By the time she had returned the tack to the tack room and walked back up towards the house, the grief was subsiding and anger was beginning to set in again. How dare Philip do this to her? Even more, how could that bloody woman do this to her? Who did she think she was? She better not become too comfortable at Tangles because this affair wasn’t going to last long. Philip was not going to marry her. Delia would do anything she could to prevent it. It wasn’t happening. Full stop.
All this was rushing through her mind as she walked back up to the Hall, a light on in one of the bedrooms catching her eye. That simpering Ruth was perched on her windowsill in a flimsy nightdress. She was another opportunist who had to be sorted. She could not be allowed to get a foothold into Canleigh, and a stop had to put to this at once, for all their sakes and now the woman was going to be told exactly where she stood.
“I dare, madam, because I have the welfare of my family and the safety of Canleigh firmly at heart and I shall remain in this room until such time as I have a commitment from you that you’ll leave the estate as soon as is humanly possible and never set foot on Canleigh soil again.”
Shocked and unable to understand why Delia was being so vile, Ruth just about managed to remain dignified. “What makes you think I’ll agree to that?” she asked, with disbelief.
Delia could have stamped with rage and frustration. This … this pretty little doll stood before her, calm and self-assured while her very presence threatened what little hope Delia had of stability in her life. Delia could have slapped her. Only tremendous willpower prevented her from getting hold of Ruth’s shoulders and shaking her until she dropped.
“We’ve seen plenty like you in the past,” she lied blatantly, “you’re certainly not the first to think you can worm your way in, believe me.”
“But Delia … Richard and I are just ….”
“Good friends, I suppose you’re going to say. Don’t think you can flannel me with your sweet-eyed innocence. I know what you’re after and I’m going to make damned sure you don’t get it. Now … if you know what’s good for you, you’ll leave Canleigh … and Richard … pronto. The telephone is there,” she pointed to the phone on the bedside table. “I suggest you ring down to Hardy first thing in the morning. He’s usually up around six o’clock and will find someone to take you to the railway station. Meanwhile, I’ll make your excuses at breakfast.”
Ruth had stood still during the whole conversation, her eyes not leaving Delia’s face for a second but deepening anger made her move. She strode towards Delia, her fury so intense that Delia was taken by surprise and stepped back towards the door.
“Will you listen to me, Delia,” she said quickly, before her courage gave way. “Yes, Richard and I are good friends. He is charming and kind and I like him very much but I can assure you that there will never be anything but friendship between us. He is far too engrossed in his career to even think of a serious relationship with anyone anyway and if and when that time comes, it certainly won’t be me he will be tying the knot with. The very idea of becoming his wife and the responsibilities that would go with it at Canleigh would be far too daunting to contemplate.”
“Oh, very convincing I’m sure. You don’t fool me,” sneered Delia.
Ruth sighed with annoyance. She suddenly felt very tired and drained and wanted to go to bed. A nasty encounter with Richard’s seemingly deranged twin was not what she needed right now.
“Richard invited me here this weekend because I needed to get away from Oxford to think. I’m not sure whether I’m cut out for medicine and it’s impossible to see the wood for the trees when all you think, talk and read about are medical matters. Richard thought coming here to Canleigh would give me a chance to clear my head and make the correct decision.”
“Did he really,” Delia sneered again.
“Yes. He did,” said Ruth defiantly, heartily sick of Delia’s relentless nasty attitude.
Delia stood up straight, towering above Ruth as she pulled herself to her full height. “Well, let me tell you, Miss Barrett, that if there’s even so much as a hint of marriage between the two of you, I’ll do all in my power to stop it … and as for my father, you have absolutely no hope there as any relationship between the two of you would be simply disgusting. So, if you really know what’s good for you, you’ll pack your bags and go home as early as you can in the morning. You’re not wanted here and never will be!”
