Rejection Runs Deep (The Canleigh Series, book 1: A chilling psychological family drama), Carole Williams [ebook reader 8 inch .TXT] 📗

the water jug on the table beside her bed.  A mug of warm milk was what she needed.  That always sent her off.  Would anyone mind if she ventured down to the kitchen?  It surely couldn’t be hard to find and maybe Hardy or his wife, Betty, would still be up.  Ruth put on her bathrobe and slippers and ventured out into the corridor.  All was quiet with no sign of anyone.  She made her way down the back staircase which Richard had pointed out earlier, turned on the lights at the bottom and followed her nose.  The delicious aroma from their dinner was still lingering in the old stone walls and ignoring all the doors to her left and right she made straight for the open door at the end where she could see an enormous well-scrubbed table in the middle of the room.  The staff had cleared up from dinner and gone to bed, Hardy and Betty to their flat above the east wing and the cook to her home in the village.  Ruth found a cupboard full of mugs and she picked one displaying the cheeky face of a young black Labrador.  Saucepans were hanging up by the Agar.  She chose the smallest, took milk from the fridge, filled her mug and poured it into the saucepan, ready to heat it up on the modern electric cooker in the corner.  A footstep behind her made her turn quickly.  She hadn’t heard anyone coming down the corridor.

“Oh,” she gasped with relief, seeing Charles entering the kitchen, wearing pale blue pyjamas beneath his royal blue velvet dressing gown.  He had obviously had a bath or a shower as his hair was damp.  The faint hint of woody aftershave she would always associate with him drifted towards her.

“You frightened me for a second.  It’s a bit creepy down here on your own … I hope you don’t mind,” she waved a hand at the milk, “but I couldn’t sleep.”

“Great minds think alike,” he said, taking a plain white mug with a gold rim from the cupboard and placing it next to hers.  “I couldn’t either.”

He sat down at the table while Ruth heated enough milk for both of them and poured it into the mugs.  She handed him his, intending to take her own back to her room.  It had felt nice, doing something for him.  Natural even.  She liked the feeling.  Oh dear, here she went again.  This man had a peculiar affect on her that was for sure.

“Don’t go, Ruth … unless you really want to, of course.  It would be nice to have a chat,” he said, smiling kindly, “without any hysterical interruptions from my offspring.”   He gave a hollow laugh.

Ruth obliged.  She didn’t want to go back to bed now.  Tiredness had suddenly disappeared.  She wanted to be with this man more than anything.

“I’m sorry about the dreadful displays this evening, Ruth.  Delia has never been easy.  Always headstrong, always wanting her own way but she went too far tonight.  I can only apologise.  What you must think of us, I really don’t know … all this has ruined your weekend.”

Ruth smiled understandingly.  “It’s certainly been eventful.”

Charles smiled back, thinking what an easy person Ruth was to talk to.  She listened readily and commented only when appropriate.  He liked her very much and was so sorry the time she was spending at Canleigh was drawing to a close.  A flicker of alarm shot through him at the prospect of not seeing her again.

“Delia’s driven off,” said Ruth.  “Richard was going to try and stop her but he couldn’t have done as I heard her car.  Where would she go … has she friends nearby?”

Charles sighed.  “No-one close.  She hasn’t been one for friends.  In fact, she’s led a fairly sheltered life … living here and working with Philip at Tangles.  He’s always been her best friend.  So, no.  I’ve no idea where she will end up … but I am sure of one thing ….”

Ruth looked at him questioningly.

“She’ll be back.  She’s never been one for staying away for long.  Oh blast, the horse,” he groaned. “Perkins is getting too old to handle Demon for any length of time.  I’ll have to ring Philip in the morning.  See if he can have him back at Tangles until Delia comes home.  Philip is the only person who can do anything with him, apart from Delia.  If the horse is left here, he’ll do a hell of a lot of damage if he doesn’t see Delia every day.  I sometimes wish I’d never agreed that she should have him.  He’s quite unstable … in fact he’s a liability.”

“Why did you … allow her to have him?” Ruth couldn’t resist asking.

Charles sighed again.  “It was after my wife left Canleigh, after creating an unholy scandal … and Mother died.  Delia had a nervous breakdown and stayed at Tangles, looked after by Philip’s grandparents.  We thought it best at the time,” he added noting Ruth’s enquiring glance.  “She received far better care there than she would have here.  Anyway, Demon was born during the time she was recovering, she fell in love with the dratted thing and begged me to let her have it.  I felt so sorry for her and she badly needed something to focus on, breaking it in, training it, etc., and so I agreed.  It was wonderful to see her smiling again and there’s no doubt about it, the horse idolises her … but he’s a hell of a strong character … a force to be reckoned with and I do worry about him.  Perkins doesn’t help either.  He’s always muttering darkly about him and how he’s got a screw loose.”

Ruth remembered Demon kicking up a rumpus in the stables that morning and Perkins words.  He might well be right.

“Philip won’t mind having him … now that he and