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“She is quite right, Farley. You had better send up Clara. Miss Gardiner’s footman can sit in the hall. We can leave the door open.”
Then, turning to Elizabeth he continued: “I beg your pardon, Miss Gardiner. We were expecting a man and had not made appropriate provision for a female. Forgive me for introducing myself; I am Finn, Mr Darcy’s valet.”
Elizabeth had never seen Finn before, but she immediately recognised his name. She was only too glad she had not bumped into him at Netherfield.
“Good day to you, Mr Finn.”
Darcy sobered.
“I took the liberty of selecting some books from the library this morning, Miss Gardiner,” said Finn. “They are on the nightstand.”
Elizabeth began to sort through the pile, wondering what to make of Darcy’s incomprehensible behaviour. “Well, which should I read first, sir? There is Don Quixote, Horace’s Odes, Xenophon’s Hellenica, Burney’s Cecilia...”
“Burney’s Cecilia?” declared Darcy. “You are making that up! I have never heard of such a book. I certainly do not have it in my library!”
Elizabeth smiled. “It is a novel, sir.”
“Ah! Miss Georgiana added that one, sir,” explained Finn.
“Read what you like. I really do not care,” said Darcy, folding his arms.
Finn looked pained. He knew his master was despondent. Doctor Gordon’s confirmation of Dr Freud’s prognosis had cast him into the depths of despair. Finn knew that Darcy had tried to claw himself out of this pit by declaring his intention to work on the townhouses—something concrete to engage his mind. But the colonel had been unable to locate Mr Trevor, and Darcy had been disappointed again. Nor had their search to find an appropriate substitute for Mr Trevor at the agency borne any fruit. In consultation with the colonel, they had lowered their sights to a sufficiently erudite person to engage Darcy’s mind. To distract Darcy from his troubles, Finn had suggested that he should relax a little with the classics. Darcy had been unenthusiastic, but Finn could not help but think that his master was behaving extraordinarily badly today. He wondered if the fact that the colonel had delivered a female rather than the expected male reader was influencing his conduct. Frowning, Finn retreated through the door by which he had entered.
Elizabeth watched as the valet disappeared into what she supposed must be Darcy’s dressing room. Picking up Don Quixote, she turned to the beginning and started:
“Capítulo primero. Que trata de la condición y ejercicio del famoso hidalgo don Quijote de la Mancha.
En un lugar de la Mancha, de cuyo nombre no quiero acordarme, no ha mucho tiempo que vivía un hidalgo de los de lanza en astillero, adarga antigua, rocín flaco y galgo corredor.”[5]
Elizabeth had scarcely time to take a breath before Darcy interjected:
“Una olla de algo más vaca que carnero, salpicón las más noches, duelos y quebrantos los sábados, lantejas los viernes, algún palomino de añadidura los domingos, consumían las tres partes de su hacienda.”[6]
Looking up, Elizabeth saw that Darcy was staring into the canopy of the bed with his arms still folded, having adopted a mulish expression.
“I gather you have read this one several times,” she said gently, setting Cervantes’ classic aside and picking up Horace’s Odes instead. After opening it at the beginning, Elizabeth thought better of it, and giving Darcy a sly glance, she flipped over several pages until she arrived at the third canto. Clearing her throat, she started:
“Odi profanum volgus et arceo.
Favete linguis: carmina non prius
audita Musarum sacerdos
virginibus puerisque canto.”[7]
Again, Darcy interrupted:
“Regum timendorum in proprios greges,
reges in ipsos imperium est Iovis,
clari Giganteo triumpho,
cuncta supercilio moventis.”[8]
Elizabeth looked at Darcy with pursed lips. Setting down the volume of Horace, she picked up The Hellenica and, with a sense of resignation, began:
“μετὰ δὲ ταῦτα οὐ πολλαῖς ἡμέραις ὕστερον ἦλθεν ἐξ Ἀθηνῶν Θυμοχάρης ἔχων ναῦς ὀλίγας: καὶ εὐθὺς ἐναυμάχησαν αὖθις Λακεδαιμόνιοι καὶ Ἀθηναῖοι, ἐνίκησαν δὲ Λακεδαιμόνιοι ἡγουμένου Ἀγησανδρίδου.”[9]
