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

by Carole Williams

  Richard laughed at Ruth’s air of bemusement. “You’ll get a lot of this kind of treatment this weekend. It’s a hundred light years away from the hospital but there’s no need to worry, everyone will make you very welcome. Just relax and enjoy it.”

  Leaving Hardy to follow with their suitcases, Richard took her arm and guided her up the steps and into the chilly black and white marble tiled entrance hall.

  “I wasn’t aware you were bringing a guest,” drawled a voice from a door to Ruth’s left. “Who have we here then?”

  Ruth could feel Richard’s grasp of her arm tightening and she turned to see a feminine mirror image of the man by her side. There could be little doubt the woman was Richard’s twin. Dressed in a black sweater, well-worn jeans and riding boots, her figure was similarly slim and athletic. She was the same height, her hair was exactly the same colour, and her features were practically identical to her brother, although her eyes were hard and mocking as she sized Ruth up and her lips, smeared with dark red lipstick were thinner and rested in a tight line as if she were clenching her teeth.

  Delia blatantly eyed Ruth up and down, taking in every detail of her appearance; the fresh pale complexion, lovely big brown eyes, the generous mouth, the bob of shiny blonde hair, the slim figure in the pink flowery dress and white sandals on her feet. The woman possessed chocolate box prettiness and could have stepped right out of the pages of a country living magazine. All she needed was a basket of freshly picked flowers hanging from her arm. With Richard gazing adoringly at his guest, Delia was seriously alarmed. The last thing she wanted was for him to desire marriage, which could mean he would want to move back to Canleigh once he was qualified.

  “Hello, Delia,” said Richard coldly, annoyed with his twin’s reception but before he could make the introductions Delia butted in. “I’m Lady Delia,” she said pompously to Ruth. “And you are?”

  Delia achieved the reaction she had been hoping for. Ruth, instantly made to feel inferior, blushed and stammered. “Ruth … Ruth Barrett … I’m a medical student … with Richard,” she said, looking up at him for reassurance.

  “How nice,” said Delia sarcastically. She turned to Richard, who was aghast and speechless at her rudeness. “When you’ve a moment I need to speak to you … urgently.”

  Hardy was behind them with the luggage. “Should I show Miss Barrett to her room, Milord?” he asked, breaking the tension. The butler was fully aware of the awful catastrophe which had befallen Lady Delia in the past twenty-four hours but there was no excuse for her discourteous greeting to Lord Richard’s friend.

  Richard hurriedly collected himself. “No, thank you, Hardy. I’m sure you have plenty to do before dinner. I’ll do it.” He took the suitcases from the butler. “Is my father home yet?”

  “No, Milord but he’s on his way. Should be here around six o’clock. Lady Victoria arrived last night but she has popped into Leeds to do some shopping and collect her guest, Mr. Saunders-Smythe, from the railway station.”

  “Right. I presume Miss Barrett will be in the guest room next to Lady Victoria?”

  Hardy nodded. “Yes, Milord and Mr. Saunders-Smythe will be in the room next to yours.”

  Richard smiled reassuringly at Ruth, pointedly ignoring Delia. “Come on then. I’ll show you to your room. It overlooks the lake and woods so you will have a lovely view.”

  “Should I have afternoon tea sent up, Milord or serve it in the library?” asked Hardy with his hand on a door on the opposite side of the entrance hall, which would lead him down to the kitchens.

  Richard glanced at Ruth, who was beginning to look tired and he knew she would want to rest and be alone for a while and he wanted to take the opportunity to catch up with some paperwork his father had sent him before they met this evening.

  “I’ll have mine in the library, Hardy but I think Miss Barrett would probably like hers in her room,” he answered, smiling back at Ruth when she threw him a look of gratitude.

  “Richard … I really do need to talk to you,” urged Delia. “Preferably before Father arrives.”

  “Later, Delia. Later,” he snapped back. He picked up the suitcases. “Follow me,” he grinned at Ruth, making his way up the spectacular stone staircase with its ornamental black wrought iron balustrade.

