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

of scrambled eggs on toast followed by a banana fritter prepared by Morag McFrain, his cook/housekeeper, he was planning to spend the afternoon pottering about the garden and this evening intended to finish chapter ten of the novel he had been working on all summer, this time about Robert the Bruce.  He had delved into Scottish history in a big way since residing so much at Blairness in the last few years, creating the familiar urge to turn his new knowledge into fiction.

He sighed again.  This was going to be the last few hours of pleasurable solitude he would enjoy for the next month.  Tomorrow he was journeying back down to England to help oversee the final arrangements for Delia and Philip’s wedding in two weeks’ time.  Following that he would give his valued estate manager, Dick Joyce, the send off he deserved after thirty years of loyal service and then help his new French estate manager settle in.  Charles spoke French fluently and it would be good to be able to converse with the new man and keep up his language skills.  Charles had been surprised when Louis Machon applied for the position, unable to understand at first why a Frenchman would want to be employed as an estate manager on an English country estate but Louis assured him that it had always been an ambition of his to do so.  The position had been advertised and there were other candidates but none with the experience, qualifications or references Louis possessed.  Charles had approached Richard for his approval.  They interviewed Louis in Oxford so Richard didn’t have any time away from the hospital, and then Charles took Louis up to Canleigh and gave him a tour of the estate in the company of Dick Joyce.  Louis was given the news that the job was his and he was due to commence his duties the day after Dick retired.

Charles sat down in the arbour covered in pink roses, which his mother constructed many years ago.  He was so lucky to have Blairness.  It was a sanctuary from the world and he loved it as passionately as he did Canleigh.  However, since his mother had died, his marriage disintegrated, with Richard and Victoria away at school and an antagonistic teenage Delia preferring to reside at Tangles following her breakdown, he had become depressed and desperately low at the Hall.  He was also restless and unable to concentrate on his work.  The Kershaw’s saved his sanity.  It was they who insisted he come up to Blairness and not to worry about Delia as she was safe and happy living with them.  So, Charles removed himself to the haven of Blairness and as time went on, spent more and more time in Scotland.

For some strange reason, Delia decided to return to Canleigh once she turned eighteen, stating she had imposed on Ralph and Constance long enough.  She had done well with her A levels and made it perfectly plain she wanted to attend Askham Bryan and study estate management.  Charles agreed.  If it kept her happy, that was good enough for him but even his approval didn’t improve their relationship, which had never recovered following that awful day in 1964.  She no longer wanted to come to Blairness and flatly refused to accompany the family abroad.  When Charles was at Canleigh, she appeared not to want to spend any more time in his company than was absolutely necessary.  They were just ships that passed in the night, barely speaking and rarely eating or socialising together so he left her more and more to her own devices.  He removed himself to Blairness for the spring and summer months and returned to Canleigh for the winter, safe in the knowledge that Dick Joyce was running the estate perfectly, the house was kept in pristine condition by the Hardy’s and Delia was as content as she could be.  Charles just picked up the bills   . . .   as he was now, for this wedding which seemed to be getting more expensive by the day.

Charles smiled wryly.  He didn’t mind really.  It would be good to see Delia safely married to Philip   . . .   and a great weight off his mind.  Hopefully, marriage would calm her down.  Delia, out of all his children had been the most difficult.  She had fought furiously with her brother because he was the heir to Canleigh and even though she hadn’t been terribly close to her mother, she had rebelled ferociously after Margaret had been sent packing from Canleigh.  It still made Charles shudder to think of the delinquent way Delia had behaved, taking a knife and slashing all four tyres of the car belonging to Margaret’s lover and then going mad in Margaret’s bedroom, shattering all the mirrors and shredding what remained of Margaret’s clothes and all the bedding.  The room had looked like a mad person had attacked it and although the girl had calmed down over the years, Charles had a niggling worry that maybe Delia could be slightly unhinged.

However, a new chapter was beginning with Delia’s coming union to young Philip.  It had been a terrible blow to the young man to lose both his grandparents so tragically but he had rallied magnificently, putting his heart and soul into the business Ralph had worked so hard to build.  Charles had a lot of respect for Philip.  He liked him immensely and the sooner Delia married him the better and once she had a baby or two … Charles smiled at the thought of grandchildren … he would be able to spoil them terribly and with luck, they would ease the strain between him and his eldest daughter.  What he didn’t consider was that children weren’t on Delia’s list of priorities … she had other ambitions.

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Richard, Marquess of Keighton and heir to the Canleigh estate, picked up the telephone in his rented ground floor flat in a terraced