Unchecked tears fell from Vicky’s eyes and Ruth threw her arms around her and waited patiently for the anguished sobbing to ease.
Once the storm of weeping had passed, Ruth tried to find reasons for hope. “Have you considered fertility treatment?”
“Barrie threw up his hands in horror at the very idea. He flatly refused, stating that if we can’t have children normally, he’s certainly not playing about with nature.”
“Oh, dear. I suppose that rules out adoption as well then.”
Vicky nodded. “That’s totally out of the question. He informed me he’s not going to bring up other people’s brats as there’s no knowing where they come from and what’s in their genes. According to him, we might end up harbouring a mass murderer.”
Ruth sighed. “I’m so sorry Vicky. I don’t know what to say … and with me just having had Stephen … you make me feel quite guilty.”
“No, Ruth. Don’t say that. I’ll just have to learn to live with my inability to procreate … and if I can’t have my own, I’m certainly going to make the most of everyone else’s … especially my new little brother. I think you’ll be seeing a lot more of me in the future … and I’m going to spoil him terribly.”
Ruth hugged her again; desperately saddened for her but pleased she had the right attitude to help her through her distress and she was more than happy to give Vicky free reign with Stephen once Tina had left after lunch.
Charles popped into the dining room to kiss and hug Vicky but only stayed a few moments as he was at a particularly fascinating point with his novel and couldn’t bear to leave it. He only wanted a sandwich at his desk in the library, promising he would join them for dinner later that evening.
It was raining and wasn’t particularly inviting to be out of doors after they had eaten their midday meal, but in need of fresh air, Ruth and Vicky took Stephen in his well-covered up pram for a short walk to the lake, trying to keep under the shelter of the evergreen trees as much as they could but becoming chilly and damp they didn’t linger long and returned to the warmth and comfort of Ruth’s sitting room within an hour. Ruth enjoyed the sight of Vicky cuddling and playing with Stephen for the remainder of the afternoon. She saw to all the baby’s needs after Ruth had fed him; changed him when required, gave him his bath and then, just before dinner, tucked him in his cot and turned on the baby monitor to take down to dinner with them in case he woke and needed attention.
Charles hugged his daughter closely when they all met in the dining room for dinner. He was very pleased to have her stay with them for a while, although he too commented on how tired she looked. “It will do you good, my girl … to spend some time at home. Have some early nights and take plenty of fresh air into your lungs. All that pollution in London is no good for anyone.”
They hadn’t been seated long and only eaten a few mouthfuls of a delicious egg mayonnaise, Vicky’s favourite, which Ruth had asked to be prepared specially, when an agitated Hardy returned to the dining room, quite pale and with his hands twitching nervously. To see their normally unflappable butler in such a state was unnerving and all three diners ceased eating immediately and stared at him with surprise.
“I am so sorry to interrupt, Your Grace,” he said to Charles. “But there is a police sergeant and a constable here. They want to speak to you urgently … I’m afraid … I’m afraid someone has died.”
Charles stared at his butler. “Oh, who? Someone on the estate?”
“I don’t know, Your Grace. They wouldn’t tell me. They want to speak directly to you.”
Hardy couldn’t bring himself to say he had been told it was someone in the family. As there was only Richard and Delia not in attendance at Canleigh it had to be one of them and Hardy knew whichever one it was would be catastrophic news for Charles. Just as the poor man was enjoying a period of carefree peace and tranquillity. Hardy was intensely upset for his employer. He didn’t deserve more trauma.
“Oh?” queried Charles, standing up and throwing Hardy a worried frown. “Right. I had better find out who it is. I’m so sorry, ladies,” he smiled at Ruth and Vicky. “I’ll try not to be too long.”
Ruth, watching Charles and Hardy leaving the room, felt a terrible dread descending on her. Something was badly wrong. If it were just estate business the local constable would have been in touch with the estate manager first before bothering Charles. For two police officers, one of whom was a sergeant, to actually head straight to the Hall could only indicate something far more serious. Vicky was clearly of the same opinion, putting down her knife and fork and biting her lip.
“Whoever could it be?”