  Ruth moved to follow him but on glancing at Delia, was disturbed to see her look of pure aggression before she turned and strode out of the house, slamming the front door behind her.

  “I do apologise for my sister’s rudeness. I sincerely hope her manners will have improved by the time we dine,” Richard said grimly.

  Chilled by the frosty reception, Ruth wholeheartedly agreed, praying earnestly that Richard’s father would be more welcoming. Shaken by Delia’s greeting, Ruth could hardly take in the sumptuous surroundings as Richard took her up the stairs. The landing was spacious, expensively carpeted in pale green and on the cream emulsioned walls between the windows overlooking the east and west courtyards at either side of the stairs, hung oil paintings of Italian landscapes.

  Richard turned at the top and headed towards the south side of the house where he turned right, pointing to the doors on their left as they passed by.

  “This is my bedroom and sitting room … then we have a couple of guest rooms and then,” he stopped at the last door before the corridor took a sharp turn to the right. “This is yours. Vicky’s bedroom and sitting room are next door to you along there,” he pointed to their right and Delia’s rooms are next. There are more guest rooms along the north front. You’ve got the best room actually, facing south and west … it gets plenty of light and sun.”

  Richard opened the door and stood back for Ruth to cross the threshold, following her in and placing her case on the floor beside the bed.

  “I’ll come and fetch you before dinner … show you around a bit. The room should be comfortable and if you need anything at all just ring down to the Hardy’s … the number is on the telephone by the bed,” he said.

  “Gosh. This is absolutely gorgeous,” Ruth sighed with pleasure, looking around the capacious room sporting double aspect windows. The walls were covered with white silk and the furnishings were a delightful shade of cornflower blue. A huge brass bed dominated the room while the remainder of the furniture was modern and white with mirrored wardrobe doors and brass handles.

  “The bathroom is through there,” said Richard, pointing to a door in the corner of the room. “Hardy will be up in a minute with a pot of tea and something delicious to eat … probably salmon and cucumber sandwiches as they’re my favourites,” he grinned. “Have a nice rest and I’ll see you later.”

  Richard departed, closing the door behind him. Ruth moved to the south window and looked out over the gardens and lake beyond. She sighed again. It was stunning. Richard was so lucky, having a home like this. The sun was strong, beating through the sash window and Ruth pushed up the lower part to let in the wonderful fresh air. It felt good and her spirits began to rise.

  A tap on the door made her jump. She crossed the room quickly to open it and smiled with pleasure at the sight of Hardy bearing a tray loaded with a silver tea set and two silver platters, one on which rested delicately cut smoked salmon and cucumber sandwiches, along with ham and mustard in brown bread and egg and cress in white. The second platter was decorated with slices of cherry, coffee, and chocolate cake, which was Ruth’s favourite.

  “If there is anything else you should require Miss Barrett, please don’t hesitate to ring down,” said Hardy, placing the tray on the occasional table near to a comfy looking bedroom chair next to the south facing window. “And if you don’t mind me saying, don’t worry too much about Lady Delia. Her bark is always worse than her bite and she … she had a bit of an altercation with her fiancé this morning,” he grimaced.

  Hardy was usually the soul of discretion about the Canleigh family but Lady Delia’s greeting to this nice young woman had been extremely rude and uncalled for and being as fond of Delia as he was, he wanted
to provide some kind of explanation for her behaviour. He was deeply concerned as her high excitement with the coming wedding had been swiftly replaced by hostility to everyone around her so whatever went on in the dining room must have been pretty serious, especially with the huge dent in the door where Delia had hit it with the candelabra, which had also suffered in the impact. He had no idea what Charles was going to say when he arrived later. He wouldn’t be pleased, that was for sure.

  “Oh dear,” replied Ruth, noticing the worried expression on Hardy’s face. The butler was obviously fond of Delia.

