Wickham's Diary

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Fitzwilliam and I rode out early this morning. We raced down to the river and I won, beating him by a good two lengths, at which I laughed and called him a sluggard. He was annoyed and challenged me to a race back to the house. I accepted the challenge and, once our horses were rested, we set off. He started to pull away from me, jumping the hedge before me, and he reached the drive as I was still crossing the river, so that by the time I reached the stable yard I found him there, waiting for me.

'That is the trouble with you, George, you use up all your energy to begin with instead of holding something back for later!' he said. 'You pushed your horse too hard on the way to the river. He was too tired to give me a race on the way back.'

'Life is for living,' I said with a shrug. 'Live for the moment; win what you can, when you can. There is no use worrying about later.'

Gates, the groom, hobbled towards us and congratulated Fitzwilliam on his victory. I could tell he was pleased that Fitzwilliam had won. It was only right, in Gates's opinion, that Fitzwilliam should be victorious, because Fitzwilliam was the son of Mr Darcy. It reinforced his belief in the scheme of things, that those at the top belonged at the top, and that those beneath them belonged at the bottom.

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