Entangled Heart: A Tale Of Love And Deception

Chapter Two

Ruth Bayard mockingly said, "She has a new poodle, or a new lover, or a new manner of crimping her hair. Why do you accept her exploitation, Ethel? She imposes on you.

"Perhaps because I've become accustomed to it. When the girls bullied and harassed her in the classroom four years ago, I started to stand up for her, and I have been her biggest supporter ever since. I suppose we grow to love those that challenge us and make us compassionate. Even if Dora isn't flawless, I prefer her to all of my other friends. She must like me because she seeks my opinion on many aspects of her life.

Does she accept it?

"Yes—generally. I occasionally have to force her to accept it.

"Her mother exists. Why doesn't she visit her?

"Mrs. Denning has no knowledge of specific subjects. Since I am Dora's social godmother, she must follow my instructions regarding how to dress and act. Mrs. Denning is poor! I'm so sorry; Ruth, please have another cup of the weak coffee.

"Why are you supposed to feel bad for Mrs. Denning? She resides in a palace with a large staff of male and female employees at her disposal, including carriages, horses, and other vehicles at her disposal because her husband is quite wealthy.

Ruth, she is actually a very miserable woman. She was everyone in the small Western town from which they originated.

She oversaw the churches, served as the head of all the clubs, presided over the Temperance Union, and oversaw every religious, social, and political celebration. Her days were jam-packed with activities she enjoyed. People there praised her clothing as wonderful, pleaded with her for pattern information, and looked up to her as the epitome of style.

The Denning family's servants considered it a tremendous honour to work there, and she ruled her home and her half-dozen men and maids with a pleasant despotism. NOW! I'll tell you the truth right away, though. No one recognizes her, and of course no one speaks to her as she spends the day sitting in her luxurious apartments or traveling in a carriage or car. Mr. Denning has friends on Wall Street.

Judge Rawdon interjected, "And enemies."

And adversaries! Dad, you're exactly right. He would gladly battle his enemies as well as feast with his friends, thus he enjoys both equally. He claims that a successful day on Wall Street energizes him from head to toe. He exudes genuine joy.

Bryce Denning joined two clubs, but his finances are insufficient for him because he plays and is willing to date sensibly. However, nobody is concerned about Mrs. Denning. She is rather old—I'd guess she's 45—and heavy. She doesn't dress in the colors in the manner she should, and none of her possessions have the appropriate "look." Of course, I can't provide advice to a matron. Then, she loses control of her home to her lovely English staff. They frighten her. The housekeeper removed the white crocheted scarves and other items from the gilded chairs, and I'm sure Mrs. Denning was heartbroken at their loss. However, when she noticed that they had also disappeared from Dora's parlor, she took the hint and learned her lesson. Her humility and solitude are very tragic. I will ask my granny to visit her.

If she goes to church, grandmother might introduce her to Dr. and Mrs. Simpson. Her wealth and versatility would take care of the rest. Even though I was late, I had a delicious breakfast there. The early bird does not necessarily get the chicken and mushrooms. Now I'll go see what Dora wants," she said, lifting her furs with a beautiful "Good morning!" before vanishing.

Judge Rawdon questioned, "Did you notice her voice, Ruth?" The tone of her "good morning" is amazing.

"Everyone has a different tone when they say good morning, Edward. I believe that when people's greetings are placed to music, their true selves are revealed. How good is the day? exclaims Ethel in D major in her good morning, and how sweet is the night? she muses in her good night, dropping into the minor third.

I don't comprehend all of that, Ruth, but I do understand the voice. It immediately touches my heart.

"And to your heart, Edward, as well. I believe that every existence contains a measured music with a center time and tone. While slow, unsure people stray far and only return after painful dissonances and repeated changes, quick, melodious people like Ethel never travel far from their keynote and are consequently joyfully set.

Even in areas where I cannot agree with you, Ruth, you are generally correct. For dinner, I'm hoping Ethel will be at home. I enjoy having Sunday supper with the two of you, and I might bring my mother.

He then wished Ruth a "good morning" with a deliberate smile, leaving her alone with her book. She thought for a time about the need of setting a good example before letting her gaze rest on the words Ethel's presence had for a while silenced: "I am filled with a sense of sweetness and surprise that such, little things can make a mortal so extraordinarily rich. But I must admit that my religious interests continue to be my greatest pleasures. Invoking Theodore Parker, she reread the words, closed her eyes, and allowed the sweetness of a treasured memory to fill her spirit. And during those little moments of reflection, Ruth Bayard shared the essence of who she was. The demands and responsibilities of life regularly forced her to stray from it, but she swiftly found herself back in its inner harmony, where her poise and serenity came as naturally as her niece's happiness and hope. Her religious outlook was not influenced by her personality or her choice to live alone. Ruth Bayard was an intelligent, well-educated woman who was wise in the ways of the world but not of it. She had a lovely attitude, beautiful looks, a pleasing face, speaking gray eyes, and soft, naturally wavy brown hair. She was a distant cousin of Ethel's mother, but since they had grown up together in the same home, Ethel had never realized that she was actually only her aunt by adoption. She had mothered her with a wise and loving patience despite being ten years older than her niece, and her thoughts had never left the child for very long. She quickly began to question the possible source of Dora Denning's anxiousness as a result.

In the interim, Ethel had arrived to her friend's house, a brand-new structure with unusually large and elaborate architecture.

In Miss Denning's suite, a completely private arrangement of five rooms that was exquisitely equipped for the young lady's comfort and delight, liveried footmen and waiting women bowed her with quiet attention. She was seated by one of her parlor's windows when Ethel walked in, which looked out over the park. She turned to her with a fervor of embracing joy and yelled, "Ethel, I have been waiting for you for hours and hours. I want to tell you the greatest news. I'm overjoyed! So joyful! Nobody has ever been as joyful as I am.

As they stood together, Ethel grasped both of her hands and turned to face her buddy. Her black hair in its picturesquely arranged disorder appeared infused with life, and hardly to be contained. Her dark, gazelle-like eyes were not more lambent than her cheeks, though in a different way. Her white, delicate fingers, which sparkled with jewels, moved among the crimped and wavy strands as if there were an intellectual sympathy between them. She was continuously brushing it back, caring for it, or styling it.

"Dora, you look so lovely today! Who has performed miracles on you?

"Salvador Stanhope. He cherishes me! He cherishes me! He said as much to me last night in the most endearing words ever spoken. For as long as I live, I will never forget any of them. Let's take a seat. I want to share everything with you.

"Dora, I'm shocked!"