***
Robert Helm examined the black lace mask as it slid gracefully between his long fingers. He'd been sitting at the small table in his office most of the day, staring at the flimsy piece of material. It looked like it might be uncomfortable but in actuality it was quite soft. Bringing it closer to his face he caught the faint scent of lavender. It was amazing to think that this delicate thing was all that hid the Queen's true identity—an identity he was now certain of.
Tessa Alvarado.
How could he not have seen it sooner? He was more than a little disgusted with himself for not coming to the conclusion without the aid of the mask the senorita had inadvertently dropped on his doorstep. But now that he knew the truth, it somehow all made sense. It was quite simple actually. He'd heard the rumors of the so-called accident Don Alvarado had been involved in. What better way to flush out the real cause of his death than by donning a mask of justice and becoming a vigilante?
Suddenly a thought assaulted him that made him uneasy. What about Montoya? Did the colonel know who the Queen was? Or was he as dense as he himself had been about the whole subject? Surely, he was unaware that Maria Theresa was the Queen or he would have acted on his hunch by now. Then again, it wouldn't be prudent, or wise, for Colonel Montoya to accuse the daughter of a don of such outrageous extracurricular activities without the proper evidence. Evidence such as the lace mask Helm now held in his hand.
When the initial shock wore off, the doctor mentally kicked himself for his treatment of Senorita Alvarado. How could he have been so attracted to the Queen, yet so disdainful of Tessa? She played her part of the spoiled aristocrat much too well. He had definitely been fooled. To him it only made her appear wiser for knowing so skillfully how to detach herself from her alter ego. Part of him was thrilled that he finally knew the truth, while another part was as confused as ever. How would she react to his knowing the truth? Would she hold his attitude toward Senorita Alvarado against him? He certainly hadn't made it easy for her.
He remembered that day after he had killed El Serpiente. She had come to him offering her understanding and compassion. What had he done? He had dismissed her like some bothersome child. He had told her she didn't know anything about life and death. Now he realized she knew plenty. Helm slowly brought the mask up to his face and for a moment, he saw what the world looked like through the Queen's eyes—the poor, the weak, the helpless. For some reason she'd taken it upon herself to make it all better. But at what cost?
The way he saw it, he could now do one of two things. He could destroy the mask so that no one would ever find it and continue to play his role in Tessa's charade, or he could call her on it. He could ride out to the Alvarado Hacienda and confront her with the evidence in his possession. Not because he wanted to expose her, but to let her know that he knew, and that she didn't have to pretend around him anymore.
With that decision made Helm shrugged into his long duster and tucked the piece of lace in his pocket.
***
He reached the Alvarado Hacienda just before dusk. The evening mists were rolling down from the mountains as well as from across the sea. The sun was just peeking above the far horizon now, and the half- light that shadowed the large adobe building gave just enough illumination for Helm to tether his horse out front and make his way up the steps to the double doors.
He knocked and waited. A few moments later Marta opened the door.
"Dr. Helm," she greeted pleasantly, "what brings you out here this evening?"
"I'm here to see Senorita Alvarado," he replied. "Is she available?"
"I'm afraid she is…out at the moment, doctor," Marta explained. `Out planning to stop a shipment a gold and silver coins arriving from Monterrey,' she added to herself.
"Oh," he said, the disappointment evident in his voice. Disappointment not only that he'd missed her, but that she was most likely out somewhere in a dangerous situation disguised as the Queen. Should he just let Marta know that he was aware of her mistress's secret? No, he wanted to speak to Tessa first. "Will she be back soon, do you think?"
`I certainly hope so,' Marta thought. `For the sake of my nerves, at least.'
"She should be coming back soon, doctor," she said. "Would you like to wait for her?"
Helm met her gaze. "Yes, I would like that very much."
"Come in, Dr. Helm," she instructed as she stood back to let the man pass. "Have a seat in here. Can I get you something to eat or drink? I've just made fresh sweet rolls."
He couldn't stop his mouth from watering at the prospect. He hadn't eaten much that day and it was catching up with him.
"That sounds delightful, senorita," he replied with a smile. "Only if it's not too much trouble."
"No trouble at all," Marta assured him as she headed for the kitchen. Before she was completely out of sight she called over her shoulder, "I will bring you something to drink as well."
When she'd gone, Helm surveyed the large living area he was in. Beautiful, expensive-looking paintings and tapestries hung on the whitewashed walls. Lush carpets rested on polished wooden floors. The window draperies still hung open letting in the coolness of the evening breeze. It was all very homey and inviting. Helm's eyes traveled above the hearth to see the imposing portrait of Don Alvarado.
