Claudia

By Portia D'Amboise

the aristocratic avila-rojas of seville have one daughter, claudia, on whom they have pinned high hopes. she is extremely beautiful and talented. but young claudia has a mind of her own and is defiant at every turn. at seventeen years of age, she is well-bred and naturally assumed to be destined for a life of luxury, and position. however, conditions in europe are unstable in the early 1800's. The spanish armada's defeat at trafalgar left a shortage of eligible men for marriage back in spain. as well, the coffers of wealthy families have been depleted.
when a substantial dowry is offered for claudia's hand in marriage by rich landowner, don jorge, in the colony of argentina, her parents have no option but to accept. despite knowing little about him, his money will pull them back from the brink of financial ruin.
always one to take charge, young claudia envisions her aristocratic life will continue in the new world, and ... with a dashing husband. while on-route, haughtily, she plans how it will unfold; completely to her satisfaction. however, life's destiny for her differs as black, from white. with the simmering seduction by handsome ignacio, an officer aboard ship, claudia's heart is tossed into unrelenting turmoil. she falls in love with him, too, and her self-control wavers. struggling, she manages to maintain her sense of purpose, which is to honour the dowry - until the rude reception in buenos aires, that is. no dainty carriage for her; she is unceremoniously carted off in an oxen-pulled, covered wagon.
parted from the man she truly loves, claudia bravely ventures on but not to a privileged life on the pampas. far from it! her orchestrated dreams are thrown to the pampa's winds as she is plunged into a sudden hostile battleground where the true nature of her husband-to-be is unleashed ... against her. will her wits and strong will, save her life? or will ignacio somehow come to her rescue?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Portia D'Amboise
• Release date: Jan 14, 2013
• ISBN: 9781301707546

Portia D'Amboise

PORTIA D'AMBOISE Portia was born in Canada and fortunate to be immersed in its French romanticism. In her youth she aspired to be an actress particularly in love story films. Although this did not come to pass, she discovered her gift for writing. She has published in other genres. An early admirer of Lady Cartland, the grand dame of romance writing, Portia, along with her high school girlfriends, delighted in sketching out heroines, and their lovers. From that early start she has brought together her own adventurous world travels, and her abiding interest in history to conceive the story of Claudia. She holds the belief that sincere love is the essence of enduring relationships, and that love does surmount obstacles in its way. Portia teaches writing, fiction and non-fiction, at post-secondary level, and has presented, and given workshops on Romance Writing at Writers' Fairs. For such services, she welcomes you to contact her at: [e-mail]

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CLAUDIA

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By Portia D'Amboise

Published By:

Portia D'Amboise on Smashwords

CLAUDIA

Copyright@2013 by Portia D'Amboise

Smashwords Edition, License Notes This eBook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This eBook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

This book is a work of fiction and any resemblance to persons, living or deceased, is purely coincidental. The characters are of the author's own creation, as are the locations except for major cities in Spain, and Argentina. This is adult reading material.

Acknowledgements: Krista Bunskoek for information on e-publishing; Janice Watt & Norbert Maertens for author photo and Titania Villa for cover design.

Please note some differences in spelling as I employ the Canadian style such as using extra letters. Ex: in words such as, 'colour' and 'focussing'.

The story, Claudia, was conceived while on an extended visit to Argentina exploring its complex history. Time spent on a ranch, on the Pampas, where Argentine gauchos continue to work as cowboys, inspired the setting.

I hope you will enjoy Claudia's coming-of-age story as much as I enjoyed creating it.

CHAPTER 1

From chaos to bliss! The words ran fervently in her mind as haughtily, she tossed her head. Jubilation! At last something went her way and had done so with such a whirlwind clamouring speed that it had left her awestruck.

As with other debuting females of nobility she had been cooped up in a narrow room at the convent with walls made of hefty stone masonry and windows carved out as indented slits. Sunlight came through in mere fleeting visits. Claudia had been sent to the boarding school by her parents because the nuns were the strictest mentors her parents could locate. The Sisters of Mercy provided her what semblance of education possible during these struggling times in Spain. Claudia had an agile mind and learned quickly, and so she had forged ahead with the reading of books beyond her grades. This pleased her teachers. But her attitude and behaviour left much to be desired and, consequently, it was this that got her into trouble.

