The Runaway Women in London

by Lesley Eames

Mrs Arleigh sneered. ‘You have an exaggerated sense of your own cleverness, Lavenham.’

  Unjust! There wasn’t a vain bone in Grace’s body.

  ‘The necklace was in my jewellery box when I dressed for luncheon. That was long after the children had been collected by their grandparents.’

  ‘Madam has two pearl necklaces,’ Grace said. ‘It would be easy to—’

  ‘I know what I saw.’

  Jenny sent Grace a helpless shrug to signify that she hadn’t noticed the necklace at lunchtime, but Mrs Arleigh could well have seen it then, because Victor Rabley must have taken it not long ago. In fact, unless he’d been hiding in the shrubbery until he thought the coast was clear, he’d almost been caught in the act.

  ‘The necklace has been stolen,’ Mrs Arleigh concluded. ‘I’m giving the thief a chance to step forward to save her friends if not herself.’

  No, no, no! Mrs Arleigh couldn’t think one of them had taken it? Ruth wanted to cry out that she was wrong, but Victor Rabley’s warning echoed in her head. ‘If you tell a single soul you saw me…’

  ‘Are you accusing all the staff or just us?’ Lydia enquired, and Ruth groaned.

  Not only had Lydia spoken without permission, her voice had dripped ice. Lydia was an excellent mimic and could match any high-born lady for haughty disdain but it was the last thing that would help her now.

  Mrs Arleigh’s nostrils flared.

  ‘Have a care,’ Grace cautioned softly, but Lydia’s rebelliousness was boiling over.

  ‘What about Mrs Preece?’ Lydia demanded. ‘Have you considered she might be your thief? She’s getting on in years. She might see the necklace as a nice addition to her pension.’

  ‘That’s a wicked suggestion, Lydia Grey!’ the housekeeper protested.

  ‘I’m aware of that, Mrs Preece,’ Mrs Arleigh said, and Lydia laughed contemptuously.

  ‘It’s wicked to accuse her but not us?’

  ‘Enough of your insolence, Grey.’

  ‘My insolence? I’m not the one who’s—’

  ‘Enough!’ Mrs Arleigh barked.’

  Grace finally shut Lydia up by nudging her sharply in the ribs, but Lydia had surely gone too far now. Mrs Arleigh would never tolerate being addressed this way by a servant.

  ‘May I enquire why you think one of us might have taken the necklace, Madam?’ Grace asked.

  Mrs Arleigh sighed contemptuously. ‘Who else could have taken it?’

  Lydia waded in again. She must have realised her time at Arleigh Court was over and decided to give as good as she got. ‘Well, let’s see. There’s the housekeeper, the cook, the chauffeur, the gardener—’

  ‘All of whom have been in my service for many years,’ Mrs Arleigh interrupted. ‘I suppose you’ll be accusing Miss Julia next, Grey?’

  ‘Lydia isn’t accusing anyone.’ Grace’s voice was conciliatory. ‘We’re just trying to understand what might have happened.’

  ‘It’s simple, Lavenham. The necklace has been stolen.’

  ‘If that’s the case, an intruder could have taken it,’ Grace pointed out, still trying to be reasonable.

  Ruth’s hopes rose. Surely Mrs Arleigh would—

  ‘An intruder would have taken all the jewellery,’ Mrs Arleigh said. ‘By taking a single necklace, you must have hoped some time would pass before its absence was noticed so there would be less certainty about when it was taken and by whom.’

  But they hadn’t. Victor Rabley had. It might have been the very cleverness of the theft that had appealed to him. The excitement of it too. Maybe he’d done this sort of thing before and found it amusing to delay the discovery of a theft, not just so no one would remember seeing him nearby but also because some owners might wonder if their items had merely been mislaid. Maybe it was a game to him, an entertaining sport.

  ‘Fortunately, the absence was noted quickly, so the finger of blame can be pointed firmly,’ Mrs Arleigh concluded. ‘Is one of you going to step forward or not?’

  ‘We’re not thieves,’ Grace said, gently, but Mrs Arleigh merely sniffed as though she’d expected an unsatisfactory answer all along.

  ‘Very well. Have their rooms searched, Mrs Preece.’