“I don’t know but I’ve never seen Hardy look like that … he appeared to be in shock.”
“I know,” Vicky virtually whispered, twisting her white damask napkin. “I’ve never seen him look like that … ever.”
The sound of running footsteps crossing the entrance hall just minutes later made them jump to their feet. Hardy was white and breathless as he burst unceremoniously into the dining room.
“It’s His Grace! I think he’s having a heart attack! In the library.”
“Oh, my God!” exclaimed Ruth, rushing past Hardy into the entrance hall and dashing into the library, followed closely by Vicky. The scene was one she wouldn’t forget in a hurry. Charles was laid motionless on his back on the carpet, the police sergeant kneeling beside him, attempting resuscitation. His colleague was standing by the desk on the telephone explaining to someone at the other end how to get to Canleigh. Ruth assumed it was an ambulance. She prayed they wouldn’t be too late.
Falling onto the floor beside the sergeant, her training took over and she felt Charles’s pulse. There wasn’t one. He wasn’t breathing either; his face was grey and the pupils of his eyes were widely dilated.
“I have some medical training. Please. This is my husband. Let me take over,” she implored.
The middle-aged man, his face grim, nodded and moved back to allow Ruth proper access to Charles. For a fleeting moment, Ruth feared she might have forgotten all her training at this most crucial moment of her life but it came back automatically. She checked Charles’ mouth for obstructions and then tipped his head back, pinched his nose and breathed deeply into his mouth. His chest rose and the air expelled. Ruth kept up the action for another minute but Charles didn’t respond. She thumped his breastbone sharply but it made no difference. She placed both her hands on it and pushed, counting the seconds, alternating the artificial respiration with the cardiac massage while praying harder than she ever had in her life. She was aware of Vicky sobbing quietly in the background and the heavy breathing of the police sergeant who was now standing beside the constable, watching her every move. The clock on the mantelpiece was ticking loudly. There was a dog barking somewhere but the only sound she wanted to hear was Charles breathing. Relentlessly Ruth worked on him, willing him to live, willing him not to leave her and Stephen. He simply couldn’t. She loved him too much. They had so much to live for. She couldn’t lose him now. She was crying, pleading with him to breathe as she pumped firmly on his chest and then she heard the ambulance siren in the distance, rapidly growing closer as the vehicle roared along the drive and pulled up sharply in front of the house where Hardy was waiting.
Ruth felt a pounding in her ears. She was losing him. Her wonderful husband, who had given her such joy, such happiness in such a short space of time. He couldn’t die. He mustn’t. She wouldn’t let him. She grew angry. “Charles! Breathe, damn you!” she shouted desperately.
Suddenly, just as the two ambulance men hurried into the library carrying heavy medical bags and a stretcher, he let out a huge gush of air.
“Oh God, Charles. I thought I had lost you,” Ruth whispered as he opened his eyes. “You gave me such a scare.”
She fell back on the floor, exhausted and in deep shock as the ambulance men took over. She was crying uncontrollably and Vicky, tears streaming down her face, rushed to cradle Ruth in her arms.
&
nbsp; “You’ve saved him, Ruth. You’ve saved him. God, you’re marvellous. Thank you so much,” she sobbed.
“Yes, well done,” said the ambulance man who had quickly checked Charles and was carefully fitting an oxygen mask. “But we must get him to hospital as fast as possible.”
Ruth nodded and rose to her feet, helped by Vicky and the sergeant, whose face was still anxious and concerned. Ruth remembered Hardy entering the dining room to say the police wanted to see Charles. He had been all right until they arrived. What had been said to cause this dreadful trauma?
“Why did my husband collapse?” she asked bluntly. “Why are you here?”
The sergeant looked uncomfortable and the constable took a deliberate interest in the photographs on the desk. The ambulance men had moved Charles onto a stretcher and were carrying him out of the room.
“Let’s just get your husband to hospital. We’ll follow you and once he’s been admitted we can talk properly.”
Ruth nodded. The top priority was Charles. Hardy was standing by the door, holding coats for herself and Vicky. “Well done, Your Grace,” he said quietly as he helped her on with hers. “Please let us know how he gets on. We’ll all be thinking of you.”
