Wickham's Diary Read Online Free PDF

with the best families. Be friendly and open, but not too open: there is no need to mention what your father does for a living. If you are asked, it is enough to say that he is a gentleman.’
    I took the money and put it in my portmanteau, ready for the day when I will go to Cambridge. Then I went out to the stables because the weather was fine and I was in need of some exercise, and I found Fitzwilliam there.
    He has grown lately and he is now several inches taller than I am. It makes him look even more proud, for he holds himself well, and there is an air of being someone about him that I cannot match, no matter how hard I try.
    Whenever we go to private balls he is always the centre of attention, even though he is only eighteen. I wish I could think that it is just because of Pemberley, but there is something else that attracts people to him. It is not charm. I have charm, which means that people are always pleased to talk to me and to dance with me whenever I ask them. But they would rather dance with Darcy. Their eyes follow him, even though he makes no effort to please them, for he is often bored and he does not trouble to disguise it. He walks about the room as though he wants to be somewhere else—anywhere else—and he will only dance if he is introduced to his partner in such a way that he cannot avoid it. He never puts himself out to please, as I do.
    As I must.
    ‘Where shall we go?’ he asked, as he mounted his animal and waited for me to saddle my horse.
    I was pleased that he wanted my company, for I do not spend as much time with him as I used to.
    ‘Down to the river,’ I said.
    He turned his horse’s head and then he set off, leaving me to catch him.
    ‘Are you looking forward to going to Cambridge?’ I asked him as I drew level with him at the ford.
    ‘Looking forward to it?’ he asked. ‘What has that to do with anything? I am of an age to go to Cambridge, and so to Cambridge I must go.’
    ‘Do you not want to go?’ I asked in surprise.
    He looked into the distance, at a spot on the horizon, but when I followed his gaze, nothing was there, and I had a feeling that he was looking inwards and not outwards.
    ‘Sometimes I do not know what I want,’ he said.
    There was an air of restlessness and dissatisfaction about him and I looked at him curiously.
    ‘I thought you were happy to be a Darcy of Pemberley.’
    He brought his eyes away from the distance and fixed them on me.
    ‘And so I am. But there is something missing, George. Do you not feel it?’ he asked, searching my gaze.
    Yes, I thought, there is something missing. A large estate and larger fortune. But I did not say it.
    And besides, those things were not missing for him.
    ‘No,’ I lied.
    He looked away, over the estate.
    ‘There are no surprises in my life. It is all mapped out for me. Eton, Cambridge, marriage to some suitable heiress, an heir…’
    ‘If all you want is surprise…’ I said, and throwing myself off my horse and into the river, I caught hold of him and pulled him in, too.
    He emerged, splashing and choking, a minute later, and for a moment I did not know if he would shout at me or laugh with me. I saw the boy inside him warring with the man he was becoming and for a moment I was not sure what the outcome would be, but then he laughed and ducked me and we emerged, dripping wet, and lay on the bank in the sun for our clothes to dry.

1791

25th January 1791
    It is a relief to be in Cambridge and away from the watchful eyes at home. There were one or two incidents with milkmaids and tavern wenches over the Christmas holiday, enjoyable in themselves, which nevertheless started rumours about me. Once or twice I thought I caught old Mr Darcy looking at me speculatively, as though he might have heard them. He is such a paragon of virtue himself that he disapproves of such behaviour in others, and Fitzwilliam is almost as bad. He thinks the master of the manor should be careful not to take advantage of his