Delia didn’t waste any time. Being given carte blanche to get stuck into estate affairs was a gift from heaven she hadn’t expected. Saying goodbye to Ruth and with a determined smile on her face, she drove straight down to the office, strode smartly into the office and looked Mrs. Murgatroyd in the eye.
“I want to see the accounts for the last two years … and the latest invoices for the repairs to the cottages in Wheat Lane. The Duchess has given her permission,” she added at the look of disapproval on the older woman’s face.
Delia sat down at Louis’ desk, remembering how it had been in Dick Joyce’s time. He had loved his pipe and the sweet smell of Old Holborn tobacco had pervaded the office. His desk had always been clear and tidy, thanks to his attention to detail and Cheryl’s hard work and there had been pictures of the estate and its staff decorating the walls. Now it smelt of lavender perfume emanating from the crusty old secretary, the desk was a mass of paper with no sign of any real order, and there were pictures of a French chateau and views of Paris adorning the walls. In Delia’s opinion the sooner the man was dismissed the better and she was determined to find a reason for Ruth to do it … and that would give her a chance to step in. Would Ruth play ball? Would she allow Delia to run the estate? Her excitement grew and she concentrated hard on the paperwork in front of her, ignoring the sniffs of disdain from the secretary typing as if her life depended on it.
Until Charles’s death and for a while after, Louis seemed to have done admirably well. The books were in apple pie order but for the last few months discrepancies began to creep in, not apparent to an untrained eye but as the yearly audit was due in two months’ time, he was playing with fire if he thought he could get away with it much longer. He seemed to have squirrelled away a good deal of money and with great satisfaction and mounting exhilaration Delia swiftly bundled all the evidence into a folder and drove straight back to the Hall to show Ruth.
“You’ve no choice now. You’ll have to sack him … and the police should be involved. It’s fraud.”
They were in the library. Ruth sat at Charles’ desk, examining the paperwork Delia had triumphantly handed to her. Delia was leaning against the mantelpiece beneath the painting of her grandmother. They both wore a determined expression. One had loved Canleigh passionately; the other still did and would do anything in her power to have some kind of control over its future.
Ruth was aghast at how she had allowed Louis to get away with all he had. She had known there was something not quite right but hadn’t had the courage to find out … and Delia was right. He had to be dismissed and that would create a vacancy and Delia wanted to fill it. Ruth found her jaw was tightening and she was clenching her teeth. “Don’t allow Delia to return to Canleigh,” said Charles in her head. “She’s evil. Promise me.”
“You’ll need to get another estate manager,” Delia went on with a smug look of satisfaction on her face. “And you know you don’t have far to look either.”
Ruth looked up at her, not having a clue how to answer. She felt numb with indecision. It would be a relief to hand over the responsibility to someone who would do her utmost to look after the estate properly but she couldn’t get Charles’ words out of her head. If Delia were allowed to take over the reins, she would have an awful lot of power and if things went wrong, it would be terribly difficult to dislodge her. Oh, God. What was she going to say?
“Remember, I’m qualified to do a good job, Ruth … and I know the estate inside and out. Father and Richard were crazy to pass up the opportunity to give me the responsibility … and look what’s happened. It’s far better to have a member of the family in charge. Sack Louis and appoint me, Ruth. You won’t regret it. I promise.”
There were those words again. ‘I promise’. She had promised Charles … on his deathbed. She had already allowed Delia to live on the estate, admittedly not in the actual Hall, but even so, that was the promise broken. Was she about to make it even worse? Was he up there somewhere, listening to this conversation? Would he be furious with her if Delia was appointed? His favourite gold fountain pen lay in its box on top of the desk. Ruth took it out and twirled it in her fingers, willing him to give her a sign that she would be doing the right thing if she agreed to Delia’s suggestion. Nothing happened. Delia was still standing looking at her questioningly and there was no sudden signal from above to help with Ruth’s dilemma. She was alone and had to say something.
