Details
A/N: I couldn't just leave things as they were! Everyone will want to know what happens the next morning, right?
It was nearly noon by the time Diego emerged from his room. Though he was accustomed to being without sleep at night, he was not as familiar with the effects of so much wine. He had lain in bed for some time trying to sort the details of the previous day, and it had taken more effort than usual to move his sore body from the soft bed. Firstly, he'd been buried under a pile of rocks the day before; the wound on his sabre arm still sent arcing pains through his shoulder with nearly every movement; and finally, the wine that he had drunk had left with him a resounding headache. The sleep had helped, and the concoction from his university days had helped, but he still moved slowly. And those were just the afflictions plaguing his body. The events of the past weeks were enough to weigh him down heavily, but the events of last night were unspeakably wonderful. Someday he would allow himself the luxury of considering all the events carefully, perhaps even taking the time to write them down. He couldn't allow himself that luxury today. Today, he had to face his father's certain barrage of questions with a splitting headache. He would in every way prefer a sword fight to his father's incessant questioning, even with the nasty wound on his arm. The slings and arrows of outrageous fortune, indeed.
Victoria's location and condition were at the forefront of his mind as he slipped from his bedroom.
Victoria sat at the dining room table, dressed in the same clothes she'd worn the night before, with her forehead propped in the palm of her hand. A cup of coffee sat on a saucer in front of her. The table was set for four, but hers was the only occupied seat. Father and Felipe are still asleep, then, mused Diego. As his eyes took in her slender wrists, her bare shoulders, and the curve of her neck, his heart began to pound. While he had lain in bed dreading his father, he had given little thought to what he would say to Victoria. How do you meet someone in the light of day after a night like they'd had together? As Zorro, he did not encounter these kinds of situations, and as Diego, he never gave himself the opportunity. Avoidance was a key tactic in nearly all of Zorro's plots, and meek Diego managed his dull life with enough social grace to keep from nearly all awkward encounters, so there was nothing in his experience to call upon. I must stop thinking of myself as two people, he noted. The duality of the soul is impossible to maintain.
Diego approached the table and reached for the carafe of coffee to pour a cup for himself. Victoria looked up in surprise.
"Good morning," he said, softly. She looked up at him, smiled, and lifted an immense weight from his chest.
"Good morning," she returned, softly. "I didn't hear you."
Diego moved to his seat and pulled out his chair. "I also excel at stealth," he said with a wry smile. Victoria smiled. This new Diego, a blend of two such contrary men, was pleasing. He had Zorro's wit with Diego's easy manner. It was difficult to have much conversation with him when he wore a mask, since the encounters were so fleeting. Here he was, unmasked, smiling, having his morning coffee with her. It was an impossible, beautiful dream come true.
"Did you sleep?" she asked. It seemed a strange question to be asking, but he realized she meant that she was asking if he had ridden as Zorro last night. No one ever asked him that.
Diego smiled. "I did. Fairly well, I think, thanks to the wine. But I am less thankful this morning. And you?" he asked, raising his eyebrows as he took a long drink of coffee.
Victoria rubbed her forehead again. "I slept, yes. But I also have no good things to say about wine this morning. Perhaps no good things about it ever again." She took a drink from her cup and winced. Diego nodded sympathetically. They sat in silence for a moment, drinking coffee. Diego's mind raced. Should he say something about last night? Ought he apologize for his behavior? Now would be the time to do so, but he could not form the words. He also knew that the very walls were likely straining to hear their every word-either his father, Felipe, or the servants-and he would prefer to keep the conversation at the table free from gossip fodder. He would have to speak in generalities and hope that she would know what he meant.
"What did you think of the poetry last night?" he asked as he reached for the carafe to refill his cup. He gave her a knowing look. I don't really mean the book.
Victoria opened her mouth to speak, then seemed to think better of it. She glanced toward the door that lead to the kitchen. "It was lovely. It. . . it was the best poetry I have ever known." She smiled as she raised the cup to her lips.
