A Worthy Suitor

by Jennifer AlLee

  It is well, it is well, with my soul.

  Albert rolled over and sat up. He was familiar with the hymn, written by a man who had lost almost everything and everyone that mattered in his life. He’d always wondered how someone could reach such a low state and still hold such unshakable faith. Now here he was, in a state lower than he’d ever experienced in his life, and it began to make sense.

  The decision was his. God had not left him, nor would He ever leave him. But it was Albert’s decision whether or not to acknowledge God’s kingship in his life, and more important, to trust in it.

  The door at the end of the short corridor opened and in walked Detective Sutter. He stood outside the small cell door and shook his head. “I can’t believe they put a brute like that in your cell. How are you feeling?”

  “The doctor thinks the ribs are just bruised, maybe cracked. They should heal well,” Albert said. “Please tell me you’ve come with good news.”

  Sutter seesawed his hand back and forth. “It depends how you look at it. I certainly think things are looking up for you. Charles Drexler, on the other hand, well, let’s just say I wouldn’t want to be him.”

  The detective gave Albert a quick rundown of his visit to the Bankses’ home. It was all he could do to hold in his rage when he heard how cruelly the cad had spoken to Gwen. But he took heart when he discovered that Mr. Banks had thrown him out.

  “Then Mr. Banks believes in my innocence?”

  Sutter nodded. “Indeed he does. He also promised to speak to Mr. Ashford about withdrawing the robbery charge. Once that’s done, you’re a free man.”

  “Thank the good Lord in Heaven. And thank you, Detective.”

  “I’m simply doing my job.”

  “I don’t know about that. It seems you’ve gone out of your way to look at the facts when you could have just taken the word of some very well-connected men.” Albert grinned. “I’m tempted to think of you as my own personal guardian angel.”

  An incredulous laugh burst from Sutter’s lips. “I’ve been called many things, but I’ve never been called an angel. Now, let me give you one more word of advice. When they let you out of here, keep your eyes open for Drexler. He’s angry and he’s been wounded, which makes him dangerous. I’m afraid he may try to take revenge on you or Miss Banks.”

  Albert leaned forward on the cot. “Is Gwen in any danger?”

  “Right now, no. Not as long as she’s home with her family. But as I told them, I recommend that someone is with her at all times. If you’ll excuse me, I have work to attend to.”

  As Detective Sutter walked down the hall, he began to hum. And before the door shut behind him, Albert caught a few sung words.

  “It is well with my soul.”

  * * *

  It had been a long afternoon. Once Matilda and Gwen got Rachel upstairs, they started by getting her cleaned up. Convincing her to put the cat down had proven nearly impossible, until Matilda hit on the magic phrase: let’s do it for Albert.

  “Let’s get you cleaned up for Albert,” Matilda had said. “Won’t that be nice?”

  Rachel blinked at her, then nodded. “Yes. Albert likes it when I’m clean and neat.”

  As soon as Mr. Mittens was released, the cat dove for safety beneath the bed. Rachel was smaller than Gwen, but one of the dresses she used for her nature walks would do just fine. After Matilda had helped her with a sponge bath, and Gwen assisted her dressing, it was time to deal with her hair.

  They soon discovered that Rachel loved having her hair tended to, but only until the brush encountered a tangle or a knot. One pull on her hair elicited howls of pain disproportionate to the situation. More than once, Gwen had to use the special phrase.

  “Let’s do this for Albert. Won’t he love seeing how pretty and silky your hair is?”

  And then Rachel would answer, each word like a knife to Gwen’s heart. “Albert brushes my hair every night. One hundred strokes.”

  “It sounds like Albert takes very good care of you,” Matilda said.

  “Oh, yes. He tells me what to do to stay safe. And he says I must never say too much about myself to anyone, and I must not talk at all to strangers. But you aren’t strangers because you know Albert.”

  “That’s right,” Gwen agreed. And since they were talking about Albert, maybe now was a good time to do a little fishing. “How long have you known Albert?”

  “A very long time.” She shook her head sharply, almost pulling the hair brush from Gwen’s hand. “But he doesn’t like me to talk about that.”

