Rejection Runs Deep (The Canleigh Series, book 1: A chilling psychological family drama)

by Carole Williams

  “Please don’t ask, Milady,” he said quickly before his young charge had a chance to speak.

  Delia tried to return to her dreams of achievement in the show jumping world but found it impossible as her niggling concern turned to serious consternation on approaching the back gate and seeing two burly estate gardeners and a policeman on guard. Her eyes widened in astonishment as they opened the gate and the policeman waved them through; Hardy continuing to drive smartly along the back lanes, deftly avoiding Delia’s eyes in the mirror.

  Eventually, they reached the Hall and Hardy stopped the car next to a white sports car with a rather handsome young man in the driver’s seat. He was wearing sunglasses and when he smiled at Delia, she couldn’t see his eyes. Strangely, Hardy ignored him, opened the door of the Rolls for Delia and she dashed up the steps, fed up with all this secrecy and wanting to find out what was going on.

  The library door was ajar and she could see her mother standing by the open French windows, clutching a glass in her hand, no doubt with plenty of gin in it, thought Delia wryly. She dashed into the library. Her father expressly forbade running on the highly polished oak floors in case of accidents but Delia was too exhilarated to care … she tore into the room and flung her arms around Margaret, who flinched outwardly and made no attempt to hug her daughter back.

  “Oh, I’m so pleased you’re back home … I thought you would miss the show on Saturday when you disappeared yesterday. I was so hoping you would be here but why have I had to leave school early and who is that man outside? What’s going on?” she asked, suddenly realising the atmosphere in the room was icy cold.

  Charles drew in his breath sharply. Having his difficult interview with his wife interrupted was highly annoying and in this way, doubly so.

  “Not now, Delia,” he thundered angrily. “And I have lost count of how many times you have been told not to run in this house.”

  Margaret wriggled out of Delia’s grasp and refilled her glass with gin.

  Charles could have kicked himself for having been so severe, seeing, with a pang of despair, the look of distress cross Delia’s face at the lack of warmth from him and Margaret. His heart ached for his daughter … and when she was told the reason why she had been recalled home … but he couldn’t talk to her now. He had wanted to break the news to her quietly before Margaret appeared but now his wife was actually here, he had to deal with her first and then talk to Delia afterwards. He tried his best to smile and softened his tone as he spoke to her again.

  “Delia, please go to your room. We are in the midst of a serious discussion and I’ll talk to you as soon as we’ve finished. Oh, and Granny has decided to stay with us for a little while … and is upstairs in her old room. Don’t disturb her as she’s a bit wobbly today. Now, please close the door behind you.”

  “Is she okay?” urged Delia, instantly terrified her Granny was ill again. She had been so frightened when Anne had suffered the tiny strokes, even though the doctors had said they were a just a warning sign and she would be fine if she looked after herself properly. Granny had tried to do as she was told but considered life was too short to sit around for long and virtually carried on as if nothing had happened, even though Charles and Delia, along with Mrs. Burgess, pressed her constantly to rest more.

  “Yes, she’s fine … just a bit tired after walking the dogs up from the Dower House and I have to go away for a couple of days so Granny is going to stay here. She will be company for you.”

  “Oh, good … but where are the dogs … and aren’t you staying, Mummy?”

  “Perkins has taken the dogs back to the Dower House for now. Mrs. Burgess will look after them … and your mother will not be staying,” added Charles forcefully. “Now, Delia. Please do as I say and go upstairs.

  Chastened, Delia stood still, the pent-up tension in the room becoming apparent. She looked at her parents. Her mother was showing signs of strain and tiredness but had a look of determination on her face. Her father looked as if he was about to burst a blood vessel. Even though he was attempting to smile at her, Delia could see he was terribly angry, which was most unusual for him as he was normally so well-tempered. The faint sense of alarm she had felt on the journey home returned with a terrible intensified rush. Her knees went weak and for some reason she badly wanted to cry, although that was something she never did, certainly not in anyone’s presence.