  He brightened. “Lady Delia is a somewhat forthright and focused young lady but we all love her and wish her the best for her future with Master Philip. I expect it was something and nothing and she will bounce back to her happy self shortly. I’m sure she is already regretting her words to you earlier and will be desperate to make it up to you later this evening … and don’t be too nervous about meeting His Grace. One couldn’t wish to meet a nicer gentleman and he will soon put you at your ease.”

  “Thank you, Hardy. That’s very kind,” said Ruth, grateful for his thoughtfulness.

  Hardy departed and suddenly ravenous as it had been a long time since she and Richard had stopped off for a quick snack on the motorway, Ruth polished off all the sandwiches but could only manage the cherry and chocolate cake and two cups of tea. The coffee cake looked delicious but she really hadn’t any more room. She quickly unpacked her things, sighing with pleasure as she surveyed her sumptuous surroundings and with a few hours to spare before dinner and feeling sleepy she curled up on the bed, leaving her window wide open. It wasn’t long before the soothing songs of blackbirds and thrushes outside lulled her into sleep.

  * * *

  Delia strode down to the stables, her mind in turmoil, having seen the protective way in which Richard ushered his guest, Miss Barrett upstairs, his eyes never straying from the neat little figure and her perfectly shaped oval face with eyes of a somewhat fascinating colour. Delia couldn’t make out whether they were blue, green, or brown. Hazel, she supposed, was the correct term. Then there was the pert little nose and brilliantly white teeth, all topped off with a crop of thick, honey coloured hair. It was obvious Richard was besotted by the blasted female and this latest turn of events could pose one hell of a problem.

  Delia skirted the stables and headed down towards the lake where she could sit and think without being disturbed. She reached the spot where she had sat that day after trashing Simon Parfitt’s car and threw herself on the grass, just as she had then; although this time there were no tears. She was too angry and worried to cry. Yet again, just as it had all those years ago, her world was crashing down around her at an alarming rate and she didn’t know what to do to stop it. It was necessary to take stock and think.

  Ducks and swans were searching for food further up the lake and so far, weren’t aware of her presence otherwise they would have descended on her quickly, hoping she had brought some titbits. The blue sky above was cloudless; the foliage on the trees waved slightly in the warm breeze and the magnificent rhododendrons in full bloom looked stunning,

  Pushing the crushing misery at Philip’s rejection to the back of her mind and trying hard to ignore the hard knot of pain in her heart, she thought about what needed to be done at Canleigh. It was essential to speak to Richard as soon as possible. She had to get him on her side regarding the estate manager’s job before she tackled Father … and there wasn’t much time. In forty-eight hours, Richard would be zooming back to Oxford with that silly female. Not that she was so silly, Delia surmised. The woman was obviously clever, worming her way into his affections. Delia knew perfectly well Richard wasn’t usually a pushover where women were concerned, being level headed and able to spot a fortune hunter a mile away. Something must have gone wrong this time. Miss Barrett’s charms had certainly worked wonders on the Marquess of Keighton. She was the first woman he had ever brought back to Canleigh … and with their father in situ too. She must be something incredibly special and the threat had to be taken seriously. Whatever happened Richard mustn’t marry and move back to Canleigh for a long time, at least not until Delia was firmly entrenched as estate manager and had time to prove her worth.

  Delia put her head in her hands and groaned. There was also Vicky and this Barrie chap she was so enraptured with. It was going to be a traumatic weekend watching her siblings drooling over their partners while she … a tear threatened to fall and the sharp searing pain she was becoming used to drove through her heart at the thought of Philip and what he had done to her. She ached for him, for his presence, his guidance, his thoughtfulness. He had been her rock for nearly all her life and it was crucifying knowing her place in his affections was replaced by another. She still couldn’t take in what had happened and how her life had dramatically changed in such a short space of time. One minute she was about to be married to the man she had always wanted and then, without any prior warning whatsoever, she wasn’t.

