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 gentleman, now, that might tempt me, if her position were high enough and she were rich enough. But no, not even then. I am too young to settle for a widow.’
‘You are too young to settle at all,’ he said.
‘Yes, very true,’ I said, pursing my lips. ‘I have no desire to hurry into matrimony. But I must not neglect my future interests.’
He gave a shrug.
‘Well, go if you must, but hurry back. You amuse me, George. Things won’t be the same without you.’