Rejection Runs Deep (The Canleigh Series, book 1: A chilling psychological family drama) by Carole Williams (positive books to read .TXT) 📗

Charles was so mad he hadn’t been able to answer her and left the room swiftly, desperately unhappy that his mother, with whom he was usually so in tune and who he had the utmost respect for, had taken so strongly against the beautiful young woman he had brought home so proudly but nothing was going to stop him marrying Margaret ... and it didn’t.  The wedding took place in the little church on the estate on the 12th September last year; Margaret stunning in a floaty creation by Norman Hartnell, his mother doing her best to keep the look of disdain off her face.

But, just as she predicted, the rot set in as early as the honeymoon in the Caribbean.  Charles would have preferred a trip around Europe but with the ravages of war, there was nowhere really suitable and Margaret wasn’t interested anyway.  She wanted somewhere hot and spicy which the war hadn’t touched so they decided on a remote little island in the Caribbean where only a few other tourists were holidaying, where the sun was relentless and the mosquitoes their greatest torment.

Their marriage hadn’t started well.  Charles had gone down with food poisoning and was confined to bed for a few days while Margaret dashed off to the beach for hours on end, flaunting herself in the skimpiest of bathing suits and flirting endlessly with any male who ogled or came near her.  The bed in their villa was near the window and when Charles wasn’t sleeping, he was able to see her antics clearly and was aghast at her behaviour. She was constantly surrounded by adoring laughing males, who dashed in and out of the sea with her and took turns in towelling her dry and applying sun cream to her body with long, lazy strokes.  It had shocked him to the core to see his new wife having no respect for herself, for him and for the title she now bore, especially since she knew he could see her and was uncaring as to whether or not his feelings were hurt.

As soon as he began to feel better, he cut the honeymoon short and they returned to Canleigh, Charles wholeheartedly relieved when Margaret announced her pregnancy a few weeks later which meant her wellbeing and the harsh winter provided a perfect excuse not to entertain and suffer more humiliation if she should decide to flirt with male guests.

His mother’s warning words had reverberated around his head on and off during the long months of pregnancy …,  although she never said another word, just conveyed her feelings with despairing looks every so often but now Margaret was about to be the mother of his children and a whole new chapter in their lives was to begin, hopefully her natural motherly instincts would take over, she would settle down and his mother would finally accept her.

Charles looked at his mother who was fighting the desire to nod off in the warm waiting room.  She wasn’t used to late nights anymore, rarely venturing out in the evening if she could help it but the event last night had been an important dinner for an animal welfare charity of which she was patron and there was no way she would have avoided it.

He looked at his gold Rolex watch.  It had been nearly an hour since Margaret went into theatre.  Surely the twins had been born by now.  God, he hoped everything was all right.  It was nowhere as dangerous in childbirth now as it had been years ago but things could still go wrong and he so wanted these twins.  He could forgive Margaret anything if she could provide him with a family.   Canleigh needed children to bring it to life.  Charles’s father had died in a hunting accident when Charles was ten years old and until Margaret’s arrival last year, there had only been him, his mother and a few staff rattling around the enormous house.  Following his marriage, his mother moved down to the Dower House which left only him and Margaret.  Children would breathe life into the place, into them all.  He was so excited.  His tummy flipped over.  He couldn’t wait to see his babies.

A quick tap on the door made him look up and his mother’s eyes spring open.

“Your Grace.  Would you like to see your children?” said the pretty young nurse popping her head round the door and smiling at Charles.

He stood up quickly, a huge sense of excitement flooding his body.

“What are they?” he asked quickly, hoping upon hope that at least one was a boy.

The nurse smiled. “You have a girl and a boy.  The girl was born first.”

Charles smiled joyfully as pride and relief rushed over him.  “Splendid, absolutely splendid … and how is my wife?”

“Her Grace is still asleep but you can come in now and sit with her and the babies.”

“Mother,” he said, turning to Anne.  “Do you want to come and see the children.”

Anne smiled widely.  “Just try keeping me away.”

They followed the nurse down the long corridor of the maternity wing where they could hear other women moaning and crying in the delivery suites.  Two pale-faced men sat outside looking apprehensive and anxious as they listened to their wives.  Charles smiled sympathetically at them as he passed.

There were two private rooms at the end of the wing and Margaret lay in bed in the furthest one, her face pasty white.  Her long dark hair was brushed and lay thick and heavy on the pillows.  Her hands, with their manicured red nails, lay motionless on the starched white sheet covering her. Charles bent to kiss her cheek.  She stirred and moaned but went straight back to sleep.

Two cots were placed by the bed.  Anne