What a clever woman, thought Diego. She had read the situation instantly. He raised one eyebrow. She smiled over the rim of the coffee cup, and he felt his heart race again. The Fox had met his match. He folded his arms and leaned back in his chair, smiling. Headache, sore body, an arm that must be rehabilitated, all of it be damned! Victoria was his.
Just then, footsteps in the hallway made them both turn their heads, and Don Alejandro appeared, looking slightly disheveled. His usually confident stride seemed to have slowed to a leisurely amble. He paused by the doorway when he saw the two of them seated.
"Did you never go to bed?" he asked, incredulous. Diego saw Victoria's eyes widen slightly, wondering what he knew. "This is where I left you last night." Diego saw her realize that he was attempting to make a joke, and her face instantly softened.
"Good morning, Don Alejandro. I slept very well, thank you," said Victoria with almost as much cheer as she could have mustered without a headache.
"Well, that makes two of us, then. I can't remember the last time I slept so late. It was that blasted cava. Maria!" Don Alejandro called toward the kitchen. The door opened, instantly, and as Diego had suspected she'd been listening on the other side. She looked with disapproval at all of them and gave a chiding shake of her head. She had known that the cava would give them all headaches and make them feel unwell in the morning, but Don Alejandro had called for it. Victoria lowered her head and pretended to be interested in the pattern on the china.
Don Alejandro rubbed his forehead and sighed. "Maria, eggs and tortillas, por favor. And send someone to see if Felipe has been up." The older don shook his head and pointed at Diego. "I am certain that young boy has never felt the way he is going to feel this morning." Don Diego raised his cup of coffee in assent. Maria swept back into the kitchen and began to bang pans onto the stove.
Don Alejandro took a long drink of coffee, and then seemed to remember something. He set down his cup abruptly and looked at Diego. Diego felt a knot of anxiety forming. Please, Father, have enough sense to keep your questions quiet now. All of the reasons for keeping his identity secret for the last four years came to mind. The house was full and busy in the morning, far busier than at night, and the chances of being overhead were much greater. Diego hoped that his father was half as receptive to his unspoken plea as Victoria had been.
"Ynez Risendo!" said Don Alejandro forcefully. He slapped his hand on the table. "That awful woman. I have some letters-many letters-to write regarding her, and I want you to read them before the afternoon stage comes for the mail." He pointed an accusing finger at no one seated at the table before continuing. "The day that woman is ever received by any family is Spain again will be a cold, cold day in-"
"Father," said Diego reproachfully. Victoria took a drink of coffee and looked out toward the parlor. Don Alejandro relented and took a drink of coffee himself instead of finishing his sentence. Diego cleared his throat. "I will be happy to read over your letters before you send them." Diego the scholar, the diplomat.
Don Alejandro nodded curtly and rubbed his forehead again, muttering something about blasted cava. Victoria pressed the heels of her hands into her eyes and sat motionless. If she was very still and didn't speak, the pounding in her head was tolerable. She could hear the ticking of the clock and the sounds from the kitchen. Diego regarded them both from his seat at the end of the table for a long while before speaking.
"I have a proposal," he began, and then immediately regretted the choice of words. Both Victoria and his father gave him startled looks. Diego quickly recovered, "A modest one," lest they think he was about to set a wedding date with Victoria. Don Alejandro leaned forward in his chair expectantly. Diego continued, choosing his words carefully, "The events of yesterday have left us with so many questions. It might be prudent to. . . go slowly as we make decisions today."
Victoria frowned. What did he mean by that? Is he talking about Risendo, or that awful woman Ynez? Was he talking about me? Does he mean Zorro? This constant doublespeak was exhausting and even more difficult to unravel with a pounding head. Victoria, with growing sympathy, realized how complex Diego's life was.
