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

comfort of a hotel or her bedroom at Canleigh; in fact, anywhere she could be clean and comfortable and think in peace about what had happened in her absence from her precious home.

Then, finally, it stopped.  Detective Inspector Leach, a tall, thin man with a sallow complexion, probably from spending so much time in windowless and airless interview rooms, and having had his fill of snobby little arrogant sods he frequently had to arrest since his career in Oxford, didn’t believe her.  He left the room for a few minutes and then returned waving a form in the air.  His next words caught Delia and Mr. Danby unawares.

“Lady Delia Anne Margaret Canleigh.  You are hereby charged with the manslaughter of Peter Percival at or around 11.00 a.m. on the morning of the 23rd November 1973 in Flat 2, Walton Street, Oxford ….”

Delia sat frozen to her chair and didn’t even hear the next words.  She was being charged.  No.  It couldn’t be happening.  What the hell had she said for this ghastly man to conclude she was guilty of murder?  She stared blankly at him but Leach just smiled wryly, switched off the tape recorder, pushed the charge sheet towards Delia, and left the room with his colleague.

Delia hadn’t expected this, thinking she would be released once it was established she had only acted in self-defence.  Danby had told her so.  What an utterly useless solicitor he had turned out to be.  Her mind was in a whirl.  What the hell was going to happen to her now?

Mr. Danby gave an embarrassed cough.  “I am so very sorry, my dear.  I can’t see how any judge or jury will convict you.  Don’t worry.  I’ll do my best to get Cubitt-Jones to represent you.  He’s the best barrister in Oxford.  If he can’t get you off, no-one can.  Now, who would be willing to stand bail for you?” he asked.

“Oh, God, I don’t know,” she said, an intense weariness consuming her whole body.    “Father obviously can’t as he is in hospital.

“How about your step mother?  How close are you?”

Delia snorted.  “No, Mr. Danby, I don’t think so.”

“Your sister … Lady Victoria?  I understand she married a Barrie Saunders-Smythe and they have a very successful club in Kensington … although I gather from my sources that she is at your father’s bedside in Leeds as we speak.”

“Really,” Delia said slowly, letting his words sink in.  So, her silly little sister had swallowed her pride and married the delightful Barrie.  Well, that marriage wasn’t set to last, that was for sure, not with Barrie’s roving eye.  What a lot had been going on in Delia’s absence … and a club …in London … and successful too.  That meant they were making money and probably lots of it.  Delia couldn’t ask Vicky to stand bail but there was one other delicious possibility which would really set the cat amongst the pigeons.  She threw a defiant look at Danby.

“Contact my sister’s husband, Barrie Saunders Smyth.  There’s no doubt in my mind that he will do everything he can to help me … although you might mention that I will really make it worth his while.”

*   *   *

Barrie complied readily, intrigued and unable to resist a chance to further his financial status, if that was what Delia was offering.  With Vicky safely out of the way at Canleigh he could do as he pleased without question and if Delia was truly grateful to him for his assistance in her plight, she might well show her appreciation in other ways.  She had been a good lay on their little tete a tete at Canleigh and he wouldn’t mind a repeat performance.

The hearing at the magistrates court was brief and half an hour after the session commenced, Delia was free to do more or less as she liked during the intervening weeks before her trial at crown court, although her passport was confiscated and as she gave her home address as Canleigh Hall, she was to report regularly to the central police station in Leeds every week.

Barrie’s first sight of Delia was an eye opener.  She had been allowed a shower before leaving the police station for her court appearance and had washed her hair.  It lay over her shoulders, gleaming with health and vitality.  She was wearing a black suit with a pale pink blouse and looked smart, respectable and every inch a Lady to the Manor born and certainly not a killer but then what did a killer look like, he thought.

The press were camped outside the court but Barrie was allowed to bring his black Jaguar to the rear of the building so Delia could make a dignified get away.  She sank gratefully into the luxury of the deep leather passenger seat, unbuttoned her jacket and smiled wickedly at Barrie.

“Take me away from all this, for God’s sake.  I need a long soak in a deep, deep bath and then maybe I shall feel somewhat human again and perhaps, just perhaps, ready for a little distraction with a willing man,” she smiled coquettishly, placing a hand on his knee.

Barrie’s hopes for a little dalliance with the stunning Lady Delia rose rapidly.

“I presumed you would want to go straight to Canleigh … to see your father,” he said questioningly.

“Heavens, no.  My wonderful family can wait for a day or so.  At this moment in time, I’m in need of mental distraction and physical exertion and I have a funny feeling you might just be the one to help me with that,” she said, running her hand up and down his leg.

Barrie’s face creased into a smile and his eyes darted over her body.  God, he hadn’t felt so randy for ages.  “We’ll get a move on then,” he said, starting the car quickly.  “There’s no point in going to a hotel as we’ll be