Albert barely refrained from rolling his eyes heavenward. Another parkie who had no idea of the nuances of the sport. How he wanted to put a bow in the man’s hand and prove just how difficult it really was. Instead, he put on a pleasant face. “Archery isn’t for everyone, but I’d hardly call it frivolous.”
Gwen nodded her agreement. “It’s a fascinating combination of athleticism, balance and concentration. I find it quite challenging.”
“Of course you do.” Charles smiled indulgently, then turned to Matilda. “Are you as enthralled by this game as your sister is?”
Matilda’s nose wrinkled as she pursed her lips. “Heavens no. There are so many more interesting things to do in the park.”
“What a wonderful idea.” Gwen clapped her hands together in what Albert was certain was an overexaggerated act of enthusiasm. “There’s no need for the two of you to stand around here while I take my lesson. Tilda, why don’t you show Charles around and introduce him to your friends?”
For the first time, Charles looked interested in the subject at hand. “A fabulous suggestion.”
A coy smile brought out the dimples in Matilda’s cheeks and her lashes fluttered. “It would be my pleasure. That is, if Charles doesn’t mind.”
“My dear lady, I would greatly enjoy having you as my guide.” He bent his arm, offering her the crook of his elbow.
The younger Banks girl simpered as she threaded her arm through his and they began to walk away. Three steps later, Matilda pulled him up short and looked over her shoulder. “Gwenie, are you certain you don’t mind us leaving you?”
“Of course not. You have fun. I want to hear all about it over dinner tonight.”
“Dinner?” Matilda tilted her head. “Aren’t you walking back home with us?”
Gwen shook her head. “I have something to tend to after my lesson.”
“I’m not sure I can agree with that, miss.” Charles frowned. “Your father left you in my charge. I’m responsible for you.”
Two twin roses bloomed in Gwen’s cheeks, and Albert could see her struggle to temper her response. “I appreciate your concern, Mr. Drexler. But I assure you, I am perfectly capable of taking care of myself. You have no responsibility for my welfare.”
Matilda laughed, unaffected by the tension of the moment. “Oh, yes, Gwenie spends every summer traipsing all over Tuxedo Park on her own. I dare say, she knows the place better than the locals. Oh, look!” Matilda pointed with her free hand. “There’s Jason. Maybe we can convince him to give us a ride in his automobile.”
Before Charles could say another word, Matilda was tugging him across the field. “See you at dinner, Gwenie!” she called back over her shoulder.
Gwen chuckled to herself. “From time to time, my sister’s joie de vivre comes in handy.”
Albert laughed. “I take it that means you wanted them to leave.”
“Of course. How else could I concentrate on my lesson?” Gwen clapped her hands together and grinned broadly. “Shall we get to it?”
The joy on her face reminded Albert of a child ready to open presents on Christmas morning. This was the reason he loved to teach, and something he saw very little of in the bored, rich patrons of Tuxedo Park. Gwendolyn Banks was like a refreshing breeze on a warm summer day. For the next hour, he intended to forget the annoyances of work and the troubles at home. For now, he wanted to share in the joy this lovely young woman radiated.
“By all means,” he said, sweeping his hand in the direction of the targets. “Let us begin.”
* * *
Gwen had always considered evening meals deadly dull, but they were even more so now that Charles Drexler was part of the conversation. In the past, Father would drone on about politics and business, with only his wife and daughters to listen and nod at appropriate times. But now, Charles was there to throw in his opinions, which invariably mirrored those of his employer. Gwen began to wonder if Charles was capable of forming individual thoughts, or if his views had to be spoon-fed to him through others.
“If you ask me, Roosevelt’s wasting his time as vice president. It’s an ineffectual, figurehead position. He’d have been able to do much more good if he’d stayed governor.” Father cut his meat with so much gusto, Gwen feared he might saw straight through the plate.