Delia swept past Ruth, flung open the door and marched out, leaving her opponent shaking like a leaf and clutching the brass bed rails for support. Ruth shuddered uncontrollably. There was no doubt about it, war was definitely declared and Delia was someone of whom she would have to be exceedingly careful. Ruth was thankful she had only been invited for the weekend but she had no intentions whatsoever of bolting in the morning. That would be exceedingly rude and would require an explanation to Richard and Charles and quite frankly, she had no idea what excuse she could give anyway. No, she was staying and Delia would just have to put up with it.
CHAPTER 18
CANLEIGH – JUNE 1972
Despite such a traumatic start to her night’s sleep, Ruth slept well and awoke to hear the birds singing happily in the trees outside. She rolled over and looked at the bedside clock. It was seven o’clock and Richard had promised to collect her for a swim at seven-thirty. She jumped out of bed and pushed the south facing window open as wide as it would go. It had rained through the night and the air was fresh and invigorating. Ruth stretched and pursed her lips. Despite the encounter with Delia, she was looking forward to the day ahead and wouldn’t let Richard’s twin spoil what promised to be a lovely, leisurely day.
Richard tapped on her door promptly, dressed in a bathrobe and flip-flops, his shoes and clothes tucked in a bundle under his arm. Ruth stepped into the corridor, also dressed in her bathrobe with a new green and white patterned swimsuit beneath. Her feet looked dainty and pretty as she wore sparkly white sandals and had painted her toenails a delicate pink. She had tucked her clothes into a beach bag as Richard had told her they would be going straight into breakfast after their swim. She had to do a smile at how many changes of clothes were required for a country weekend. Swimsuit, casual clothes for breakfast, then riding clothes, then back to casual and finally, dress up for dinner.
“We’ll have the pool to ourselves as I’ve just heard Father talking to Hardy downstairs so he must be going into breakfast,” said Richard. “We can stay in as long as you like but if you’re hungry we can just do a few lengths.”
Ruth felt a mixture of relief and disappointment that Charles wouldn’t be in the pool and as he would have breakfast before them and then they were going riding she probably wouldn’t bump into him again until this evening. She wondered what he would do with himself all day. Write his novel, she assumed, especially now there was no wedding to organise.
They ventured down into the main hall and through a door at the rear which took them straight into the changing rooms adjacent to the swimming pool. There were four large cubicles, all with their own shower and toilet with a pile of fluffy white bath towels and a generous supply of expensive sweet-smelling shampoo, conditioner, shower gel and moisturiser for after their swim.
Leaving her bathrobe in the changing room Richard indicated was for her use, Ruth self-consciously walked through to the pool and slipped into the warm water, instantly relaxing as it washed over her. Richard, a strong swimmer, was doing the crawl and reached the far end in seconds, smiled at her and headed back to the shallow end. Ruth waited for him, allowing herself to get used to the feel of being in the water. It was ages since she had been swimming and having seen Richard’s prowess, knew she wouldn’t be able to keep up with him. She had plenty of stamina and could keep going for a long time but could only do the breaststroke. As Richard reached her, she stretched out her arms in front of her, placed her feet against the side of the pool, firmly pushed away and cruised along slowly, enjoying the seductive feel of the water lapping around her
face and neck, caressing her gently. Richard flashed past her quickly, reached the end and passed her again, grinning as he came up for air. She smiled back. This was washing away all her tension, although the exercise was making her hungry and she looked forward to a breakfast, which was sure to be excellent and plentiful.
They slipped easily into their own worlds as they journeyed up and down the pool for a few more lengths. Richard gave up first and waited patiently for Ruth to finish her final length and join him at the shallow end.
“Well, has that woken you up?” he joked. “How did you sleep last night by the way? Well, I hope.”
“Remarkably well,” she replied, having already decided she could never tell him about Delia’s midnight visit. The less said about that the better although Ruth wasn’t looking forward to meeting her again. She leant back, holding the sides of the pool and did cycling movements in the water with her legs.
“What a wonderful start to the day. It must be lovely to be able to do this every day.”
“Well, there is a pool in Oxford … or I believe there are a couple of hotels with pools you can use … for a nice fee of course.”
