Author Note: Disclaimer: FYI; Erik will have a full head of black hair. Don't like, don't read.
October 29, 1876
"Manuela! Manuela! Maria! Where is your daughter?" barked Don Ricardo Montevilla stomping into his lavish parlor of red velvets and stained glass windows and dark wood paneling. His wife, doing her embroidery on the settee and not looking up for a moment said evenly,
"Do not yell Ricardo. The Doctor said it raises your blood pressure. Besides, Manuela is also your daughter."
"Not today!" Ricardo declared pacing the Persian rugs. Donna Maria Montevilla was a beautiful dark haired beauty, born of the native Mexican people, married into Spanish nobility. Her only indicator of her age was Crow's Feet at the corner of her brown eyes. Crow's feet developed after years of frowning at the antics of her husband the Don. She sighed a regal sigh and said,
"She's in the courtyard planning the fiesta. What has she done now?"
"What she always does! Embarrass me! Manuela!" Don Ricardo yelled as he stomped out towards the courtyard of his villa. Maria sighed, putting down her embroidery to follow him, muttering under her breath as her royal purple silks swifts along the tiles,
"Virgin Mother give me strength!"
The courtyard sat on a small hill overlooking the rows and rows of grapes vines made into fine and garnet red wine. Everyone was a bustle of activity. Workers were brought in from the vineyards to help the domestic staff hang garlands of flowers in oranges and yellows, with bright and carefully cut papel picados pinks and purples and greens. Paper and wire skeletons grinned as they were hung up in the corners, A canopy of pinatas were slowly being lifted up into the air under the close supervision of Senorita Manuela Angelita Maria Montevilla; Don Ricardo's only child and greatest cause of heartburn.
"Steady now! Steady...A little higher on the right, por favor!"
Don Ricardo was not a tall man, but he was imposing enough and resembled a bull enough to plow his way through, no man daring to cross his path. He stopped behind his daughter and told her,
"Manuela! We must have a word!"
"Oh Papa! Can't it wait? I have a million things to do today if I'm to have any fun at our fiesta. Besides...I know what you're going to lecture me about." Manuela said biting her lower lip. She began to chew her pencil in thought as Ricardo asked sarcastically,
"Oh really? And what is that pray tell?"
"Hmm? Oh, you know, Juan Gregorio told you after our tea today that I was a hellcat and a demon to him." Manuela said counting how many tables were out so far.
"Yes...well..."
"But Papa I assure you I was most kind when I told him that if he wished to marry, he best find a woman who gets hot and bothered when he speaks endlessly about his holdings which he did nothing to earn." she said pointing a large skeletal donkey decoration across the courtyard.
"Manuela!" Ricardo gasped.
"And I was nothing but gentile when I explained to him that women these days are interested in more than shopping and embroidery and you know me. Before I knew it I was describing the chemical advances Home Economists have made in water purification." she said checking off her list again.
"Manuela..." sighed the frustrated Don pinching the bridge of his nose.
"I would suppose that was the point Juan said 'He didn't understand' and I blurted out, 'I'm not surprised.' But Papa I swear I apologized profusely." Manuela said looking at her father who dryly responded,
"And I suppose you were nothing but sincere?"
"If you say so Papa." Manuela said returning to her list. Don Ricardo threw up his hands and fell into a chair,
"I give up!"
"Oh Ricardo...Manuela is just spirited. A fine trait for a wife in any marriage." Donna Marie said entering the conversation.
"Gracias Mama!" Manuela sang as she gave her mother a peck on the cheek.
"Spirited! If being spirited means being twenty five and not married because you have scared off every male in Texas...I'll...I'll eat my zapatos!" Ricardo blurted out.
"Blood pressure Ricardo..." Marie warned him.
"Oh Papa! Texas isn't a part of Mexico or Spain anymore. We are United States citizens. It is perfectible acceptable for a woman to pursue her studies before marriage." Manuela said.
