The Silver Ladies of London Read online

  THE SILVER LADIES OF LONDON

  Lesley Eames

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  About this Book

  About the Author

  Table of Contents

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  About The Silver Ladies of London

  1920’s London. Featuring four attractive heroines, a scandal, a secret and a silver Rolls Royce. This is a heart-warming story of friendship, loyalty, courage and love. Perfect for the fans of Elaine Everest and Daisy Styles.

  Dismissed without references when their employer’s valuable necklace goes missing, friends Ruth, Lydia, Jenny and Grace try to rebuild their lives far from home in London.

  A surprise financial inheritance and gift of a beautiful silver Rolls Royce leads them to set up in business as female chauffeurs and the Silver Ladies XX is born.

  But driving is a man’s world and the girls face a future fraught with constant challenges.

  Soon their business; romances and even their friendship come under threat.

  Can the Silver Ladies overcome their struggles and find love, success and happiness?

  Contents

  Welcome Page

  About The Silver Ladies of London

  Dedication

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-one

  Chapter Twenty-two

  Chapter Twenty-three

  Chapter Twenty-four

  Chapter Twenty-five

  Chapter Twenty-six

  Chapter Twenty-seven

  Chapter Twenty-eight

  Chapter Twenty-nine

  Chapter Thirty

  Chapter Thirty-one

  Chapter Thirty-two

  Chapter Thirty-three

  Chapter Thirty-four

  Chapter Thirty-five

  Chapter Thirty-six

  Chapter Thirty-seven

  Chapter Thirty-eight

  Chapter Thirty-nine

  Chapter Forty

  Chapter Forty-one

  Chapter Forty-two

  Chapter Forty-three

  Chapter Forty-four

  Chapter Forty-five

  Chapter Forty-six

  Chapter Forty-seven

  Chapter Forty-eight

  Chapter Forty-nine

  Chapter Fifty

  Chapter Fifty-one

  Chapter Fifty-two

  Chapter Fifty-three

  Acknowledgements

  About Lesley Eames

  Become an Aria Addict

  Copyright

  To my precious daughters, Olivia and Isobel, the lights of my life.

  One

  Northamptonshire, June 1923

  Ruth had sat by the window on the bus ride back from Northampton, but it was only when she got off in Ruston that she realised it was raining heavily, the grey clouds robbing the evening of light, though it wasn’t long past midsummer. With her head reeling from Mr Bridge’s astounding news, she’d had no attention to spare for trivialities like the weather.

  That news had given her the power to change her life. If change was what she wanted.

  Ruth had wandered the streets of Northampton in a daze after leaving his office, but two hours of walking followed by forty-five minutes spent sitting on a bus hadn’t been nearly long enough for her to absorb what she’d learned, let alone come to any conclusions. This awful rain wasn’t likely to clear her mind either, so she dug in her bag for her umbrella and hastened towards Arleigh Court where she worked.

  With luck, she’d be able to slip inside unnoticed and find a place to be alone for a while to make sense of all that had happened. To decide what to do about it too. What to say. What not to say…

  Despite her umbrella, Ruth was soaked by the time the substantial red-brick Victorian house came into view. She passed through the gateposts in relief, only to cry out in alarm as a man burst through the shrubbery to her right.

  She jumped away instinctively, cowering behind her umbrella in that first moment of shock before moving it aside so she could see who he was and what he was doing. Tall and young judging from the trim figure and springing step, he was already walking away, but then he turned his head and looked back at her. Between a hat pulled low and a collar pulled high, only his eyes were visible, but what hard, angry, blazing eyes they were.

  The next moment he’d gone, leaving a chill in his wake that made Ruth shiver. Leaving a vague sense of familiarity too, though Ruston was a small town so most people were familiar to some degree. Was he romantically involved with Miss Julia and meeting her in secret because her mother disapproved of him? Mrs Arleigh was a proud, controlling woman whom Ruth couldn’t like, but perhaps she was justified in disapproving of this man. The expression in his eyes had been downright unpleasant.

