Renaldo (16 page)

“Do you not think that I have had every opportunity to settle down

with scores of suitors? Men that looked attractive on the surface, but in reality

were just looking for a healthy dowry and a prize chattel. I will be no one’s

possession! You know me, Lonfranco. All those young dandies that were always

trying to win Papa’s favor to get close to me, they made me sick! Even on the

continent the men were no different. I want an equal relationship with the man

I marry. Partners in life, in business, and in love. Is that too much to ask? You

are the one man on this planet who understands me, and I know that we can

make things work. Please, Lonfranco . . . will you marry me?”

His mouth was so dry that the answer to her question was little more than

a croak. He looked into her beautiful dark eyes and gently took her hand. It felt

so tiny wrapped inside his.

“Yes, Maria, I will marry you . . . if it is truly what you want in your heart.

I have loved you since the first day I saw you. But please, do not take this action

because of some business arrangement or to spite Señor Bucharo. Please, only

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consider marriage if your love for me is pure and untainted by grief or revenge.

I could not stand to be used as a pawn in a chess game of the heart.”

Maria said nothing. She simply pressed her lips to his again. Her kiss told

him everything that he wanted to know and set his heart at ease.

The wedding caused a great sensation and somewhat of a scandal among

Porteño society. Lonfranco and Maria were quietly wed the next day in the

Basilica de Nuestra Señora del Pilar in Recoleta. Maria had been able to make

the arrangements on short notice with the parish priest, Monsignor Augustin.

He not only had christened her, but also had been a close personal friend and

confessor of General San Marco.

When Maria had walked into the narthex of the basilica, Monsignor

Augustin had assumed that she was there to seek solace because of the great

tragedy that had befallen her. He was shocked to discover the real reason for

her visit, and it was only after intensive questioning of her mental state and

her motives that he was persuaded by this very self-confident lady to give the

marriage his blessing, pending a chat with the perspective groom.

Lonfranco had waited anxiously outside. After what seemed to him an

eternity, Maria bid him into the chapel. The Monsignor asked some very

pointed questions of the Italian, but the two men had met before, both at this

place of worship and at the general’s residence on social occasions. He was aware

of the high regard that the general had for Lonfranco, and of the position of

trust that the former executive assistant had enjoyed.

He gave the couple his divine permission to proceed and told them to

return at nine o’clock that evening. Only Maria’s closest friend, Señorita Avril

Galaria, was present as a witness. A senior monk of the Franciscan order that

founded and ran the basilica would act as Lonfranco’s witness.

The service was concluded without pomp and circumstance in under

thirty minutes. The newlyweds were then ushered back to Casa San Marco,

where the full staff was assembled and told of the news. The couple would be

moving into the General and Señora San Marco’s master suite that evening, and

from that moment on, Maria would be addressed as Señora De Seta.

The last request that the couple made before retiring was for a coachman to

be at Señor Lopez Bucharo’s office at eight a.m. sharp the following morning and

to await his arrival. Señor Bucharo’s presence was requested at Casa San Marco

at his earliest convenience, and the coachman would provide transportation

should he wish it.

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The only thing that made cutting short their private wedding celebrations

with an anticipated early morning meeting palatable was the chance to rid

themselves of the arrogant Bucharo once and for all.

Whether it was their unbridled passion or the excitement of their newfound

freedom that the morrow would bring, neither of the lovers slept that night.

Both were dressed and waiting when the maid announced Bucharo’s arrival

shortly after ten o’clock.

“Señor Bucharo, how good of you to see us on such short notice. Would

you like a beverage or some fresh pastries?” Maria asked in her sweetest voice.

“No, thank you, Señorita, I have a very full agenda today, and I must be

on my way as soon as these documents are signed. I trust that you have come

to your senses and will now allow me to carry out the duties that your father

bestowed upon me as his executor.”

Bucharo shot a contemptuous glance at Lonfranco as he stood by Maria’s

side.

“Most assuredly, Señor. I have never been so clearheaded and certain of the

tasks that lay before me. I have reviewed the will in detail with the assistance

of Señor Orlando Houseman, whom I have retained as my personal attorney. I

believe you have made Señor Houseman’s acquaintance, have you not? In any

event, it would seem that you were correct. The estate is to be administered by

yourself and the other executors, and I have almost no alternative but to sign

the papers as requested.”

The color had left Bucharo’s face when Maria mentioned Houseman’s

name, and he began to tremble slightly. He was able to regain his composure as

he perceived Maria’s compliance with the terms of the will.

“It is a wise decision, Señorita San Marco. These were your beloved father’s

wishes. I promise you that I will be at your service, to assist you in any way

I can. Now, please have a seat and let us get the documents signed.” Bucharo

turned the chair behind the large desk invitingly toward Maria.