“I know but it’s an effort finding the time to get there and back and this is just so fabulous, being able to walk straight out here and then head in for breakfast. What luxury.”
“Talking of food,” he said, “are you hungry now because if you’re not, I certainly am.”
“Oh, I’m famished,” she said quickly, suddenly wanting to get out of the water and go in search of sustenance.
“Great. Let’s have a shower and get into the dining room then. I’m dying for a coffee. You can leave your swimsuit in the green box by your cubicle door. One of the staff will wash and dry it and then put it back in your room when it’s ready.”
“How nice,” replied Ruth, thinking how lovely it was to be waited on. It was a different world from that in Oxford, or at her parent’s house come to that.
Breakfast was divine. The array of succulent bacon, sausages, fried and scrambled eggs, tomatoes, mushrooms, along with kippers and fresh salmon Hardy had displayed on the enormous Chippendale sideboard set Ruth’s tummy rumbling as soon as they entered the dining room. The aroma of coffee and fresh homemade bread was more than welcome and then there were cereals, fresh melon, strawberries and grapes.
They helped themselves and sat down near to each other, just as Vicky entered the room.
“Morning both,” she announced gaily, helping herself to a small portion of cereal and a few strawberries. “What are you two up to today?”
“We’re riding as soon as we’ve finished,” said Richard.
“Oh, jolly dee,” replied Vicky, sitting down next to Ruth. “I hate riding,” she told her, “and horses … nasty, smelly creatures who bite and kick. Yuk. Give me a fast car any day if you want speed and excitement.”
Ruth laughed. “Well, I can ride but am not particularly good at it. I haven’t ridden for years and will be quite happy to plod along slowly. Anything more than a trot and I shall probably fall off.”
Richard grinned. “Don’t worry. We’ll put you on my old Dolly. She just ambles along at her own pace. It’s no good trying to get her to move very fast these days,” remembering how he used to canter along on her when he was younger.
“I presume Father has been and gone,” remarked Vicky, pouring herself a coffee from the pot on the table. She drank it neat, no sugar or milk for her.
“Yes,” said Richard. “We just missed him and it doesn’t look as if Barrie or Delia have ventured down yet.”
Vicky laughed. “Barrie … you must be joking. He never gets up early. If I don’t ring him every morning he wouldn’t make it to lectures on time … and you know Delia. She’ll go out riding and have her breakfast when she comes home.”
Breakfast over, Richard and Ruth returned to their rooms to put on their riding clothes.
“You look good … quite the professional rider,” said Richard when they met up a while later in the entrance hall, admiring her trim figure encased in a white silk blouse, jodhpurs and knee-high brown leather boots. Her blonde hair was in a neat bob under a black velvet hat and she wore gold studs in her ears and a gold cross on a chain around her neck. His heart skipped a beat. She really did look enchanting.
Ruth grinned. “Courtesy of Helen Tonbridge actually,” a fellow student who was a keen equestrian. “I happened to mention we might be riding this weekend and I hadn’t any suitable clothes and she lent me these … very kind of her.”
Richard wrinkled his nose. He hadn’t much time for Helen who was, in his opinion, a conceited, snobby young woman who thought she was better than anyone else because Mummy was a Member of Parliament and a distant cousin of the Mountbatten’s.
“And anyway, you look pretty good yourself,” Ruth grinned again, thinking what a strikingly handsome man he was. Delia’s words came back to her. She was right, Richard would be a good catch and some lucky girl would snap him up one day … but it wouldn’t be her.
They walked down to the stables, Richard linking his arm with hers. “I know your first night here was a bit dramatic, what with Delia playing up, but have you reached a decision yet?” he asked.
Ruth, enjoying the walk in the sunshine, looked up at him. “To be honest there is only one, isn’t there? Mummy will go berserk and probably never speak to me again and Daddy is going to be bitterly disappointed, although he will probably do his best not to show it. It has been lovely, receiving their attention and respect over the last few years. With one foul stroke that will all disappear … but I have to do it. There’s simply no sense in continuing doing something I don’t enjoy and am clearly not cut out for … it’s like being a machine, knowing what to do and doing it but because my heart isn’t in it, my mind wanders. I’m terrified I’ll blunder and an innocent person will suffer. It’s simply not right.”