“You’re absolutely right, sir.” Charles nodded and picked up his water goblet as if toasting Father. “I couldn’t agree more.”
“There’s a surprise,” Gwen muttered under her breath.
“What was that, Gwen?” Father’s frown indicated she may not have spoken as quietly as she thought.
“I’m surprised that Tilda hasn’t told us more about her time at the clubhouse today.” She turned her attention quickly to her sister. “Were you able to coerce Jason to take you for a drive in the motorcar?”
Matilda’s mouth turned down into a frown. “No. I’m afraid there was a bit of an accident yesterday, so Jason has been banned from driving for the foreseeable future.”
Mother looked up from her plate in concern. “Oh, dear. I hope no one was hurt.”
“Only Mrs. Jepson’s prizewinning roses.” Matilda tried unsuccessfully to hold back a giggle. “I heard he plowed straight through them and rested the car on the Jepsons’ porch.”
The image was difficult for Gwen to comprehend. As slowly as Jason usually drove, he should have been able to avoid any target, much less one that was planted in place.
“That’s a shame,” Gwen said. “What did you do, then?”
“Well, I showed Charles around the grounds and introduced him to everyone. Oh, and we ran into Eloise Kane, and she said her parents are throwing a grand party next week.” She clasped her fingers around her mother’s wrist and squeezed. “Isn’t that fabulous? We can go, can’t we?”
“I don’t see why not.” She looked at her husband. “What do you think, Reginald?”
Mr. Banks nodded heartily as he finished chewing and swallowed. “I think it would be the perfect opportunity for these two youngsters to step out and announce their intentions.”
Gwen’s fork paused in midair, and she looked from her father to Charles. “Which two youngsters? You and Matilda?”
“What? Oh, no.” Charles stammered his answer. “I mean, Matilda is a beautiful young woman but, well…”
“But what?” Matilda’s voice rose in high-pitched indignation.
Mr. Banks held his hands up to quiet them all down. “Don’t worry, Gwen, I brought Charles home for you, not your sister. Heaven knows she does well enough on her own.” The words pierced Gwen’s heart, but her father continued on without noticing. “I do believe someone is displaying a bit of jealousy, eh, Charles?”
Jealousy, indeed. More like ire at the idea that her father would bring someone home for her because she wasn’t woman enough to attract a man on her own. As if having a man, any man, at her side was the be-all and end-all of her existence. And what did Charles think of all this? One look at the scowl on his face and the way he squirmed in his chair told her he wasn’t a fan of the idea, but he wasn’t about to contradict her father, either.
With great deliberateness, Gwen lifted the napkin from her lap, folded it and placed it gently on the table beside her plate. Then she pushed back her chair and slowly stood. “If you’ll all excuse me, I would like to take leave of this conversation.”
Mother blanched. “But, dear, the meal isn’t over. We still have a lovely shortcake for dessert.”
“Really, Mother, I’m afraid I couldn’t eat another bite.” In fact, she was having difficulty keeping down the food she’d already eaten. She gave Charles a pointed look. “Enjoy the rest of your evening.”
Low, nearly whispered conversation followed her as she left the dining room and made her way up to her bedroom. Later, she would need to have a conversation with Father, and she’d most certainly need to talk to Charles, as well. For now, all she wanted was the company of a good book. With a little luck, she could disappear into another world, a
world far from social conventions, class structure and meddling parents.
And if she happened to pick up Robin Hood, and read about the adventures of the dashing archer who roamed through Sherwood Forest, well, what was the harm in that?
Chapter 5
Albert trudged up the road. The more distance he put between himself and the country club, the more tired he became. It really should be the other way around. Heading home after an honest day’s work should make a man happy and invigorated. But all Albert could think about was what might be waiting for him.
