“Let’s go inside,” he uttered, walking up the steps into the Hall without touching or smiling at her. Delia followed, apprehension turning to fear. Something was dreadfully wrong and she didn’t know if she wanted to hear what it was.
“Come through to the dining room and I’ll pour you some coffee. You look as if you need one,” she said, trying to smile. “And I’ve left you some bacon and eggs. Sit down and I’ll get it for you.”
Philip stood uneasily by the window, his hands firmly in the pockets of his jeans.
“I’m not stopping. I’ve something to say and then I’ll go. I don’t want to prolong the agony. Sit down, Delia, please. I think its best.”
Ignoring his request, Delia faced him squarely. “Whatever’s the matter? You’re beginning to really frighten me.”
He turned to look outside, unable to meet her eyes, clearing his throat nervously.
“For goodness sake, Philip. Tell me what’s wrong,” Delia said impatiently, feeling rising panic, just as she had years ago when her mother and father were having that final row. Disturbing scenes from that day entered her head and she tried hard to push them away, telling herself she was being ridiculous. There was nothing to fear. Philip loved her and they were going to be married soon, so what could possibly go wrong? He had obviously done something stupid last night, got caught drinking and driving or some other such silly behaviour. Her breathing became calm again, although her hands were clenched tightly.
“What have you done, Philip? Whatever it is, you can tell me. I’ll always be here for you, you know that. We’ll work it out together … anyway, I’m sure it can’t be that dreadful … whatever it is you’re probably getting it all out of proportion.”
“There’s someone else.”
Delia hardly heard him. Afterwards, she wondered whether it was because he really had spoken so quietly or because she hadn’t wanted to hear the words. Whatever the reason it took a few seconds to register. She shook her head in denial.
“No, Philip. You don’t know what you’re saying. You’re mistaken. You can’t and won’t do this to me. You love me … I love you. We’re getting married in two weeks. I don’t want to hear any more of this nonsense.”
Philip slumped against the window frame. He looked dreadful and his eyes were screwed up in pain.
“I’m so dreadfully sorry, Delly. I wouldn’t have had this happen for the world … but I simply can’t marry you now. I don’t love you … I do love you ….”
“Oh,” she screamed. “Make up your bloody mind! Do you, or don’t you?”
“No. Not in the right way, Delly. I love you like a sister … a good chum … but it’s just not the same as with Sue.”
“Sue! Who the bloody hell is Sue?” shouted Delia, banging her fist on the dining table so hard the crockery jumped. It was unthinkable. How could there be another woman? Real panic set in. This was no joke. Philip was deadly serious and meant what he said. “Why the hell are you doing this?” she yelled. “Why are you putting me through this? How can you have someone else? I don’t believe it. You’re lying … I know you are.”
“Oh, God,” whispered Philip, wishing he was anywhere in the world bar here. He had known this wasn’t going to be easy but it had to be done. He had no choice and was in terrible torment. He and Delia had been so close for so long and he hated doing this … hated hurting her but he had to be honest, with her and himself. He pulled himself upright and glanced at her. She looked wild, frightening and dangerous in her anger and he wondered why he had ever consented to marry her. He had known all along that their relationship wasn’t as it should be. Delia was domineering and difficult. It hadn’t been too bad while they lived apart but now the wedding was ominously close Philip found the prospect of Delia bossing him around twenty-four hours a day depressing and daunting. If he was totally honest, he had never wanted to become engaged to her in the first place but he’d never been able to find the courage to break it off until now. Sue had rescued him from a dreadful fate, that was for sure.
Delia sank into the nearest chair and put her head in her hands. She thought about another woman at Tangles; wonderful, homely Tangles which had played such an important part in her life for such a long time. It was too awful to contemplate; another woman in Constance’s kitchen, another woman helping Philip with the horses. It would be impossible to go there again. It was unthinkable. Tangles was her second home, soon to be her permanent home, it was part of her life, her work, her future. How could she exist without it … without Philip? And then there were her hopes for Canleigh … without Philip to back her up and cement her ideas, her father, who respected Philip’s business acumen, might not look upon her wish to run Canleigh quite so favourably. All her plans were tumbling like a pack of cards and all because of this other woman who was ruining her hopes, her ambitions. How dare she … who the hell was this bloody Sue?
Delia stood up furiously. “If you’re not lying, who is this woman then?” She banged her fist on the dining table again. “You’d better tell me now as it won’t take me long to find out.”
White-faced, Philip couldn’t answer. He had left Sue snuggled up in bed at Tangles and was terrified that if Delia found out she would go careering down there to confront her.
Suddenly Delia burst into tears and slumped back into her seat at the table. “Philip,” she sobbed. “Please don’t do this. How can you throw away everything we have together? You don’t know what you’re doing.” She looked up hopefully. “You’re tired … and it’s probably pre-wedding nerves. I’m just the same. The thought of actually finally getting married is such a huge step. I get fabulously excited but very nervous too.”