All of the wrangling about her deportment was abruptly curtailed however. War was all about in Europe and it had inched and infiltrated its way closer and closer into her country, into her life. But she had not speculated, not even dreamed that its obtuse hand would change her destiny. Add the events happening on a far away continent and a tremendous impact suddenly affronted her young life. After all, she had barely turned seventeen years old and was her parents' only child, which made such destiny more unlikely. Of course, she knew of other young women whose lives had been extremely altered too; affected by developments in the New World. She recalled how she had envied them.

Yes, I envied those women, she quietly declared. And here I am, as if out-of-the-blue, following their path. Again, she shook her head in disbelief. "But this long journey has to be made now. Made before my real life can start. My life the way I want it! Her words issued louder and more emphatic. Never mind, she continued under her breath. This great ship's voyage is an adventure." And she smiled with a sudden sense of freedom.

Before all this came to pass, Claudia, of aristocratic blood, and acknowledged for her stunning beauty, was expected to follow convention and the well-laid out plans for her future, in Spain. At first she feigned resignation to such a future, but always the thought of it gritted her nerves. Her rebelliousness had already been punished, forcing her to shove it underground. But at the time of entering her teens, there was no alternative. What else could she do? Her parents were adamant to enforce the rule of tradition and that was de rigueur of marrying into her own class – the aristocracy. Had she really resigned though? No, she reflected. Not in her mind. She had protested then. Sure she did, but her protests had been rebutted and then they were ignored. Finally she dared voice an outright complain saying she would refuse any arranged marriage, no matter who was chosen for her. Thus, she stirred her parents into exasperation and was punished yet again. She had refused to protract her boisterous dramatics, her vehement dissent, and so she had been confined to her quarters. This happened on two occasions during visits on school holidays. Her parents, especially her mother, La Doña, had been mortified at hearing their daughter’s determination to seek her own amor, her own esposo, husband. Never! They would not hear of it! Her mother flatly stated that things were bad enough for the Avila-Rojas family and this would surely guarantee a scandal. One hard to live down. The family could not bear more. Her Mama had breath out a great sigh and with that pitiful and pleading look in her eyes had appealed for reason. But a turn of events - unforeseen by all concerned - forced even more worries upon these bluebloods. Much more!

Now at present, Claudia was bound for the New World. She was out of the convent and on her way to a foreign land that not even her father - worldly for his time - had noted in his travel journal. She knew this was an act of desperation on the part of her parents, one most reluctantly undertaken. And for La Doña, it was a heartrending decision. Claudia’s mother told her it was the best possibility for her, their daughter, given the catastrophic unfolding taking place in Spain. "Dios mio! Who would have known it would come to this? Shameful! Shameful! But we must keep our heads up." She had moaned within the walls of their mansíon one dark, damp evening. And the result of all the discussion and flurry of activity? It was Claudia's boarding this ship, bound for the Spanish colony in South America.

At last, she felt un-tethered, and on her own. Well, almost. At last she could breathe deeply, and make some decisions for herself. And one was this. Rather than being sequestered in her cabin below in a space even smaller than her room at the convent, she boldly took seat here; on-deck. With gusts of wind loosening her curls from out of her bonnet, she did not want to miss anything. Suddenly, there had been a brand new life planned out for her, and ... it would not be in Seville’s high society circles as her Mama and Papa so dearly wanted. This alternative was more to her liking. The universe had played to her wishes, after all. Yes, I am grateful to the Sisters for teaching me to read and write and to calculate numbers. They encouraged my musical talent too, she thought, and all these abilities will come in handy. Her strong intuitive sense told her they would prove useful in the Spanish colony that was shaping up in the New World.

She marvelled at the unseen forces that gave her opportunity to pursue exploration, and ... to find love. Both desires had burned in her as long as she could remember. Both had been forced to take up a compact space within her – in silence. All because of the rigidness of her society and the unbending will of her parents. Obey society. Obey your parents. Scornfully she ran the dictates over in her mind. No longer need she listen to the annoying commands. As she gazed about the deck, Claudia declared in an audible assertion. This is what my life was meant for. She felt giddiness take hold of her insides. Her silent passion for this freedom had never been given licence, never given full permission to express; not without accompanying punishment anyway. Not until now! She clapped her dainty hands together.

