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

gurgled and made her smile.  “Right, little man.  Let’s get you settled for the night.  A feed and a nappy change are in order I think.”

She pushed all depressing thoughts from her mind.  She treasured every moment she had alone with him and for now, she was going to concentrate totally on his needs and nothing else.

*   *   *

Delia also declined pudding and returned to her bedroom for a cigarette.  Beneath that mocking, sarcastic exterior she was quivering with rage.  Ruth’s presence at Canleigh was intolerable.  Delia detested her … even more than she had detested Richard and their father.  She wanted to cry.  She wanted to throw herself on her bed and collapse into a paroxysm of weeping.  She wanted to beat the pillow furiously, to pretend it was Ruth’s face.  Bloody, bloody woman.  Worming her way into the affections of her father and producing another heir.  Delia was wild with anger and didn’t know how to vent it.  She puffed furiously on her cigarette, opened the window and deposited the ash outside.  The cold night air helped calm her.  There was a breeze and the bushes beneath her window rustled.  An owl hooted in the distance.  Canleigh.  She was home.  At last.  And here she was going to stay, whatever that stupid woman might say.  And there was the funeral to get through.  All those people who would descend on Canleigh to pay their respects and no doubt stare at her and wonder if she had really killed him.  It wasn’t going to be easy.  She thought about his body down in the ballroom.  Until now she hadn’t wanted to see him but suddenly the urge descended on her.  She wanted to make her peace with him while no-one else was about.

Quietly she made her way back downstairs.  Hardy had cleared the dining room and retired for the night.  Delia crossed the entrance hall and turned on lights as she passed through the green drawing room, the Italian room and the gold drawing room, and finally reached the door of the ballroom.  Hesitating with her hand on the knob, she pulled herself upright and opened the door.  The candles were still alight and the lamps were on.  The strong perfume from the lilies and roses hit her and almost made her reel.  She looked at the oak coffin in the centre of the room with its polished brass handles and felt sick but somehow she put one foot in front of another and made her way to it.

Richard looked relaxed and at peace in his cocoon of white silk.  Delia gazed down at him, wanting to touch him but knowing he would be stone cold.  Instead, she rested her hand on the side of the coffin.

“Oh, Richard,” she whispered.  “Why didn’t you keep your promise?  Why didn’t you let me run the estate?  You foolish man.  This could have all been so different.  We could have all been so happy and had what we wanted if you had just kept your word.”  She banged her hand on the side of the coffin, her anger growing and spoke through gritted teeth.  “And now I have another problem that needs sorting.  That bitch upstairs and her bloody little baby and I just know she will fight tooth and nail to keep me out of here.  Thank you so much, Richard for letting me down so badly.  May you rot in hell for what you have made me do and for what I am going to have to do.”

She turned swiftly, left the ballroom and ran back to her room.  She lit another cigarette and tried to stop her hands shaking.  The room was very cold as she had left the window open.  She pulled a cardigan around her shoulders and stood by the window again while she inhaled the smoke and tried to calm down, thinking about her next move.  She had to get through the coming days as best she could and she had to have something to help her.

Demon.  She would go in search of her beloved horse in the morning.  He was still being cared for by Philip.  Her heart missed a beat.  She would see him too.  Find out if his marriage was working.  She hoped not.  It would be easier to get him back if there were cracks in the relationship … and get him back was exactly what she was going to do … after all; she had nothing else to do for a few months.

CHAPTER 31 March 1974

Weak, depressed and sad, Charles lay in his bed in the private room at the hospital.  His son’s funeral was today and he wasn’t able to attend.  He hadn’t even been able to return to Canleigh to say farewell to Richard lying in his coffin.

He felt a little better in himself.  The chest monitors had been removed and he had been allowed out of bed yesterday and to give him a change of scenery, Ruth and Vicky took turns pushing him around the hospital and its grounds in a wheelchair.  But the visit hadn’t been a good one.  With the funeral looming, they were all tense and Vicky looked as if she had been crying all night.  Apart from telling him that Delia was now at Canleigh, they weren’t forthcoming in how things really were but Charles guessed she was making them uncomfortable.  It was a terrible dilemma and Charles felt so frustrated and angry that he couldn’t be there to help them through this ghastly time and to try and keep calm for the sake of his health was proving a difficult task.  How could he when his family were being torn apart and his precious son was being buried today?

He squeezed his eyes tightly, trying to force the tears away.  Scenes played in his mind of his son growing up.  Richard, being taunted by Delia as they learned to ride and he wasn’t