Rejection Runs Deep (The Canleigh Series, book 1: A chilling psychological family drama) Read online

  REJECTION RUNS DEEP

  CAROLE WILLIAMS

  Amazon Kindle Edition

  Copyright 2017 Carole Williams

  All rights reserved

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form without the prior permission in writing of the author, except for brief quotations used for promotion or in reviews.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are used fictitiously and any resemblance to any persons, businesses, locales or events is entirely coincidental.

  To the reader:

  Thank you so much for choosing to read Rejection Runs Deep, a novel that has taken me a long time to write. From the reviews and feedback since publication in October 2017, and the enthusiasm for Delia’s Daughter and Katrina, the remainder of the Canleigh series, I am pleased to discover that a large number of people are enjoying my writing and I hope you do too.

  If you do enjoy it, I would be extremely grateful if you could visit Amazon and leave a review. Reviews are very important to authors as they help us sell more books and place us higher up in Amazon’s rankings, so each one is exceedingly precious. If you are not sure how to do this, please clink one of the links below and then scroll down to the reviews, where you will see ‘write a review’. Just a sentence or two and a star rating will be gratefully received.

  US: http://www.amazon.com/dp/B076YZQW57/

  UK: http://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/B076YZQW57/

  THE SECRET, the FREE, shocking, dramatic prequel to the Canleigh series is now available too. Just go to

  www.carolewilliamsbooks.com/sign-up to receive it, along with other freebies such as my thriller short story, YES DEAR.

  Happy reading!!

  Carole Williams.

  FOREWORD BY

  LADY DELIA CANLEIGH

  When Carole Williams informed me that she was going to write the story of what had happened with my family and my beloved Canleigh over the last fifty odd years, I was appalled. Then I thought about it in more depth. Perhaps it wasn’t such a bad idea to allow anyone who was interested, to read a correct record of what occurred. After all, we all know newspaper coverage is often exaggerated or not even true, don’t we?

  So, as you embark on hearing about our dysfunctional family and more to the point, the somewhat dreadful things I did because I was jealous, angry and rejected time and time again, please keep in mind that I am only human … and I feel pain too.

  It all started the day I discovered at a very young age, that I was not to inherit Canleigh. I was devastated but my father was adamant that I should never have it. I hated him for that … and I hated my mother too … the Duchess of Canleigh, or more to the point, the whore of Canleigh. She was a complete and utter slag of a woman but you will find out more in the next few chapters. Thank God for Granny, the Dowager Duchess of Canleigh. She was my rock and I loved her unconditionally … then she died … hurried to her grave by my mother … and yes, my father … and my life took a different turn from that moment on.

  But, I am giving too much away. If your interest is piqued, you should read on to find out what Canleigh was like, what we were like, what we did and how, more importantly, instead of marrying some damned Earl or other and producing a brood of aristocratic children, I ended up full of hate and became a notorious villain with my name known far and wide. Enjoy!

  PROLOGUE

  SEPTEMBER 1950

  As she clasped him to her firmly and felt the joy of him entering her, she knew she shouldn’t be here with him now … only a week before her wedding … but couldn’t help herself. Jimmy, the exceedingly desirable, self-professed gambler and cheat, always made her feel this way … utterly uncaring of her reputation, craving his attention and the feel of his hands on her body and all the delicious sensations he aroused in her. God, it was heaven … but it was the last time … it had to be … more’s the pity. She had nearly ruined her reputation dallying with him last year. It had been touch and go and only by a massive effort on the part of her relatives, had she been saved, and could go on to enjoy a tarnished free life as the future Duchess of Canleigh. She might not be so lucky again and now, on the brink of her new, exciting muchly improved status, she was risking utter ruin. No-one would help her if she messed up again. So, it had to stop and today.

  Following another shuddering, intense orgasm, Margaret uncurled herself from his long and lanky body, pulled herself upright in the bed and lit a cigarette. He put out a hand to take it from her. She gave it to him and lit another.