Her new life, assumed to be on-hold until she arrived on the continent, unexpectedly jumped ahead, though. She found herself already drawn into the palpable intrigue evident on this big sailing vessel. Ensconced on the little bench affronting the main mast, with unobstructed view of the deck, she was privy to all the action taking place. Every day she made venture here. Having never been on a large ship before now, the working crew fascinated her. Their tasks brought them scurrying, pulling lines and scrambling up masts, spryly responding to the shouts and orders of the officers. But it was a certain man amongst them, but not one of them that drew her undivided attention. He had managed to pique a keen inquisitiveness within her. On the first day they set sail he was standing on the polished deck just as he was now, a clean-cut silhouette. He was a figure standing sentinel straight and gazing out to sea, seemingly watchful for whatever might emerge from its depths; for whatever might threaten. Always his eyes remained fixed on the blue surface and on the horizon’s thin line as his body was lifted and lowered with the bow’s rhythmic movements. Who is he? Again she asked herself the question for the umpteenth time even though she had learned of his position and purpose.

Already a few weeks had passed since she tread upon the gangplank and her will, strong as it was, so far had failed to shake off the abiding curiosity he aroused in her. She wanted to know more; more personal information. Lastima! Darn! What is he hiding? What is this occupation I have with him anyway? I don’t need him to interrupt my plans.

In her mind, she had repeatedly told him to go away and not bother her. Despite her protests, however, more and more, he doggedly crept into her thoughts. Continuous visions of him popped up in her mind and disrupted her musings; her plans for her new life on new soil. It didn’t seem to matter where she was; below deck and out of sight of him, or above, as she was now. Well presently, here he was and she watched him; watched his every move.

By the fixed expression he bore at that initial glimpse, Claudia assumed him to be homesick; either for the city left behind, or for the one of their destination. Surprisingly, for someone his age he exuded the composure, strength, and confidence usually associated with an older man, a more worldly man - someone like her father. But he was not of her father’s generation; his appearance was of youth. He had to be close to her own age. The contrast of maturity and chiseled handsomeness; that very schism, created a disturbing fascination which had instantly gripped her from the start and it would not release its hold.

The officer begged questions be asked of him, and Claudia had entertained many, for the mysteriousness of his demeanour gave little hint as to what he was thinking. His person emitted formality, a business-like manner, and his affect, the way he regarded others, seemed to say ‘Keep your distance’, ‘Keep to arm’s length’. Understandably so, she was discovering. It went with his post. He was not the ship’s captain, but he was in-command. It was to do with their cargo. From the beginning, there was an aura of secrecy about this cargo they transported. It had spurred a heightened excitement in her and also explained the necessity of his presence. But he was not all hard and aloft as one might anticipate from someone in his position. When it came to her, he displayed none of this. No. Although she liked his rugged manliness, he had put his commanding voice aside when he addressed her the first day out of port. Instead, he used a softer cordial tone with his, Buenos días. Señorita. How charming was his enunciation in perfect Castellano, she mused. His cordial way is as it should be, she remarked with a jut of her chin. This was appropriate and to be expected. After all, she was a lady of stature. Despite her wont to break rules, and to grasp at freedom, she knew who she was and she knew the value of her name. The Avila-Rojas Family, de la Ciudad de Sevilla, was of a prestigious line with a long and distinguished heritage. She was extremely proud of her birthright. And so she would abide nothing less than to be addressed with good manners and courtesy. From strangers, in any case. Strangers, she mulled over the word. Well, I would like him not to be such, she thought, and shook her head causing her curls to bounce about. Could we not simply enjoy ourselves during this crossing? What harm in that? Then when we dock, I’ll be off with my new husband and we’ll put this time spent together, behind us.

Shifting her eyes away from him, she peered down at her embroidery. Embroidery. A lady’s occupation. It was a skill the nun’s forced upon her in their attempt to tame her wild spirit, as they called it. A spirit that rose up as if it had a life of its own, to challeng the moulding of the elegante. Of course she was a person of refinement but that didn’t mean she had to be a silent one. She had her definite opinions on matters and saw no wrong in expressing them ... whenever she could. Unfortunately countless reprimands from scowling adults had been her reward. Even though disapprovals had made her more cautious, they had not entirely suppressed her.

