A Worthy Suitor Read online

  “Mother won’t let you go without me, will she?”

  A frown tugged down the corners of her pretty mouth. “No. But I still would have asked you. It’s always more fun with you along.”

  Oh yes, it was always more fun for Matilda to be tethered to her socially awkward, physically imperfect sister. Gwen forced down her sarcastic thoughts and reminded herself to be thankful. At times, she thought her sister was flighty and too concerned about superficial things, but at her core, Matilda was a sweet, loving girl.

  Gwen tightened her arm around her sister’s. “Of course I’ll come with you. But I need to change first.”

  “Thank you, Gwenie.” Matilda giggled with glee. “You’ll see. Being amongst people is much better than traipsing around the woods by yourself.”

  Gwen allowed herself a secret smile. If she told her sister about the dashing archer she’d met today, Matilda would probably think she’d made him up. Perhaps Gwen needed to include a sketch of him in her field guide, just to prove his existence.

  “Oh, dear.” Gwen stopped short, jerking on Matilda’s arm in the process.

  “What’s wrong? Is it your foot?”

  Gwen frowned. Why was her foot always the first thing anyone thought of? “No, it’s my journal. I don’t have it.” She replayed the events of the morning in her mind: seeing the butterfly, charging at the man with the bow and arrow, falling down, his fingers wrapping around hers as he helped her up.

  “I must have dropped it.”

  Matilda patted her arm and pulled her forward. “I’m sure Father will buy you a new one.”

  “I don’t want a new one. I need my journal.” She’d spilled her heart and soul onto the pages of that book. All the discoveries she’d made during hours and hours spent in the woods were recorded there. She had documented not just her findings in nature, but also things she’d discovered about herself. She couldn’t possibly let it go without trying to find it.

  They rounded a bend in the walkway and the family cottage came into view. Not for the first time, Gwen wondered why anyone would dub the elaborate mansions in Tuxedo Park cottages. Perhaps the founders had thought it sounded intimate and homey, but to Gwen, it was another example of the chasm between the classes. What the upper class considered a cottage was far and away beyond anything the villagers would ever live in.

  Villagers like Albert Taylor.

  As she trudged up the stairs to retrieve a clean dress and make herself presentable, Gwen made a decision. She’d accompany Matilda into town, but first, they had another stop to make.

  * * *

  “I don’t understand why you had to bring me with you,” Matilda grumbled as Gwen led her between the trees.

  “I told you why.” Gwen spoke to Matilda without looking at her. Even without her journal to sketch in, Gwen’s eyes were keen, taking in every leaf, insect, bird and animal.

  Matilda let out a little squeal, and Gwen finally looked back at her. She held her skirts high and stepped around a questionable mound of something on the forest floor. “Why couldn’t you have gotten the silly book tomorrow without me?”

  “Because it would be ruined by tomorrow.” Gwen couldn’t resist poking just a bit. “If the morning dew didn’t soak the pages, the rodents would surely nibble away at them.”

  “Rodents?” Matilda’s eyes widened as her voice lowered to a whisper.

  Gwen nodded carelessly. “Squirrels, chipmunks, mice.” She paused. “Rats.”

  “Goodness, let’s find that book and get out of here.” Matilda lifted her skirts higher and rose onto her tiptoes, as if less contact with the ground would make her less likely to encounter vermin.

  “Yes, let’s.” Gwen chuckled as Matilda scuttled past her.

  A few minutes later, they reached the place where Gwen had fallen. She examined the ground carefully, then sighed in dismay. “It’s not here.”

  Matilda wrinkled her nose. “How do you know this is the right spot? It looks the same as everywhere else we’ve been.”

  “No, this is it. I recognize the fallen log there, and that clump of trillium there.”

  “What about that arrow over there?”

  Gwen’s head jerked up. “What?”

  “Over there.” Matilda pointed. “In that tree trunk.”

  Sure enough, there was an arrow, and something was pinned under it. Gwen’s heart sank. What had that man done after she’d left? Pulling her shoulders back, she hurried to the tree, steeling herself for what she might find. But as she came closer, the worry in her heart lifted.

