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

Charles could have kicked himself for having been so severe, seeing, with a pang of despair, the look of distress cross Delia’s face at the lack of warmth from him and Margaret.  His heart ached for his daughter … and when she was told the reason why she had been recalled home … but he couldn’t talk to her now.  He had wanted to break the news to her quietly before Margaret appeared but now his wife was actually here, he had to deal with her first and then talk to Delia afterwards.  He tried his best to smile and softened his tone as he spoke to her again.

“Delia, please go to your room.  We are in the midst of a serious discussion and I’ll talk to you as soon as we’ve finished.  Oh, and Granny has decided to stay with us for a little while … and is upstairs in her old room.  Don’t disturb her as she’s a bit wobbly today.  Now, please close the door behind you.”

“Is she okay?” urged Delia, instantly terrified her Granny was ill again.  She had been so frightened when Anne had suffered the tiny strokes, even though the doctors had said they were a just a warning sign and she would be fine if she looked after herself properly.   Granny had tried to do as she was told but considered life was too short to sit around for long and virtually carried on as if nothing had happened, even though Charles and Delia, along with Mrs. Burgess, pressed her constantly to rest more.

“Yes, she’s fine … just a bit tired after walking the dogs up from the Dower House and I have to go away for a couple of days so Granny is going to stay here.  She will be company for you.”

“Oh, good … but where are the dogs … and aren’t you staying, Mummy?”

“Perkins has taken the dogs back to the Dower House for now.  Mrs. Burgess will look after them … and your mother will not be staying,” added Charles forcefully.  “Now, Delia.  Please do as I say and go upstairs.

Chastened, Delia stood still, the pent-up tension in the room becoming apparent.  She looked at her parents.  Her mother was showing signs of strain and tiredness but had a look of determination on her face.  Her father looked as if he was about to burst a blood vessel.  Even though he was attempting to smile at her, Delia could see he was terribly angry, which was most unusual for him as he was normally so well-tempered.  The faint sense of alarm she had felt on the journey home returned with a terrible intensified rush.  Her knees went weak and for some reason she badly wanted to cry, although that was something she never did, certainly not in anyone’s presence.

With her tummy churning sickeningly, Delia left the room, making sure the heavy mahogany door was shut behind her, but if her father thought she was going upstairs he was very much mistaken.  Something was badly wrong and she wanted to know what it was and she was going to find out.  Quickly and quietly she crossed the entrance hall and stepped outside, hoping she wouldn’t bump into Hardy.  The Rolls was still parked on the gravel next to the sports car.  The man sitting in the driving seat was combing his hair and examining the result in the rear-view mirror.  Suppressing the urge to ask him who he was and what he was doing at Canleigh, she ran around the side of the house to the parterre and up the steps leading up to the south terrace.  With stealth, she crept along until she reached the library.  Her mother and father were arguing loudly.

“Please don’t shout, Charles,” said Margaret.  “I have a headache.”

“I’m not surprised!  However, that is the least of your problems at the moment.  Christ, Margaret.  How could you do this?  You have acted like a common whore.  It’s utterly disgraceful and I can’t tell you how ashamed I am of you.”

Delia started to shiver.  She felt sick and giddy.  Why was her normally polite and calm father being so nasty?

Margaret was speaking hesitantly now, a nervous edge to her voice.  “I didn’t mean it to happen … it was the drink … the heat … it was all so … it got out of hand … as these things do.”

“You’re a slut.  You always have been.  God, I was so stupid.  Mother was quite right.  I should never have married you and I should never have allowed you so much licence to do as you wanted.  I knew deep down you couldn’t be trusted to behave with decency for very long even though I warned you what would happen if you brought disgrace on this family.  So, from this moment you are no longer welcome here.  I want you to pack your bags and go.  Do what you will.  Go where you will.  I’m past caring.  We are completely finished, Margaret.  I shall talk to Rathbones tomorrow and set the wheels in motion for a divorce … and if you think you will have any more money from me to fund your atrocious lifestyle, or have access to the children, you are very much mistaken.  The sooner you are out of their lives …  and mine … the better.”

Delia, chilled to the core, even on such a warm day, put her hands to her mouth in horror.  Surely her father couldn’t mean it.  She couldn’t bear it.  Whatever had her mother done that was so dreadful.  Where would she go?  What would she do?  Would they ever meet again?  Delia was racked with fear.

“Don’t be ridiculous, Charles,” Margaret blustered.  “You can’t possibly mean it.  Let’s talk about this calmly.  I know it’s bad but we must be able to salvage something out of this mess,” the panic apparent in