Then she had to decide exactly what she was going to do for the rest of her life. She had a little money of her own so could survive for a while without rushing into anything. There was no point in jumping from the frying pan into the fire so volunteering would be a good solution until a serious decision about her future career could be made. The idea of working with animals was dismissed. Perhaps Africa instead, or some other part of the world where volunteers were always needed. The head office of Oxfam was in Oxford so she could pop in after she had spoken to her tutor and see if there were any openings for her. That would be an exciting and different challenge, keep her well out of the way of her parents’ wrath, provide time to plan for the future … and help push the haunting memory of Charles’ eyes into the realms of the past.
Charles. She couldn’t prevent herself from smiling. Her heart flipped and she closed her eyes, remembering how he had looked at her, smiled at her, talked to her as if she was the only woman in the world; as if she was of consequence and important. He was so charming, good looking, interesting. She remembered his laugh, the feel of his hand on hers, his expressive eyes. Oh yes, his eyes. They bored down into her very soul as if he were seeking hers. Soul mates. Wasn’t that the expression?
Ruth pulled herself up sharply. She had to stop this. It was ridiculous. She would never see Charles again and had to let these crazy thoughts go. It was sheer lunacy. He had only been polite and courteous to a guest of his son. That was all. She had to make a determined effort to put Canleigh and its owner out of her mind.
She made a mug of tea and wandered over to the lounge window with it in her hand, darting behind the orange curtain as Richard came into view below, heading for his flat further down the road. He looked thoroughly fed up and was wearing his glasses. That was an ominous sign. He always abandoned his contact lenses when under strain. He disappeared from view without even glancing towards her flat.
Ruth felt sad. She had valued Richard’s friendship but would find it almost impossible to forget his last words, bristling at the very thought. His perspective was frightening. She had fallen for his father, it was true, although she couldn’t admit it to Richard but she certainly wasn’t after a fortune or a title, which Richard assumed was the case. Ruth had to smile. Delia accused her of wanting it with Richard. How wrong she was. And they had both threatened her. They might not be identical twins but they certainly bore the same traits, although Richard’s nastiness was masked by his earlier kindness and friendship. She still couldn’t believe how he had physically attacked her in the kitchen at Canleigh. She had been terrified he was going to rape her and if he hadn’t been so drunk and injured and weakened by Delia earlier, it was probably quite likely that he would have. Ruth shuddered. She had had a lucky escape and had no wish to have anything to do with Richard again.
Then the telephone beside her sprung into life and made her jump. For a second she debated whether to answer it. It might be Richard and she really didn’t want to talk to him; didn’t want to listen to any grovelling apologies or indeed, any more threats. But the ringing persisted and in the end, she picked it up.
“Ruth Barrett.”
“Hello, Ruth. It’s Charles.”
Ruth’s grip on the telephone tightened. Charles was the last person on earth she had expected to hear from. “Oh, hello,” she said, hesitantly.
“I hope you don’t mind me calling,” he went on. “I just wanted to make sure you had reached Oxford safely. Hardy gave me your note but I was disappointed not to have had the chance to say goodbye this morning and as you left so early, and not with Richard, I wanted to make sure that nothing was amiss. I couldn’t ask him as he left without a word when I was swimming. I presume he went back to Oxford too.”
Ruth found it difficult to answer for a second, not wanting her voice to squeak with nerves. “Um, yes. I’m fine, thank you. Richard and I had a rather … a rather heated disagreement and I thought it prudent to leave on my own … and yes, he’s back. I saw him a short while ago. How kind of you to call.”
“Good. Knowing you are both in Oxford is a weight off my mind. However, Ruth … I want to ask you to do me a favour.”
Her, do him a favour? “Well, of course. If I can.”
“I’m coming down to Oxford tomorrow and would really like it if you would join me for dinner … perhaps the Restaurant Elizabeth? I haven’t been there for a long time and the food is exquisite … that is, if you are free … and would like to.”