  “What is it?” Matilda hadn’t moved from her spot.

  Beneath the arrow was a blank piece of paper. From the slightly jagged edge, it wasn’t hard to tell where it had come from.

  Rather than answer Matilda, Gwen pulled the arrow from the tree and folded the piece of paper into a neat square. “Come along, sister. We’re going to town.”

  Matilda furrowed her brow in confusion. “But what about your book? Don’t you care about it anymore?”

  “Of course I do. And now I know exactly where to find it.”

  “The paper was blank. How could that tell you anything?” Matilda yanked her skirt away from the grasping fingers of a fallen tree branch and snorted in exasperation. “You owe me an explanation, Gwen.”

  Gwen laughed. For once, she knew something about a person in the park that her sister didn’t, and she was enjoying it. “Just keep walking. It will all make sense eventually.”

  It didn’t take long for them to reach the Tuxedo Park Clubhouse. Now they were in Matilda’s domain, so Gwen let her take the lead. Her sister exchanged pleasantries with the people they passed, laughing and chatting. Gwen knew the ways of the natural world, but when it came to the ways of society, she yielded to Matilda’s expertise.

  Normally, Gwen went out of her way to avoid the clubhouse. Not that she was ashamed of her limp. She’d gotten used to the questioning looks and the occasional snicker behind a raised hand. But in truth, there had never been much there that interested her. Now, gazing out over the expanse of emerald green grass, the beds of meticulously kept flowers and shrubs surrounding the buildings and lining the walkways, and the blue-and-white excursion boats docked at the lake, Gwen began to reconsider the clubhouse’s appeal. The flower beds alone were probably home to all manner of insects.

  “Gwenie. I know that look.” Matilda put a hand on her arm and whispered in her ear. “Don’t you dare start poking around in the dirt.”

  Gwen laughed. “Don’t worry, Tilda. I wouldn’t dream of embarrassing you amongst your own kind.”

  Matilda looked at her askance, as if uncertain whether that statement was a compliment or an insult. “Thank you.”

  “Matilda!” A young man bounded up to them. His face was ruddy from excitement, and his hair the color and texture of straw stuck out from under a camel-colored driving cap.

  “Hello, Jason.” Matilda motioned to Gwen. “This is my sister, Gwendolyn. And this is Jason Adler.”

  “Pleasure to meet you, ma’am.” His Adam’s apple jerked up and down in his scrawny neck as he spoke, making him both awkward and likable at the same time.

  Gwen nodded slightly. “Mr. Adler. A pleasure.”

  Jason turned to Matilda. “I’m taking Walter and Fay for a drive. Can you join us?”

  She clapped her hands and gave a little jump. “I’d love to.” Then she looked at Gwen. “Will you be all right without me?”

  “Of course I will. Contrary to what Mother tells you, I am perfectly comfortable on my own.”

  Matilda smiled, relief relaxing her features. “Thank you.”

  With a wave of her hand, Gwen dismissed her. “You go have fun. I’ll be at the archery range.”

  The look on Matilda’s face said that she expected the full story, with details, upon her return. Jason put a hand on her elbow and led her forward. When they’d moved a few steps away, he tilted his head toward Matilda’s ear.

  “I didn’t even know you had
a sister.”

  The remark shouldn’t have hurt. Neither should have Matilda’s laughter in response. But they both did. It was Gwen’s own fault, really. She’d isolated herself, content to be alone with nonjudgmental woodland creatures and silent plant life. There was no reason for Matilda to mention her sister to her friends, because Gwen was never around to meet any of them.

  Shoulders back, spine straight as a marble column, Gwen walked forward. Two boys, about ten years of age, ran past her, laughing and shouting. One looked over his shoulder and pointed in her direction. The other one punched him in the arm and they both laughed harder. Gwen watched them running until they were too far away to see anymore.