  Grimacing at the memory of them, Ruth turned and walked on through the garden, her thoughts returning to her own dilemmas. The scullery should be empty now. She could—

  Ruth gasped as an arm came from behind her to circle her neck and pull her back against a much taller body than hers.

  ‘You didn’t see me,’ a voice hissed in her ear. ‘Do you understand?’

  Terror kept her silent, so he shook her impatiently.

  ‘Do you understand?’ The voice was harsher now.

  ‘Yes!’ Ruth shrieked.

  ‘If you tell a single soul you saw me, there’ll be consequences.’

  With that, he drew his arm away and sent her staggering forwards with a hard push to the middle of her back. By the time she’d regained her balance he’d gone. Ruth’s heart was beating in fright. She’d never been attacked before. Who was that man? Again, Ruth felt a nudge of familiarity but those eyes, that voice, that trim build and even the way he walked were like pieces of a jigsaw puzzle she was in too much of a jangle to put into order. And what had he meant by consequences? An idle threat or should Ruth actually be afraid he might harm her?

  Anxious to be indoors now, she ran to the back door used by all the servants, but came to a sudden halt outside it. More than ever she needed to get inside unnoticed and give herself time to calm down and think.

  She eased the door open carefully. Thankfully, the passage was empty and she could hear neither voices nor movements. Turning, she shook the worst of the rainwater from her umbrella, then stepped inside, closing the door softly and wiping her feet on the doormat to avoid leaving a trail of wet footprints that would not only signal her return to anyone who saw them but incur the housekeeper’s wrath too.

  The scullery was just ahead of her. With luck, she’d—

  Luck wasn’t on her side. Mrs Preece bustled into the passage through the door that led to the family’s part of the house. Seeing Ruth, she skewered her with a glare. ‘Don’t make puddles on my clean floors, Ruth Turner.’

  For a moment Ruth felt paralysed. Turned into stone. But she finally found her voice. ‘No, Mrs Preece.’

  Not that the housekeeper would be inconvenienced if the floors did get wet as it was Ruth who’d have to mop them.

  ‘And shake that umbrella outside.’

  ‘I’ve already…’ No. It was wiser to obey than be accused of insolence.

  Ruth shook
her umbrella again, then stifled a groan of dismay as she saw a very tall, very slender figure running over from the carriage house where the Arleighs kept their car.

  It was Lydia, in filthy men’s overalls with a duster round her head. If Mrs Preece spotted her, she’d know Lydia had been tinkering with the car again and waste no time in reporting her.

  Mrs Preece disliked all of them – Ruth, Lydia, Jenny and Grace – telling them often that none of them could hold a candle to her three nieces. But it was Lydia she disliked most of all. Unsurprisingly. Grace and Jenny regarded the housekeeper as a nuisance they had to tolerate, while Ruth wouldn’t say boo to a goose, but Lydia never hid the fact that the dislike was mutual. She had a way of staring at Mrs Preece through cool grey eyes that brought a hot and bothered look to the older woman’s face. Lydia was a terrible housemaid too and would have been dismissed long ago if Ruth, Jenny and Grace hadn’t covered up for her.

  How could Ruth save Lydia now?

  ‘Terrible night, isn’t it, Mrs Preece?’ she yelled.

  Catching on to the warning, Lydia stopped running and sent Ruth a conspiratorial grin before creeping forward to flatten herself against the wall out of sight.

  ‘I didn’t mean you should leave that door open all night,’ Mrs Preece complained.

  Ruth closed it. ‘May I leave my umbrella in the hearth to dry?’ She was already moving into the kitchen, squeezing a final few drips from her umbrella to lure Mrs Preece in after her.

  ‘You’re making a mess, Turner!’

  ‘Am I?’ Ruth looked round, pretending to be surprised, and was relieved to see Lydia glide down the passage towards the back stairs. ‘I’ll fetch the mop.’