She brightened and sat up straight. “Yes, of course. That’s what it is. Oh, Philip. It’s only natural to be apprehensive but once it all gets under way, we’ll be fine … or is it the big wedding that’s putting you off,” she gulped, clutching at straws. “If that’s it, I’ll cancel everything … we can slope off somewhere and do it quietly … just you and me and a couple of witnesses off the street. I don’t mind, really I don’t … if that’s what you would prefer.”
He looked at her, feeling nothing but pity and desperately sad for having to put her through this.
“It’s not going to happen, Delly. Believe me. The wedding is definitely off. We’re not right for each other. I’m just not strong enough for you … you’d tire of me eventually and then where would we be … in the divorce courts … and if there were children … just think of the hurt you suffered, Delly … with your mother … and when your parents split up.”
“That’s exactly what I am doing,” replied Delia through gritted teeth, vividly remembering the scenario. It was all happening again. That awful, awful sense of rejection. Why? Why did everyone have to let her down so badly? Her temper began to boil again and her voice hardened as Philip turned to the door to leave.
“Don’t walk out of this room, Philip. I’m warning you. Don’t leave me!”
“I’m really sorry, Delia.”
“I hate you, Philip Kershaw,” Delia screamed, grabbing a heavy silver candelabra and aiming it at Philip’s head. He just managed to reach the safety of the corridor before she hurled it viciously across the room. It hit the door, severely splintering the beautiful eighteenth-century polished mahogany.
CHAPTER 15
YORKSHIRE - MAY 1972
“This weekend will give you time to think … put things into perspective,” said Richard, smiling at his attractive companion in the seat beside him.
Ruth nodded in agreement and watched the urban sprawl of Leeds grow nearer as Richard expertly steered his black Mercedes sports car off the motorway and into the city.
“Any thoughts of what you will do if you do decide to give up medicine?” he asked.
Ruth shook her head and grimaced. “No idea at all … and I can just imagine what my darling parents will have to say to such indecisiveness. They live and breathe medicine and consider it should be the same for
me. I applaud their dedication, working tremendously hard to build up a thriving practice from nothing but wish so much that they did not want and expect me to want to follow the same path. They are going to be absolutely heartbroken and shocked to the core if I give up.”
“But you have to do what’s right for you. They will see that, surely.”
The conversation came to a halt as Ruth thought hard about her career dilemma and Richard concentrated on wending a safe passage through the heavy city centre traffic until they reached the Harrogate road, the large detached houses with extensive gardens and fancy gates becoming more impressive as the countryside and Canleigh grew nearer.
Ruth sighed. “It’s so easy for you. From what you’ve told me, you’ve always known what you want to do and your father has supported you in your decision.”
Richard nodded. “I’ve been very lucky. I think Father would have preferred me to do something more akin to my heritage and eventual responsibilities regarding the estate but he is an understanding man and let me choose my own path without a fight. It’s a shame if you give up though. You’re academically brilliant and have such empathy with people. Everyone responds to you … an important trait for a doctor, you must agree.”
“That’s all very well but my heart isn’t in it.”
“Well, how about research?”
Ruth grimaced. “All test tubes and rubber gloves. No, I don’t think so.”
“Any inkling at all of what you would like to do then?”
“No, not really. Pathetic isn’t it? I’m twenty-one years old with no real idea of what I want to do with my life … although sometimes I think I’d just like to get married and have lots of children.”
“Oh, my goodness. I do hope that’s not a proposal,” smiled Richard with mock horror.
Ruth giggled. “That would certainly shock my parents into submission. It’s a good swop … a Marchioness instead of a G.P. I’m sure they would be most impressed but no, Richard. I like you very much as a friend and anyway I don’t think Cressida would be too happy, do you? She probably won’t be too pleased you’ve brought me to your home either when she finds out, especially as she’s never had an invite.”
“Umm,” replied Richard, thinking about the nurse who he had been dating on and off for the past few weeks. Cressida was attractive, slim, blonde, and bubbly and made him laugh and although she obviously had designs on him, he had no intentions of taking the relationship further. Cressida was too immature and giggly and got on his nerves very easily. He glanced at Ruth. She, on the other hand, was just his cup of tea. They were good friends and that was always important in any relationship. She took her work seriously, even though she wasn’t sure about the future. She was kind, patient, quiet, and gentle; liked classical music, history, theatre and best of all, picnics. They had enjoyed quite a few down by the river in Oxford, sometimes in a group of friends, sometimes alone, laid on blankets, reading books or idly watching the boats drift by whilst eating salmon and cucumber sandwiches, chocolate cake and drinking the odd bottle of vino. Richard knew he was falling for her in a big way. He thought about her flippant words regarding marriage and babies and how they were only friends. But were they? Were they really? She would make a wonderful Marchioness and one day, a Duchess … although he hoped that day was a very long time in coming. He smiled at her warmly, having a great feeling about this weekend. They had a whole two days to enjoy each other’s company out of the stressful setting of the hospital and with a bit of luck, she might just start falling for him.
