by Larry Loftis
Luis stepped closer. Louder: “Abuelo, it’s my novia. I would like to present my novia.”
Grandfather nodded and asked Aline to come closer, inspecting. He began rubbing his hands, thinking, or perhaps still evaluating. There was warmth in his eyes, though, and suddenly he grinned.
“Bueno, so you want to marry my nieto, my primogenito? Tell me, what do you see in him?”
He motioned to a chair and Aline took a seat, pondering her answer.
“Frankly,” he added, “I don’t see anything.”
Before she could respond, the count chuckled. “Bring the chair closer,” he said.
Aline scooted forward.
“Closer.”
She pulled it so that their knees were almost touching.
“Now give me your hand.”
Aline did and he began to speak softly, but with a sparkle in his eye. “Whenever I have the good fortune to be with a beautiful woman, it has always been my custom to hold her hand. I can think better this way. Now tell me, what sort of fellow is the president of your country? They tell me that Truman is doing very well, and I can bet that you’re going to have him for another term.”
Relieved at the softball question, Aline answered and the count went on, inquiring about politics and the United States in general. They talked for an hour but El Abuelo never brought up Luis, her family, or the marriage. Aline couldn’t believe it, that business about him being intimidating; he was the kindest old man she’d ever met.
Soft steps echoed behind them. It was Luis, approaching slowly, unsure if El Abuelo had completed his examination.
Grandfather waved him in. “Luis, your marriage has my blessings. What this family needs is some new blood, and Aline is just the one.”
* * *
That evening Aline called her parents. She had kept them in the dark about Luis since the notion of marriage had been so remote. It was best, she figured, to be direct.
“I’m getting married, Mother.”
“Oh, Aline, I’m so happy. To whom, dear? Some boy in your office?”
“No, Mother. He’s a Spanish boy who lives right here in Madrid.”
“Spanish? Oh, no, Aline, you’re not thinking about marrying a Spaniard?”
Aline sighed. Here we go. “Well, I’m more than thinking about it. I’m going to marry him.”
“Oh, Aline, I hope you’re not doing anything rash. Can he speak any English?”
“Better than I can. He also speaks French and German and Italian and… look, Mother, have faith in me. You’re going to adore Luis.”
“What’s his name?”
“Luis. Looo-eees.”
“You must get married here in Pearl River. When are you coming back?”
“No, Mother, you will have to come here. It’s difficult for Spaniards to leave the country.”
“But you will live here in America, won’t you?”
“We will live in Spain.”
“But what kind of living can he make over there?”
“Don’t worry about that, Mother.”
“I have to worry about you, dear. Now what does Luis do?”
“Well… I don’t know exactly, but it’s not important. He’s the champion golfer of Spain.”
“Oh, no, Aline. A golf bum. Don’t tell me—”
“Mother, he’s no kind of bum. He’s a count.”
“A count? You mean a bookkeeper? I think you had better give this a lot of thought. You should come right home. In a little while, you’ll forget all about it.”
Aline sighed again. This wasn’t going quite as planned. She let her mother know that she was, in fact, getting married.
In Spain.
To the bookkeeper.
The next day Aline cabled Frank Ryan in New York to let him know that she was resigning from the company, effective immediately, to get married.
Forty-eight hours later he was at her door.
CHAPTER 23 CORTANDO LA COLETA
Frank Ryan, always composed and confident, seemed agitated and nervous.
Aline showed him into the salon and he came quickly to the point.
“I have come here to discuss this idea of your impending marriage. I want to make you understand there are important reasons for you to postpone this marriage for the good of your country. This is not the time for a patriotic girl such as yourself to leave the company.”
Ryan paused to see if Aline would give a reaction, but she remained silent.
“We need you,” he went on. “We have great plans for you. We have planned a ‘fresh-up’ course for you in Washington.” From there, he said, she would open the Prague office.
Aline was touched by Ryan’s confidence in her and understood that there were few former OSS agents who didn’t have families and could move about as she could. She admired Frank immensely and didn’t want to let him down, but her mind was made up.
Frank slipped an envelope from his jacket and held it out. “Here is your ticket back on the France, the best ocean liner crossing the Atlantic nowadays. It leaves in six days. Do not abandon us now. You can postpone your wedding for a year at least.”
Aline held the envelope, saying nothing, and they looked at each other. She remembered an expression she had learned from Juanito: cortando la coleta. Literally, it meant “cutting the ponytail,” but it was used to say that a matador was giving up the fight. Throughout the history of bullfighting matadors had worn ponytails, which they fastened up in a bun at the base of their neck. If a bullfighter was retiring, he would cut his coleta. Juanito’s father, revolutionary that he was, decided one day to cut his, even though he wasn’t retiring. But the phrase carried on.
As gently as she could, she explained to Ryan that, for her, it was time to move on. To get married and start a family.
Undeterred, Ryan gave it one more shot. He explained that the company’s new name was World Commerce Corporation, and that things were moving quickly. “You are unaware of the plans we have for World Commerce. We considered it prudent that you and others not be informed of the current changes. But I can assure you that you will miss a very exciting adventure. You are perfect for the role we had chosen for you.”