  Another dead end. Gwen continued brushing in silence.

  After Rachel’s hair was brushed, falling down her back in a dark, silken cascade, she had a particularly chatty moment.

  “I love to dance. Albert has been teaching me. He says I am beautiful and that he’s never seen anyone as graceful as I am.”

  Then she moved around the room, twirling and dipping, holding her arms out as if they were around an imaginary partner. Gwen’s imagination filled in the empty space, saw Albert dancing with her. Rachel was indeed graceful, far more so than Gwen could ever hope to be.

  Finally, Gwen was able to convince Rachel to lie down. Despite her protests that she couldn’t sleep until she’d seen Albert, she was softly snoring not five minutes after her head settled onto the pillow.

  “Well,” Gwen whispered. “What do you suppose we’ve gotten ourselves into?”

  Matilda sank into a chair and shook her head. “It would help if we knew who she was. You don’t suppose…”

  Matilda didn’t have to finish her sentence for Gwen to know what she was thinking. “That she’s his wife? I don’t know.”

  Was Albert like Mr. Rochester, the tortured hero of Jane Eyre, who kept his insane wife locked away from prying eyes? The thought that Albert could so thoroughly deceive her was a pain too great to bear. He obviously cared enough about Rachel that he had seen to her welfare, even though doing so effectively gave away his secret. Should she admire him for that, or did his lies of omission reveal his true character? There was only one thing Gwen could think to do now.

  “Matilda, would you mind staying with her for a bit? I need to talk to Father.”

  * * *

  Father had a massive desk in his study, positioned so that it was the first thing anyone who walked in would see. When he sat behind it, he looked rather like Gwen imagined the president of the United States would look. But when she found him in his study, he wasn’t sitting behind the desk. He stood at the window, hands stuffed in his trouser pockets, staring through the glass.

  “Father, are you all right?”

  He didn’t turn around. “We come here every summer to enjoy ourselves, but I spend so much time inside, thinking about work and politics and things that don’t really matter, that I never really experience nature. Not like you do. I thought at least I should try to look at it. But there are streaks on the glass.” He pointed to the window. “It keeps you from truly seeing the beauty that’s there.”

  She wasn’t sure what Father was getting at, so she let him continue.

  “I owe you an apology, Gwen.”

  “Me? Why?”

  “I haven’t seen you for who you really are. I’m ashamed to say, I let the fact that you have a clubfoot impair my judgment. You’re a strong, capable, amazing woman. I see that now. But I thought you needed my help to be happy.”

  Gwen stepped directly behind him and put her hand on his shoulder. “It’s all right, Father. You meant well.”

  “Good intentions and all that.” Father turned to face her. His eyes were red, and tears threatened to fall. “I never should have brought Charles here. What madness made me think you and he would be a good match?”

  Gwen couldn’t help but laugh. “Truly, I’ve asked myself that same question a few times.”

  Father tried to smile in return, but his expression remained sad. “You deserve so much better. You deserve someone who appreciates your intelligence and your talent.”


  Receiving compliments from Father should have filled her with pride. Instead, she felt like a sham. When he found out about Rachel, and how Albert had kept her a secret, he’d know that Gwen was just as easily fooled as anyone else.

  “Father, there’s something I need to tell you. And I need your advice.”

  He looked surprised. “Of course.”

  As she told him the story, he remained silent, although he crossed his arms over his chest when she told him about sneaking Rachel up to her room.

  When she finished, he considered her words, then sighed deeply. “Is that why young Mr. Adler ran his automobile into the statue up front? To cause a distraction?”

  Gwen hung her head. “Yes, Father.”

  “Humph. Remind me to thank him the next time I see him. I’ve never liked that thing, but your mother refused to let me replace it. Now we have no choice.” He put a finger beneath Gwen’s chin and lifted her head so they were eye to eye. “This doesn’t mean I’m not cross with you for deceiving me, but I certainly understand your motives.”

  With a gulp, Gwen gave a little nod. “Thank you.”