His home was a small hovel in a row of nearly identical small hovels that housed most of the people who worked in the tony community of Tuxedo Park. It was less than a mile from the gated and walled community, but it might as well be in a different country. Still, it was home. He didn’t have a lot of money, but he kept it as nice as he could. And he had dreams. Dreams of something better, something where he could provide for his family without having to kowtow to the rich and pompous. Unfortunately, the only way those dreams could come true was by taking advantage of the connections he currently had in Tuxedo Park. It was a vicious cycle, but one he hoped to break out of as soon as possible.
As his boots crunched on the gravel walkway, a movement caught his eye. He looked at the front window just in time to see the curtain fall back into place. He frowned and muttered under his breath. How many times had he told Rachel not to wait for him at the window? If anyone found out about his sister, the consequences could be catastrophic.
Despite his frustration, he made sure he was smiling when he walked through the door. Her mood swayed wildly of its own accord, but one frown from him could send her into a depression that might last for days. He found her in the front room, sitting in her favorite chair, hunched over her needlework.
“Hello, liebling.” His German mother had always said the word meant sweetheart, which was what he’d told Rachel it meant. Frankly, Albert didn’t really care how it was translated. Saying it made him feel closer to his mother. If she were still alive, she’d have some strong words for him, of that he was certain.
“Albert, you’re finally home!” Rachel jumped to her feet and ran to him. In the process, the hooped canvas fell to the ground, landing beside her sewing box.
He braced himself as she jumped into his arms, then laughed as she knocked half the air from his lungs. No matter what she did, he couldn’t stay upset with her for long. It had been that way since they were children and she followed him around like a loyal puppy dog.
He hugged her tightly and cupped the back of her head with his hand. He found a rat’s nest of a knot near the base of her skull, and his heart sank. For a knot like that to develop, she hadn’t brushed her hair in days. How could he have missed it? He’d been so preoccupied with his work, his own ambitions. And then there was Gwen. She was so unlike most of the snobby, upper-crust clientele he had gotten used to. She was like a ray of sunshine breaking through the clouds, and he’d found himself thinking about her far more than any of his other students. But it was no excuse for neglecting Rachel.
“How was your day?” he asked.
With her arms still tight around him and her cheek pressed against his chest, her words were slightly muffled. But he didn’t need to hear every word to know what she said. It was nearly the same every time he asked.
“It was fine. I worked on my sampler. And I read my book. And I played with Mr. Mittens.”
At the sound of his name, the cat looked up from his place near the hearth and yawned. A few feet from the white-footed feline lay the discarded needlework. She’d been working on it for the past year, and had completed a section not more than a few inches across. He suspected that if he looked at the book on the shelf, he’d find her place marker hadn’t moved from where it had been yesterday. He hated the idea of Rachel spending her entire day cooped up in the house doing little more than staring at the walls and talking to a cat. But there was little he could do about it.
He gave her another tight squeeze before letting her go. “Go find your hairbrush and I’ll take a go at these knots before making dinner.”
Her eyes narrowed into suspicious slits. “Do you promise to be gentle?”
“Of course.”
“All right.” She grinned and wheeled away to get the brush from her room.
She was so happy to get any attention from him. It was a pity that, no matter how hard he tried, he would pull her hair, which would make her complain, probably to the point that she would end up in tears.
Albert sighed. When had his life become so predictable? He could practically see the night unfold, like a play that he’d performed over and over again. Still, there was the possibility of a plot twist in his future.
“Albert.” Rachel stood in the doorway, the tortoiseshell hairbrush clutched in her hand, her head tilted to the side. “Are you all right?”
He forced on a smile. “I’m fine. Just a touch melancholy.”
She looked down at the floor, and when she looked back up there was an understanding in her eyes he wasn’t used to seeing. “You take such good care of me. Please don’t neglect yourself. You deserve to be happy.”
Did he really? He kept Rachel hidden away like some kind of secret. Half the time he felt he was living a lie. He told himself it was for her own good as well as his, but was it? Or was he just trying to make his life easier?
Rachel giggled, and he knew the moment was gone. She skipped forward and held out the brush. “One hundred strokes, please.”