"Please don't get into all that business about the new feminine arts and Home Economics. Cooking is cooking, sewing is sewing and cleaning is cleaning!" Ricardo said.
"Oh no Papa! Not with all the wonderful things they're finding out about nutrients, the sewing machine and sanitation processes. The new feminine arts are changing the quality of life for all!" Manuela declared clutching her clipboard to her chest.
"And what does your fellow Home Economists say about family hmm? Children?" Ricardo countered. Manuela looked down,
"You may have a point there. My profession does encourage marriage and family."
"Ah-ha! And you tell me how you're going to find a husband if you keep being so...picky!? Hmm? Snap your fingers, wave your magic wand and there he is? It is time to grow up Manuela." Ricardo said standing to his feet.
"...Wand? Papa...that's it!" Manuela cried putting down her clipboard on a nearby table.
"What's it?" he asked.
"Papa, I do want to get married I do..." she said rushing over to where she had left her shawl.
"Well good..."
"And I know exactly what to do Papa. Do you remember the story of the Little Cinder girl?" Manuela asked throwing her shawl around her creamy shoulders.
"Well...yes...But what does that have to do with anything?" he asked confused.
"Papa! Keep up!" Give me until All Souls Day to find and choose a husband. If I don't come to a decision...I'll let you decide for me. Agreed?" Manuela offered.
"But...but...but..." sputtered Don Ricardo as Manuela kissed his cheek and dashed out.
"Where are you going Manuela?" asked Maria.
"To see Sister Sarah Elizabeth. For a nun she pays close attention to the available men in town. Adios Mama! Adios Papa! I'll see you later!" Manuela called over her shoulder as she picked up her skirts and ran out, her black boots clicking on the tile work.
"But...but...but..." Ricardo sputtered, desperately looking to his wife for help. Maria sighed with an amused smile and said,
"Spirited...That is what I asked the Holy Mother for in a child. Spirited so I could have a challenge. But apparently...it was not my challenge to bear."
She then patted her husband's shoulder and returned to the house. Don Ricardo sighed and waved over a butler,
"Carlos...A shot of whiskey."
"No whiskey! Doctor's orders!" Maria called from within the house as Ricardo rubbed his temple.
He stood before the full length glass window, ignoring the darkness, the emptiness, the lone tick-tock of the grandfather clock. He ignored the crates of his books, instruments, paintings and knick-knacks waiting to be unpacked. He merely stood there, arms folded over a broad chest, dark blue green eyes glaring at the city street below.
It was the Main Street. Carriages and Cowboys riding to and fro. He ignored the merriment of the playing schoolchildren, the chattering of the local gossip and street vendor proprietors. He ignored the mud, the construction and the decorations for some festival of this small town called 'Heaven's Corner'. He had come to this small town on the border of Texas and Mexico to forget and ignore his past. But as he looked out at the few scattering of changing leaves over the desert skyline, he ignored Heaven's Corner to look inside his memories of Paris, the rolling French countryside and L'Opera Populair. When a vision of brown curls and brown eyes filled his mind, he closed his eyes and said in a deep baritone,
"Oh Christine..." Then he closed the heavy curtains, shutting out the sun to leave himself in darkness.
"Hola Manuela!" cried one of the street vendors giving her a wave.
"Hola Joseph!" Manuela waved to him as she walked on the wooden sidewalks. Then she bumped into something solid. Before she could say 'Excuse me Senor', the man spoke,
"Buenos dias Manuela."
She rolled her dark gray eyes to look up at the dapper, dark eyed and wicked looking Alejandro Garcia, a young man who carried the cologne of old money and debauchery like a second deeply tanned skin.
"Good day Senor Garcia. If you will excuse me?" Manuela said putting on her coldest shoulder. She tried to side step Alejandro but he blocked her path. She rolled her eyes and huffed. How she loathed this man! He was pompous, selfish and everyone in town knew he was a wicked drunk and a frequent guest at Miss Mixon's Courtesan House. And he was constantly trying to court her, but not even her parent's allowed that.
