“Um. Yes, Aunty Delia. I suppose they do,” he said, clambering into his child car seat at the rear of Ruth’s Audi. “Bye then. Thank you so much for a lovely party,” he said in the most grown up voice he could muster.
“Yes, thank you, Delia. It was a lovely party,” murmured Ruth, avoiding Delia’s eyes. She checked Stephen’s belt was fastened and slid quickly into the driver’s side and started the car. There was a nasty knot of fear in the centre of her stomach and her mouth was dry.
The car moved off, Stephen, pulling a silly face and waving madly at Lucy as they turned the corner for the drive up to the Hall.
“Well, Miss … I think it’s time you went to bed,” said Delia, looking at Lucy who was yawning widely. “It’s been a very busy, exciting day for you and I think you have had enough. I know I have,” she muttered under her breath.
It was well past seven o’clock before Lucy was bathed and fast asleep in bed and Delia was alone with her thoughts. She went downstairs, poured a large brandy from the decanter in the drawing room and downed it in one. She poured another and took it through to the sitting room and stood by the French windows which were open. It was a perfect summer evening. The garden was alive. The birds were still singing merrily, pretty butterflies flittered daintily around the abundance of blossoming plants and shrubs her grandmother had planted many years ago and the bees buzzed busily around their favourite purple buddleia bush in the corner.
It was a calm and beautiful scene and she walked around the lawns, trying to allow it to soothe her, forcing down the anger suppressed for the last couple of hours but which was now threatening to boil over into absolute rage. She downed the second brandy and hurled the glass at the house where it shattered into tiny pieces. The tears poured down her cheeks, washing away the make-up she had carefully applied earlier in the day. She flung herself onto one of the recliners, sobbing pitifully, glad that Lucy was fast asleep and wouldn’t be able to hear her.
Any kindly thoughts Delia might have had concerning Ruth disappeared in a flash. What a cow. Keeping it a secret. Delia had guessed Ruth had someone in tow but had no idea who until now. She remembered seeing Ruth for a split second on that first visit to Canleigh when she had asked Ruth for the Dower House, stepping out of a car with a man in it but the sun was blaring and obscured Delia’s view of who it was and what kind of car it was. But, of course … it had been Philip all along. They must have been seeing each other in the afternoons when she was out riding. Christ, Delia was so angry!! Ruth had everything. Canleigh and now Philip. Everything that was rightfully hers. All her old passions flew to the surface. Before it had been Richard standing in her way. Now it was that mealy-mouthed blonde bitch and her spawn. Delia forgot how she liked Stephen. At that moment she hated him as much as his mother … but there was nothing she could do about Canleigh. She daren’t kill another heir. She was here on the estate and that would have to suffice but Philip was another matter entirely. There was no way Ruth was going to have him. Not in a million years. Delia would fight for him and she didn’t care what it took. He was going to be hers.
Following a day or so of brooding, with the anger slowly subsiding, she decided it was silly being so upset about a child’s remark. Children always thought there was more to a relationship than there really was and it was easy to label someone as a boyfriend. Apart from that first flash of a man with Ruth, she hadn’t seen anything to give the impression Ruth and Philip were seeing each other. No. Philip was still grieving and wasn’t seeing anyone else. She was sure of it. She had to forget Lucy’s comment and return to a patient wait for Philip to turn back to her once he felt ready for another relationship.
Then a casual statement from Ruth about repairs to some of the estate cottages side-tracked her completely, re-alerting her to the possibility that Louis was not as loyal as he should have been.
Delia was at the Hall, dropping Lucy off for the afternoon when Ruth came down the front steps to get into her car.
“Hello, Delia … hello, Lucy,” she smiled cautiously. Since Stephen’s remark about the photograph of Philip beside Delia’s bed, Ruth was having grave misgivings about allowing Delia to come back to the estate and every day she heard Charles’s voice warning her not to. Had she been a complete fool to allow it? Was Delia still pining for Philip? Ruth hadn’t said a word to him but watched and listened carefully to see if it was true. Delia was spending a considerable amount of time at Tangles, helping with the riding lessons for the children on the mornings they rode and then riding Demon in the afternoons. It niggled at her. She thought about asking Delia outright but baulked at the very idea. They got on reasonably well now, thanks to the children, but there was always a slight tension in the air and Ruth knew that to question Delia about any designs she had on Philip would be tantamount to starting World War III. She decided, finally, that as there were no concrete signs of anything between Philip and Delia, she should force it to the back of her mind and carry