He pointed to the stool by the fireplace. She settled herself down and he placed his hand gently on top of her head. “Try not to squirm, liebling.”
As he brushed, his mind went back to Gwen, to her warm smile, her quick mind, her determination to do well on the archery range. Standing in his living room, working on the tangles in Rachel’s hair, he made a decision. He may not deserve happiness, but he was going to do his best to grab a bit of it, even if he was sure it couldn’t last.
* * *
Charles Drexler had to be the most boring man Gwen had ever met. He’d been at the house for three days, and every day she prayed that God would bless him with a personality. So far, her prayers had gone unanswered.
Even though she’d planned to talk to him about her father’s intentions and her complete disinterest in them, she’d decided to hold off. In the spirit of “honor thy father and mother,” she would take the time to get to know Charles before she told him that there would never, ever be anything romantic between them. But it was already obvious that Charles didn’t care about romance any more than he cared about compatibility. He was looking for a union, yes. But his idea of marriage seemed to be one that would increase his social and financial standing in the community. The fact that he and Gwen had nothing in common didn’t concern him.
That morning, when she’d left for the clubhouse, he’d again expressed his dismay that she was interested in a sport as pedestrian as archery. She could only imagine his shock and horror when he found out about her nature studies. Laughter bubbled up inside her as she imagined his face contorting in distaste at the sight of her digging in the dirt to examine a fascinating beetle or some other insect.
No, Charles Drexler was most definitely not a good match.
Gwen pushed all that from her mind as she strolled home through the forested section of Tuxedo Park. There was the usual array of flora and fauna. A pair of partridges foraged beneath a tree. Rustling amongst the foliage and a flash of brown indicated the presence of a shy dear. On any other day, she would have been on the hunt for something new to add to her field journal. But today, merely being part of nature was enough. It gave her time to concentrate on arrows and Albert Taylor.
Today, all her arrows had hit the target. None of them had hit exactly where she’d intended, but at least they’d struck a ring. It was amazing that she, Gwendolyn Banks, was learning a sport alongside other members of the community, and wasn’t making a fool out of herself. Quite the contra
ry, if her instructor was to be believed. Albert told her she was coming along quite well, and he expected her to hit her first bull’s-eye on her next lesson.
Wouldn’t that be grand? He’d be so proud of her. And maybe…
Gwen’s thoughts came up short as she noticed a fluttering out of the corner of her eye. It wasn’t natural, like the flapping of a bird’s wing, but stiff…
Gwen laughed out loud when she spotted the piece of paper secured to a tree—the same tree where she and Albert had first met—with an arrow. She held the bottom edge of the paper down so she could read the note written on it.
To Whom It May Concern,
I plan to be in this wood, in this very spot, each morning to practice my aim (although I absolutely will not aim at any butterflies nor their forest compatriots). It would please me greatly if a certain expert in the local wildlife might also be here and share her considerable knowledge with me.
Most sincerely,
The Archer of Tuxedo Park
A thrill zinged through Gwen’s heart, as if it had been pierced by an arrow straight from Cupid’s quiver. She’d never received as much as a thank-you note from a man, and now here was a mysterious note from a “secret” admirer. Not that it was a great mystery who had left it, but if anyone but her had found the note, they would never have guessed the identities of those mentioned. He must have put the note there before her lesson, anticipating that she’d walk through the woods on her way home.
The idea of sharing a secret with Albert was almost as exhilarating as the idea of hitting her first bull’s-eye. Not only that, but he wanted her to teach him about the creatures and plants she loved to study. No jokes, no amazement at why a woman would be interested in such a thing. But simple, honest curiosity about what interested her.
Now all she needed to do was figure out how to leave the house in the morning without Charles playing her shadow. As she neared home, Gwen began to formulate a plan. All she needed was a little luck, and the help of her sister.
* * *
A Worthy Suitor Page 4