Ruth sank down into the nearby chair and felt her smile getting wider by the second. “Yes. I would. Very much.”
“Lovely. I’ll pick you up at seven o’clock. Would that be in order?”
“Yes,” she breathed. “It’s number twenty-five. Just up the road from Richard,”
“I’ll see you then, Ruth. Goodbye.”
* * *
Charles replaced his receiver with a smile on his lips. He hadn’t been able to get the girl out of his mind all day and knew it was impossible to leave things as they were. He had to see her again and soon … very soon … and he would like to know what made them leave Canleigh so early, so abruptly, and separately. It was quite mystifying … two such hasty departures from Canleigh at different times and by different forms of transport. Charles guessed there must have been some almighty disagreement between the two young people and although he tried to keep out of his children’s private lives as much as he could, with the feelings he was having for Ruth, he needed to make sure there was nothing in the way of a budding romance between the two of them. He certainly didn’t want to put his foot in it.
Charles stepped through the French doors of the library and onto the terrace. It had rained a little overnight, freshening the plants and trees so they all stood to attention in all their glory. Charles breathed in the air. It was warm and fragrant. His spirits rose even higher than they were already following Ruth’s acceptance of his invitation to dinner tomorrow evening.
He walked past the stables and down to the lake, raising a hand in greeting to two gardeners on the opposite side, who were making their way to the walled vegetable garden to start their daily duties. This was the first time he had been down here since arriving home on Friday. He looked at the scene before him with pleasure. It was stunningly beautiful this morning. The sun made the water sparkle a dazzling blue, the swans looked pristine white, the trees and shrubs were healthy and abundant. It was a restful, calming sight and he had forgotten how much he loved it.
During the past few years he had spent a great deal of time at Blairness and travelling abroad, especially to Italy when the fancy took him, unable to settle long at Canleigh after his mother’s demise and Margaret causing such a dreadful scandal. He had tried to stay for Delia’s sake but after she recovered from her breakdown, she wanted to stay with the Kershaw’s rather than with him and with Richard and Victoria away at school for most of the year, Canleigh had seemed a bleak and lonely place. He had missed his mother terribly. She had been his rock as far as Canleigh was concerned; having run the place so expertly for such a long time after his father’s death and he found it was hard to make decisions about the estate without her. He knew it was pathetic and weak but it was easier to leave the daily running of Canleigh to the Hardy’s and Dick Joyce and just escape, knowing that Delia was perfectly safe and happy with the Kershaws and, when she had wanted to return at eighteen, had the Hardy’s to care for her. And she was quite unconcerned as to whether he was around or not as when he did come home she rarely spent any time in his presence, always finding some excuse or another to avoid him.
However, times had changed. He felt a need to come home. He was tired of travelling on his own and fed up with the midges in Scotland, who loved him at this time of the year. It was time to return to Canleigh and settle. Enjoy the estate before it was too late … and it would be a real added bonus if once Richard was qualified, he could find a position in a hospital in Yorkshire and return to live here too. It would really give them a chance to bond.<
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Striding down to his favourite bench offering the longest view of the lake, he sat down and thought about the last two days. What a traumatic few hours it had turned out to be. Delia’s wedding cancelled, two of his children departing angrily, two guests leaving in haste and Victoria, distraught and unhappy in her room.
And then there was Ruth. He smiled, remembering how her eyes lit up and sparkled when he spoke, how she smiled easily, how her beautiful golden hair looked so soft. He was extraordinarily pleased he was going to see her again and was really looking forward to talking to her. Just being in her company made him feel better than he had for years and he simply had to find out if he wasn’t just being crazy to think there could be anything between them … or, for that matter, between her and Richard. If there was, then he would have to bow out quickly and his wish to come home to Canleigh would have to be stifled if Richard wanted to marry Ruth. It would be very difficult to live with them if the instant attraction he had felt for Ruth developed into real love. He wondered how she felt about him … he was positive she had felt that pull, that spark that flew between them when they were in the same room. He was desperate to see her and find out for certain. He smiled. After Margaret, he hadn’t wanted or needed to get too close to anyone. He enjoyed his own company and now surprised himself that he was toying with the idea of re-marriage. He must be getting old.
