Conquistadora - Esmeralda Santiago [10]
Unlike his brother, Eugenio didn’t have a good head for commerce, but the military had trained him to delegate, motivate, and make others accountable. He knew his sons were as unenthusiastic as he was about trade, but still, after Rodrigo’s death, he pushed his sons toward the managers and clerks of Marítima Argoso Marín, hoping that more involvement in the operations might excite and inspire Ramón and Inocente.
After discussions with his sons and with Leonor, Eugenio decided to keep his shares of the shipping business but planned to sell the house, farm, land, and slaves in Puerto Rico. It was a slow process, however. He could do nothing until a complete audit of Rodrigo’s estate was filed and taxed by the Crown. He expected that he and his sons would manage the shipping business, but once the house and land were sold, he’d buy a finca where he could spend the last years of his life breeding race horses and fighting bulls. He was still relatively young at fifty-two, and Leonor was a sprightly forty-seven. After decades of soldiering, living in tents and rented houses like the one in Cádiz, Eugenio could finally give Leonor a real home. But the day before Ana was to return to Sevilla, Ramón approached Eugenio.
“Papá, I respectfully request your permission to make an offer of marriage to señorita Larragoity Cubillas.”
Eugenio thought that Ramón, almost twenty-four, should be settling down to start a family and he thought Ana was a splendid choice for his older son. She was from a good family, well educated, smart, and not silly, like the girls flitting around his good-looking sons. He knew that because don Gustavo lacked a male heir his wealth would go to Ana’s uncle, but he guessed that she might come with a handsome dowry and gifts of cash from the Cubillas side.
Eugenio gave his blessing before consulting his wife.
“They hardly know each other,” she complained.
“They’ve spent many hours together in the month since she arrived.”
“We know nothing about her.”
“We know she’s from an illustrious, wealthy family.…”
“There’s something about her …,” Leonor said. “I have a bad feeling.”
Eugenio and Leonor had been married for twenty-nine years, and he was used to her fancies and premonitions, but nothing ever came of her forebodings. She argued that it was because they paid attention to her warnings that Ramón and Inocente suffered only the typical misadventures of active boys and spirited young men.
“He’s made his choice, mi amor, and I believe he’s chosen well,” Eugenio said. “I encouraged the courtship, but perhaps there’s something I missed. Do you have a specific concern about her?”
“No, it’s a feeling.”
“You’re a mother seeing your boy falling in love with another woman.”
“I’m not jealous,” she snapped. “I think they should be settling down, and yes, I want grandchildren. But why her?”
Ana’s parents were not at all pleased with the match either. First there was Leonor. She was a Mendoza and a Sánchez, from families of conversos whose Jewish ancestors had accepted the Catholic faith over two hundred years earlier. Eight generations, however, weren’t enough to erase the stigma of having been Jewish in Spain, especially to a family of conservative Catholics. They were also ill disposed toward Eugenio because of his political views.
Before his death in 1833 with no male heir, King Fernando VII convinced the Spanish Cortes to amend the laws defining succession only through the male line to allow his eldest daughter, Isabel, still a child, to inherit the throne. His brother, don Carlos, was favored by conservative elements, chief among them, the Catholic Church. After Fernando’s death, Carlos challenged the then three-year-old Infanta’s claim and civil war ensued. For six long years the two factions fought for control, until, in 1839, with support from England, France, and Portugal, Isabeline forces were victorious.
Eugenio had distinguished