Page 93 of Dear Friend

Perhaps his cousin had found something this time. Elizabeth’s words had made him particularly impatient for any intelligence he might give her, and Darcy opened it at once.

Darcy,

I have found the Hardings.

Forgive the abrupt beginning, but I thought you would prefer the news without ceremony. They are in London, though their circumstances are not what either of us expected. Harding was at Willowbrook when his sister-by-law brought Julia to him, and when he saw the condition she arrived in, he determined she required better care than the country could offer. By an unfortunate coincidence, the lease upon Willowbrook was due to be renewed at nearly the same time, and he was left to choose between securing it for another period and spending the money upon his daughter's care. As a father, he chose the latter.

Miss Harding survived the fever, but the illness appears to have left a strange injury behind it. Her recollection of the months preceding her illness is greatly impaired. She remembers her father and much of her earlier life, but whole portions of the year preceding her illness are either confused or absent altogether.

There was another misfortune soon after their arrival in London. Her aunt, Mrs. Tunley, who had cared for her throughout much of her illness, died not long afterwards. Harding cannot say whether she contracted the same fever or whether the strain of nursing her niece contributed to her decline. The physicians who have attended Miss Harding believe the shock of her aunt’s death, together with the severity of her own illness, may have contributed to the disorder of her memory. Whatever the cause, she does not presently recollect her time in Hertfordshire.

There is more. Harding exhausted much of the ready money he possessed upon physicians and treatment for his daughter, and when that failed, he borrowed. The debts are considerable. His own health has since deteriorated, and he is presently receiving treatment at a charitable infirmary here in London while Miss Harding remains with him.

She is sufficiently recovered in body, though her memory continues uncertain. I have spoken at some length with Harding, but I have not approached Miss Harding directly. I know too little of the connexion between her and Miss Bennet to decide what ought to be said, and Harding himself is cautious of pressing his daughter to recollect matters which presently appear lost to her.

He did tell me one thing which I thought might interest you. The physicians have not declared the loss permanent. Familiar places, objects or persons may yet awaken something in her recollection, though naturally no one can say when or to what extent.

That immediately put me in mind of the letters you mentioned.

Since Miss Bennet has continued writing to her friend, one of those letters may accomplish more than any number of questions from strangers. I leave that consideration to you, since you understand the circumstances better than I do.

For the present, I shall remain in London and see what may be done about Harding’s debts without making promises in your name. They are not beyond remedy, though I suspect the gentleman himself will require some persuasion before accepting assistance.

At least you may give Miss Bennet one certainty after so many months without any. Her friend is alive.

Write as soon as you can and tell me how you wish me to proceed.

Yours etc.,

R. Fitzwilliam

Darcy lowered Richard’s letter and looked again at Elizabeth’s.

Julia was alive. More than that, there was finally an explanation for the silence which had troubled Elizabeth for so long. Her friend had not abandoned her, nor deliberately ignored the letters sent month after month. Julia did not remember Hertfordshire, and if the physicians were correct, the very correspondence Darcy had been receiving might help restore some part of what she had lost.

The irony of it sat heavily upon him. Elizabeth had ended her letter hoping that somehow her words might find their way back to Julia, while Darcy had been sitting at Netherfield opening them himself. Now the woman for whom they had been intended had been found, and Richard was suggesting that those same letters might accomplish what physicians and her father had not.

Darcy folded both letters and rose abruptly. For several seconds the only sensible course appeared to be immediate action. He could order his horse, ride to Longbourn and tell Elizabeth everything before another hour passed. Julia was alive, and Elizabeth deserved that intelligence at once. He could place Richard’s letter in her hands, then tell her of Willowbrook, the correspondence and every miserable particular he had concealed from her.

The impulse carried him almost to the bell before he stopped. His thoughts were moving too quickly, driven as much by fear as by reason, and Darcy knew himself well enough to distrust any decision made merely because waiting had suddenly become unbearable. He had spent months delaying the truth; rushing to Longbourn now without knowing how to explain it might be no wiser.

He returned slowly to the desk. There was too much to tell Elizabeth for him to arrive with nothing prepared beyond an apology. She must hear of Julia first, and then the truth of Willowbrook, the first letter and everything that had followed. He would have to explain why he had come to Hertfordshire and why, after meeting her, he had continued allowing her to believe their acquaintance had begun there, all without turning explanation into an attempt to excuse himself.

Perhaps he would require Mr. Bennet’s assistance after all. Darcy disliked involving Elizabeth’s father in something so private, but Mr. Bennet had entrusted him with permission to court his daughter. If Elizabeth became too angry to hear him fully, her father might be the only person Darcy could trust to ensure that Richard’s intelligence concerning Julia reached her without becoming tangled in everything else Darcy had to confess.

Remaining in the room with both letters before him was accomplishing nothing. Darcy took up his coat and decided upon a long walk, hoping the cold air and solitude would restore enough order to his thoughts for him to determine precisely how he ought to proceed. Tomorrow remained the sensible occasion, provided he could find sufficient privacy at the ball, but he would decide that with a clearer head rather than because fear urged him either towards Longbourn or away from it.

~

Caroline Bingley had been watching Mr. Darcy rather more closely since Elizabeth Bennet’s visit to Netherfield.

She had always considered herself an excellent observer where Darcy was concerned, but Miss Bennet’s increasing hold upon his attention had persuaded her that observation alone was no longer sufficient. A little charm directed towards one of Darcy’s servants, followed some days later by a small gift, had produced several interesting particulars.

It confirmed one fact she had always known. Darcy had stayed at Willowbrook in Somerset before coming to Hertfordshire. However, no young lady answering Elizabeth Bennet’s description had visited him there or been seen in the vicinity, and his servant knew nothing of any acquaintance between his master and the Bennets before Hertfordshire.

There had been one other detail. Several letters had been waiting at Willowbrook when Darcy arrived, and more had come during his stay, though the servant knew neither who had written them nor to whom they had originally been addressed. “The caretaker had them before we arrived, ma’am, and gave them over to the housekeeper. I suppose they were meant for whoever had the house before, but several more came while Mr. Darcy was there.”

Caroline had smiled with carefully measured interest and asked nothing further, but she had remembered it.