Ruth smiled at the elderly butler and touched his arm. She knew how fond he was of Charles. “Yes, of course. Thank you, Hardy.”
Ruth and Vicky clambered into the ambulance for the short journey into Leeds. Charles was breathing normally and his colour was improving. He even managed a weak smile while Ruth sat beside him, stroking and patting his hand. Half an hour later he was under the care of Mr. Fletcher-Greaves, an imminent heart specialist at Leeds hospital who, after a thorough examination and monitoring, declared Charles out of danger.
While Charles was being safely installed in the cardiac unit and wired up to more monitoring machines, Ruth and Vicky were ushered into a private waiting room until they were allowed to sit beside his bed. A much-relieved police sergeant and constable joined them, having kept their distance during the first couple of anxious hours, unable to leave until they had the opportunity to talk to Ruth and Vicky properly. Ruth felt drained and tired. All she wanted to do was curl up in bed and pretend none of this had happened but she needed to find out what had caused Charles to have a heart attack and exactly who had died.
Having rung Hardy to give him the news that Charles was out of danger Ruth sat wearily in a high-backed chair by the window of the waiting room, staring blankly out at the inky black sky and the lights of the hospital twinkling merrily. Vicky, looking shattered, was slumped on a two-seater sofa.
“Right,” Ruth said firmly, turning to the sergeant as the two men entered the room. “Can you please tell us why you visited Canleigh this evening and what caused my husband to collapse?”
The newly promoted sergeant drew in his breath. He had been horrified at the reaction of the Duke when he had told him his son was dead, never expecting him to immediately clutch his chest and crash to the floor. He was almost frightened to utter the same words to the Duchess.
“It’s the Marquess of Keighton, Your Grace.”
“Richard!” exclaimed Vicky. “What’s my brother got to do with anything? He’s in Oxford … actually, that’s a point, Ruth,” she said turning to her step-mother. “We ought to tell him about Father and quickly, before he finds out by other means.”
The sergeant coughed. “That won’t be necessary, Your Ladyship. You see, the reason we called to talk to your father was because we had to inform him that Lord Richard was … I’m most dreadfully sorry but he was … killed … earlier today.”
“What?” cried Vicky. “How? Why? What do you mean killed? I don’t understand. He’s studying medicine in Oxford. How can he be killed? He does nothing but work and study … he doesn’t go anywhere to be killed. You’ve made a mistake. A stupid, senseless mistake that’s nearly cost Father his life.”
Ruth had gone cold. She couldn’t feel her fingers. She raised them to her face and recoiled from the icy touch. Richard. Dead. No wonder Charles had reacted so badly. She looked at Vicky’s ashen face. The poor girl already had her own problems and this was going to hit her even harder.
“What on earth happened?” Ruth asked, so quietly, it was nearly a whisper. She didn’t really want to know the details. Her head was already spinning with worry over Charles and now this. It was too much to comprehend.
The sergeant took another deep breath. “It all seems a bit confused at present, Your Grace. We’ve been informed by Thames Valley Police that Lord Richard was visited by Lady Delia Canleigh earlier today ….”
“What?” Vicky jumped to her feet and paced up and down the room, wringing her hands. “Delia! Well, of course. Any drama in this family and she is in the thick of it … but don’t tell me she’s killed Richard. He is her twin after all.”
“Well, it seems there was a gentleman with her … by the name of Peter Percival ….”
Vicky looked questioningly at Ruth, who had a stunned look on her face. “Peter Percival … I don’t know anyone of that name … do you, Ruth?”
Ruth shook her head. She was still trying to take in the news that Delia had re-surfaced. She felt a dreadful sickness in her stomach. What had happened? Two hours ago, she had been blissfully happy, now her husband was desperately ill in the Coronary Care Unit, Richard was dead and Delia had re-appeared. She wondered if she was in some ghastly dream.
“So,” said Vicky, turning back to the sergeant, “what has this man we don’t know got to do with Richard and Delia?”