The next morning, he set off for Oxford much earlier than he needed to. Even though he couldn’t see Ruth for a few hours, it would make him feel good just to be in the same city.
The Rolls purred along smoothly, covering the miles with ease and just before lunchtime, the famous spires of Oxford could be seen on the horizon. He drove through the busy city to the Randolf Hotel where he often stayed when visiting Richard and Vicky, handed his car keys to the doorman for the Rolls to be parked, registered at reception and was escorted up to a suite he had stayed in many times before. All the staff recognised him and greeted him warmly and he felt completely at home as he strolled to the window to look down into St. Giles. It was a scene of frenetic activity as usual. Double decker buses jammed the streets, cars crawled along at a snail’s pace and students in their black gowns flapping round their legs and bags of heavy books in the baskets on their bicycles weaved in and out of the traffic with scant regard for their safety. Pedestrians, looking warm and harassed, bustled and jostled for space on the pavements.
Charles glanced at his watch and decided to ring Richard on the off chance that he might be in his flat and not at the hospital.
“Richard. I hope I haven’t disturbed you. As I hadn’t heard from you, I just wanted to make sure you arrived back in Oxford safely,” said Charles quickly when the telephone was picked up, not wanting to mention Ruth had already told him.
“Yes. I’m back,” Richard said smartly, unable to keep the hostility from his tone. “Just doing some studying as I have an exam this afternoon … is that all as I have rather a lot to get through and as I’m doing a night shift, I need to get some sleep too.”
Charles was taken aback by his son’s aggressive tone. Richard had never spoken to him in such a dismissive way before and he couldn’t understand why.
“I’ll make it brief then,” Charles said with astonishment. “As I said, I just wanted to know you were back safely … but you sound particularly angry with me, my boy, and I’d like to know why. I know you and Ruth must have had some kind of falling out for both of you to leave separately and so early and the whole weekend was a bloody nightmare one way or another but to storm out of Canleigh without even saying goodbye was somewhat surprising. Have I done something to upset you?”
“Oh, for goodness sake, of course you have!” Richard almost shouted, sounding desperately tired and stressed. “After the way you fawned after my girlfriend this weekend. You are years older than her … it was disgusting … and she was my guest, not yours. You had no right.”
Charles’ heart plummeted. So Richard did experience feelings for Ruth. What if she felt the same? Had he badly misread the situation and the signs? And he didn’t want to hurt his son. It would be appalling. He would have to back off and go back to Yorkshire as quickly as possible.
“Richard, I am so sorry. I was just trying to be polite and courteous to Ruth. She is a lovely young woman and ….” He hated lying but wanted above all to reassure his son that whatever happened their relationship came first. It had to.
Richard sighed deeply, his tone lightening a tiny fraction. “It’s all right, Father. You don’t have to spare my feelings. I saw, with my own eyes, how you were attracted to each other. You both deny it but it’s true and you know it. Yes, I fell for her in a big way but I stupidly ruined any chance of a relationship between us last night. I behaved despicably and she’ll probably never speak to me again. So, I wish you luck but please don’t expect me to feel happy about it … or spend much time with you if your relationship develops. It would be too embarrassing and awkward … for all of us.”
“Richard … I ….”
“No, Father. Leave it. Ruth made her feelings quite plain last night as far as I am concerned and I am totally out of the running. So the field is clear for you but I think we all need to keep our distance for a while and let things calm down … until you see sense and realise you are far too old for her.”