“I appreciate what you’re saying, Delia. I really do … but I have to think about all of this. I’ve not dispensed with anyone’s services before … and as for hiring someone else … just give me a few days to get my head around it all.”
Delia stood up straight, knowing Ruth would agree. It was only a matter of time. “Okay. I won’t push it now but you know where I am … but don’t leave it too long, Ruth. The Murgatroyd woman will tell him that I’ve been ferreting around and have brought these files up to you. As soon as he knows he’s been rumbled he will be off and you might never again see all that money he’s taken.”
* * *
Delia left the Hall with a wry smile, digging deep into her memory for all the ideas she had thought up for the future of the estate all those years ago, impatient to return to the Dower House to start making notes. It wouldn’t be long before Ruth would definitely agree to her becoming estate manager and she had to be ready. Then she was half way to what she wanted and that left only Philip … and although she knew patience was the best policy as far as he was concerned, she wondered whether it might be a better idea to push things along a little. She fantasised about him all the time but she needed more. She wanted reality. Night after night she lay in bed, aware that he was only a few short miles from her, alone in his bed. Was he craving her presence and like her, re-living their nights of passion together? She tossed and turned, the warmth of the summer nights and recalling the heat of their entwined bodies keeping her awake until the birds commenced their early morning cacophony of song. She worked herself up into such a pitch that she had to have him … soon, knowing that without a shadow of a doubt given the right opportunity, like the estate, it would all fall into place. She was finally about to have everything she wanted. She was so excited!
The chance for Delia to advance progress with Philip came quicker than expected. Ruth rang just after breakfast two days later. Delia’s heart had leapt, expecting Ruth to ask her to step into Louis shoes but the request didn’t come, even though Louis had been dismissed and the police had visited Ruth. The Murgatroyd woman was still in situ and Ruth was spending time down in the estate office with the auditors who had been called in early to assess the situation. No doubt as soon as all that Louis had been up to was revealed, then Ruth would offer Delia the job but she did wish she would hurry up. She was desperate to talk to her about all her plans for the estate.
“Delia, as it’s such a lovely day Tina and I have decided to have tea down by the lake this afternoon. Would you mind if Lucy stayed a bit longer than usual and join us? We can drive her home later.”
“Yes. That’s absolutely fine … I’m sure she will love it,” Delia replied, thinking swiftly. She was riding Demon this afternoon as usual and if Philip wasn’t too busy, he might be persuaded to join her. It was also Mrs. Forest’s day off and the Dower House would be empty for a few hours. If Philip could be enticed to come to tea … without the presence of Lucy … her mind worked overtime.
She normally ate a light lunch with Lucy before dropping her off at the Hall and then driving over to Tangles for her ride on Demon but today, while Lucy tucked into a banana sandwich and strawberry yoghurt, Delia couldn’t eat a thing. Her mind was in a whirl and her stomach was doing somersaults at the very idea of enticing Philip back to the Dower House. After taking particularly careful pains with her makeup before they left for the drive to the Hall, covering up the ghastly scar with as much foundation as it could take under bright sunlight, she hoped that with her hair pulled forward, it wouldn’t put Philip off once he was closer
to it … kissing her … loving her. Her heart missed a beat. She had always made sure that side of her face was away from him when they met but if her plans came to fruition this afternoon, however much she tried to prevent him seeing the full extent of the injury, if they were going to be intimate, it would be highly impossible.
“You look nice, Mummy,” chirped Lucy as they got into the Ferrari to go to the Hall. “And you’ve got lots of perfume on. You smell lovely.”
Delia grinned. “Thank you, darling. Now you have a good time this afternoon. I expect you will have a lovely tea down at the lake with everyone. No doubt Prudence will make you something really delicious.”
“Spect so … I hope there’s cream cakes and ice cream.”
“It’s ‘I expect so and I hope there are cream cakes and ice cream,’ corrected Delia. “Well, whatever it is, make sure you behave yourself and have a lovely time and I’ll see you when Ruth brings you home later.”