With these thoughts having their run-on, a light breeze suddenly caught the fabric she held and sent it fluttering. And at that very moment, the officer turned about and stared in her direction. Brazenness took hold and unabashedly, Claudia held his gaze. Then checking herself - remembering who she was - she turned away. Setting the cloth aside, she pretended to be busy threading her needle with a fresh strand of silk. All the same, she stole a glance to the foredeck to view his broad back, turned toward her now, before taking up her stitching again; a yellow flower. Focused as she needed to be for the fine work, nonetheless, her mind continued to wander. Inwardly she scolded herself for this pervading focus on him. She chastised herself too, for the eagerness she felt in coming here each day, always under the guise of needing to take fresh air. And without exception, butterflies of excitement would commence as she climbed the narrow staircase from her cabin. And of course, invariably her heart filled with hope that he would be on deck. This eagerness to sight him never failed but to burst forth like a fountain, time and time, again.

It’s wrong! Now her own stern tone came to the fore. The cautions of the nuns and the admonishments of the confessor priests in the confessional box, rang in her ears for she knew very well how forbidden were these feelings. It dogged her that despite her bravado and her gusto to claim freedom, she still felt guilt. This kind of allure, this very sort of emotional arousal that she had carelessly nurtured was, without question, off-limits to her. Such thoughts were not to be entertained. No. Not whatsoever! She lectured herself. But why hadn’t she shaken them off immediately, back then? That would have served her best. Yes. To put him out of mind. To relegate him to no importance would surely have spared her the anxious wrangling in her stomach. With each passing day on these high seas, the longing pulled at her insides with growing intensity.

First she had rationalized, had lied to herself that it was not but a distraction from the unchanging seascape, the repetitive swaying of the vessel which makes one long for bustling streets filled with colour and lively crowds. She had wavered though, as she did now, fixing her vision on the lone figure in uniform. In sobering moments she knew that her imaginings of him, the fantasizing she permitted herself were in fact, sinful. Yes. Sinful. She would surely have to own up at her next confession. She was on this ship for other reasons. Absolutely so! Reasons in direct contrast to or, one could say, in conflict with a developing whimsical interest in another man; handsome, and manly as he might be. This back and forth struggle with her conscience, was vexing. There were times she had wished that one, or the other, would prevail and spare her the anguish; anguish so new in her young life. All the same, her eyes lifted from the wooden frame in her hands, to the uniformed officer standing at the bow. To her chagrin, Claudia’s active imaginings would not let up. Here he was; a man completely in his own world. He paid little heed to the loud flapping jib sails at his earshot, or to the bulky-trousered, barefoot marinero, the seaman on-watch at the bow’s starboard side. Whatever he was thinking, or brooding on, seemingly allowed no space for attention to her.

Back home she heard of how sailors so far from land, often became melancholy for their families. For example, this tiny bench I sit on must have been carved by a marinero who was in such a state, she thought. The odd engravings of mermaids atop jagged coastal rocks lacked the appearance of joy. One would expect expressions of joy from these melodic chanteuses but, alas, their lips were not parted. One day she had examined the little sitting piece closely and found that the lovely women of the sea in fact were entwined in seaweed. Altogether, this gave the bas-relief a snarled appearance. She relished what she had read about mermaids, though; their independence, liberty, and persuasion with men. In fact, she fancied herself alike to them, except her preference was to tread on land. All the same, the symbolism of entrapped women disturbed her. Indeed she was aware of the power held by such imagery. It was unsettling. She knew her intuition was easily aroused, as this rendering had done because most often, it stimulated unpleasant emotions. The day she viewed the seaweed entanglement about the muses, she had inquired for an alternate seat but none could be found except at the ship’s stern. There it was too busy for the ship's wheel took up a large space. Returning to musings on him, no marinero was he, the man out there on deck. No. He was not a sailor. Being of army military, he was therefore not destined for years at sea. All the same, the two types of deck men had something in common; both were far away from home.

At last she slowly drew her eyes away, not willingly to be sure, and came back to her activity which amidst the salt-filled air, helped pass the time She looped the colourful threads in and out in a design she had proudly drawn herself, and one that she was curious about in terms of outcome. Swaying as though on an emotional pendulum, her active mind would not be tamed and she capitulated to her reveries. They drifted to the times the officer and her path had crossed. And, if she were to be completely honest, those times were hardly sufficient in number. For it was on rare occasion that the Ship’s Master invited the military’s commanding officer and his aides to dinner in the Master’s quarters. And on this bulging vessel, it was the one and only social opportunity for land-dwellers such as her; a formal repas served on fine china with polished silverware. All perfectly arranged on pure white linen. The meals were always accompanied by a choice of superb Spanish wines which when poured into crystal glasses, languidly rose and fell mimicking the motion of a miniature tide. Candlelight caught their red and burgundy and further deepened the richness of their color.

