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

given him the chance.  Margaret’s settlement had been more than adequate to keep her and Parfitt in comfort for the rest of their days if they had been sensible and there would be no more handouts.

Although Charles was shocked to hear what had happened to Margaret, he could feel no real sorrow for the demise of his former wife.  She had caused so much misery for him and his children and he wasn’t sure how they would all take the news.  Richard still refused to speak to Charles on the telephone so he had to leave a message with the hospital switchboard to ask him to ring Canleigh as soon as possible as he had to talk to him about Margaret.  Richard did ring back but was non-committal and put the phone down as soon as Charles told him the news.  Vicky broke down in tears but not having seen her mother for such a long time and not that close to her anyway, she seemed to adjust fairly quickly.

He had no way of contacting Delia and just hoped she would be able to cope mentally when she did find out.  Since her devastating breakdown when she was so young Charles had a niggling worry it might occur again.  In fact, he hadn’t told Ruth how seriously worried he was about Delia’s disappearance after that dreadful weekend when she stormed out of Canleigh.  He made a number of calls in the week following her departure and discovered she was living in London with Shelley.  Charles liked Shelley.  She had been a pleasant, steady influence on Delia when they were at school so his fears had been allayed but following Simon’s call regarding Margaret, Charles rung Shelley’s apartment, leaving a message with the cleaning lady for Delia to ring him urgently.  Either the cleaning lady forgot to pass on the message or Delia still didn’t want to talk to him.  Charles rung again, spoke to Shelley and discovered Delia had left and to go to of all places, the Caribbean, unaware of what had happened.  Having no idea of whether she was just going for a holiday or had the intention of seeking out her mother, Charles reluctantly rung Simon Parfitt to advise him that he might receive a visit from Delia.  But he was too late.  Delia had already seen him, been told about Margaret and had left the island.  Simon had no idea of where she had gone and that was the last Charles heard of her.  He just hoped that wherever she was she was okay and although he knew she wouldn’t be happy that he had married Ruth, he wished she would come home so that he knew she was safe and well and in the place she loved most.

Ruth was smiling contentedly, making Charles smile too.  He wasn’t going to spoil this walk with thoughts of his former wife and his worries about his offspring.

“What are you thinking about?” he asked as they rounded another bend and watched the Hall grow closer on their return journey.

“The wedding.  It was so beautiful.  Such a fabulous, happy day in such idyllic surroundings.”

Charles had to agree.  It had been a quiet wedding the week before Christmas with very few guests as Ruth wanted it kept simple and Charles was more than willing to oblige.  Ruth’s parents had naturally been there, stupefied that the ceremony would make their daughter a Duchess.  Her father, in his top hat and tails, gave her away and her mother in a fur-trimmed emerald green coat and hat, and diamond earrings, sat proudly watching her daughter marry a peer of the realm.  A euphoric Vicky, having just announced her engagement to Barrie, was the only bridesmaid and looked radiant and glamorous in a long royal blue velvet dress with a cream muff to keep her hands warm.   Although Lord Mulroon, one of Charles’ old friends, was groomsman at his former wedding to Margaret, he had been more than happy to do the honours once more.  Barrie was there, of course but the only other guests outside of the family were Philip and Sue Kershaw, safe in the knowledge that Delia wouldn’t be attending and some members of staff who could be spared from duties preparing the wedding breakfast in the Hall.

Charles’ eyes glittered as he remembered how elegant Ruth looked as she walked down the aisle towards him on the arm of her father.  She wore a long white hooded velvet gown trimmed in cream fur with her hands snuggled into a cream ruff, which she passed to Vicky on reaching him.  Her upturned face with just a hint of makeup and pearl earrings was alight with happiness and he could remember how overjoyed he was that she had agreed to marry him and how much he would worship her until the end of his days.

“Yes,” Charles said, clearing his throat.  The whole day had been utterly blissful.  Everyone was genuinely happy and pleased at their union and even though Richard had declined to attend and Delia was God knows where, it hadn’t blighted the day.  It had truly been the best of his life.  He would never forget it.

“The Hall looked wonderful too.  The staff did such a fantastic job, making it so festive,” sighed Ruth, recalling how all the downstairs rooms had been decorated and a large tree, reaching the ceiling in the entrance hall was covered with tinsel and coloured balls with a sparkling silver star on top.  Flowers were everywhere; large displays of cream and white roses, lilies, blood red roses and carnations, and lots of delicate white gypsophila.  The table in the dining room for the wedding breakfast looked simply splendid with Waterford crystal glasses, Georgian gilt cutlery, and Sevres porcelain.  Ruth had felt as if she was in some fabulous dream and even now, a whole year on, still marvelled at how her life had changed so dramatically since meeting