“Please. I have something far more important to discuss with you. Can we forget this for a while?”
“What can be more important than your sister’s health and happiness?” demanded Charles, seething with hostility towards his eldest daughter and her apparent disregard for respectful conduct.
“The estate,” announced Delia blithely. “And what’s going to happen to it when Dick retires shortly.”
Charles and Richard exchanged a puzzled look.
“I don’t see what concern that is of yours,” said Charles impatiently and with some surprise.
“Well, as it happens it is. I want you to give the job to me.”
Charles and Richard looked at her with shock. “You?” they chorused.
Her ruse was working. They had both forgotten Vicky.
“Yes. Who could be better? Father …,” said Delia quickly, knowing this was her only chance and she had to be totally convincing, “you know how hard I’ve worked at college for the last three years. I’ve learnt everything there is to know about running an estate of this size. I have been out and about with Dick since I was young. I know every inch of our land. I know all the tenant farmers. I have plans for making the house and grounds more profitable. We could hold many events, perhaps three-day eventing like Badminton, Burley and Bramham; pop concerts, classical concerts, charity auctions, craft fairs. We could open up the grounds to the public occasionally, even maybe parts of the house. We could do tours of the house … we could hold exhibitions ….”
“Whoa, whoa,” said Charles, holding his hand up. “I let you do that course because you were going to marry Philip. It was to help you both with the land there … not Canleigh.”
“Yes, and it would have been useful but we all know that’s not going to happen … for a while at least,” she added, noting the dismayed look Richard gave Charles. He still didn’t believe Philip would come back to her. “But come on, both of you, while you have been occupied elsewhere I’ve been here … on the estate … and that is just what the place needs … a real, full-time commitment by a member of the family. You must see this is the best possible outcome. I promise I will work so hard and make a real success of it.”
Father and son looked at each other again but it was Richard who spoke first, breaking the tense silence as Delia stood, biting her lip, and twirling the black diamond ring round her finger. All he could think of was that damned piece of paper signed all those years ago … and he didn’t like to think how she was going to react at what he and their father had to tell her now.
“It’s just not possible, Delia. I am so sorry,” he said pityingly.
“Why? Why isn’t it possible? Of course it is. Dick retires in a month’s time and I can take over. Until then he can take me through anything that needs looking at.”
Richard shifted uneasily on his feet while Charles walked over to the French windows and wished he were sitting by the lake, reading a book. What a tranquil thought.
Richard cleared his throat. “Father and I have been in contact for quite a while, discussing what to do when Dick leaves us.”
“Oh, … and what have you decided?” asked Delia coldly, her heart turning over with despair. No, please no. She couldn’t bear it if she wasn’t allowed to take over. It was what she had been working for for years. It was unthinkable it wouldn’t happen.
Charles turned to Delia and looked her in the eye. “I’m signing over the estate to Richard … mainly for tax purposes … in fact I have an appointment with the solicitors on Monday to ask them to draw up the papers.”
“But that’s not a problem,” said Delia, relief flooding through her. Richard would be much easier to persuade than her father. She grinned broadly at her twin. “So, you’ll let me run it then? Honestly, I have some brilliant ideas. You won’t regret it.”
Richard turned away and poured another drink. “No, Delia. I’m sorry but it’s too late. I thought you’d be happily married to Philip, immersed in a new life and all that that entails.”
“Will you please get to the point. What the hell are you talking about?” Delia demanded, a severe chill sweeping over her whole body.
“We’ve appointed someone. He’s French actually.”
“What! A bloody frog! What the bloody hell will he know about running an English estate? You must be off your heads!”
“For your information, madam, he knows quite a lot,” Charles interrupted forcefully. “He comes highly recommended, having been employed at two of the most prestigious chateaux in France and his extensive knowledge and expertise is just what Canleigh requires at this time. And anyway, what a load of nonsense this is. It’s highly commendable you have applied yourself to your studies and done so well but quite ridiculous to think you would be allowed to run Canleigh. It’s a great shame you won’t be marrying Philip and we are all desperately sorry but no doubt you will find someone else in the not too distant future and have hoards of horse-mad children to keep you busy. You simply won’t have the time to run Canleigh and anyway, you could be living miles away.”
“No! I shall never marry anyone else and I want to stay here and run it. You have to let me, you have to!” Delia’s composure was slipping fast. “I shall never live anywhere but here.”
“Well, that’s fine, of course. You can stay here for as long as you wish,” said Charles.
“And do what? I can’t sit around twiddling my thumbs, seeing some bloody frog doing the job I deserve and want. It’s damned ridiculous.”
“What about your show jumping ambitions?” asked Richard. “I thought you wanted to make a name for yourself.”
“What, with Demon? Don’t be so stupid. He’s not for the ring. He’s far too temperamental and flighty.”
“Well, with your grandmother’s inheritance you have more than enough to buy yourself the right kind of horse,” remarked Charles.
“I don’t want to be a bloody show jumper anymore. I just want Canleigh!”