And at such invitations, Claudia had been quick to organize her evening attire so as to appear her absolute most stunning. There was nothing wrong in that, she reasoned, as it made her feel at home again. She had always commanded the center of attention, discretely unveiling her charms amongst attentive men. She sensed there were some amongst them too, who also longed for respite. In their case, from male company. One of those, she was almost certain, was that young lieutenant at the bow’s railing, over yonder.

Aside from these jewelled evenings, however, the ship’s routine was repetitive and steady; its bowsprit constantly being navigated to hold aim at the vast continent which was the New World. Claudia’s surroundings gave no resemblance to what she had left behind at home and already, her spirit had grown restless. The only thing familiar aside from the repas was the women’s salon where she joined socially with two other passengers. Aside from them, the vessel was filled with working men; sea-dogs as the marineros jovially referred to themselves. They were always on the move.

Secretly she wished she could disguise herself and pose as one of them – be on the move too - climbing the masts, furling sail and heaving lines while in loose trousers with no confining shoes on her slender feet. It looked so exciting, so filled with zest. Ah, but Claudia in her youthful innocence, had no idea that something akin to this would indeed be her experience. How could she possibly know? And that such a scenario would also pose a crisis; one of such magnitude that it would hold her precious life in the balance. She could not fathom that her present wishing, her lively imaginings, would make good on the outcome.

The shouting of orders began anew and idly she commenced counting the numbers working on the broad deck. She counted twenty sailors, thereabouts, and these ranks were swelled even more by the accompanying unit of soldiers. She surmised their sleeping quarters to be extremely cramped, and wondered if the lieutenant had his own cabin. Probably not. In her estimate, he appeared to be the kind who would remain amongst his men.

In fact the military presence – the troops - comprised the safety escort, attached to their cargo. And for certain, a protective force was needed. Due to this cargo their departure from port had been delayed by three days. This was for two reasons she had learned, for indeed this was a voyage, a sailing that was shrouded in tight secrecy. Top security. She was not supposed to be privy to these arrangements, but her eager-to-know nature had ferreted out the facts.

She found out that one of the reasons was to camouflage certain critical aspects of their departure. These were: the name of the exact ship carrying the cargo, the departing port, and the departing time. This was purposefully designed to confuse, to make it more difficult ... for spies. Oh, yes, there were spies about. Spies from other countries, as well as from factions within Spain itself; all of them wishing to capitalize on any small advantage. Their aim being to wrestle out smidgens of news concerning political powers connected to the New World. There was particular interest in the colony needing this shipment – the colony of her destination. Furtive and sly, spies were anxious to pin down accurate information; secrets for which they could demand, and collect, rich compensation. At the time, young Claudia, sheltered by her parents and guarded by the sisters who taught her in the classrooms at the convent, thrown into this sudden mystique filled her with lively excitement; high adventure. Even now, thinking about it gave her butterflies in her stomach.

And this is how embarking for the New World had transpired. Claudia and her parents were informed she would be crossing on the Santa Cruz Madrid which was announced to officially set sail from the dock at Puerto Sanlucar de Barranmeda at the mouth of the river, Rio Guadalquivir. But then in the night the Santa Cruz Madrid made an unscheduled sailing to the nearby, and larger, port of Cadiz where it was to take on its cargo. And there another change in plan took place. That very designated ship underwent a re-scheduling. Its original designation - the New World colony - was removed. The vessel was issued an entirely different course and its original one was assigned to another sailing ship. Covertly, La Granada was appointed instead, as the cargo’s carrier. Therefore, rather than load the Santa Cruz Madrid with the secret and coveted wooden boxes in Puerto Sanlucar de Barranmeda, this cargo was stowed aboard La Granada in the alternate port of Cadiz. It had been at that point that her parents were informed of which ship their daughter would find her trans-Atlantic passage; on La Granada.

The second reason for delay was due to the extra time required in stowing the freight. Extreme care had to be taken in the exact balancing of the boxes and kegs, she was told. And there was extremely sound reason for this precaution as well.

After hearing of the delay, and whilst having to wait at her home - packed trunks and boxes taking up most of the family’s parlour - her father had discussed the idea of holding her back. He was worried. Given these clandestine operations and the risk the cargo itself posed, both parents thought it wise to postpone her voyage. Her mother