  ‘That witch isn’t going through my things,’ Lydia protested.

  Mrs Arleigh’s mouth curved with satisfaction as the doorbell rang. ‘It won’t be Mrs Preece going through your things. It will be the police.’

  The housekeeper left the room to let the police in and the hands on the fireplace clock passed through twenty long, tortuous minutes before she returned, shaking her head in disappointment.

  ‘You found nothing because there was nothing to be found.’ Lydia was triumphant.

  Mrs Arleigh took a different view. ‘The necklace must already have been removed from the premises.’

  ‘Not by us, Madam. We’ve been here all day,’ Grace reasoned. ‘Except for Ruth, and she left before the necklace went missing.’

  ‘She could still have been involved,’ Mrs Arleigh countered. ‘She could have been out arranging for the necklace to be sold.’

  Ruth’s denial burst out in a cry. ‘My errand was nothing like that! I was—’ The last thing she’d wanted was to disclose her news like this but what choice did she have? ‘I was seeing a solicitor.’

  She was aware of Lydia, Grace and Jenny turning towards her in amazement. Ruth wasn’t secretive by nature, but the solicitor had been vague when he’d asked to see her and she hadn’t wanted a fuss made over something that might amount to nothing much. When his news had proven to be astonishing, the only reason she hadn’t rushed back to share it with her friends was because she feared it might alter things between them. She’d even considered keeping it secret. Ruth’s friendship with all of them was at the centre of her life. Thanks to them she’d begun to feel liked and wanted over the three years they’d worked together. She couldn’t – absolutely couldn’t – bear for that to change.

  ‘Go on,’ Mrs Arleigh instructed.

  Ruth swallowed. ‘I didn’t need to steal your necklace because I’ve come into some money from an aunt. Quite a lot of money. Almost fifteen hundred pounds.’

  If Lydia, Grace and Jenny had been amazed before, they were thunderstruck now. Fifteen hundred pounds was a fortune. By their standards anyway.

  It was of small account to Mrs Arleigh. ‘You could have conspired in the theft before you knew of this money. Or you might have thought it would be a pleasant thing for your friends to have a little money too.’ Mrs Arleigh drew herself up. ‘As the guilty party is too cowardly to confess, I find myself with no choice but to dismiss all of you. Tomorrow morning you will leave, and before you ask, Lavenham—’

  Grace had opened her mouth to speak.

  ‘There will be no references for any of you,’ Mrs Arleigh concluded.

  Distress cascaded off Grace and Jenny in invisible waves. Lydia was angry, of course. ‘Who are you going to get to replace us?’ she asked. ‘Mrs Preece’s nieces, by any chance? She’s been trying to get them positions here ever since the youngest grew old enough to work.’

  ‘I resent that implication,’ Mrs Preece cried.

  Mrs Arleigh raised a silencing hand. ‘My domestic arrangements are no longer your concern, Grey.’

  ‘That’s a relief,’ Lydia said, ‘because I’m sick and tired of—’

  ‘Lydia, enough,’ Grace cautioned. Lydia’s father was employed by Akerman’s Ales and it wouldn’t do for him to lose his job too.

  Lydia contented herself with one last shot. ‘I’d like to say it’s been a pleasure working for you, but that would make me a liar. And I’m no more a liar than I am a thief.’ With that she turned and walked out.

  ‘We expect our names to be cleared soon, Madam,’ Grace said, with quiet dignity. ‘Until then, we bid you good day.’

  She too left the room with Jenny on her heels. Ruth hesitated, wishing she had the courage to speak up and put things right. But Victor Rabley’s consequences wouldn’t just hurt her
. They’d hurt others too. With a whimper of frustration, she hastened after her friends.

  No one spoke until they reached Ruth and Grace’s room where half-open drawers gave mute testimony to the police search.

  ‘What a witch Mrs Arleigh is,’ Lydia said, ‘but it’s my fault you’ve all been fired. I’m sorry.’

  ‘Nonsense.’ Grace was pale, but her tone was bracing. ‘Mrs Arleigh had condemned us long before she saw us.’

  ‘You really believe that?’ Lydia asked.