He squeezed her hand, seeing tears were about to fall. “You need some fresh country air in your lungs my girl, followed by a good lunch. We’ll spend the morning touring the estate and the beautiful Yorkshire countryside which you’ll love … and then we’ll stop off at the Canleigh Arms. Their lunches are not to be missed, I can tell you.”
“Sounds lovely,” replied Ruth, grateful for his kindness and understanding.
They continued down the path bordered by rhododendron bushes on one side and lawns on the other until the eighteenth-century stable block came into view. Ruth was impressed. A huge square building, with an imposing entrance with columns at each side, massive wrought iron gates fixed back to allow an easy entrance; rows and rows of loose boxes and garages with tiny, square sash windows above. There was also a shattering din from one of the loose boxes. A big black horse was throwing his head up and down angrily over the door, screaming as if in terrible pain and kicking the door ferociously.
“Oh, good heavens!” cried Ruth, scared out of her wits and staring with horror at the animal. “Don’t you think we should call a vet? There must be something really wrong with it.”
Richard gave a smothered laugh. “Don’t worry. Just watch.”
“But Richard ...,” astonished at Richard’s indifference to an animal in obvious distress. She began to walk towards the horse but Richard pulled her back. “Just stand still. Honestly. There’s nothing to be alarmed about.”
At that moment, Delia, dressed in an old sweater, tatty jeans, and black boots, strode out of the tack room carrying a saddle and bridle and walked towards the horse. The screaming and banging ceased immediately, and when Delia opened the loose box the stallion walked calmly outside and rubbed his head against her shoulder, pawing the cobbles almost tenderly.
Richard laughed at Ruth’s incredulous expression. “There. I told you. Delia can do anything with Demon but God help anyone else. Personally, I think he’s bloody dangerous but it wouldn’t be wise to say so to Delia. She’s besotted with the creature … has been since the day she saw him born.”
Ruth, not taking her ey
es off Delia and Demon, tried to hide her shaking hands, more frightened than she would care to admit as the horse stared in their direction with a peculiar, evil glint in his eye. Ruth looked away and shuddered, wondering if Richard was right and the animal was a lunatic and should be put down before it killed someone.
Richard took her arm and guided her towards another loose box. “Come and meet Dolly. You’ll love her, dear old thing. Father bought her for me when I was young and she took me around and about quite safely for many years. She won’t frighten you … I promise.”
Perkins, the elderly, wizened stable manager ambled out of the tack room and walked towards them with a smile on his face. He should have retired long ago but was still sprightly enough not to want to and the Duke had been good enough to allow him to remain in his spacious apartment above the stables for as long as he required it. He wore a white shirt and green tie beneath a well-worn bottle green sweater, grey jodhpurs, and brown boots. He was clean shaven and his well-tanned skin was wrinkled and weather-beaten. A head of thinning grey hair was revealed as he doffed his cap to Ruth and Richard.
“Good morning Master Richard … and Miss. Cobbler and Dolly are ready when you are but it might be a good idea to wait until Lady Delia has Demon out of the way.”
Within seconds Delia had tacked up, walked her horse to the mounting block in the corner of the stable yard and mounted easily. She gathered up the reins and threw a challenging and contemptuous look at Ruth, who felt a pang of real fear shoot through her body and looked away quickly. Demon reared up on his hind legs, snorting loudly.
“Stand back, Miss,” Perkins warned as Richard tugged Ruth’s arm to pull her nearer the tack room.
Horse and rider clattered past the little group, with no acknowledgement from Delia, whose face was set like a mask. Demon tossed his head from side to side, chomping on the bit and rolling the whites of his eyes. Ruth felt his hot breath on her face as he shot past, far too close for comfort.
Rejection Runs Deep (The Canleigh Series, book 1: A chilling psychological family drama) Page 30