Page 106 of Dear Friend

“And her aunt?”

“She has been buried. Harding believes the loss contributed to his daughter’s confusion. Miss Harding remembers that her aunt is dead, but apparently not everything surrounding it.”

Darcy frowned. Elizabeth had spent months imagining abandonment, accident, illness and every other calamity which might account for Julia’s silence. All the while, her friend had been alive and unable even to remember that somewhere in Hertfordshire a woman continued writing to her.

“She truly does not remember Elizabeth?”

“Her father does not believe so.”

Darcy’s gaze returned to the case. “Perhaps the letters will help.”

“Perhaps. But I would not depend upon it.”

“I do not.” Darcy leaned back in his chair. “If she wishes to read them, she may. If she does not, I shall leave them with her father. I have interfered with those letters enough.”

Richard nodded. “That is probably best.”

“What of Harding himself?”

“His health has improved somewhat since I wrote, though not enough for the physicians to discharge him. He remains at the infirmary, and his daughter spends as much time there as they permit. Their circumstances are considerably reduced.”

“And the debts?”

“Still considerable for a man in Harding’s position.”

“I will settle them.”

Richard gave him a long look. “You might first ask whether he will permit you to settle them.”

Darcy frowned. “The man is ill. His daughter nearly died, and he exhausted what remained of his money keeping her alive. I hardly intend to stand upon ceremony while creditors trouble him.”

“I did not suggest ceremony. I suggested asking him.”

Darcy opened his mouth to dismiss the distinction, but the words never came. Elizabeth’s voice returned with uncomfortable clarity, along with the anger in her eyes when she accused him of deciding what she ought to know and when she ought to know it.

Richard noticed his silence. “What?”

“Nothing.” Darcy looked down at the table. “You are right. I shall ask him.”

His cousin stared.

“Must you look so astonished?”

“I was merely wondering whether I ought to send for a physician. Fitzwilliam Darcy has been contradicted and survived the experience.”

“I have had considerable practice of late.”

Richard’s amusement faded, but Darcy had no wish to return to Elizabeth when he could do nothing about her from London. He rose again and crossed towards the travelling case.

“If Harding accepts my assistance, I shall settle whatever is owing. If he requires somewhere to recover afterwards, that may also be arranged.”

“And Miss Harding?”

“If her memory returns and she wishes to go to Hertfordshire, I shall provide whatever is necessary.”

Richard studied him. “You mean to take her to Longbourn? I should have thought Miss Elizabeth would come to London herself. She has written to Miss Harding diligently enough these many months. Surely sparing a day to see her friend would not be asking a great deal.”

Darcy said nothing, and something in his expression made Richard lower his cup. “You did tell her that Miss Harding is alive?”