  “And now, we must figure out what to do about exonerating Mr. Taylor and caring for the woman who is resting upstairs.”

  “You mean, you’re still willing to speak to Mr. Ashford on Albert’s behalf?” Gwen had been certain her father would rescind his offer once she told him everything.

  “Of course. Unless you’ve changed your mind about his innocence.”

  “Oh, no. I’m absolutely sure Albert did not assault me, nor did he commit the robbery.”

  “Then we must do what we can to clear his name, regardless.” Father scratched his chin absently. “I must say, the fact that he made sure you would be able to find this woman and care for her reflects well on his character. Rather than leave her to fend for herself, he revealed his secret. That leads me to believe he must have had a good reason for the secret in the first place.”

  She hadn’t considered it in that way. Her heart lightened just a bit. “I do hope so, Father.”

  “Well, there’s only one way for us to find out.” He motioned for Gwen to lead the way out of his office.

  As she walked up the stairs to her room, Father right behind her, Gwen uttered a silent prayer.

  Please, Lord, let there be a reason that makes sense.

  Chapter 11

  Albert had been sitting in the interrogation room for an undetermined length of time. There was no clock on the wall, and his pocket watch had been taken with the rest of his belongings. If someone had asked him how long it had been, he wouldn’t be able to say. Time seemed to have slowed to a near standstill since the police locked him away.

  The door finally opened. Albert wasn’t surprised when Detective Sutter walked in. What did surprise him was that Gwen’s father was right behind him.

  Albert shot to his feet. “Detective. Mr. Banks. Is Gwen all right?”

  Mr. Banks didn’t speak, didn’t blink. The detective motioned quickly with his hand. “Miss Banks is just fine. I saw her myself yesterday. Mr. Banks was able to speak to Mr. Ashford and convince him to withdraw the complaint.”

  Albert could barely believe he was hearing correctly. “Does that mean I’m free to go?”

  “Yes and no.” Detective Sutter motioned to the chair. “Please, sit back down.” After Albert sat, the detective continued. “Mr. Banks asked to speak to you privately before your release. Since he was instrumental in your exoneration, I didn’t think you’d be opposed to it.”

  “Of course not,” Albert said.

  “Wonderful. Mr. Banks, have a seat. I’ll leave the door unlocked and wait in the hall until you’re finished.” The detective left the room.

  Mr. Banks pulled out the other chair and settled himself across from Albert. Then he planted his elbows on the table, clasped his hands together and leaned forward.

  “Mr. Taylor, the most important thing in my life is my family. You should know that anyone who hurts either of my daughters is opening himself up for a world of hurt. Are we clear?”

  The look on Mr. Banks’s face made the Butcher seem like a happy man. “Yes, sir.”

  “Good.” He leaned back and relaxed a bit. “Rachel is at my home.”

  Tears pricked at Albert’s eyes. It would never do to cry in front of this formidable man, but the sense of relief was overwhelming. “Is she all right?”

  Mr. Banks nodded. “She’s confused, but physically she’s fine. So is your cat, by the way.”

  “The cat?”

  “Yes. Rachel wouldn’t leave the house without him.”

  Of course not. Mr. Mittens could have fended for himself indefinitely, but Rachel couldn’t do without the feline. “Thank you.”

  “Now for the most important question. Who is she?”

  Albert tilted his head in confusion. “She didn’t tell you?”

  “No, the girl is quite closemouthed when it comes to specific details about who she is. Although we did find out that she loves to dance and to have her hair brushed. And of course, she loves that cat.”

  It wasn’t a laughing matter, but Albert still allowed himself a chuckle. So Rachel had listened to some of the warnings he’d given her. The frown that pulled down on Mr. Banks’s mustache reminded him to be serious.

  “I’m sorry, sir. Rachel is my sister.”

  His eyebrows lifting, Mr. Banks leaned forward once more. “Your sister? Well, that is good news. I was afraid we might have had a Mr. Rochester on our hands.”

  Albert flushed at the implication. “No, sir, I would never do a thing like that.”