  ‘We all saw Mrs Preece blush when you mentioned her nieces. I can’t imagine she had anything to do with the necklace, but I don’t doubt she saw her chance to reassure Mrs Arleigh there’d be little inconvenience if she fired us because she knew the very people to take our places. I expect Ivy, Iris and Ida are sitting at home with their bags already packed.’

  ‘So all that talk of stepping forward to save our friends was meaningless?’ Jenny said.

  ‘Utterly. She knew no one would step forward, but now she can tell Doctor Arleigh she acted fairly.’

  ‘I still wouldn’t put it past Preece to have taken the necklace,’ Lydia said.

  ‘Sadly we can’t prove it,’ Grace answered. ‘Just as we can’t prove our innocence.’

  Ruth could prove it. Well, no, not prove it exactly. The more she thought about it, the more she doubted Mrs Arleigh would have believed a word she said about seeing Victor Rabley. But Ruth still felt like a traitor for not even trying to defend her friends.

  She felt even worse when Grace reached out and squeezed her hand. ‘Congratulations on your inheritance, Ruth.’

  ‘Even if you have been a dark horse about it,’ Lydia chided.

  ‘A dark horse indeed,’ Jenny agreed, but her voice was sincere when she said, ‘We’re thrilled for you.’

  They expected Ruth to be delighted too but she’d never felt more wretched. Not all the money in the world could make up for the fact that they’d lost their jobs, Ruth included, as she’d had no intention of giving up working with her friends. Everything they shared together – the chatter and laughter, the warmth and kindness – would no longer be possible once they left Arleigh Court and scattered.

  But at least Ruth now had the money to support herself. Without jobs, without references, how would the others manage? Maybe Ruth could find a way to help them financially if they found themselves struggling. They were proud girls, so she’d need to give careful thought to how it might be done. But Ruth wanted to help them and perhaps money could go just a little way towards compensating them for her treacherous silence.

  ‘Were you close to your aunt?’ Grace asked. ‘You’ve never mentioned her.’

  ‘I wasn’t close to her at all. It’s complicated, actually.’ Sighing, Ruth explained the terms of Aunt Vera’s Will.

  Lydia laughed, of course.

  ‘The terms aren’t your fault,’ Grace reasoned, and Jenny agreed.

  But reason would make little difference to Ruth’s mother.

  ‘You’re twenty-one now,’ Lydia reminded her. ‘No one can control you or your money.’

  Perhaps not. In theory. Ruth had turned twenty-one two weeks ago which made her the same age as Grace and Jenny, and only a year younger than Lydia. But in reality, she was nowhere near as assured as them and felt weak with apprehension at the thought of the forthcoming encounter with her mother. With the rest of her family too.

  The four friends lapsed into silence. They all had reasons for needing to work. And they all had reasons for dreading going home and explaining what had happened. It was going to be awful.

  Two

  As dawn approached, Lydia could make out the crack in the ceiling plaster that zigzagged like lightning over her bed. Lydia liked lightning. Thunder too. Storms matched her approach to life. It was far better to rage than to give in to the weakness of tears. Lydia despised tears.

  ‘Are you awake?’ Jenny asked, from the neighbouring bed.

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘What are you thinking about?’

  ‘Cigarettes. I’d love a cigarette.’

  ‘Can’t help, I’m afraid.’ Jenny got up and padded barefoot to the window. ‘It’s raining again.’

  ‘It would be.’

  Jenny left for the staff bathroom Doctor Arleigh had arranged to be installed, against the wishes of his wife until she’d realised she could boast of being a caring employer to her friends. The hypocrite.

  ‘Grace and Ruth are up,’ Jenny reported on her return. ‘I don’t think any of us slept well.’

  Lydia took her turn in the bathroom, then looked in on the others. Poor Ruth’s little face was pinched with strain. Grace was pale too, though as dignified as ever. They were stripping their beds. ‘You should leave that to Preece and her nieces,’ Lydia said.

  ‘Personal pride,’ Grace explained.

  ‘Humph.’ Lydia had no intention of stripping her bed, but she returned to her room to find Jenny had done it for her.

