feel like that? Without ever saying a word he makes me feel inadequate.
    But as he dwindled into the distance I felt a sense of sympathy too, for as I watched his retreating back it came over me that he was a lonely man, for all his money, his family, and his friends.
    I remembered him telling me that he was looking for something.
    Whatever it is, he has not found it.
    I wonder if he ever will?

1794

7th June 1794
    There are great changes at Pemberley. Old Mr Darcy has died. My father wrote to me and gave me the news.
    I am sure you will be as sad as I am, George, for he was always a good friend to you, sending you first to Eton and then to Cambridge. And he has helped you even after his death, for he has left you a legacy of one thousand pounds and given instructions for Fitzwilliam to help you in your chosen profession. Are you still of a mind to go into the church? If so, you are to be given a valuable living.
    I put the letter down.
    ‘Bad news?’ asked Peter.
    ‘Old Mr Darcy has died,’ I said.
    ‘What, Darcy of Pemberley?’ asked Matthew, a new member of our set.
    Matthew is a very good fellow, but alas! he is as poor as I am.
    ‘Yes.’
    ‘Then Fitzwilliam is now the master.’
    ‘Yes,’ I said.
    ‘You are very thoughtful. Why?’
    ‘Because it changes things.’
    ‘How?’
    ‘I am not sure. And that is why I am thoughtful. I think I must go home, Peter. Yes, in fact, I know I must. My future is changing.’
    ‘Do you want it to? You have a sweet life here, George. Friends to amuse you, a good set of rooms, and a willing widow, with plenty of money to spend on you.’
    ‘That is all very well,’ I said thinking, ‘but it will not do forever.’
    ‘You surely do not mean to get rid of her? She has been very useful to you.’
    ‘She has, but I have no mind to marry a widow, no matter how wealthy she is, especially one whose money came from a husband in such a low line of work. The widow of a