"I cannot wait until the fiesta your familia is throwing for the whole town Manuela." he said trying to be cordial but it came out sounding sleazy.
"Yes well...neither can I...Los Dias de Los Muertos is my favorite holiday." Manuela said looking over his shoulder in vain towards the old white stucco chapel. Alejandro look at her intentions and said with a wicked smirk,
"Are you going to confession? Some...wicked thoughts about me perhaps?"
Manuela huffed,
"Yes...but don't get too excited. They're not flattering." She forced her way past Alejandro as he walked her walk off, chuckling with a plan in mind. Manuela was never so glad to see a church in her life.
"Sister Sarah Elizabeth!" she called pushing open the heavy oak doors of the beautiful chapel. The stained glass poured in the sunlight of midday, splattering the oak pews in color like spilled paint. The golden alter featuring the Christ towered at the front over a hundred lit candles.
"One moment!" called a young English accent before mumbling a few more prayers. Manuela came up to the slim young freckled faced nun who wore the gray habit of noviciation over her strawberry blond curls. A handsome young priest entered the room and smiled at Manuela who nodded back. When he had gone, Manuela noticed Sister Sarah staring at where the priest had gone with a dreamy look on her face.
"Praying for strength Sister?" Manuela asked.
"Strength for what?" asked Sister Sarah finishing her prayer by crossing herself. As she rose to her feet, Manuela smirked,
"Against temptation."
"I do not know what you mean." Sister Sarah said stiffly. Hand on her hips, Manuela teased her childhood friend,
"When your family died on the crossing from England and you were sent to the orphanage here, you started taking your vows before you even knew what a man was. I'm just saying curiosity will one day get the better of you."
"You should talk. Men go into confession because of you...and not because they had a good time!" Sister Sarah quipped.
"Well I'm changing all of that. I'm going to pick a husband by All Soul's Day." Manuela told her.
"What?! So soon?" asked the nun.
"Why not?" shrugged Manuela.
"Well...marriage is something holy and scared. And not something to be rushed into!" Sister Sarah explained.
"I'll know what man is for me if he's right. Besides...that's what long engagements are for! Now where's Pedro? I need him to do some snooping for me." Manuela said as Sister Sarah smiled and sighed,
"He's out playing with the Finnegan boys...And getting into trouble knowing him."
"There it is Muchachos...The house of Erik Bordeaux...El Desperado...He killed Mr. and Mrs. Fairfield so he could steal their house and move in." a dark skinned boy with wild black hair and eyes told his two fair skinned toe headed friends.
"Why does he need their house Pedro?" asked Michael Finnegan, the oldest of the brothers at the ripe old age of ten.
"He's going to rob the bank." Pedro answered.
"Then why didn't he kill Mr. Green the barber or Mr. Murphy the druggist? Their houses are over their shops and they're right next to the bank." asked Tommy Finnegan the younger but sometimes smarter of the pair.
"That would be too suspicious! But here on the other side of town, no one will suspect a thing. And since the Fairfield family cemetery is behind their house...no one will suspect the sound of digging." Pedro said.
"He's digging?" asked Michael.
"A tunnel to the bank and an escape tunnel under the cemetery. Once he robs the bank, he'll collapse the tunnel and half the town with it. He's evil." Pedro said shaking his head.
"What makes you think he's a robber?" asked Michael skeptically.
"He wears a mask. All bad guys wear masks. Besides, why else would he buy a house with dead people in the back yard?" Pedro replied.
"It was the only house for sale?" Tommy suggested.
"But now that we all know...we have to stop him. Our money is at stake." Pedro said looking up at the old brownstone manor.
"Don't you mean our parent's money?" asked Michael.
"I'm a ward of the state. When I'm twenty one I'll get a $1500 trust fund my Grandfather left me." Pedro explained.
"So what's the plan?" asked Tommy.
"I shall take the risk of getting Old Man Bordeaux outside to chase me. Once I'm clear you two dash inside and find some physical evidence." Pedro said.