  “As much as that was sensational,” she said, exhaling the smoke at the same time as him. “And it was … as it always is … you know this has to stop now. This is the last time. The wedding is next week and as much as I loathe the idea of having children, I need to get pregnant by my husband as soon as possible so that I have my feet well and truly under the Canleigh table, so to speak.”

  “Ah, yes, the Duchess of Canleigh,” he grinned. “I take it mere peasants, such as myself, will have to bow to you once you take up your new position in society?”

  “Don’t be daft. That’s only for royalty, as well you know … and as eminent as Charles is, he is not royalty.”

  “How long then … a couple of years … until you produce the much-needed heirs?”

  “A couple of years for what?”

  “Before you can sneak away to see me again? It’s been a real treat to hook up with you once more, after our little dalliance last year and I’d hate to think we can never have a repeat performance.”

  “Dalliance! Um. Yes, and the result of all that fun was an unwanted brat. Might I remind you that while you were sunning yourself in warmer climes afterwards, having debunked from London due to owing a considerable amount of money to certain people … oh, yes,” she nodded, “it was common knowledge at the time and once my Aunt and Uncle, who had so kindly taken me in when my parents died, discovered you were the father of my unborn child, I wasn’t treated with much kindness, believe me. No. It was a tough few months. Thank God the brat was taken off to live in America with my ghastly cousin Elizabeth and her even ghastlier husband, George. I suppose I was terribly lucky really, having them to deal with my little problem.”

  Jimmy stared at the smoke rings he was blowing towards the ceiling. “It’s strange to think I have a child growing up in America of whom I know absolutely nothing.”

  Margaret looked at him sharply. “Don’t start having any paternal feelings now,” she warned.

  He laughed. “Don’t worry, darling. That’s the last thing on my mind. Now,” he said, stubbing out his cigarette in the ashtray on the bedside cabinet, “where exactly were we because I want to enjoy absolutely every moment I can before you disappear into the wilds of Yorkshire and become the very respectable Duchess of Canleigh?”

  CHAPTER 1

  LEEDS HOSPITAL

  TUESDAY 1 ST MAY 1951

  Margaret, the nineteen-year-old Duchess of Canleigh was in utter physical and mental torment on the operating table in the maternity wing of Leeds Hospital and stared menacingly at the figure of Mark Fuller, the Consultant Obstetrician. There was every chance this man, or one of his staff, could let something slip and divulge her secret in the next few hours, and she couldn’t risk it.

  “If you, or any member of your team, breathe a word to my husband that I’ve had another baby, I promise you will never work in another hospital again. Do I make myself clear?” She was looking straight at Mark Fuller but her words were loud enough for everyone in the theatre
to hear.

  Mark, Jack Cartwright, the Consultant Anaesthetist, and the two theatre nurses looked at each other over their masks. None of them had met the Duchess before but from what they had seen of her since being admitted to hospital for an emergency caesarean an hour ago, she wasn’t someone they had warmed to and to hear her threatening them all with the sack if they should breathe a word of her secret wasn’t entirely a surprise.

  Gowned up and ready to perform the caesarean section on the most prestigious patient in his career so far, Mark looked down at her. Even devoid of make-up, the Duchess of Canleigh was extremely beautiful. She possessed a fabulous head of thick jet-black wavy hair, which he had seen a nurse struggle to fit into a theatre cap; clear olive skin, a perfect oval shaped face and gorgeous dark eyes beneath well-defined brows. She was truly lovely. It was a shame her nature didn’t match her looks.

  “You need have no fear, Your Grace,” he stated firmly. “No-one will ever know as far as we are concerned. We all take the confidentiality of our patients very seriously. Now, let’s get these babies born. We haven’t much time.”

