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

followed Charles to look at the occupants.  One baby was asleep but the other stared up at him, holding his gaze almost …, the thought crossed his mind, defiantly.  He checked the name tag which was pink; the sleeping baby’s was blue.  So that was his heir, Charles thought proudly, with a wave of overwhelming love engulfing him.  He looked back at the baby with the pink tag.  She continued to stare at him, locking her eyes with his and for a second Charles felt a sense of unease as the tiny creature challenged him.  What to, he had no idea but that was how it seemed.

“They are beautiful, Charles,” said a smiling Anne at his side.  She bent over to stroke the little girl’s cheek.  “Well done, my boy.  Proper heirs for Canleigh at last.  A boy … and a girl.  It will be wonderful to have them home and I so look forward to watching them grow and learn to love Canleigh as we do.”

Charles stared down at his offspring. He had never felt so happy; so complete and fulfilled.  They were perfect, absolutely perfect, and he couldn’t wait to take them home and show them off and spoil them rotten.  They would have everything they wanted and he would fill their days with love and laughter. They were going to be the happiest children on earth.

Margaret stirred and her eyes flickered.  Charles turned back to her, wanting so much to thank her.  She mumbled something but he couldn’t make out what she had said.  He drew closer and bent towards her.

“What did you say, darling?  I couldn’t hear you.”

“The baby … I didn’t want him … I really didn’t want him,” she moaned, moving restlessly about the bed, her eyes flickering open and shut but not focusing on anything.

“Darling, you don’t know what you are saying … it’s probably the anaesthetic.  We don’t just have a boy, we have a girl too … and they are wonderful … just perfect … and I can’t thank you enough for giving them to me.”

“No!  No!  The other one,” she cried, “I mean the other one.  The boy!  I didn’t want him.  Elizabeth and George took him … he’s in America.”

She slumped into a deep sleep and Charles stepped back from the bed, his heart pounding. He didn’t want to look at his mother to see her reaction to Margaret’s words but his eyes betrayed him and jumped straight to hers.

He shook his head.  “It’s the anaesthetic.  She’s dreaming,” he said, not even believing his own words.

Anne said nothing, just turned on her heel and left the room, closing the door quietly behind her, her whole demeanour saying ‘I told you so’.

Charles looked back at Margaret, feeling a deep, deep dread.  It could have been the anaesthetic making her hallucinate but deep in his soul he knew it wasn’t.  His young wife had another child … by another man …out of wedlock.  She had deceived him, completely and utterly …and presumably, so had her Uncle Arthur and Aunt Sarah as they must have known and had probably helped her conceal her shame.

So, where was this child and who was the father?  The questions jumped into his head.  He walked to the window and looked despairingly over the hospital grounds where nurses in uniform and doctors in white coats hurried about, a couple of male patients in pyjamas and dressing gowns were sat on a wall smoking cigarettes, a patient in a wheelchair was being pushed towards the hospital gardens by a concerned looking person, no doubt a relative; an ambulance siren could be heard in the distance heading towards the hospital.  It all looked so normal.  People getting on with their lives, their work, getting better from whatever ailments plagued them but his world was upside down.  He was deliriously happy that he was now a father but his wife’s few words had stunned and revolted him.  All the joy he had felt in the past few minutes had been tainted by this new knowledge and he had absolutely no idea how he was going to deal with it.

CHAPTER 2 CANLEIGH – MAY HALF-TERM 1964

The taxi wound its way down the drive until the grand façade of Canleigh Hall came into view.  Margaret, the Duchess of Canleigh, in the back seat of the hideous green Ford Consul, closed her eyes and sighed deeply.  She hadn’t wanted to come home.  She wouldn’t have done if it hadn’t been for Charles’ insistence that she return from London immediately.  So, here she was, and chomping at the bit to leave again.  She had to return to London as soon as possible or she would burst with frustration.  She had a seriously urgent need to feel a certain someone’s hands on her body and she couldn’t remain at Canleigh for a second longer than absolutely necessary, whatever her husband said.

The taxi drew to a halt by the front steps to the Hall and Margaret, not bothering to wait for the driver to open the door, stepped out, divinely elegant in her yellow silk shift dress and matching stilettos, while Hardy, dapper in his neatly pressed butler’s attire and highly polished black leather shoes, trotted down to collect her luggage and pay the taxi she had hired to drive her home from Leeds railway station.

“I would have sent Perkins to collect you in the Rolls if I had been aware you were returning to Canleigh today, Your Grace.”

“Well, I wasn’t sure what I was doing until the last minute.  It was easier just to hire a taxi,” Margaret snapped as she walked up the steps.

She didn’t like the blasted man’s tone.  That was the main drawback to being a Duchess.  She liked the prestige and she liked the money but to be constantly watched and approved or disapproved of by servants was a bind, especially by Hardy.  He