  With her tummy churning sickeningly, Delia left the room, making sure the heavy mahogany door was shut behind her, but if her father thought she was going upstairs he was very much mistaken. Something was badly wrong and she wanted to know what it was and she was going to find out. Quickly and quietly she crossed the entrance hall and stepped outside, hoping she wouldn’t bump into Hardy. The Rolls was still parked on the gravel next to the sports car. The man sitting in the driving seat was combing his hair and examining the result in the rear-view mirror. Suppressing the urge to ask him who he was and what he was doing at Canleigh, she ran around the side of the house to the parterre and up the steps leading up to the south terrace. With stealth, she crept along until she reached the library. Her mother and father were arguing loudly.

  “Please don’t shout, Charles,” said Margaret. “I have a headache.”

  “I’m not surprised! However, that is the least of your problems at the moment. Christ, Margaret. How could you do this? You have acted like a common whore. It’s utterly disgraceful and I can’t tell you how ashamed I am of you.”

  Delia started to shiver. She felt sick and giddy. Why was her normally polite and calm father being so nasty?

  Margaret was speaking hesitantly now, a nervous edge to her voice. “I didn’t mean it to happen … it was the drink … the heat … it was all so … it got out of hand … as these things do.”

  “You’re a slut. You always have been. God, I was so stupid. Mother was quite right. I should never have married you and I should never have allowed you so much licence to do as you wanted. I knew deep down you couldn’t be trusted to behave with decency for very long even though I warned you what would happen if you brought disgrace on this family. So, from this moment you are no longer welcome here. I want you to pack your bags and go. Do what you will. Go where you will. I’m past caring. We are completely finished, Margaret. I shall talk to Rathbones tomorrow and set the wheels in motion for a divorce … and if you think you will have any more money from me to fund your atrocious lifestyle, or have access to the children, you are very much mistaken. The sooner you are out of their lives … and mine … the better.”

  Delia, chilled to the core, even on such a warm day, put her hands to her mouth in horror. Surely her father couldn’t mean it. She couldn’t bear it. Whatever had her mother done that was so dreadful. Where would she go? What would she do? Would they ever meet again? Delia was racked with fear.

  “Don’t be ridiculous, Charles,” Margaret blustered. “You can’t possibly mean it. Let’s talk about this calmly. I know it’s bad but we must be able to salvage something out of this mess,” the panic apparent in her voice. “Let me explain.”

  “Explain! Explain what for goodness sake?” shouted Charles. “How you like to get so inebriated that you don’t care how your family are hurt by your actions. Explain how you can’t keep your hands off any male that happens to be available. Explain how you like to perform in public for the titillation of the masses of men who will drool over you at the breakfast table. No, my dear. I’m not giving you the chance to explain anything to anyone. You’ve dishonoured this family, your conduct is unforgivable and you’re not fit to hold the title of Duchess of Canleigh and believe me, you are going to be stripped of it as soon as is humanly possible. I’m also going to proclaim you an unfit mother. You’re not having anything to do with the children. I can’t risk them being contaminated by your appalling vulgar tendencies.”

  Tears poured down Delia’s face. Her body was shaking uncontrollably. She wanted to rush into the room and do something to her father to make him stop say
ing such destructive things but she couldn’t move. Her body felt heavy and drained and there was a terrible pain in her chest as if her heart was breaking in two.

  “Look, Charles,” said her mother, her voice sounding slightly shaky. “This was all such a dreadful mistake. You know how I have tried so hard to be as discreet as you wanted me to be for a long time now. It was that bloody man, Green. He has been after me for ages and I just didn’t know he followed me last night. It was so unfortunate. And you can’t just fling me aside for this one mistake. I’m so sorry, Charles. It will all blow over and then we can sort it out, come to some sort of amicable arrangement.”

  “You really are a stupid woman, Margaret,” thundered Charles again. “If you think we can go back to how things were, you are very much mistaken. Now get out!”

