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

the tall shrubs gradually petered out, revealing a gracious looking church to the left.  “It’s where we’re all christened, married and where all our ancestors are buried.”

A few minutes later they reached the Hall itself and Ruth sat up straight in her seat, giving a loud gasp as the car pulled up on the gravel by the front door.  A massive lawn stretched out to their right while looming above them immediately to their left stood the Georgian mansion.

“Oh, wow, Richard.  This is awesome,” gasped Ruth, trying to take it all in.  There seemed to be so many windows and a flight of stone steps leading up to the front door beneath a magnificent portico.  The door opened and a small thin man with a slightly bent nose walked quickly down the steps with a smile of welcome.  He hurried towards the car and opened the door for her.

“This is Miss Barrett, Hardy … come to have a well-deserved rest from the rigours of hospital life,” announced Richard, jumping out of the car on the other side.

Hardy took the hand Ruth offered and shook it warmly.  “We’ll do all we can to make your stay enjoyable, Miss Barrett,” he said kindly, turning to whisk the luggage out of the car.

Richard laughed at Ruth’s air of bemusement.  “You’ll get a lot of this kind of treatment this weekend.  It’s a hundred light years away from the hospital but there’s no need to worry, everyone will make you very welcome.  Just relax and enjoy it.”

Leaving Hardy to follow with their suitcases, Richard took her arm and guided her up the steps and into the chilly black and white marble tiled entrance hall.

“I wasn’t aware you were bringing a guest,” drawled a voice from a door to Ruth’s left.  “Who have we here then?”

Ruth could feel Richard’s grasp of her arm tightening and she turned to see a feminine mirror image of the man by her side.  There could be little doubt the woman was Richard’s twin.  Dressed in a black sweater, well-worn jeans and riding boots, her figure was similarly slim and athletic.  She was the same height, her hair was exactly the same colour, and her features were practically identical to her brother, although her eyes were hard and mocking as she sized Ruth up and her lips, smeared with dark red lipstick were thinner and rested in a tight line as if she were clenching her teeth.

Delia blatantly eyed Ruth up and down, taking in every detail of her appearance; the fresh pale complexion, lovely big brown eyes, the generous mouth, the bob of shiny blonde hair, the slim figure in the pink flowery dress and white sandals on her feet.  The woman possessed chocolate box prettiness and could have stepped right out of the pages of a country living magazine.  All she needed was a basket of freshly picked flowers hanging from her arm.  With Richard gazing adoringly at his guest, Delia was seriously alarmed.  The last thing she wanted was for him to desire marriage, which could mean he would want to move back to Canleigh once he was qualified.

“Hello, Delia,” said Richard coldly, annoyed with his twin’s reception but before he could make the introductions Delia butted in. “I’m Lady Delia,” she said pompously to Ruth.  “And you are?”

Delia achieved the reaction she had been hoping for.  Ruth, instantly made to feel inferior, blushed and stammered.  “Ruth … Ruth Barrett … I’m a medical student … with Richard,” she said, looking up at him for reassurance.

“How nice,” said Delia sarcastically.  She turned to Richard, who was aghast and speechless at her rudeness.  “When you’ve a moment I need to speak to you … urgently.”

Hardy was behind them with the luggage.  “Should I show Miss Barrett to her room, Milord?” he asked, breaking the tension.  The butler was fully aware of the awful catastrophe which had befallen Lady Delia in the past twenty-four hours but there was no excuse for her discourteous greeting to Lord Richard’s friend.

Richard hurriedly collected himself.  “No, thank you, Hardy.  I’m sure you have plenty to do before dinner.  I’ll do it.”  He took the suitcases from the butler.  “Is my father home yet?”

“No, Milord but he’s on his way.  Should be here around six o’clock.  Lady Victoria arrived last night but she has popped into Leeds to do some shopping and collect her guest, Mr. Saunders-Smythe, from the railway station.”

“Right.  I presume Miss Barrett will be in the guest room next to Lady Victoria?”

Hardy nodded.  “Yes, Milord and Mr. Saunders-Smythe will be in the room next to yours.”

Richard smiled reassuringly at Ruth, pointedly ignoring Delia.  “Come on then.  I’ll show you to your room.  It overlooks the lake and woods so you will have a lovely view.”

“Should I have afternoon tea sent up, Milord or serve it in the library?” asked Hardy with his hand on a door on the opposite side of the entrance hall, which would lead him down to the kitchens.

Richard glanced at Ruth, who was beginning to look tired and he knew she would want to rest and be alone for a while and he wanted to take the opportunity to catch up with some paperwork his father had sent him before they met this evening.

“I’ll have mine in the library, Hardy but I think Miss Barrett would probably like hers in her room,” he answered, smiling back at Ruth when she threw him a look of gratitude.

“Richard … I really do need to talk to you,” urged Delia.  “Preferably before Father arrives.”

“Later, Delia.  Later,” he snapped back.  He picked up the suitcases.  “Follow me,” he grinned at Ruth, making his way up the spectacular stone staircase with its ornamental black wrought iron balustrade.

Ruth moved to follow him but on glancing at Delia, was disturbed to see her look of pure aggression before she turned