Charles heard the same petulant tone Delia used when she was young. He had thought that the entire trauma from her earlier years was behind them as her desires for the estate had ceased mysteriously when she was about thirteen. He had thought it was because she was growing up. Obviously he had been wrong and even though she was now twenty-one, she was still lusting after something she could never have or was entitled to.
Delia was rummaging behind his desk and pulled out the two bulging files she had brought down before dinner.
“Look,” she said wildly, throwing papers and maps all over his desk, “I’ve got plans … please look at all these and you’ll see I know what I’m talking about. I’ve detailed everything clearly, exactly where we stand now and how things could be improved. I’ve done a business plan and costings. Look, please look.”
Charles sighed deeply. “Delia, will you please stop this nonsense. There is no way you are going to run Canleigh. It’s a preposterous idea and you know it. Totally impracticable and unworkable. I won’t have it, do you hear,” he said, pointedly ignoring all the paper spread out over his desk.
“What the hell has it got to do with you? You just said you’re signing the place over to Richard. It’s his decision, not yours,” screamed Delia, furious to see the work she had poured her heart and soul into discarded so irreverently.
“I’m sorry Delia … but I agree with Father,” said Richard tensely.
“You bastard! You promised!” hissed Delia, beside herself with hurt and anger.
Richard looked decidedly uncomfortable as Charles rounded on him. “What’s this?”
Richard shrugged. “Just some childish idea we had years ago. Delia wanted the estate, I didn’t … you must remember what it was like … she made my life a misery and I had to shut her up somehow. The only thing I could think of was to promise it all to her when I inherited … we put it all down on paper, hid the blasted thing and then, thankfully, I was left alone.”
“Is that all,” Charles sighed with impatience. “Delia, you know perfec
tly well there’s no way a promise made in childhood about such an important matter could be fulfilled. Do grow up girl.”
“Of course I know it isn’t legally binding,” spat Delia defiantly, “but I’ve spent years and years preparing. I’ve worked so bloody hard … and you promised, Richard. You can’t let me down now … and you won’t be here … how will you know this person you have appointed is trustworthy and capable?”
Charles butted in. “Because I shall be here to keep an eye on things.”
Delia looked at her father in surprise. The idea of him returning to live at Canleigh permanently was a possibility she had overlooked, thinking he was more than happy spending the majority of his time at Blairness.
“Yes. I’ve decided to come back and oversee the place until Richard has qualified. Then he plans to continue his career in Yorkshire, return to live here and I can take a back seat once again.”
Delia was dumbfounded. “So, you’re really pushing me out. There’s no place for me here anymore.”
“Delia, this is your home,” said Charles quietly. “There’s no question of your leaving until you want to. I gather Richard has suggested you get away for a while … have a holiday. I also think that would be a good idea as you’re having such a bad time at the moment. Why don’t you take Demon up to Scotland and stay at Blairness for the rest of the summer?”
Hot tears were welling up in her eyes but she wasn’t going to cry in front of them. She blinked rapidly, not knowing what to say or do. Her world really was crashing down around her now. This was torture, sheer agony. She looked at the men who should have been on her side, should have been pleased she wanted to work hard for the family and for Canleigh and she felt hate. Pure unadulterated hate. Just a few short days ago she was looking forward to having everything she ever wanted and then Philip had started to kill her dreams and then these two, her closest family, were completing her demoralisation. She was impotent, useless, unwanted, not needed and there he stood, her pompous, autocratic father, the Duke … the Duke of Canleigh … with the power to make her feel like nothing … a non-person … only good for the marriage bed and for procreation … just like thousands of aristocratic females before her. The unfairness of it all sent a sheet of red mist across her eyes. She had never felt so angry in her entire life. She hated her father with every inch … every fibre of her being.
There was nothing left to live for. All her hopes were dashed. Richard and her father had heaped the final humiliation on her. She was no good for anything or anyone. No-one wanted her. Her mother, Philip and now her father and brother. She was just an inconvenience, a mere female. By a quirk of fate, she had been born a girl so she was passed over for Richard, who was feigning some sort of sense of responsibility for his heritage … but he couldn’t fool her. His first love was, and always would be, medicine. His passion wasn’t Canleigh. It was his birthright but he didn’t really want it. She knew him. It would be a millstone around his neck … and she, she who loved and cherished their home so intensely and could have been so very good for it, was being ostracised by these two pompous, superior males. How stupid she had been to think they would fall in with her plans. She looked at them both … her father … her brother. A poisonous loathing tore through her very being. How she despised them. They were abominations, detestable. They nauseated her.
“You’re both bastards!” she screamed, waving her hands in total despair. “And you’re going to be sorry for this … very sorry indeed.”
“You are becoming hysterical, Delia. Calm yourself,” ordered Charles in desperation.
“What did you expect you foolish old man? You’re a selfish, bombastic fool … and as for you,” she turned her wrath on Richard. “You’re nothing but a creep, promising the earth and then snatching it away. This estate is going to be mine one day, even if I have to kill you for it. Watch your back, Richard, because I won’t rest until then. That’s my promise to you.”
