The Dark Heart of Florence Tasha Alexander (novels for beginners .TXT) 📖

“No port?” Darius said, entering the room. “Colin will be shocked.”

“He knows my habits too well to be even slightly surprised.”

Cécile introduced him to her friend, and Darius welcomed the new acquaintance with boundless warmth. “I have the greatest respect for your profession, Signore Tazzera. My family ought to have a comprehensive library, and did, until my grandfather, the most notoriously eccentric of my ancestors, drew the erroneous conclusion that his wife, who died of consumption, had contracted the disease from a copy of Les Liaisons dangereuses. He had forbidden her to read the book, although at the time made no mention of the threat of disease. Convinced it had led to her demise, he burned all four volumes. His friends pointed out the inanity of what he’d done, chiding him for believing one title among thousands could have caused her illness. Rather than back down from his position, he ordered the entire contents of his library taken outside and consigned to the flames. His very own bonfire of the vanities. My father did his best to refill the empty shelves, but these things take a great deal of time. Since inheriting, I, too, have made an effort, but am not in a position to get everything I’d like. As a result, I’ve spent a great deal of time in the Reading Room of the British Library and owe more of my education to that magical place than I do Cambridge.”

“I wonder, signore, which your grandfather feared more: consumption or the ideas in Laclos’s novel,” Signore Tazzera said.

“There’s little doubt in my mind,” Darius replied. “I say, this wine is excellent. I’m indebted to you bringing it for us and to the ever-charming Cécile, who is good enough to share it with us.”

“Do not delude yourself, sir,” the librarian said. “She is grateful to have others drink it so that it disappears more quickly and she can return to champagne.”

“You see why I like the man, Kallista,” Cécile said. “He is sensible and realistic.”

“I had no idea you were drawn to either,” Colin said, grinning as he joined us. “Emily, before I forget, I’ve contacted Hatchards about your Lucretius, but it will likely take a week to arrive.”

“You will read De Rerum Natura, Lady Emily?” Signore Tazzera asked. “Splendido! It is a wonderful work. How is your research into the history of this palazzo coming along?”

“Quite well, thank you. I uncovered a story of hidden treasure stashed away in this house. It seems inconceivable, but multiple sources make similar claims.”

“Hidden treasure?” Darius asked. “Now that’s something about which I can get excited. What is it? Gold bullion?”

“Florins, more likely,” I said, “but I’ve found no description of what was hidden. The first mention was in a sixteenth-century history of the city, so whatever the treasure may be, it dates at least to then.”

“I think it’s a hoard of jewelry,” Cécile said. “Imagine a young girl, forced to marry an ogre twice her age. After the wedding, when she realizes she cannot bear to live with him, she squirrels away the only things she has of value: jewelry. And then she waits for the right moment to make her escape.”

“With her lover, I hope,” Darius said. “Please let her have a lover.”

“Mais oui, monsieur. Naturally she has a lover. But before they can flee—”

“To Siena,” Signore Tazzera said. “It is a beautiful place.”

“Siena, then,” Cécile said. “The poor girl falls ill—”

“With consumption caught from the pages of a sensational novel,” I said, laughing. “She dies without ever seeing her love again.”

“Thus, leaving the jewels still hidden in the walls of the house,” Darius said. “I like this story very much. Except for the consumption bit. Couldn’t you let them run off?”

“Not if I want the jewelry to still be here for me to find,” Cécile said.

“You can’t really think there is treasure hidden in the house,” Darius said, tugging at his shirt cuffs.

“It is not rational, monsieur, but some things are best left to intuition. Mine tells me there is something here waiting to be found. While Kallista busies herself with graffiti, I shall start a search. I do like to have a project of my own.”

“It would be my infinite pleasure to assist you,” Signore Tazzera said, giving a little bow. They would make a formidable team, but I was not convinced either of them was looking for a treasure hunt.

 Florence,

148014

I did not know what to expect when I entered Santa Trinita the following week. I felt off-balance, unsure of myself. My voice was timid in confession, but Father Cambio did not seem to notice. We started our usual walk around the nave in silence, and I found myself lacking the confidence to start any sort of conversation. Finally, the priest spoke.

“So, Mina, tell me what you think of Dante’s limbo.”

Relief nearly knocked me to my knees. I had been unreasonably terrified that he would send me away again. In an instant, all of my worries and doubts and confusion evaporated. I smiled. “I recognized it.”

“How so?”

“Not the details, of course, but the idea of a place that isn’t painful or awful, but neither is it joyful.”

“Like your world?”

“In many ways, yes,” I said. “I make no attempt to claim my own small life worthy of the attentions of a poet like Dante, but I have very little influence on my circumstances. I want for nothing and shouldn’t complain. I don’t mean to do so now. It’s merely an observation.”

“An observation, I hope, that encourages you to seek comfort in Our Lord.”

What else would one expect a priest to say? Even so, his response was more than a little disappointing. “Yes, I suppose. But what do you make of those brilliant minds from the past stuck for eternity in limbo? Homer and Socrates, Ovid and Virgil—virtuous men, all of them. I find it deeply troubling. They’re excluded from heaven because they lived in the wrong time? What sort of just God would treat his creations so?”

Father Cambio looked