  Margaret grimaced. She was terrified of this operation but wanted the dratted babies out of her stomach as fast as possible. The whole business of motherhood was hateful. After enduring yet another miserable pregnancy; full of sickness, swollen ankles and a hideous bulge, she wanted little to do with the results. Why any woman would willingly want to put themselves through such an ordeal she had no idea, especially when the ghastly creatures would only howl for food, fill nappy after nappy and be sick a lot. Margaret had never wanted children, seeing them as some kind of alien species with whom she had no connection whatsoever. Thankfully, she was the wife of a wealthy man and with the aid of an expensive nanny and other doting household staff, she would have little to do with the two infants now about to make their debut into the world.

  She stared hard at Mark Fuller as he advanced towards her, ready to perform the operation. She wanted to feel normal again and have her perfect figure back and as eminent as the man towering above her might be, if he left a huge scar on her body she would never forgive him.

  “Now, Your Grace,” he said, “you are going to feel a tiny pinprick in your hand and then I want you to count to ten. Is that okay?”

  She nodded. Within seconds she closed her eyes and minutes later Jack Cartwright, checking his equipment and monitoring the patient, finally nodded to Mark that the Duchess was in a deep enough sleep for the operation to commence. Mark took the scalpel offered to him by the theatre nurse and made the incision. The heirs to Canleigh were about to be born.

  * * *

  Charles, the twenty-nine-year-old Duke of Canleigh, dressed in a dark green sweater on top of an open necked white shirt, brown cord trousers and brown leather shoes, paced the waiting room into which he had been ushered by a young nurse in a pale blue uniform.

  “The operation shouldn’t take long, Your Grace, and I’ll bob back and let you know as soon as you can see your wife and the twins,” she said with a smile, thinking how handsome he was. His hair must have been really dark when he was younger but it was greying now, especially at the temples, brushed back and with a left side parting. His brown eyes with tiny laughter lines circling them looked anxious and there was a hint of tension around his mouth. His physique was slim and he was much taller than the nurse and the way he carried himself gave him an air of quiet and kindly unassuming authority. A man to both like and respect. The Duchess was a very lucky woman, the nurse thought enviously.

  “Thank you,” he smiled back.

  She left him alone and he looked at the two comfortable leather sofas and two wing backed chairs in the room but felt too wound up to sit down. A kettle, cups and saucers and a supply of coffee, tea and sugar sat on the sideboard next to the tiny fridge, which bore a note on the front to indicate there was fresh milk inside. A copy of Woman’s Weekly and Woman’s Own lay on the coffee table along with a couple of newspapers.

  Charles, an avid reader, would have perused the papers even though he didn’t believe half of what the tabloids liked to feed the populace but he couldn’t concentrate on most of the rubbish they contained now. He wished he had thought to bring his Times and Financial Times but the departure from the Hall when Margaret’s waters had broken just after seven o’clock this morning, two weeks earlier than expected, had been somewhat rushed. However, his mother, the Dowager Duchess, would be here soon to keep him company. Whilst still at Canleigh, waiting for the ambulance to arrive, he had telephoned her at the Dower House, where she had resided since his marriage to Margaret, to let her know what was happening. Having attended a charity ball the previous evening and not arriving home until the early hours, she had been asleep in bed but roused herself quickly when she heard his voice, excited as he about the impending arrival of the first children to be born in the family since himself.

  “I’ll get dressed immediately and pop up to the Hall for the Rolls,” she said. “Good luck darling and don’t worry. Margaret and the children will be in very safe hands.”

  “Yes, Mother … but please be careful with the Rolls. Why not get Perkins to drive you?”

  “There’s no need for a chauffeur and anyway it would be a complete waste of his time, having him hanging around the hospital waiting for us. We have no idea how long we will be and I am perfectly capable of driving into Leeds. We will then be able to return home at any time without bothering any of the staff.”