  “Yet you’ve chosen to keep your sister a secret. I’m curious as to why.”

  They’d met Rachel. He’d have thought it would be obvious. “Rachel has a disease which affects her body as well as her mind. When Rachel was young, she had seizures, terrible shaking fits that would leave her unable to function for days.”

  “I’m sorry,” Mr. Banks said with a sympathetic frown. “Does she still experience the seizures?”

  “No, she hasn’t had one of those for years. But her mind has been affected. In many ways, she’s more like a child than a woman.”

  “And that’s why you keep her hidden? Because she embarrasses you?”

  The judgment fell hard on Albert. It was something he’d long ago admitted to himself, but still a fact he despised. “That’s part of it, yes, sir. But there’s a bigger reason. When Rachel is out in public, there’s no telling how she will act. She has been treated very badly by small-minded people who don’t understand her issues. I’ve kept Rachel hidden to protect us both.”

  Mr. Banks took a moment to digest the information, looking down at his hands as he clasped and unclasped his fingers. Then, he slowly looked up at Albert.

  “I’d like to say if I was in your position, I’d do the same thing. But I can’t.”

  Shame burned in Albert as Mr. Banks stood up and walked around the table. Of course this man of class and status would have handled the situation differently.

  Mr. Banks clasped Albert on the shoulder. “No, if it were me, I would have put her in a home and washed my hands of the problem. You are a better man than I, son.”

  “Sir?” Confusion and relief warred in Albert’s head.

  “Gwen was right. You are a man of good character.”

  “Then Gwen isn’t upset with me?”

  “Oh, I didn’t say that.” Mr. Banks puffed out a laugh. “She’s about as upset as you’d expect. Remember, she doesn’t know what you just told me. All she knows is that you lied to her.”

  That was true. He’d never intentionally lied, but he’d held back the truth. It was still a betrayal of her trust. “Do you think she’ll forgive me?”

  “I’d like to think so, but I gave up trying to understand women years ago. As much as I’d like to help you, you’re on your own with Gwen. But I can do this.” He held his hand out. “You have my blessing.”

  * * *

  Gw
en was not going to make this easy. When he’d gone to the Bankses’ home to collect Rachel, Gwen had been nowhere in sight. Instead, he found Matilda sitting on the porch with Rachel, who held Mr. Mittens in a death grip. When Albert asked if he could speak to Gwen, Matilda shook her head.

  “I’m sorry, Albert. She told me to tell you she’s not ready to see you.” She looked as though she hated delivering the message. “I think she’s still recovering from her head injury. It’s making her moody.”

  While it was sweet of Matilda to try and spare his feelings, he understood all too well. Gwen needed time, and he had no choice but to give it to her.

  Rachel, on the other hand, was less understanding. She appeared to have bonded with Gwen. Even after he got her settled in back at home, she chattered on and on about her new friend.

  “When will we see Gwen? She was so nice to me. And she brushed my hair without hurting my head hardly at all.”

  Well, of course she did. Gwen was a woman and knew how to do womanly things like brushing long, prone-to-tangling hair. He’d been caring for Rachel for ten years, and he still couldn’t do it without sending his poor sister into tears.

  That night, Rachel would only go to sleep with the promise that he would invite Gwen over for a visit soon. As he lay in bed, sleep stayed far out of his reach. Instead, he wondered if Gwen would show up for her archery lessons that week, or if those were over now, too.

  The next day, he realized that Gwen wasn’t the only one he had to worry about. Out of the six lessons he had scheduled, only two showed up. One of them was Grenville Kane.

  “Mr. Kane, I’m glad to see you.” Albert approached with a smile, but it didn’t stay in place for long.

  “I’m afraid I don’t come with tidings of great joy.”

  The man didn’t have to go into detail for Albert to know what came next. “I’m not going to the games, am I?”

  “I’m afraid not,” Mr. Kane grumbled. “As far as I’m concerned, there’s no issue. You were exonerated. All the charges were dropped. But there are others who feel that the lingering memory of this ordeal will taint the name of the Tuxedo Club. They won’t put their influence, or their money, behind you.”