  She blinked hard, refusing to give in to the tears that burned her eyes. There was no way to know what they were laughing at. It may not have been her. But Gwen always assumed she was the butt of the joke.

  It had been a mistake to send Matilda off. Despite what she’d said to her sister, Gwen really didn’t feel comfortable by herself. Without her sister to draw people’s attention like metal shavings to a magnet, Gwen was more exposed than ever. So many people. So many chances to make a fool of herself. She stood out in the open, her feet frozen to the ground.

  Eyes closed, Gwen offered up a silent prayer. Help me to move, Lord. Help me not to care what others think. Give me courage.

  “Miss Banks?”

  Her eyelids snapped open. Albert Taylor stood before her, his gaze warm and bright, smile dazzling. Was this how God had chosen to answer her prayer? If so, it was the quickest, most pleasant answer she’d ever received.

  “Mr. Taylor. I was just about to go looking for you.”

  “I’m glad I saved you the trouble.”

  Trying to keep her voice steady proved difficult, mostly because of the way her heart was fluttering away in her chest. “I believe you have something of mine.”

  “Yes, I do. And you have something of mine.” He pointed to the arrow she held clutched in her hand, pressed against the side of her skirt.

  She held it out to him with the point facing downward. “That was a clever note you left for me. Like a treasure map written in invisible ink.”

  He ducked his head, then looked back at her with a grin as he took the arrow. “I hope you’ll forgive me for tearing a page out of your book, but it was the only thing I could think to do. I’m not in the habit of carrying a pen and ink around with me.”

  “There’s nothing to forgive. I’m just so pleased you found my journal.” She looked at his hands, but he held nothing. “Where is it?”

  “In a safe place on the archery range.”

  She looked over his shoulder. In the distance, she saw several men and two women aiming arrows at large, round targets on wooden stands. “I’ve never visited the archery range.”

  His brows lifted in surprise. “Then we must remedy that immediately.” He offered his elbow. “Would you allow me the honor of escorting you?”

  Gwen didn’t know how to respond. All around them, couples walked together in the same manner he suggested. She would be much less conspicuous on the arm of a gentleman. And it might be her only chance to have such an experience, even if it was only being offered out of consideration. “Yes. Thank you, sir.”

  She put her arm through his, and as he smiled down on her, she told herself that those sparkling eyes had nothing to do with her decision.

  * * *

  Miss Banks had been terrified. She’d never admit it, and Albert would never embarrass her by pointing it out. But as soon as her sister left her side, her confidence left her, too.

  He’d spotted them from the archery range and watched as young Mr. Adler pulled the sister away. She’d seemed fine at first, but then the boys ran past her, and he could see her defenses crumbling. She couldn’t know they’d actually been laughing at a fellow who’d fallen off a bicycle while trying to impress a girl. Miss Banks had heard the laughter, and immediately decided it was at her expense.

  Albert knew all too well what it was like to feel that every critical eye was cast upon you, and he couldn’t leave her standing alone. Now, as they walked together to the target area, he kept his pace slow and his arm rigid, giving her something to balance on if need be.

  “I found your field journal fascinating, Miss Banks.”

  She looked up at him, her face transformed by a brilliant smile. “Thank you. And please, my friends call me Gwen.” Her eyes darted away. “After rescuing my journal, I consider you my friend.”

  Albert puffed his chest out just a bit. “Thank you, Gwen. You have quite a talent. The drawings are impressive.”

  Gwen laughed. “Only because you didn’t see my early attempts. When I first started drawing, everything looked the same. You couldn’t tell a cricket from a grasshopper from a praying mantis.”

  “I must say, I’ve never met a woman who was so comfortable with bugs.” She turned her head away, and Albert knew she’d misinterpreted his comment. “I mean that as a compliment.”

  She nodded without looking at him, the change in her demeanor was unmistakable.

  “Here we are.” He stopped at the edge of the archery range. “I’ll get your book. Can I trust you to stay here and not run in front of any arrows?”

  She tried unsuccessfully to hold back a smile. “As long as no butterflies are in danger, I won’t budge from this spot.”