  Ruth brought it from the scullery, wondering if she might still manage a few minutes alone as Lydia would assume Mrs Preece had detained her if she didn’t go upstairs immediately. Questions were bound to be asked about Ruth’s day and she needed to be ready with answers if she was to avoid blurting out something she might later regret. She wiped the floor and headed back to the scullery.

  ‘Not so fast,’ Mrs Preece said. ‘Madam wants to see you.’

  Ruth stopped in her tracks, then turned, wondering if she was to be questioned about the man she’d seen. But it wasn’t a chance encounter on the drive that had put that look of gleeful malice on the housekeeper’s face. Ruth was in trouble for something. ‘Do you know why she wants to see me?’

  ‘That’s for Madam to explain. She wants to see all of you. Grey, Mallory, Lavenham and you. Immediately. Best not keep her waiting.’

  Worried now, Ruth fled the kitchen, dumped the mop and rushed up to the attic passage where Lydia was waiting.

  Predictably, Lydia laughed. ‘That was close.’

  ‘Hush!’ It would be just like the housekeeper to eavesdrop from the bottom of the stairs.

  Ruth shooed Lydia along the passage to the rooms they shared: Ruth with Grace, and Lydia with Jenny. They found Grace and Jenny together, Grace reading and Jenny sitting on Ruth’s bed trimming a cream cloche hat with blue ribbon.

  There was no time now for Ruth to share her news even if she could work out what to say. No time to mention the man who’d threatened her either. ‘Mrs Arleigh wants to see us,’ Ruth explained. ‘She wants to see all of us.’

  Grace sharpened to attention. ‘Do you know why? Goodness, you’re wet through, Ruth. You need to change into something dry.’

  ‘Mrs Preece didn’t say.’ Ruth surrendered her coat to Grace who’d got up to help her.

  ‘Bound to be trouble,’ Lydia predicted, but Jenny was more optimistic.

  ‘Maybe Lady Maude left a tip for us.’

  ‘That dried-up old prune?’ Lydia scoffed.

  ‘We’ve had worse house guests,’ Jenny pointed out, ‘and she was pleased with my repair to her lace collar.’

  ‘She actually said so?’

  ‘No, but I’m sure her mouth twitched.’

  Could Jenny be right? It would be typical of Mrs Preece to set them worrying over nothing. Ruth felt a faint glimmer of hope.

  Jenny began to put her sewing away. ‘Did you get everything you wanted in Northampton, Ruth?’

  Everything she…? Of course. Shopping was the excuse Ruth had given for going out.

  She was saved from having to answer because Lydia suddenly launched herself face down onto Ruth’s bed, sending Jenny’s sewing bag flying.

  ‘Careful!’ Jenny protested.

  ‘What? Oh, sorry,’ Lydia said.

  Sitting up, she pulled the duster from her head and instantly her glossy black hair fell into a perfect bob that curved under her chin and showed her long, slender neck. With her cool grey eyes and rebel’s mouth, Lydia was strikingly beautiful, though she’d laughed when Ruth had mentioned it. ‘Beautiful? Me? I’m all elbows and knees, and about as graceful as a rhinoceros. Jenny’s the beauty.’

  Jenny was lovely in a different way, being a fairy tale princess with gleaming fair hair, wide blue eyes and a small straight nose set between curving cheeks. She dressed exquisitely too, having a magician’s touch with a needle and thread that could make the cheapest garment look expensive.

  Grace wasn’t without her share of attractions either. Her pale colouring and neat figure might not catch the attention quite so quickly, but you only had to see the cleverness blazing in her eyes to know she was a special sort of person.

  Ruth was the plain one amongst them, being short with unfashionable curves and an overlarge nose. The others might say her dark eyes were lovely, her skin fresh and her shapely figure as delicate as a fairy’s, but they were simply being kind.

  The only claim to beauty Ruth acknowledged was her hair, which reached to her waist in chestnut waves, but even that was out of fashion now short hair was the vogue. Ruth knew she looked ridiculously young with a braid down her back, but with it she was a plain girl with beautiful hair. Once her hair was cut, she’d simply be plain.

