Rejection Runs Deep (The Canleigh Series, book 1: A chilling psychological family drama) by Carole Williams (uplifting novels TXT) 📕

the business there to occupy her … and probably children … and wouldn’t have been far away from Canleigh but now … I just don’t know what she will do.  She knows full well she can stay here of course … it’s her home when all is said and done … but knowing Philip is so near … and with another woman.  It’s going to send her crazy.  She’s been besotted with him since we were all children.  Everything she does is focused on him and their future together.  I can tell you, Ruth.  I’m really worried for her.”

“She’s young and very attractive,” Ruth commented, shifting in the saddle.  She was beginning to feel quite sore and was longing to dismount and have a rest.  It had been an enjoyable ride but a much longer one than anticipated.  Canleigh was a huge estate to ride around.  “Perhaps it won’t be long before she meets someone else.”

Richard shook his head.  “Philip is the only man Delia has been interested in.  She’s not one for gadding about, unlike our Victoria.  More than once that young lady has been in hot water and I’ve had to be the one to bail her out.  Were you aware she was arrested as soon as she arrived in Oxford?”

“What!” laughed Ruth incredulously?  “You must be joking.  Whatever for?”

“It’s true.  She was drunk, had an argument with a policeman in the High Street and ended up tipping a bottle of champagne into his helmet.  He was not amused.”

“Oh dear,” Ruth laughed again, trying to visualise it.  “So how did you become involved?”

“I was summoned to the police station and had to vouch for her character.  Apparently, she begged them to call me after they threatened to lock her up for the night for being drunk and disorderly … but they kindly allowed her to leave with me.  It wasn’t long after that we realised she had anorexia.”

“She seems to have recovered well.”

Richard nodded.  “I think we managed to get to it before it got too severe … and she had the best care at the Oxford clinic … and I hate to admit it but the wonderful Barrie has had something to do with it.  What do you think of him?”

“Not a lot.  I don’t think he’ll make her very happy in the long run.”

“No.  Nor do I.”

Richard pointed to the houses appearing on the horizon.  “Here’s the village.  You’ll be able to appreciate it far more on horseback than in a car.”

Ruth looked around with admiration as they entered the village.  The pretty Georgian terraced cottages, built in orderly rows along the roadside were covered in rambling roses or wisteria.  Tiny gardens were neatly laid out with an abundance of flowering plants in full bloom, creating a picture of peace and tranquillity.  The two main gathering points were the shop, which also served as a post office and further along, the Canleigh Arms, decorated with ornate window boxes and hanging baskets filled with white and crimson geraniums.

On reaching the forecourt of the public house Ruth dismounted with difficulty, her limbs not wanting to do as she asked, wobbly and slow to move.

“Oh dear.  Perhaps we’ve overdone it a bit on the exercise front,” Richard remarked sympathetically, taking the horses to the grassy patch in the shade at the rear of the car park and tying their reins to the railing.  Ruth noticed a water trough filled with clean water was also within their reach.

“All patrons catering for here,” laughed Richard.  “Come on old thing,” he said, taking her arm firmly, “Let’s go and rest your body for a while. The food here is really good so we can have a nice leisurely lunch … and then you can go back to the Hall for a rest.”

Ruth looked up at him with mock relief.  “You mean no more physical exertion for the rest of the day?  I don’t believe it.”

“No, Ruth.  I promise.  Nothing more taxing than dressing for dinner this evening.”

The manager of the Canleigh Arms, Dan Clifford, a charming personable man in his early thirties with dark brown hair and a swarthy complexion, shook Richard’s hand and smiled warmly at Ruth when they entered the bar.  He took their order and Richard guided Ruth through groups of people to a corner table, introducing her along the way to one or two with whom he was particularly friendly and nodding to others.  Ruth was amused, hearing him referred to as Lord Richard or Milord.  It had seemed right in the setting of Canleigh and from Hardy but here, in a normal everyday environment, it sounded overly formal and quite strange.

There were two tables free, one in the middle of the room and one at the far end.  Richard chose the latter.  It offered a clear view of the public area and Ruth looked around with interest.  Without the paraphernalia of public house fixtures and fittings, the room was a replica of the turquoise drawing room at Canleigh Hall, both in size and décor.  A massive crystal chandelier hung from the high ceiling, the paintings were clever imitations and the furniture was reproduction Chippendale.  The walls were covered in wallpaper resembling turquoise silk and the seats covered with turquoise dralon instead of velvet.

Richard watched her studying the interior.  “We still own the pub and Dan is our tenant.  That’s why it looks like it does.  Clever isn’t it?”

Ruth nodded, never before having seen such a luxurious and imposing village pub.

Their lunch, consisting of a cold turkey salad and jacket potato, followed by a chocolate and orange gateau with whipped cream, washed down with a bottle of French Chardonnay, was delicious and Ruth tucked in readily, the fresh country air and all the exercise that morning having made her ravenously

hungry.  However, her enjoyment was short lived.

  Without any warning, the entrance door was