Original posting: 5/16/2012
The Plans They Made
Put an End to You
In 1488, the fifth daughter of a rather well-known couple was secured by contract as a wife. It was an arrangement made by her parents and one very tough guy. The parents: Spain’s Ferdinand and Isabella, of Columbus fame. The tough guy? King of England Henry VII, father of Henry the Eighth. The woman? Catherine of Aragon, made even more famous as being the wife set aside in favor of a younger woman, Ann Boleyn.
What does not come forward in the above facts is that the woman bound by marriage was not a woman at all, but a child of three. Although it was not for another twelve years, when she turned fifteen, did she meet whom she was to marry, her fate was sealed.
In England, excepting royalty, arranged marriages fell out of favor, or rather out of necessity, because of reforms in economic and property laws. Not so in Spain. Arrangements continued among the gentry and wealthy until quite recently.
As in all countries with marriage contracts, marriages bound people’s wealth together. Few Spaniards owned property, and fewer had money. Those with property needed money to maintain them, so arranging for a propitious match — a time consuming but energetic endeavor — was handed over, for the most part, to women. (To be sure, the final approval remained with the male head of household. He rarely objected, though, once his wife had vetted the bride-prospect.)
Tradition. For some it’s the Holy Touchstone for what can be considered proper. It was for Manuela’s mother, Francesca.
What had been lost with the fall of the family, besides money, was a link to its history, which had been aristocratic. One thing is for certain, the habit of living that the Iglesias had enjoyed continued well past their moment of loss. This is not uncommon, easily understood, and forgivable. In Charles Dicken’s Great Expectations, and nearly all of William Faulkner’s novels about Mississippi, the retention of dignity rests almost wholly on the maintenance of tradition.
However, when desire to retrieve the trappings of status turns to obsession, things can get dicey.
There is hardly a heterosexual woman, and even some homosexual ones, for whom the largest engagement ring and most expensive wedding dress have not become the ultimate objects of bourgeois desire. Even the proposal itself must be so uniquely accomplished as to be worthy of YouTube.
For Francesca Ruk, nee Iglesia of Seville, one family’s wealth and position had taken hold of her imagination since young. It directed her actions, which ultimately ruined her opportunities. When fifteen, already beautiful in complexion and regal in bearing, much of what Francesca worked hard to exhibit was what she understood as the most marriageable traits. She had chosen the Estepas, owners of vast wine country property, as the only ones worthy of her charms.
In southwestern Spain, Andalucia, the land is sunwashed for most of the year. It is excellent land for growing citrus, sunflowers and especially wine grapes. The most famous Spanish wine is sherry, corrupted by the English from the town-name of Jerez, the center of sherry making. To be a sherry maker was tantamount to being royalty, especially since it usually meant being rich. The Estepas were.
The eldest son, Juan, was only a few years older than Francesca, tolerably handsome, and probably dashing in his uniform. Men of his age served, and serve, a mandatory stint in the armed forces. Wealth does not exempt.
It’s too easy to suppose that Francesca was seduced by the uniform. In much more likelihood Juan was seduced by her. Among the young, beauty trumps every common sense.
Whatever joined them, out of their union — unexpectedly — came Manuela. Unfortunately for all, Francesca’s efforts to unite Iglesia to Estepa were nowhere in the plans of the matron of the Estepa clan. She quashed it.
Perhaps as a result of dashed plans, Francesca’s kept her pregnancy secret until it had to be known, and she keeps the person who got her with child anonymous. (Francesca still refuses discussion.)
What normally would have occurred for Manuela’s father would have been his ascendency to patron of the winery, but his naval career had seduced him to a greater degree than anyone expected. He desired no parts of the family business.
He very well may have made this clear to Francesca, which may be why she refused, and refuses, to acknowledge his part in her situation. We cannot know, because nobody is talking.
Juan went off to a career at sea. Losing an Estepa attachment altered the course of Francesca’s fortunes, but had little effect on her obsession with them.
Juan had a younger brother, Francisco, but he was much younger and not even close to marriageable age. The winery and the wealth, however, eventually fell to him.
Suitable marriage, propitious union, access to the trappings of wealth and, more importantly, to the status of Spain’s aristocracy were all stripped from Francesca’s reach with her daughter’s illegitimate birth. These losses insured cauterizing herself forever from attachment to her daughter.
Then the wheel of good fortune rolled her way.
What she saw upon stepping through the door to Ed Ruk’s row home was not a long lost daughter, but a found opportunity. She could no longer marry into the reality of her obsession, but she could use Manuela to achieve her re-connection.
In the year following her arrival in America, Francesca set about making plans to achieve her connection. She hoarded every penny that came her way, sold whatever jewelry Ed Ruk bestowed upon her, did what she could. She had found Manuela a job in the city, or rather hounded the nuns until they found her one, the paycheck of which was dutifully turned over to her mother.
To return to Spain a rich American woman required the right appearances. Anything not reflecting her stature as a well-to-do woman was disdained by her. It cost money.
Who can imagine what arose when her plans were discovered by Ed Ruk? Regardless how hot their arguments, Francesca was unmoved. The one concession Ruk secured from her, which he secured without her, was that Manuela be allowed to continue her schooling. He paid for matriculation into the American School in advance of their leaving.
He paid for clothing, for their posh cabins aboard yet another steamship, for appropriate decorations. With bitterness and regret, he saw them off.
For the entire sea voyage Francesca had only one destination. She intended to arrange a marriage for Manuela. The husband? Francisco Estepa, brother to Manuela’s father, her blood-uncle.