"What's evidence?" asked Tommy innocently.
"Why do we have to go inside?" asked Michael indignantly.
"In order for a case to hold up in court, two eyewitnesses are ideal. Now...wait here." Pedro commanded standing to his feet. He stepped out of the bush he was hiding in and walked up to the old iron gate. It opened with a protesting squeak as he stepped inside.
"There goes the bravest man I know." Tommy said in awe.
Pedro walked up the cobblestone path overgrown with weeds. The yard was filled with overgrown marigold bushes, old birdbaths and leaves from the past two years. He took a few pebbles from the ground, weighed them in his hand and then launched one by one at the house using a slingshot. But the fifth pebble was unfortunate enough to crash through a window. Pedro tried to run, but he crashed into a white blouse and a set of green skirts. Manuela grabbed Pedro's upper arm and dragged him towards the house without a word. Pedro looked over his shoulder to see his two companions running away, so he dug his feet vainly into the ground as he protested,
"No Manuela no! Old Man Bordeaux will kill us! Manuela! Manuela!"
"Well you should have thought of that before you broke his window! Now come!" Manuela yelled. She dragged him up to the wooden front porch and knocked on the door. After a few minutes, she knocked again. When no one came, she knocked again as Pedro chuckled nervously,
"Well...guess he's not home!"
Manuela yanked him back by the shirt collar and tried the door knob,
"He's probably hard of hearing. Come."
They stepped inside, their ears met immediately with haunting music. The once grand foyer with it's grand staircase laid before them. The heavy curtains blocked out all the light and the place was a mess of cobwebs, dust and crates and crates left by the movers.
"Manuela..." whispered Pedro pleadingly.
"Shush...This way." Manuela said following the music almost in a trance. She found herself before a large set of double doors. She opened one and she and a reluctant Pedro peeked inside. It was a grand ballroom, the light from the sun once again blocked from sight, a slight chill in the air. A roaring fire was lit, cashing shadows on the wall. A black grand piano sat at the end of the room, a figure hunched over and dancing his hands over the key masterfully and animatedly. His broad back was to them as Manuela gathered her courage and called out,
"Excuse me? Senor Bordeaux?"
The notes turned sour and the man jumped up to his feet, knocking the bench over with a echoing thud. Manuela gasped. She had been expecting an old man, but this man was in his thirties at most, with wavy black hair and dark piecing blue green eyes. But what she noticed the most was the white leather mask he worn on half his handsome, chiseled features. He glared at her and growled,
"What are you doing in here?"
"Oh...so you're Mr. Bordeaux...I was expecting someone older..." Manuela said liking the cut of his dark blue suit.
"And I was expecting an explanation, Mademoiselle." he hissed, his native French accent coming through.
"I'm sorry...the door was unlocked and no one answered..." Manuela started to explain.
"Because I wasn't expecting nor wanting company." Bordeaux announced folding his arms.
"I understand Senor...but this bold impetuous boy broke your window, and I brought him here to let you know he will work for you to pay for it." Manuela explained.
"I will?" asked Pedro.
"You will."
"I value privacy more than I do a window. Now good day Mademoiselle." the man said turning from her to gather his music sheets.
"We can't let him get away with what he did Sir. He must learn his lesson!" Manuela protested.
"No I don't." Pedro said.
"Shush!"
"There you heard the boy. He doesn't need to learn his lesson. You however Mademoiselle?..." Bordeaux said searching for a name.
"Manuela Montevilla. I live at the vineyard on the hill." she told him not knowing why she told him that.
"Mam'selle Montevilla, you need to learn when you've worn out your welcome!" he said stomping up to her and grabbing her by the upper arm.
"What are you doing?!" Manuela demanded as they entered the main foyer once more.
"Teaching you that when a host even a reluctant one asks a guest, even an uninvited one to leave...They leave! Not get out!" Bordeaux yelled shoving Manuela and Pedro outside to the porch and slamming the door. After a moment, Pedro looked up at the stunned Manuela and said,
"Told ya."