  ‘Lydia, you need to change too,’ Grace said. Lydia got up reluctantly and Grace shepherded her to her own room. ‘Yes, I’m sure Mrs Arleigh will notice if you’re not wearing stockings. There’s grease under your fingernails again…’

  Ruth fastened the clean skirt she’d put on and tidied her hair. Jenny could be right, she chanted silently, only to realise Mrs Arleigh wouldn’t waste a moment of her time distributing tips to them. She was as spiteful as Mrs Preece, but while the housekeeper’s spite was shrill and open, Mrs Arleigh directed hers from behind an icy wall of snobbery. Ruth could have understood if Mrs Arleigh had been born and bred a lady, but her money came from Akerman’s Ales, a brewery set up by her grandfather.

  ‘Perhaps that’s the problem,’ Grace had suggested one day. ‘Perhaps she resents her humble beginnings and snobbery is her way of compensating for them.’

  Whatever the cause of her unpleasantness, Mrs Arleigh appeared unable to bear the thought of anyone else getting ideas above what she considered to be their station in life; far, far below her on the social scale. Why else would she glare if she saw Jenny – lady’s maid to Mrs Arleigh and Miss Julia – walking out on her day off looking ravishing? And why else would she employ clever Grace to work as secretary to her doctor husband, then insist on her living in the servants’ quarters and helping with household tasks that could easily have done by someone else?

  Mrs Arleigh knew full well that living in was difficult for Grace who still had to rent a modest home in town because she supported a frail grandmother. It was especially difficult considering Mrs Arleigh reduced Grace’s wages to take account of the bed and board she received.

  Ruth’s job was to look after the younger children and help with housework. She worked hard, but Mrs Arleigh still found fault whether fault existed or not. As for housemaid Lydia… they all tried to steer her clear of Mrs Arleigh for fear of Lydia answering back. She might be hopeless at her work but she was their friend and they wanted to keep her with them.

  Grace returned with Lydia in tow. ‘Ready?’ she asked.


  If Ruth had worked out that Mrs Arleigh didn’t want to see them about a tip, so must Grace have done, but, as always, Grace was composed and dignified.

  Downstairs, she knocked on the drawing room door. Movement on the main staircase caught Ruth’s eye and, turning, she saw the housekeeper watching them, her face taut and excited. When Mrs Arleigh bade them enter, Mrs Preece followed them in.

  Lining up with the others, Ruth felt full of foreboding.

  ‘Good evening, Mrs Arleigh,’ Grace said politely. ‘I understand you wish to see us?’

  ‘I regret the necessity for it, but yes.’ Mrs Arleigh was always cold but tonight her tone was Arctic.

  Jenny and Lydia swapped glances. There could be no doubting the gravity of the situation now.

  ‘I have a necklace,’ Mrs Arleigh continued. ‘Pearls with a diamond clasp. It’s valuable. And it’s missing.’

  Missing? Just for a moment Ruth was puzzled, but then understanding swept over her like a flood tide. The man she’d seen hadn’t been Miss Julia’s admirer. He’d been a thief.

  Ruth drew in breath, eager to explain, but at that moment the jigsaw pieces of familiarity finally slotted into place and in her mind’s eye she saw the man clearly. She knew his name too…Victor Rabley. It was astonishing to think of a man in his circumstances resorting to stealing, but Ruth was certain of his identity now.

  She also realised what he must have meant by consequences. Ruth felt dizzy. Rather sick. She needed time to think about this, but time wasn’t slowing down for her convenience.

  ‘May I be permitted to speak, Madam?’ Jenny was asking.

  A curt nod instructed her to proceed.

  ‘The necklace was in your jewellery case this morning. I’m sure it was.’

  ‘It wasn’t missing this morning, Mallory,’ Mrs Arleigh’s tone was irritated.

  ‘May I be permitted to speak too?’ Grace asked, steady despite the stony glare Mrs Arleigh directed at her.

  ‘Very well.’

  ‘Perhaps the children took the necklace when they were playing dressing-up but forgot to return it.’