  But Margaret stood her ground. “You do realise this is all your fault, Charles. If you hadn’t neglected me so badly this would never have happened. You’ve known how much I detested this place and everyone in it. There is nothing for me to do and you won’t socialise with anyone who is any fun … and you know I need excitement in my life … not all this dreary solitude. If you had let me entertain, taken me away somewhere lively and hot, rather than dragging me around all those stuffy old museums and art galleries, when you did deign to take me abroad, things could have been somewhat different. And as for bloody Blairness … having to endure weeks of gloomy old Scotland is enough to send the sanest person crazy. Yes, Charles. You have to take some blame for what has happened.”

  Delia jumped, as there was a resounding crash. Daring to take a quick peek through the curtains, she saw the portrait of her mother from over the fireplace had been ripped off the wall, flung on the floor and there was a gaping hole in it. Horrified that her father could be so violent, she darted back quickly as Charles moved away from the offending painting and turned back to his wife.

  “Don’t you dare,” he shouted. “Don’t you dare blame me for your misdemeanours! God, I was so stupid! I married you believing we were in love. I knew it was hard for you here but right from the start you showed your true colours, flirting sickeningly on our honeymoon for God’s sake and every man who stepped over this threshold was treated the same. You embarrassed yourself, you embarrassed me, and you certainly embarrassed many of our guests in the first few weeks of our marriage. I had to put a stop to it.”

  “For goodness sake,” sniffed Margaret disdainfully. “It was only banter.”

  “I’m afraid not, Margaret. It went far too far. It was totally humiliating for everyone. I can’t understand you. Most women would have been more than content with everything you had. A stately home to live in, money, leisure, three great children but no, not you. It wasn’t enough, was it? You are a totally selfish and self-absorbed woman, Margaret. You care for no-one’s happiness bar your own … oh, and the men, of course. I was forgetting them.”

  His voice quietened. “Now that’s it. The subject is closed. Take what you need for now and I will have the rest sent on later to wherever you end up but there’s no point in returning to Canleigh House. I’m instructing Rathbones to have the locks changed today and the Savoy will be advised immediately that I am no longer responsible for any of your bills. You can pay your own way now … or live off one of your paramours.”

  “You absolute bastard! You pompous bloody autocrat! How dare you treat me like this! I’ve given you my youth and three healthy children for your precious dynasty in return for the wealth and comfort you so kindly bestowed on me. It was a fair bargain, Charles.”

  Outside Delia slid down the wall and crouched on the ground, utterly appalled by what she was hearing. She put her hands over her ears, not wanting to hear anymore but it didn’t work. She could still hear her mother clearly.

  Margaret’s voice lowered threateningly. “However, you needn’t worry, Charles, I made up my mind on the way here that whatever happened I don’t want to live here or with you for one minute longer than absolutely necessary. I just hoped we could sort it all out amicably but obviously not … so I’m stating here and now that I don’t care two figs about a divorce but I’ll make sure you don’t leave me penniless. I’ll fight tooth and nail to get all I possibly can out of you and if you don’t play ball, I shall have great pleasure in going to the tabloids and tell them exactly what I have been up to for the last few years … and why. I am sure they will be very interested and pay generously for such information. Yes, Charles. I will make life hell for you. I’ll tell the whole bloody world how the highly respected Duke of Canleigh couldn’t keep his wife happy in bed. I can just see it now … spread all over the News of the World.”

  Waiting for yet another explosion from her father, Delia was surprised to hear his resigned sigh.

  “I don’t care what you do or who you tell your mucky stories to. The damage has already been done. Just get out of my house and my life. Thanks to you, I now have to journey back down south to explain this mess to Richard and Victoria and I need to get going. I shall leave you to explain the situation to Delia and say your goodbyes and then as soon as you have spoken to her, just go. I never want to set eyes on you again.”