Don Alejandro tipped his head back and regarded his son for a moment before answering. "Of course, yes. There are many questions. As a man of action myself it is good to have a reminder to be. . . cautious." The older don took a drink from his coffee cup and and nodded. He, too, was able to practice doublespeak for the benefit of the servants, especially when he was not under the influence of wine. "I'll take consideration before writing those letters." He regarded his son with seriousness for a moment and something passed between them that Victoria didn't understand. They have their own language and way of doing things that I do not understand, she thought.
There was a knock on the door then and a bustle of activity as a young male servant answered it. He approached Don Alejandro, apologetically, and told him that the vaqueros from the south pass had seen cattle rustlers during the night. Don Alejandro nodded and pushed himself up from the table.
"Excuse me, Victoria, I will return momentarily." Victoria nodded her assent and watched the older don hurry toward the door to address the group of men in dusty boots and ponchos.
"How do they know the people were cattle rustlers?" Victoria asked Diego, softly, after Don Alejandro was out of earshot. The world of the de la Vegas was full of mysteries to her, problems that she had never known. With so much wealth, they had more to lose, and many people depended on them. And with the responsibility came violations of privacy that felt unimaginable to her: Servants listening at the doors, full of curiosity and gossip, requiring one to walk quietly and close doors in your own home! It was another world, one that she had only visited before, but one that more real than ever before after last night. That Diego could navigate it so deftly was a wonder to her.
Diego cleared his throat. "It would be unusual for anyone to be driving cattle this time of year, so that alone is suspicious. Probably they saw that the cattle all had different brands, which is a sure sign of thievery." He rubbed his forehead with his hand and sighed. Victoria watched him, wondering what it would mean for him as the son of the patron. Would he be expected to ride out with the vaqueros to see for himself? And then another thought quickly followed: Would Zorro ride? Victoria pondered that for a moment, thinking of all the times the masked man had appeared at auspicious times. Diego, being wealthy and having access to a large staff, would surely hear all the gossip and problems of the community one way or another, having access in ways that a reclusive bandit never would. Of course the fox didn't live alone in a cave. Of course he was well-connected. Victoria chided herself again for her foolish blindness. Now that she knew the truth, it was impossible to not see the resemblance or the obviousness of it all.
The door to the kitchen swung open and Maria appeared with a tray laden with fried eggs, cold carne asada, tortillas, and a bowl of oranges. She seemed unconcerned that Don Alejandro had vacated his seat; perhaps he was disturbed by hacienda business at all hours of the day. Victoria realized that she had no idea what it took to manage a large hacienda. The de la Vegas made it seem effortless, but surely there was always something requiring their attention.
Maria placed the tray between Victoria and Diego without comment and reached for the empty carafe. "Gracias, Maria," said Diego as he reached for a tortilla. She nodded and returned to the kitchen. Victoria noticed her unusually cool demeanor, and a prick of fear quickly blossomed into dread in the pit of her stomach.
"Diego," whispered Victoria, "is it possible that she-"
Diego raised an eyebrow and shook his head quickly, warning Victoria not to finish her sentence. Victoria looked toward the closed kitchen door with unease, but didn't say more. She reached for an orange, which was the only food on the table that was remotely appealing to her. She tried to cover the awkwardness of the moment with a forced smile and a new topic.
"I will need to return to the tavern soon. I am certain Pilar and the girls will be furious with me for being so late." Her slender fingers pulled the peel from the orange in pieces, and the sweet citrus scent filled the space between them. "It is nearly siesta already, and here I am still at the de la Vega hacienda." She pulled a section from the orange and bit it in half. Diego watched her over a forkful of eggs.
"Yes," he agreed thoughtfully. "Here you are." It was the most ordinary of moments; two people at a table, sharing a meal. But things would never again be ordinary between them. He put down his fork and crossed his arms. Diego regarded her quietly for a moment, and then he did something that made her heart pick up its pace. He stood from his chair and leaned toward her, his voice deep and softer than a whisper. "Come and meet Zorro."