“That will not be necessary, Señor. When I said that I had almost no

alternative but to sign the papers, that is exactly what I meant. Señor Houseman

went into great detail over the ramifications of clause twenty-six ‘C,’ I believe

it is. Would you mind reading that clause to me, Señor?”

Lonfranco could hardly keep his amusement from becoming evident.

Maria was playing the game to the fullest, taking great pleasure in baiting

this lowlife before she reeled him in for the catch. Bucharo’s voice was a meek

stammer when he finally retrieved the document and turned to the appropriate

page.

“Señorita, I . . . I don’t see how this is of any relevance to the matters that

are before us. Can we kindly proceed with the signatures?”

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JAMES McCREATH

“Read the clause, Señor!” There was a coldness in Maria’s voice that

Lonfranco had never heard before. There was also fire in her dark eyes, and

Bucharo sensed for the first time that something was amiss. He quickly read

the clause, then closed the document and returned it to his briefcase.

“Now may we proceed. Señorita? That clause is of no importance at this

time. When, in the future, you choose a husband and marry, it is true, the

estate will vest in you personally. But we cannot concern ourselves with this

provision of the will until such time as you do get married.”

The lawyer was trying hard to maintain his composure, but his stomach

was turning and a general uneasiness filled his whole being.

“Señor, would you be so kind as to take a look at this scroll. Take your

time to digest its contents.” Maria handed Bucharo a rolled piece of parchment

bound by a purple ribbon. The lawyer’s hand began to shake uncontrollably as

he looked aghast at marriage certificate.

“No! This cannot be true. This . . . this is some sick joke you are playing.

Your father is barely in his grave and this is how you sully his memory? You

married this immigrant? Are you mad? I will have you committed! I will have

this annulled! You cheap little whore. I will…”

Suddenly Bucharo could no longer breathe, the force of Lonfranco’s

powerful grip around his throat making him gasp and sputter for air. He felt

his feet lift off the carpeted floor, and he was held aloft as he clutched at the

Italian’s arm in an effort to break the hold.

“Listen to me now, you slimy piece of filth,” Lonfranco’s voice was barely

audible speaking between tightly clenched teeth. “This is the last time I ever

want to see your disgusting little act. Señor Houseman will be at your office

this afternoon to verify that document. The marriage is legal, and under the

terms of the will, it is you who have no recourse. If you do not cooperate to

the fullest, there are certain business dealings relating to the Pampas railway

lands that will be made public. I don’t think your career or your social standing

could withstand such a blemish. Now take your lecherous schemes and leave

our home forever.”

As the last word passed his lips, Lonfranco hurled the lawyer into the

general’s empty chair with such force that it toppled over backwards, sending

Bucharo sprawling head over heels. It was all the newlyweds could do to keep

from bursting out in laughter as this once-arrogant man sought to maintain

some semblance of composure while he tried to right himself and collect his

belongings.

It was like watching a live performance of slapstick comedy. Bucharo

strained to avoid Lonfranco’s reach, trying to locate his spectacles, circling the

desk, dropping papers, and fumbling with the latch on his briefcase. The new

husband kept taunting him, pretending to lunge in his direction. Finally, the

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pathetic little man scurried through the doorway without a backward glance.

Despite all the threats, the De Setas were never bothered by Lopez Bucharo

again.

The announcement of the De Seta - San Marco nuptials that appeared

in the Buenos Aires newspapers within a few days of the wedding sent shock

waves through Porteño high society. The reactions ranged from compassionate

empathy for the grieving daughter and sister, to contempt and scurrilous gossip

about the social climbing Italian immigrant.

Even the general population was intrigued by the suddenness of the event.

Had Maria returned from the continent pregnant? Had this been a marriage of

convenience to avoid Señorita San Marco giving birth to a bastard? Speculation

was fired not only on the streets and in the drawing rooms of high society, but

also in the press on a daily basis.

Reporters camped outside Casa San Marco for any storyline that would

appease the public appetite for information. Crowds gathered alongside the

newsmen, anxious for a glimpse of the most famous couple in the city. Servants

were accosted as they left the walled compound. What was the true story? Was

Maria pregnant? Was it the truth that the Italian was a peasant, eating only

with his hands, that he had no refinement whatsoever, and was abusive to his

new wife and the household staff?

It was only after invitations to a giant reception in honor of the memory

of General Figueroa San Marco and his family were sent to every person of

prominence in the capital, as well as the working press, that the situation

surrounding the De Setas calmed down to a large degree. The invitation also

announced the union of the general’s only surviving heir to his former trusted