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

“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.

“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