“Stop this at once!” Charles roared, his calm demeanour disappearing in a flash. This was getting completely out of hand and he began to have a nagging worry about Delia’s sanity. She looked almost deranged. Her eyes were wild and she was pacing the room, wringing her hands and then clutching at her neck, gulping the sobs away. It was horrible to see her so distressed but she had to face up to facts and couldn’t delude herself any longer.
She suddenly stopped still and turned to him. “And don’t think you’re going to get away with it either. Mark my words, you’ll live to regret this day,” she snarled viciously. “and it will give me the greatest pleasure to dance on your grave,” she yelled, storming out of the library. The heavy door crashed shut behind her, leaving Richard and Charles staring at each other in total disbelief.
CHAPTER 21
CANLEIGH – JUNE 1972
With her skirts held high, Delia tore upstairs to her room, flung open the door and slammed it shut behind her. Tears of rage and grief had ravaged her face, waterproof mascara denying its maker’s claims as unsightly black streaks and blotches blended hideously with her foundation.
Delia looked in the mirror, dismayed at the pathetic figure she presented. Gone was the arrogance and confidence she had felt before dinner. Now she looked desperate and weak and they had reduced her to this … her father, Richard and Philip … all the important men in her life. They had all spurned her; treating her like an empty-headed fool … but they were going to regret it. She didn’t know how yet but they would. Revenge was going to be very sweet indeed.
She gripped the sides of the dressing table watching her knuckles whiten, her mind racing, wondering how she could pay them back. She was determined they were going to suffer at her hands for the humiliation they had heaped on her. She flashed a look around the room … she had to get out of here now … it was becoming claustrophobic … her lovely bedroom, the house, the estate. She had to leave … get away from the people who had …
“Delia! Open this door,” demanded Richard from the corridor, banging on it unceremoniously.
“Go away,” Delia yelled in return. “I don’t ever want to see or speak to you again.”
Richard, unable to contain his fury with his twin, barged into the room, his face looking like thunder.
“What the hell did you think you were doing, shouting at Father like that? You know about his heart … if he has an attack because of you ….”
“Oh, for God’s sake, Richard. Why do we all pussy foot around each other? Mustn’t upset Father because he might have a heart attack, mustn’t upset Vicky because her anorexia might flare up again … mustn’t upset me because I might have another breakdown!”
“Delia ….”
Her strength returned in full force. She turned on Richard vehemently. “At this moment in time I couldn’t care less … not about him … not about Vicky … and certainly not about you. I meant what I said downstairs. I’m going to get even for what you’ve done to me.”
It was Richard’s turn to pace. “This is getting out of hand, Delia. Please, calm down. Father and I have been talking for months about a replacement for Dick. What else were we supposed to do? As far as we were concerned you were marrying Philip.”
“But I wasn’t exactly going miles away, was I,” Delia screamed. “I could have been here every day … I would have … I would die for this place … you know I would … while you, you couldn’t care less about it. It could fall down around your ears and you wouldn’t give a damn … all you’ve ever cared about is your stupid career.”
Striding to the wardrobe she pulled out two of the suitcases packed days ago, ready for her move to Tangles.
“What do you think you’re doing?” asked Richard wearily, scratching his head. “you can’t go anywhere now. It’s getting late.”
“If you think I’m staying under this roof with you and Father for one more night, you’re very much mistaken.”
“You can’t, Delia. We need to sort this out … calmly … in the morning. Give them to me,” he said, trying to a
rrest the suitcases from her grasp.
“Let her go, Richard,” cried Vicky from the doorway, dressed in a flimsy cornflower blue negligee, looking pale and exhausted. “The sooner she’s off the premises the better.”
“Go back to your room, Vicky, please … I thought Ruth was looking after you?” panted Richard, still tussling with Delia, who was trying to bite his hand and kick his shins. He couldn’t believe she was acting like this. She had completely lost control.
“I’m here,” said Ruth from behind Vicky. She had left Vicky in her own room as she insisted she wanted to be left alone. Ruth, thinking it was for the best had acquiesced with relief, desperate to retire herself. She had only just begun undressing when she heard the commotion further down the corridor and decided to see what was happening, although she hadn’t expected to find Richard and Delia literally fighting over suitcases.
“Will you leave me alone!” screamed Delia. “Let go, Richard!”
“No. You’re not going anywhere tonight … you’ve had a drink… you shouldn’t drive.”
“I’ll be the judge of that,” yelled Delia, her stiletto heel driving into Richard’s leg and ripping his trousers.
“Aaaah,” cried Richard, dropping his hold on the suitcases. Blood was pouring from a nasty gash and he clutched his leg.
Delia, seeing her chance grabbed her luggage, her handbag and car keys from the bedside table, pushed Vicky and Ruth aside and fled down the corridor.
“And good riddance,” shouted Vicky. “Don’t ever come back!”
Ruth looked in despair at Richard, who was examining his leg, mopping up the blood with his handkerchief. Vicky, crying quietly went back to her room.
“Are you okay?” asked Ruth.
“I’ll have to go after her,” said Richard. “She shouldn’t drive. She could kill someone … or herself … she’s had too much to drink and she’s angry.”
Rejection Runs Deep (The Canleigh Series, book 1: A chilling psychological family drama) Page 34