  Sadness filled Delia’s soul; a terrible, terrible sadness, not unlike when Granny died but then Philip, Constance and Ralph were there to help fill the void. Now there was no-one to turn to. Ever since Philip's cruel rejection a great ball of hurt had wrapped itself around her heart and wasn’t getting any better. If anything, it was growing more intense and there was no outlet for it as she couldn’t bring herself to tell anyone, hoping upon hope Philip would see sense and change his mind. The wedding, therefore, as far as she was concerned was still on. Nothing had been cancelled. No one in the family had been told because at any moment he might roar back up the drive and tell her it was all a ghastly mistake, it had all been pre-wedding nerves and of course he still wanted to marry her. He would say that no other woman could fill her place, especially with the business … the horses … all the things they shared a passion for. He had suffered temporary madness. There was no way he could run things successfully without her by his side. He wanted her, needed her, desired her … especially in the bedroom.

  Delia smiled wryly. During the last few years she had read every book she could find on making love, wanting her marriage to always be exciting and to keep the passion alive until they were both too old to care anymore. There was hardly a day went by without a sexual encounter between them; Delia grabbed Philip in the stables or the office when the stable hands were busy but could find them at any moment and the fields and woods were regular romping grounds. In the house, she dressed up for him, sometimes as a maid, sometimes a nurse, at others in a skimpy playsuit with stockings and suspenders. Delia loved it. Once the experimentation started, she was hooked and couldn’t get enough. She craved for Philip, for his body, his smell, his hands. She wanted him so very, very much. She certainly couldn’t cope with celibacy.

  She stood up abruptly. It was no good. She had to see him. She had to go to Tangles. Surely he would have seen reason by now and his silly philandering with this other person could be forgotten. Delia would forgive him anything if he came back to her and made her life right again. She turned away from the lake and made her way quickly through the woods, working out what to say when she reached Tangles. It was five o’clock. In about an hour he would be driving up from the stables to have his evening meal … which she usually cooked for him. If she hurried, she could get

  there before him, quickly whip up something fabulous and change into that new red satin basque she had stashed in her old room at Tangles so he wouldn’t find it until she was ready to show it off. Delia smiled with satisfaction. She’d make him forget all about this other female. He wouldn’t want anyone else once she’d finished with him.

  Emerging from the woods she hurried along the track to the house, her hopes of a surprise dashed by the sight of Philips’s Volvo parked outside the front door. He was dreadfully early. She stood for a second wondering what to do. It would be impossible to prepare a meal but she could still sneak up to the bedroom, change and venture down to the kitchen to surprise him.

  Carefully she c
rept up to the house, bobbing down as she passed the open kitchen window, stopping still when hearing voices. Philip was talking to a female, a young one too. Delia’s heart lurched sicken. Surely he hadn’t installed the blasted woman already? How could he? The wedding wasn’t even cancelled yet. Crouched below the window she re-thought her options. She could walk away and come back another time, maybe tomorrow but curiosity was getting the better of her. She wanted to see this woman. She wanted to know exactly what type of person had the gall to usurp the position she had held for so many years and which should have been hers for eternity.

  With shaking hands and sickness in her stomach, she stood up and marched to the front door. Without knocking she walked straight in, through the entrance hall and into the kitchen. Philip was busy at the cooker with his back to the door; a young woman with blonde hair was sitting at the table with a copy of Horse and Hound spread out before her. She saw Delia first and sat, stock-still, staring aghast at the intruder.

  “Well,” drawled Delia, leaning nonchalantly on the door frame. “This is cosy, I must say.”

  Philip turned quickly, a wooden spoon in his hand, the aroma of Bolognese wafting temptingly from the pan on the hob.

  “Delia! What the hell are you doing here?”

  “If I remember rightly, I have a number of personal items still in this house. I’d like them back,” she replied, furiously fighting the urge to scream, cry or attack that simpering bitch who was watching her with fright in her big eyes and nervously rubbing her neck. Delia had recognised her immediately, having bought items from her shop in the past.

  “You could have rung first,” snapped Philip angrily, horrified at Delia’s audacity and blindly trying to figure out how he could stop the situation turning really nasty. When Delia had a temper on her, she could border on evil and looking at her now, Philip knew it was going to take all the strength he had to keep things calm. Her next words didn’t reassure him.