  Charles feared for his car. Unfortunately, his mother hadn’t one of her own as she didn’t really like to drive so when she did decide to borrow his it was a daunting prospect. She gripped the steering wheel tensely, changed gear noisily, roared the engine unnecessarily and braked sharply. She also had a tendency to dump any vehicle she was driving exactly where she wanted when arriving at her destination, oblivious as to whether or not it was convenient for other people or even legal.

  Charles groaned inwardly. He loved his mother dearly but she was an extremely determined woman and wouldn’t be swayed from anything once she had made up her mind.

  “Okay, Mother … but just be careful, please … and take your time.”

  Now he had more than his wife and children to worry about. His mother was right of course, Margaret and the babies were in safe hands but his poor car was a different matter. It was old, lovingly cared for and usually driven by Perkins, his chauffeur, who was also in charge of the horses and the stables, and when he was off duty, by Hardy, the butler, and then of course, by himself. He couldn’t remember the last time his mother had driven it and the roads were fairly busy at this time of day with commuters rushing into Leeds to work. It was also raining and a thunderstorm was threatening which would be an added distraction. He crossed his fingers and prayed his mother would arrive safely and without incident.

  He was relieved when an hour later the door of the waiting room opened and Anne, Dowager Duchess of Canleigh, stepped in, dressed in a Norman Hartnell blue skirt and jacket, a white silk blouse and navy leather court shoes. Her long fair hair was swept back into a neat bun; her makeup consisted only of a dash of face powder and a touch of rose-pink lipstick. She wore a single strand of pearls, matching earrings, her thin gold wedding ring and diamond cluster engagement ring.

  He smiled at her gratefully, glad of her support at this tense and exciting time. Despite certain differences of opinion, whenever he had needed her his mother had always been there. His rock, as far back as he could remember.

  “Charles,” she said, crossing him to kiss him on the cheek, her Chanel No. 5 nicely overpowering the ghastly hint of disinfectant which always seemed to linger around hospitals. “Any news yet?"

  “No, but it shouldn’t be long.”

  “Good. I can’t wait to greet my grandchildren. We haven’t had this much excitement in the family since you were born,” she smiled, settling herself into one of the wing-backed chairs near to the window overlooking the hospital car park.

  “What have you done wit
h the Rolls?” he asked with trepidation, seeing the direction she was looking.

  “Oh, it’s down there. See,” she pointed at a parking bay near to the hospital entrance. “Perfectly safe. I think it’s in a Consultant’s spot, probably Giles Warburton and once he sees the Rolls he will know it's us. He won’t mind. He and his wife, Celia, dined with me last week and I gave him a sizeable cheque for the hospital so it should be alright.”

  “Oh, Mother! You are incorrigible.”

  “I know … but we have more important things on our minds now. The birth of the Canleigh twins. Oh, Charles, I am so looking forward to this. I am going to spoil these two terribly. I do hope they are a boy and a girl. Naturally with the boy being born first … and I do hope they grow up to be just like you.”

  Charles gave his mother a quick glance. “Like you,” she had said. Not like Margaret. He was fully aware of how she felt about his wife. The two women had never been comfortable together, not since the day he brought his stunningly beautiful dark-haired fiancé, accompanied by her frosty Aunt Sarah, home to Canleigh for a visit.

  Charles had felt so sorry for Margaret and often wondered after their marriage if pity had something to do with him falling madly in love with her when she told him of the few tumultuous years she endured before she met him. Her father, a captain in the army, had died in a Japanese prisoner of war camp. Her mother, Caroline, having endured years of waiting to hear news of her husband, turned to drink to dull her pain once they received the dreadful information he was dead. Then, when Margaret was fifteen, her mother could bear no more of the grief that consumed her and swallowed all the sleeping tablets her doctor had given her, washed down with a bottle of gin. Margaret had been taken in by Caroline’s brother, Viscount Arthur Fitzpatrick and his wife, Aunt Sarah, to live in their splendid Georgian mansion in Kensington, along with their two daughters, Elizabeth and Beatrice.