“Okay, Mummy. Have a nice ride,” sang Lucy as Hardy came down the front steps of the Hall with a welcoming smile on his face and opened the car door for her. Even though he was wary of Delia and had uneasy qualms about her returning to live on the estate, he adored her daughter. She was quick, impulsive but kind and with an easy manner. She would be a different kettle of fish to her mother when she grew up, that was for sure.
Delia smiled at them both and drove back down the drive towards Tangles, her nerves jangling badly and her heart hammering hard in her chest when she drove into the car park and saw Philip giving instructions to one of his stable girls. At the sight of his broad shoulders in a blue and white striped shirt with the cuffs turned up revealing strong, tanned arms, she nearly swooned, desperate to rush over, grab him, and drag him up to his bedroom. But she couldn’t. She had to restrain herself for an hour or two … that was if he would agree to go out with her. He might have others things to do but she prayed he wouldn’t. The Dower House was empty for a good few hours. It had to be today. It had to be. She just couldn’t wait any longer.
“Hi,” he said pleasantly as Delia walked towards him. “Demon is in his stable waiting for you.”
“Are you particularly busy this afternoon?” she asked, hardly daring to breathe.
“Well, as it happens, not really. I have two parties out with the stable hands but nothing booked for me until seven thirty this evening. I was going to make myself a cup of tea and do some paperwork.”
“Oh, not on such a glorious day … that’s sacrilege. You should be outside, breathing in our fantastic country air.”
“As if I don’t get enough of it,” he laughed.
“Come with me,” urged Delia. “Let’s have a crazy gallop. Have a race. Just as we used to. For old times’ sake.”
Philip laughed again, his lovely wide mouth showing splendid white teeth. “Whatever horses I may have in this stables, nothing will match Demon in speed. You know that. You will have won before we even start.”
“He may shock you. He may be slowing down a bit now he’s advancing in years.”
“Blimey, Deli, he’s still in his prime.”
Deli. He had used his old name for her. It made her want to cry for a moment. They had been so close all those years ago … and they would be again. She was determined on it and he was softening, just as she hoped he would.
“How about that new mare you have … what’s her name … Miri … Mandy …?”
“Miranda.”
“Yes, that’s it. She’s got Arab in her. She should set a cracking pace.”
“Um. You could be right. She’s pretty light on her feet. Okay,” he said, caving in Delia’s look of anticipation. “You win. I’ll join you for an hour. I’ll just go and saddle her up.”
They galloped furiously across the fields, scattering sheep in their wake; Miranda, as fast as she flew across the ground, unable to keep up with Demon as Philip and Delia guessed she wouldn’t. They headed for the hill up to the old copper beech tree but then Delia pulled Demon up sharply.
“We’re not far from the Dower House … come and see what I’ve done to it. I’d value your opinion … and I’ll even make you a cup of tea,” she grinned.
Feeling easier with Delia than he had for a long time, Philip agreed. He was enjoying her company and the hair-raising ride was a great way to let off steam. After having to amble around most of the time with all the riders who used his stables, it was good to ride with someone who knew absolutely what she was doing and had no fear of speed or jumps. It was exhilarating and he couldn’t see any harm in having a cup of tea with her at the Dower House. He was also curious to see what the old place looked like inside, not having entered it since the Dowager Duchess died all those years ago.
They tethered the tired horses on the lawns to graze undisturbed, took their boots off at the front door and Delia gave him a grand tour of the whole house and then took him back to the drawing room. Her anxieties had lessened through the ride but now returned with a vengeance and her hands shook when she picked up the decanter of brandy. “I’d prefer a drop of this to tea … how about you?”
Philip badly wanted tea and it was far too early for him to start drinking but he felt it churlish to refuse. A small one wouldn’t hurt and he could have tea as soon as he got home. He didn’t intend staying at the Dower House for long.
He nodded, reclined on a sofa, basking in the luxury of the drawing room, fascinated by all the horse figurines. Delia had opened the French doors and it was pleasant listening to the pigeons cooing gently to each other and the talk of the sheep in the fields nearby. A grey squirrel bounded across the lawn and out of sight up an ash tree in the corner of the garden.