“Well, here we are then,” he announced, pulling up at the impressive black wrought iron gates to Canleigh Hall. “That’s unusual. They’re normally open … won’t be a minute,” he added, jumping out of the car
Ruth watched his tall, athletic figure stride across and pull the gates open with apparent ease, her nervousness increasing by the second. Having been invited by Richard to spend the weekend at his family’s country mansion was a daunting experience and although firstly excited at the prospect, Ruth’s qualms were now taking precedence. Richard had tried hard on the journey up from Oxford to dispel her nerves but now the actual boundaries of his ancestral home were reached and the meeting with the Duke of Canleigh and the rest of his aristocratic family was nearly upon her, Ruth felt exceedingly apprehensive and even a little afraid. Which was stupid, she told herself. She had absolutely nothing to fear. Whatever was the matter with her?
Richard was just about to return to the car when a Landrover cruised up the drive towards them and pulled up beside him. Richard smiled at the elderly white-haired male driver who was puffing hard on a pipe. The two men quickly became engrossed in conversation and Ruth felt a sense of relief. A few brief minutes would give her a breathing space and time to collect her thoughts before she was driven to the Hall and launched into goodness knows what.
Although Richard had never made a secret that he was a Marquess and heir to the Duke of Canleigh, to all at the hospital he was just plain Richard Canleigh and his status was rarely discussed or even thought about. Richard possessed no airs or graces, mixing in with his fellow students well and everyone really liked him. He rarely mentioned his family although his mother’s indiscretions eleven years ago and the subsequent messy divorce between his parents were common knowledge, having been spread all over the media for weeks on end. On the way up to Yorkshire Richard had mentioned his father had never remarried and divided his time living part of the year at Canleigh and the remainder at his castle in Scotland, writing successful historical novels with the help of his secretary, Susan Armitage.
Ruth considered what she knew about the rest of the Canleigh family. She had met Lady Victoria, Richard’s younger sister, who was presently living in Oxford and reading English at St. Hilda’s college. Vicky had joined their group of medical students on a couple of picnics and theatre outings and they had liked each other immensely so Ruth was pleased the younger girl would be at Canleigh this weekend. It would be interesting to meet Vicky’s new boyfriend too. Ruth wondered if he was as nervous as she.
Then, of course, there was Richard’s twin, Lady Delia. Richard had barely mentioned her, which made Ruth incredibly curious. She knew Delia would be marrying in a couple of weeks to the ‘boy next door’, her first and only love apparently and she was passionate about horses but apart from that Richard didn’t talk much about her but if she was as nice as Richard and Vicky it would be a pleasure to meet her.
The conversation between Richard and the man in the Landrover ended and the driver re-started the engine and drove off down a track to the right of the woods. Richard walked back to the car and settled into the driving seat.
“Sorry to keep you waiting. That was Dick Joyce, our estate manager. He’s retiring shortly.” He smiled at Ruth. “Ready for all this then?”
Ruth gave a weak grin and nodded as the engine roared into life and the journey down the long winding drive to the Hall began. It was a truly magnificent sight with all the azaleas and rhododendrons in full flower. Gorgeous vivid reds, hot orange, dazzling yellow, pretty pinks and pure white petals adorned the huge shrubs, entwined with one another on either side of the drive, growing so high, they were more like trees than shrubs. Beautiful, stunning colours. Ruth had always liked rhododendrons but these surpassed any she had previously seen and quite took her breath away.
“Delia has picked the right time to get married,” remarked Richard. “The drive always looks a picture when all the rhododendrons are out. That’s St. Mary’s over there,” he said as the tall shrubs gradually petered out, revealing a gracious looking church to the left. “It’s where we’re all christened, married and where all our ancestors are buried.”
A few minutes later they reached the Hall itself and Ruth sat up straight in her seat, giving a loud gasp as the car pulled up on the gravel by the front door. A massive lawn stretched out to their right while looming above them immediately to their left stood the Georgian mansion.
“Oh, wow, Richard. This
is awesome,” gasped Ruth, trying to take it all in. There seemed to be so many windows and a flight of stone steps leading up to the front door beneath a magnificent portico. The door opened and a small thin man with a slightly bent nose walked quickly down the steps with a smile of welcome. He hurried towards the car and opened the door for her.
“This is Miss Barrett, Hardy … come to have a well-deserved rest from the rigours of hospital life,” announced Richard, jumping out of the car on the other side.
Hardy took the hand Ruth offered and shook it warmly. “We’ll do all we can to make your stay enjoyable, Miss Barrett,” he said kindly, turning to whisk the luggage out of the car.
Rejection Runs Deep (The Canleigh Series, book 1: A chilling psychological family drama) Page 24