“There seems to have been some sort of disagreement and by all accounts, Percival shot Lord Richard and then Delia shot him. She managed to get out of the flat unscathed. I am sorry, but it’s all I can tell you at the moment. There will, of course, be a couple of detectives travelling up from Oxford to ask you some questions to see if you can throw any light on what occurred.”
“Where is Lady Delia now?” asked Ruth, praying that she wasn’t on her way to Canleigh. She was the last person Ruth wanted to deal with at the moment.
“In custody, Your Grace. She is pleading self-defence apparently but will be held for questioning so that the facts can be established.”
Ruth and Vicky looked aghast as the reality of what he was saying begun to sink in and that out of the three people in Richard’s flat, only one walked out; and that person was Delia.
Vicky walked over to Ruth, sat down, took her cold hands in hers, and attempted to rub them warm.
“I don’t believe this. Delia goes missing for nearly two years and then turns up in Richard’s flat with a man we’ve never heard of and he and Richard are shot. It sounds crazy … are you absolutely positive you have your facts right?” asked Vicky, staring hard at the sergeant.
Ruth’s heart was pounding. It was so loud to her she was surprised no-one else in the room could hear it. She could see the scene in the kitchen with Richard clearly, before he attempted to rape her. He had been telling her about the row with Charles and Delia earlier. How Delia had wanted to run the estate and neither he nor Charles would agree. Delia had been furious, threatened revenge on them both but dreadful things are said in temper. There was no way Delia would have willingly gone out of her way to kill Richard. Not after all this time. It was unthinkable and anyway wouldn’t achieve anything. Stephen was the next in line after Richard to inherit Canleigh so Delia couldn’t get her hands on Canleigh anyway. No, it was ridiculous and too dreadful to contemplate. No, it was impossible. Or was it? The niggling doubts reverberated around Ruth’s brain. Delia had a nasty temper. Could she have killed Richard? Could she?
“Yes, Your Ladyship. Lady Delia advised our colleagues that Peter Percival was your half-brother. Had you no knowledge of this?”
Vicky looked puzzled as she thought about the question. “I suppose it could be correct. Our Mother’s maiden name was Percival. As far as I am aware, she was only ever married to Father so this man would have to be an illegitimate child. God, I wonder if Father kno
ws,” she threw a look of bewilderment at Ruth.
Ruth shook her head. “I’ve no idea. He’s never mentioned it.”
“So how did Delia become involved with him? Where did she find him?” asked Vicky.
“In America, I believe. They arrived on a plane from Boston late afternoon yesterday. You will appreciate that at the moment there are a lot of unanswered questions but we would like an opinion from both of you as to whether you consider Lady Delia could have had any reason to kill this person, or indeed, Lord Richard.”
Ruth shook her head, not daring to speak and say the words that were going around in her head. ‘Delia has killed Richard. Delia has killed Richard’. Ruth knew it was true. She felt it at the very core of her being. Delia had carried out her promise. She had killed Richard and nearly killed Charles in the process. She felt faint and held fast to Vicky’s hand.
“No,” said Vicky, having not been in the room or been told afterwards about Delia’s threat to kill the male members of the family. She had been too distraught about Barrie’s treachery that night and kept to her bedroom. “I can’t see Delia doing anything to harm Richard. They argued and disagreed, quite a lot actually, but I think they were genuinely fond of each other.”
Ruth looked up, unable to bear the scrutiny of the policeman any longer. “Well, sergeant, if that’s all you can tell us or ask us for now, please feel free to leave. I think Lady Victoria and I have had more than enough to deal with tonight.”
“Yes, Your Grace … and may I say, how sorry I am for your loss.”
“Thank you,” said Ruth politely, nodding as the two men left the room and closed the door quietly behind them.
Vicky sunk back into the sofa, stared at Ruth and then promptly burst into tears. “Oh no, not Richard. Not Richard. He was so kind to me when I was suffering from anorexia. He helped me so much. He looked after me better than anyone. He was my big brother. Oh God, Ruth. How could this have happened? No wonder Daddy’s heart gave up. It must have been a terrible shock for him.”
Rejection Runs Deep (The Canleigh Series, book 1: A chilling psychological family drama) Page 47