Aline said nothing and Ryan wiped his brow.
“Think this over. Do you realize you are giving up a great career? An exciting career? No other young woman today holds such a unique opportunity. And you are still so young.”
Aline knew why Ryan was pressing. He wanted someone who had not only professional training in espionage, but also front-line experience with security protocols and the ability to fit in at cocktail parties, dinners, and receptions. Someone who had the ability to dig in such a way that the other person would not be put on their guard. It was very possible she was the only person who had all of the qualities Ryan was looking for.
She was moved, but Ryan’s plea didn’t change her resolve. She was in love with Luis and nothing could stop her from marrying him.
Cortando la coleta.
* * *
Days later she received a call from an unexpected source.
Edmundo.
He and Princess Agatha were getting married in Madrid in August, he said. Would she attend? She would, and she did.
Aline was a guest at their wedding at the San Jerónimo el Real Church on August 1, which was covered in the New York Times two days later.
Announcement of Edmundo’s marriage to Princess Agatha in the New York Times, August 3, 1946.
Edmundo wouldn’t be carrying on in espionage, Aline knew, but his marriage to Princess Agatha fulfilled his real dream: high society. That, and avoiding a nine-to-five job.
To his delight, some would now address him as “Prince Edmundo.”
Luis Quintanilla, meanwhile, was working on details of their marriage, starting with Aline’s dress. Spanish custom, he told her, was that the groom selects and pays for the wedding dress.
Aline couldn’t argue with that.
Luis showed her an old photograph of his mother in her wedding dress. I
t was beautiful. With a princess line silhouette and a chain of orange blossoms from waist to floor, it had a long train of white satin damask. She wore a tiara and a white lace mantilla extending the length of the train. His mother had died in an automobile accident when he was eight, and he said it would be an honor to her if Aline wore a dress modeled on the same design.
He motioned to the tiara. “That, you will have to wear. Every bride in my mother’s family has worn it for two hundred years.”
He added that it was also a Spanish tradition for the groom to give the bride a diamond bracelet.
“But Luis, I’d like a ring. In America, the custom is a ring.”
“Well, maybe I’ll give you a ring, too, but you must have a diamond bracelet because that is the custom.”
Aline didn’t protest further. There was something delightful about these Spanish traditions.
“Luis, what about the woman’s gift to the groom? What am I expected to give?”
“You must buy me a gold cigarette case. I’ve already chosen the one I want at my family’s jeweler, Paco Sanz. When you go there, he will show it to you.”
That night they went to Jockey for dinner and Luis set a box before her. Aline opened it and was awestruck. It was a ring with the largest ruby she’d ever seen—probably the largest in Spain—set between two equally impressive diamonds.
“This was a present from my grandfather to my grandmother, then from my father to my mother.”
As Aline gawked Luis brought forth a gleaming pearl necklace, its clasp set with diamonds. This had been his mother’s as well, he said. He asked Aline to put it on and he produced another box, this one with matching pearl and diamond earrings. Days later he gave her the diamond engagement bracelet.
Aline was flabbergasted. She had never desired expensive things, and here she was, not even thirty, with priceless jewelry and heirlooms. She realized that the one gift she was to give Luis—the cigarette case—had to be extraordinary.
She went to Paco Sanz’s the next afternoon and introduced herself to the owner.
Paco beamed. “Ahhh, si, señorita, I recognized you. El Señor Conde has selected the loveliest cigarette case that we have.”
He set it before her and Aline tried not to gasp upon seeing the price. It was clearly the most expensive case Paco carried, but it paled in comparison to the jewels Luis had already given her. To buy it, she’d have to forgo the two new Balenciagas she had planned to have made.
She smiled. “It’s perfect.”
With her resignation from World Commerce and Luis’s commitment to marriage acknowledged by both families, there was now no need to rush the ceremony, and she and Luis planned the wedding for late spring or early summer at San Fermín de los Navarros, the nineteenth-century church where Luis’s parents and most of his family had been married.
They announced the engagement on December 12 and the following day the New York Times made it known to the public at large: “Aline Griffith Engaged.”I
After the New Year, with wedding preparations well under way, Aline had one important thing to share with Luis that she had been putting off for months: her OSS work. Connecting an aristocratic family with espionage—even on behalf of America—was not something that would go over well with most Spaniards, Luis’s family in particular.
Aline’s engagement announced in the New York Times on December 13, 1946.
It was unlikely that Luis, in Madrid, would have seen the New York Times announcement—which mentioned Aline’s work for the OSS—and even if he had, he wouldn’t have known what it was. So one night after dinner, Aline decided to come clean.
She told him she had been an American spy during the war, operating out of the US embassy in Madrid.
Luis chuckled. “Preposterous.”
No, it was true, she said. But before she could explain the American Oil Mission, Luis began working himself up, enjoying the moment.
“You, a spy!” he roared. “Really, Aline, you do have a great imagination.”
Aline wondered whether to let it go or press it. Luis made the decision for her, continuing: “And you better not tell your fantasies to anyone. It wouldn’t improve their opinion of you.”
