Conquistadora - Esmeralda Santiago [167]
“I have more news, Miguel,” the schoolmaster continued. “Your good friend, Andrés, will also be in Madrid. He was accepted at the law school.”
Leonor pulled a fan from the creases of her skirt and waved it around her face. “It’s warm here, isn’t it? Shall we move to the courtyard?”
Eugenio and Miguel jumped to help Leonor from her chair. She turned her back on her husband and smiled on her grandson. Eugenio backed up a step.
Simón finally noticed that something wasn’t quite right. “Did I say something to offend her?” he murmured to Elena as he escorted her to the courtyard.
“Please don’t worry. She’s been unwell the past few days and we’re all sensitive to her moods.”
“I will let you enjoy this happy news en familia. Congratulations,” he said, pressing Miguel’s shoulder.
After the teacher left, Eugenio, Leonor, Elena, and Miguel sat around the painted wrought-iron table, each deep in thought, as Siña Ciriaca poured the coffee. As soon as she left, Leonor stood without so much as lifting her cup. “Eugenio”—she stretched her hand to her husband—“may we speak in private?” Rather sheepishly, he led her up the stairs while Elena and Miguel watched them go until the door to their room closed.
“You knew nothing about this?” Elena asked Miguel as they sat down again.
“Neither Abuelo nor don Simón ever mentioned it.”
“They think it’s a great honor.”
“I hardly deserve it, Elena. There are much better—”
“Don’t say that, querido. You’re very talented.”
Miguel knew that he was, at best, a mediocre artist. But he didn’t have time to argue her assessment when they both became aware of the loud voices coming from the upstairs rooms.
“You’d send him away without consulting me?” Leonor asked her husband as soon as he closed the door. She sat on the divan by the window and beat the air with her fan.
“Of course not! I meant to tell you weeks ago, but with all the activities around Ponce de León, and then you weren’t feeling well.” Her skeptical look forced him to change tactics. “Besides”—he sat at the foot of the divan, slipped his fingers under her petticoats, and rubbed her leg—“it wasn’t at all a sure thing. We didn’t want him to get excited about it only to have Maestro Campos de Laura say no.”
“Why can’t he continue his studies here?” She gently but undeniably kicked his hand away.
Eugenio noticed that his waistcoat was open. “He’s gone as far as he can. He needs more advanced instruction,” he said, focusing on the otherwise second-nature task of fastening a button.
“Tell the truth, Eugenio. Why are you sending him away?”
He finally looked directly at her. “Leonor, I’ve not wanted to worry you.”
“You’re keeping something from me.”
“Yes, my dear, I’m sorry, but I thought it was best if I took care of it. Bartolo Cardenales and I have handled the situation.”
“What does Bartolo have to do with this?”
Eugenio took a deep breath. “Miguel and Andrés are involved in activities that could compromise them.”
“I don’t understand. Compromise them with a girl?”
“No, my dear,” he said with a rueful smile. “That’s easy to manage. Unfortunately, our boys admire that firebrand Betances and are involved in one of his secret societies.”
“Those so-called secret meetings in the botica are hardly a reason to banish him to Spain.” She squinted suspiciously. “Everyone knows it’s just men hearing themselves talk.”
He hadn’t discussed his plan to send Miguel away because he wanted to avoid this conversation. “No, mi amor, it’s more serious than that.”
Her thin eyebrows crept toward each other in the familiar gesture that brooked no half-truths.
“The governor took me for a stroll around the gardens at La Fortaleza a few weeks before the Ponce de León exhumation.” He paced, as if he needed to move in order to think clearly. “It appears that our boys have been meeting with men organizing an armed revolt.”
“By blancos?”
“They’re not foolish enough to try to arm the blacks. They’re recruiting campesinos, and the plan is still in the early stages. Coded