  “Good.”

  Albert jogged to a locked case in which he kept his personal items. He took out the journal and started to shut the lid, but then he stopped. He could return her journal, in which case Gwen would go home and their encounter would be over. He thought back to the confident woman he’d met in the woods, and how different her demeanor was when surrounded by people. She needed to interact with people in a way that would shore up her confidence. He put the journal back in the case and took out his bow and arrow. This just might be the way.

  Chapter 3

  Gwen stood on the outskirts of the archery range, hands clasped tightly in front of her. If she wished very hard, perhaps she could blend into the background like the elusive zebra swallowtail. Thankfully, the people around her were so absorbed in their own activities no one seemed to notice her or her anxiety.

  “Here you are, safe and sound.” Mr. Taylor jogged up to her, smiling warmly.

  Relief at no longer being alone washed over Gwen in a wave. “Yes, I was able to stay out of trouble. But it appears you forgot something.”

  At his frown she looked from his one hand, which held a bow, to the other, which held a quiver of arrows. Her journal was nowhere to be seen.

  “Ah, yes.” He nodded and his eyes sparkled with the secret he was about to reveal. “It occurred to me that, since you shared your love of nature with me, although quite accidentally, it’s only right that I share what I love with you.”

  Gwen’s chest tightened. “Archery?”

  “Yes.” He hoisted his full hands a bit higher.

  For years, Gwen had spent her summers avoiding the various sporting activities available at Tuxedo Park. Swimming was too revealing. Tennis required too much coordination. Cycling was downright painful. But archery? She’d never considered it.

  Looking at the row of male and female archers standing across from straw targets, her heart skipped a bit. Other than maintaining a steady stance, success seemed dependent on the arms and torso. She might actually be able to do this.

  “I would enjoy that, Mr. Taylor.”

  He looked at her askance. “Really, Gwen? Do you call all your friends by their surnames?”

  The warmth of a blush crept across her cheeks. “Now that you mention it, no, I don’t. I would enjoy an archery lesson, Albert.”

  “Excellent.”

  He led her to the nearest open space, which was several hundred feet away from the targets. Gwen balked and shook her head. “Do we have to start so far away from them?”

  Albert chuckled. “The arrows fly farther than you expect. Don’t worry. Eventually, this will seem perfectl
y normal.”

  He explained the equipment to her. She learned that the feathers on the back of the arrow aided in balance and direction. The indent at the back was a nock. When that indent was placed against the bowstring, it was called nocking the arrow.

  “You need a good foundation, so plant your feet firmly. Like this.” Albert stood sideways, his right foot braced behind him and his left forward and pointing at the target.

  Gwen maneuvered herself into the same position, thankful that, although he watched her progress, he never once asked if her foot made it difficult. It was amazing the things people assumed she couldn’t do just because of her damaged foot.

  When she was satisfied with her progress, she looked up at Albert expectantly.

  “Excellent. Now on to the bow.”

  He demonstrated how to hold it, and then he handed it to her. She wrapped the fingers of her left hand around the grip, noting the warmth that lingered from his hand.

  “Not quite there. A little higher.”

  Before she knew what was happening, he moved her hand up on the bow and folded her fingers down. For a moment, his hand completely covered hers, and for that same moment, Gwen forgot how to breathe.

  “There now, that’s better.”

  Brought back to earth by Albert’s businesslike attitude, Gwen forced herself to concentrate on properly nocking the arrow. It was much harder than it looked. As she pulled back on the bowstring, the arrow rose out of position and off the arrow rest, first pointing to the sky and then falling so far down that it aimed at the ground. Gwen bit her lip, trying unsuccessfully to hold back a growl of frustration.

  Albert chuckled. “That’s exactly how I felt the first time I did this. Try to relax.”

  That was easy for him to say. She dropped her arms, took a deep breath and started again. Bow up. Arrow aligned. With a finger above and below the notch, she pulled back on the string while trying to hold the arrow in place. This time, it fell out of her grasp completely and landed at her feet.