Luis looked at Aline a moment and then burst out laughing.
“You a spy! Bah!”
January 1947
Madrid
At Balenciaga’s salon Luis produced the photo of his mother and the vendeuse took Aline’s measurements. Luis and Aline selected the material, noted the length of the train they desired, and rose to leave. As they gathered their things, the vendeuse told them that she had spoken on the phone with Señor Balenciaga from Paris, who said he was impressed that Aline was marrying the primogénito of the Count of Romanones, and that he had known all along that the American girl was destined to become somebody.
On the drive back Luis announced that he had rented a place in Capri for their honeymoon. They would spend the summer there, he said, and then tour Europe and America.
“We will decide later how long we stay in each place.”
Aline didn’t know what to say. This was another world.
Over the next few months she and Luis worked on details of the wedding. They would have a dinner and dance following the ceremony, Luis decided, at the home of his eldest sister, Isabel, the Duchess of Tamames. She was staying at her finca in Cordoba at the moment, however, so Luis suggested a trip there to formalize plans.
Cordoba was an ancient city, he explained, rich in Arabic architecture from centuries of Moorish control. “My great-grandfather was from Cordoba and I inherited his famous palace in the middle of the city. But Isabel inherited his large finca.” Unfortunately, he added, he had sold the palace a few months earlier. “It was very ancient but I never passed even one night in the place. Evidently my great-grandfather, Perez de Guzman el Bueno, was a very important person in Cordoba. The palace is unusual—it was built so the owner could go up to the second floor on horseback. I would have liked that.”
Aline was getting to know her fiancé better each day, and how dramatically different their perspectives were. What she considered the marvels and mysteries of Spain—the old palaces and monuments and castles—were run-of-the-mill artifacts for Luis. What excited him was golf and hunting.
After the Cordoba trip, they began to pin down a wedding date. They originally set a date for the beginning of June, only to change it because Manolete was fighting in Madrid later in the month. It would be the last time they would be able to see him in the ring before leaving for their honeymoon, so they settled on June 26.
As the wedding date approached, however, calamity struck. Days before Aline’s parents were scheduled to leave New York, her brother Tom was seriously injured in an automobile accident. Not wishing to leave him, they sent Aline’s nineteen-year-old brother Bill in their stead.
June 26, 1947
Church of San Fermín de los Navarros, Madrid
As the ancient bells chimed in the tower above her, Aline stood in awe at the back of the church with her brother Bill at her side. It was surreal that she was wearing what Luis’s mother had worn—dress, train, and tiara—in that very church at her wedding. The guests numbered in the hundreds, almost none of whom Aline knew. In front of her were Luis’s relatives and all the grandees of Spain. El Abuelo, she knew, was sitting in the first pew.
The organ bellowed out the first chords of the processional and Aline’s heart began to race. There were no wedding rehearsals in Spain so you had to do it right the first time. Fortunately, she had played the part of the bride in countless fashion shows for Hattie Carnegie, so there was comfort in knowing she wouldn’t trip over her dress.
She slipped her hand inside her brother’s arm and noticed for the first time she was trembling. “Bill,” she whispered, “we must walk very, very slowly. Just keep in step with me.”
As they proceeded down the aisle, Aline prayed that she looked like the bride Luis wanted his family to see. Up ahead she could see Luis
and the priest, and ten men surrounding the altar who would be the formal witnesses. Two of the men—Paul Culbertson, US embassy chargé d’affaires, and Edward Maffitt, second secretary—were her representatives.
One person she didn’t spot was Benito Llambí, her erstwhile Argentinian suitor, who was seated in the crowd.
He was fingering a revolver.
I. While the New York Times’s “outing” of Aline as a former OSS agent might have been startling to her, the Times had already done this previously, and in far more dramatic fashion. Before the war had even ended, the Times revealed the OSS association of Reginald C. Foster, a staffer at the Washington office, on April 6, 1945.
CHAPTER 24 COUNTESS QUINTANILLA
Sitting in the pew beside Benito Llambí were two of Luis’s friends, who noticed the Argentine nervously sliding the pistol in and out of his pocket. Not wanting to disrupt the proceedings, they moved quickly and quietly, disarming Benito and whisking him outside, where they shoved him into a car and drove away.I
Aline and Luis, unaware of the drama occurring behind them, came together in front of the altar with Luis’s sister Isabel and Aline’s brother Bill standing at their sides, alternates for Luis’s mother and Aline’s father. With the glow of seven chandeliers upon them, Aline and Luis placed rings on right hands—the Spanish custom—and the priest introduced the groom and bride: the Count and Countess of Quintanilla.
After they signed the marriage documents, Luis whispered to her: “Before we go to the big party at my sister’s house, let’s slip out and make a visit to see El Abuelo. He will not be able to come to the party and we’ll never have time before we leave for Rome tomorrow morning.”
Aline understood that Luis’s grandfather wouldn’t be able to handle a dinner with several hundred guests, and she was glad to visit him at his home, still wearing her wedding dress.
El Abuelo seemed surprised to see them, but his eyes sparkled with joy. Once again he had Aline sit next to him and took her hands.