`Oh senor,' he said to himself, `have you any idea what your daughter is doing? The risks she's taking in the name of justice? I think she may be doing this because of what happened to you. I certainly hope you are watching over her.'
Getting no response from the deceased don, Helm moved about the room as he waited for Marta to return. He could hear faint sounds coming from the kitchen—pots, pans and silverware clanking lightly. He'd reached the end of a small hallway when his eyes glimpsed the open door of a bedroom. Looking back over his shoulder he casually strolled in that direction.
`What are you doing, Robbie?' his conscience asked as he neared the open door, `You've sunk to creeping about in women's bedrooms uninvited?'
Ignoring the chiding voice in his head, Helm crossed the threshold into a room he soon discovered to be Senorita Alvarado's. He came to this conclusion upon seeing several recognizable dresses hanging in an open wardrobe. She must have left in a hurry to leave the door open, he thought absently. No costumes of black though. But of course she would keep those hidden from prying eyes. `Like mine.'
The bedroom was just as warm and cozy as the living area had been. Soft looking carpet underfoot, portraits on the walls, polished wooden furniture. There was an ornately carved dressing table in one corner boasting a beautiful beveled mirror. On top of the dresser was a red silk scarf that cushioned an ivory-handled hairbrush. He smiled, remembering how soft and shiny the Queen's—Tessa's--hair always seemed to be. Turning around he was greeted by the sight of a luxurious four-poster bed, draped in sheer, blue curtains.
`Fit for a queen, indeed,' Helm mused as he fingered the blue material.
"Dr. Helm! Is there something I can help you with?"
Helm spun around to see Tessa Alvarado standing in the doorway to the bedroom. Her long hair was slightly disheveled and her face was flushed as if she had been running. Hands on her hips, she looked a bit perturbed to find him in her room.
"He was waiting for you in the living room, Tessa," Marta, who was standing behind her mistress, felt compelled to explain. "I didn't know he was in here."
"We need to talk, senorita," Helm said, unable to completely keep the color from his own face at being caught in his reconnaissance.
"Marta, get some lemonade for our guest," Tessa said, her eyes not leaving the doctor's face.
"That's what I was doing," Marta replied a little too forcefully in Helm's direction. "Apparently he couldn't wait."
Helm sent Marta an apologetic look before she turned and left the room, leaving him and Tessa alone.
"So, doctor," Tessa said crossing her arms in front of her chest. She couldn't deny that she had imagined having him in her bedroom frequently, but somehow this wasn't how she had planned it. "What do you want to talk about?"
Sighing, Helm simply said, "I know."
"You know what?" Tessa asked with a nervous laugh. "You've never been one to talk in riddles, doctor. You've always been quite straightforward about your feelings—at least to me."
"I think this belongs to you," he replied, pulling out the black lace mask from his pocket and holding it out to her.
Tessa froze. She'd been worrying all day about losing that damn mask! Of all the people to find it! Still, what did it prove?
"That's the Queen of Swords' mask!" she exclaimed, acting as though she were afraid to touch the thing. "Where did you get it?"
Helm's shoulders drooped.
"Tessa—."
The sound of her name on his lips was oddly comforting, even though she was anything but comfortable at the moment.
"You can keep up this charade if you like," he continued softy, "but not with me."
Her survival instinct refused to surrender without a fight.
"I'm sorry, Dr. Helm," she insisted as she walked past him toward the bed. "I'm afraid I don't know what you're talking about. You find the Queen's mask and you automatically assume it's mine?"
"It was on my doorstep this morning after you left—."
"So anyone could have dropped it," she rationalized.
"Only the Queen would have had it to drop," he replied exasperated.
"Maybe it was dropped by the Queen. She certainly visits you often enough, doctor!"
"And how would you know?" he demanded.
Tessa opened her mouth to respond and realized he'd caught her in a lie. Closing her mouth, she just stood there stubbornly, daring him to say the words—to say that she was the Queen.
Helm was tired and frustrated. She was behaving like a child—and this time it wasn't an act for the pueblo's benefit. If she couldn't trust him enough to neither confide in him, nor even admit the truth when she knew that he knew--.
He looked down at the mask in his hand as if he'd forgotten it was there. Reaching out he placed the black lace in Tessa's hand and closed her fingers over it. "You'd better keep this in a safe place, your highness. If Montoya had been the one to find it, I sincerely doubt he would've given you his seal of approval."
With that he turned and walked out of Tessa's bedroom, leaving her alone with his revelation.