“Well, what do you think?” asked Delia, waving a hand around the room. “Do you like what I’ve done to the house?”
“Not bad … not bad at all,” Philip muttered, spying the crystal horse and heading straight for it. “Where did you get this? It’s pretty amazing.”
In re-telling the ornament’s fascinating history, Delia managed to compose herself and gain control of her nerves. The brandy helped. She took another gulp and handed him the figurine to examine. “I’ll just pop to the bathroom. Won’t be a tick.”
Philip was more impressed by the improvements to the Dower House than he had said. He liked Delia’s choice of décor and furnishings but then she had always had an eye for beautiful things. He could remember the detailed planning for Tangles when they were engaged. It would have set him back a pretty penny if she had had her way. What an escape that had been, he grimaced. If Sue hadn’t come along when she did, he would have been married to Delia now. Perish the thought. He liked her well enough and was pleased they were slipping back into their old easiness with each other but he had told Ruth the truth when Delia wanted to move back to Canleigh. There could never be anything between him and Delia again. It had all ended long ago … but it was good to be friends and have no ill feeling, especially when he told her his news. She wouldn’t have hysterics this time, that was for sure. He would tell her today while he was here and get it out of the way. Then there would be no more need for secrecy.
A movement behind him made him turn and his mouth fell open. He replaced the figurine in its place, trying to stop his hands shaking. He had been wrong. So very wrong. This was going to be much worse than he thought.
Delia sidled towards him, dressed in a revealing white negligee with nothing underneath. Her breasts were full and her nipples erect as she moved towards him with a sly smile on her face. She slid her hands across his chest and played with the top button of his shirt as she kissed his neck, her soft hair whispering against his face.
“Now then,” she whispered, “I think it’s time we stopped playing games, don’t you?”
Horrified, Philip resisted the urge to push her away. He didn’t want a scene but it looked horrendously like there was going to be one … and a big one at that. What a fool he had been to come to the Dower House.
“I’m not playing any kind of game, D
elia. Go and get dressed for goodness sake.”
Delia laughed and stroked his face. “Oh, come on, darling. Don’t be prudish. You didn’t used to be. We used to love sex in the afternoons. Remember. All those fabulous sessions in your nice big bed ….”
“That was a long time ago,” he croaked. “A lot has happened since then.”
“True but I still want you … and I know you still want me … we have the whole place to ourselves for a few hours. Let’s make the most of it.”
She laughed gaily and moved away, reaching out for her brandy glass, but holding his hand at the same time, the long see through gown swirling sensuously around her long, slim legs. “It’s incredible, isn’t it?”
“What is?” asked Philip, wondering desperately how to get out of this mess he had got himself into. He was at a loss to know what to say or do. He only knew he had to get out of the house as quickly as possible.
“Well,” Delia was saying, “if you remember, a very long time ago, my two main ambitions were to marry you and run Canleigh … and now, albeit a few years later than I intended, it’s all going to come true.”
“What are you talking about?” said Philip, thoroughly alarmed.
“You and I will marry … at last … oh, don’t look so surprised. You know we’re made for each other and need to spend the rest of our lives together … and as for Canleigh … Ruth is sacking Louis and appointing me as estate manager. So, how about that?”
Philip untangled his hand from Delia’s, ran his hand worriedly across his brow and groaned. “Delia, you’ve got it all wrong. Ruth has sacked Louis, that’s true enough, but on the advice of her accountants … and me … she’s interviewing prospective candidates for the position tomorrow. You’re only kidding yourself if you think Ruth will appoint you … and I … I have agreed with her.”
The room went deathly quiet but from outside the pigeons could be heard clearly, along with the jingle of the horses’ bits in their mouths as they tore at the grass on the lawn.
Rejection Runs Deep (The Canleigh Series, book 1: A chilling psychological family drama) Page 66