Chapter Text
“One day,” he said to his friend, as they climbed up the hill, “all of this will be mine.”
“All of it?” The boy said, a voice filled with wonder as they reached the highest point on the estate.
“Yes. All of it.”
The boys sat in front of the Cage, the ancient hunting lodge that could be seen for miles. Fitzwilliam pulled out a handkerchief, broke the soft piece of seed cake in half and passed one part to his companion. They were two sides of the same coin, Fitz Darcy and Georgie Wickham; people often mistook them for brothers, one a little shorter and more serious, the other with a playful smile that whipped across his face and charm that took the seed cake right out of Mrs Reynolds’ hands.
“You will stay with me here at Pemberley, won’t you? You could be my steward like your papa is to mine.”
George puffed up his chest a little, “do you think I would make a good steward?”
“The finest,” he said, adjusting George’s hat. “We will be the talk of London, Wickham. I know we will!”
The younger boy looked up at the older one, “will we always be friends, Darcy?”
“Of course. Why, you are a brother to me.”
The two boys sat there looking out onto the peaks, the stillness of the summer afternoon interrupted by a shrill shout from inside the Cage, and they looked at each other quickly with smiles on their faces before running off back down the hill and into the house.