“I think you’re probably right, Richard … that we need a cooling down period. We’ll speak again in a few weeks,” Charles said quietly, not wanting to antagonise his son further. If what Richard said was true about Ruth severing any potential romance between the two of them, and Charles had no reason to doubt him, there was nothing to stand in his way. Although Richard was right about the age gap. Ruth might not be interested in having any kind of serious relationship with a fifty-year-old man and if she did, it was obviously going to be a problem for Richard. Why was life so complicated? Charles didn’t want to hurt Richard in any way. He was his son and he loved him deeply. Perhaps it would be wise to go back to Yorkshire now. Not see Ruth. Not let this go any further. But he knew he couldn’t. He had to find out for sure how she felt about him. They would have dinner tonight and if the spark wasn’t there, he would return to Yorkshire tomorrow and forget all about her and then there wouldn’t be a problem with Richard. However, if his feelings were reciprocated, that would be wonderful and exciting but could cause a nasty rift with his son. Charles sighed and for a second time considered cancelling dinner and leaving Oxford immediately but couldn’t bring himself to do it. He wanted to see Ruth so badly and he was going to and hang the consequences.
In an effort to raise his chastened spirits, Charles left the Randolph. He stood on the steps outside and surveyed the entrance to the Ashmolean Museum opposite. He had always meant to pay it a visit but time had never permitted. Now he had all afternoon. He idled away a couple of hours by examining the paintings and artefacts, intrigued mostly by the Egyptian mummies. He had always wanted to travel to Egypt but the one time he suggested it to Margaret, she was emphatically against the idea, protesting it was too hot, dusty and boring and for some reason, he had not thought to go again. Interest revived, his mind ran riot, seeing visions of Ruth and himself cruising down the Nile, riding on camels, taking photographs of the pyramids. He just knew she would love it, would revel in the exploration and the knowledge that would come their way. Leaving the Ashmoleum he smiled to himself. He really was being carried away.
A sharp hunger pang made him think about food. He had missed lunch but there were still a few hours to go before dinner so something light would be most acceptable. He made his way to the Mitre, a twelfth-century hostelry, a popular venue for tourists and city dwellers alike, situated in the High street. He settled into a seat by the window, ordered a ham sandwich and coffee, and watched the crowds outside from his vantage point. Bicycle after bicycle whizzed past, office workers rushed to and fro, diving in and out of the banks and shops, many eating sandwiches or pasties as they scurried along, trying to fit in shopping with their lunch
breaks. Tourists stood in groups, listening to guides, gazing round the ancient, beautiful city with wide-eyed appreciation listening to tales of how both the famous and infamous had either studied or idled at one or other of the revered colleges.
Charles could have happily remained watching the scene unfolding but hungry customers in search of tables were looking at him hopefully once he had finished his light meal. With disinclination he ambled back outside into the warm sunshine and looked around, wondering what to do for the remainder of the afternoon. Wandering aimlessly down Turl Street to the left of the Mitre, he passed Lincoln College and Jesus College and finally made his way into Broad Street and made a beeline for Blackwell’s bookshop. A most pleasurable hour was spent browsing through the shelves, resulting in the addition of a number of new books to add to the already vast collection at Canleigh, a tingle of self-satisfaction from seeing four of his own novels displayed prominently, and being recognised by the manager who engaged him in a thoroughly enjoyable chat about historical fiction.
He returned to the Randolph to read one of his new acquisitions for a few hours, unable to resist the urge to keep looking at his watch. An afternoon had never seemed to drag so and it was gratifying when, finally, he could shower and change into his favourite navy suit. He examined himself in the mirror. Would he look old to this young girl he was about to take to dinner? He still didn’t have any wrinkles and there was no sign of baldness. Thanks to a sensible diet and a regime of regular swimming and walking he wasn’t overweight. He looked nervously at his watch again. It was time to leave. He went down to reception and collected the bouquet of red and white roses ordered earlier and drove along to Walton Street, relieved that Richard would be on the wards and there would be no chance of bumping into him or being seen with Ruth.
Rejection Runs Deep (The Canleigh Series, book 1: A chilling psychological family drama) Page 38