  The library door banged shut, indicating that Charles had left the room. The click of a lighter and the chink of a bottle against a glass meant Margaret had resorted to a cigarette and yet another gin. Her high heels made no sound as she crossed the Aubusson carpet towards the French doors but a puff of smoke alerted Delia that her mother was just about to emerge onto the terrace. Not wanting to face her, Delia jumped to her feet, sprinted around the house to the basement door and shot up the back stairs to her room. She shut the door, her breath coming in short sharp wheezes. She was shaking uncontrollably. Feeling dizzy and sick she crept into her bed and pulled the covers up, wanting to block out the world but the words of her parents went around and around in her head. She sat up and turned on her transistor radio on the bedside table but the disc jockey on Radio Caroline was joking too merrily and she couldn’t bear to listen to him. She turned it off.

  For a minute or two, Delia concentrated on the familiar domain in a desperate bid for security. She loved her room. It was full of light due to its position and a double aspect view overlooking Granny’s rose garden on the west side and the entrance drive to the estate on the north. It had been completely refurbished and redecorated for her thirteenth birthday, all to her taste and she adored it. All the furniture was ebony, including the massive four poster bed in which she now lay. Lilac silk adorned the walls, in harmony with the luxurious purple velvet drapes enveloping the two sash windows and the deep pile carpet of the same colour. There were framed pictures of horses everywhere, mainly featuring Delia with Star; jumping at shows, proudly displaying first and second place rosettes and posing at home with Philip and Richard with Verity and Dolly.

  But as hard as she tried, she couldn’t forget what she had just heard. Divorce had been mentioned. It was such an ugly word, a word which meant nothing but sheer misery for all involved and how would everyone at school react? None of the other girls had divorced parents. This might well be 1964 but divorce was still considered shameful, degrading, cheap and dirty. How was she to face everyone if what her father proposed came to fruition? The horror was too much to imagine.

  Delia’s fingers slid over the pale mauve silk sheets, the coolness making her shudder even more. Her heart was breaking, her world was tumbling around her, and nothing would be the same again. She was dreadfully confused and upset. Her life was falling apart and there was nothing she could do about it.

  But apart from the degradation, Delia didn’t really want her parents to split up. She had taken it for granted they would always stay together, whatever their differences and although she knew her mother was restless when at Canleigh she hadn’t realised how much her mother actually disliked it. That was a real shock. Canleigh was paradise. She loved every inch, every nook and cranny with an almost religious fervour. The lovely old sandy-coloured house, its elegant rooms, its tr
easures, the vast lawns and gardens, the lake, the acres of fields and woods perfect for tearing along on horseback. How could anyone not just love it? It was an ideal world and one Delia couldn’t imagine not being a major part of. That her own mother could feel so differently was an abomination.

  Then, for the first time, Delia considered Margaret as an individual in her own right and not just as a mother and began to feel angry with her father. Why had he allowed his wife such licence so that she was able to have these so-called disgusting affairs with other men? Why hadn’t he kept her at Canleigh? Why hadn’t he given her parties and balls if that was what she wanted? Then she would have been happy here and none of this would have happened but instead, he had pushed her away and she had turned to others and why did she have to leave? It was too drastic. Why couldn’t he just forgive her mother for whatever she had done and let everything return to normal?

  The questions flew through Delia’s mind. She felt so alone. She wanted to dash into Granny’s room and pour it all out to her. She would know what to say and what to do, or would she? Thinking about it, Granny’s relationship with Margaret was not so good. They were polite and distant in each other’s company and Delia had always assumed that was because they just didn’t like each other very much but now she wondered if Granny had known all along what had been going on and with her deep sense of propriety couldn’t condone it. She desperately wanted to question her but if Granny was resting Delia wouldn’t disturb her now. They had all been so worried about her health in the last few months and Delia didn’t want to trigger more problems.

  It would have been good to talk to Richard and Vicky but that was impossible. It was mid-morning and they would be in lessons and Philip was also at school and wouldn’t be home for hours.