  Jenny had a visitor too: Julia Arleigh, wrapped in the sort of froth that passed as a dressing gown in fashionable circles. ‘I know you didn’t take the necklace,’ Julia was saying, but if she cared so much, why wasn’t she protesting Jenny’s innocence to her mother? ‘Cook sent bread and cheese.’ Julia passed Jenny a basket. ‘And this is from me. Only ten shillings, but it’s all the cash I’ve got.’

  ‘I can’t take your money,’ Jenny protested.

  ‘You must.’ Julia pressed it into Jenny’s hand. ‘Good luck.’

  Turning, Julia noticed Lydia and looked wary. People often looked wary when they saw Lydia.

  With a small nod, Julia sidled past and fled.

  ‘It was kind of her to help,’ Jenny said.

  She called Grace and Ruth in to share the meal, though no one had much of an appetite.

  ‘I’ve been thinking about how we might explain our lack of references,’ Grace said.

  They all turned to her eagerly, even Ruth who needed to get away from her mother despite her money.

  ‘Mrs Arleigh has complained to so many tradesmen in Ruston and Northampton that she can’t be well liked,’ Grace continued. ‘If we hint at tensions and misunderstandings during our time with her, they may see her refusal to give references as typical spite.’

  ‘We don’t admit to being dismissed?’ Ruth asked.

  ‘We just say the situation became uncomfortable.’

  ‘We don’t mention the necklace either?’ Jenny wondered.

  ‘Definitely not. No one will employ us if they think we might be dishonest. We should tell our families to keep quiet about the necklace too.’

  ‘Will Mrs Arleigh keep quiet about it, though?’ Jenny questioned.

  ‘She won’t want people thinking we got the better of her. Besides, unsubstantiated allegations are slanderous.’

  Grace’s advice was sound and might well help the others into work but Lydia was a misfit. She’d struggle to find a job even with a reference. Without one…

  *

  Mrs Preece was waiting to see them off the premises when they descended the back stairs.

  ‘You can move Ivy, Ida and Iris in now,’ Lydia taunted, and had the satisfaction of seeing the housekeeper redden. ‘You can put the necklace back too, though I’d leave it a few weeks if I were you. Less suspicious.’

  ‘You’re a vicious slanderer, Lydia Grey.’

  ‘What time will your nieces be arriving, Mrs Preece?’ Cook asked, sending Lydia a wink. ‘Madam won’t be happy if standards drop.’

  Lydia laughed as Mrs Preece flushed even redder.

  But the moment had come to leave. Filing outside, the four young women hunched their shoulders against the rain. They were soaked by the time they reached the bus stop.

  ‘I’m going to walk home,’ Grace said.

  A mile in driving rain would be unpleasant, but bus rides cost money. ‘I’ll walk too,’ Lydia said.

  ‘No one needs to walk,’ Jenny reasoned. ‘Miss Julia gave us ten shillings.’
/>   ‘She gave you ten shillings,’ Grace corrected.

  Ruth looked embarrassed. ‘I’d pay for all of us, but I haven’t received my inheritance yet.’

  ‘Let’s all walk,’ Jenny said.

  They trudged along in silence until they reached the Green Dragon pub. Here Lydia had to turn down Green Dragon Road to reach home.

  ‘We should keep in touch,’ Grace said. ‘All of us.’

  ‘We were planning to go to the fete tomorrow,’ Ruth reminded her. ‘We could still go. We needn’t spend any money.’

  ‘Let’s meet there at twelve, rain or shine,’ Grace suggested.

  Ruth and Jenny agreed eagerly. Lydia only shrugged. They’d want to talk about how they were feeling, but Lydia wasn’t good at that. She wasn’t good at hugging either, but Grace, Ruth and Jenny insisted on hugging her now. ‘Must you?’ Lydia moaned.

  Then she set off along Green Dragon Road and, despite the hollow opening up inside her, she didn’t look back because that would have been weak.

  Meadow Cottages didn’t live up to the pastoral idyll of their name. They comprised a single row of grim terraced houses with the Greys’ house being the grimmest. Peeling brown paint on windows and door, dingy curtains, cracked, weed-ridden paving stones making up the tiny front garden… Lydia couldn’t remember it ever being different. What a contrast to the hushed elegance of Arleigh Court!

  The gate was off its hinges, so Lydia simply stepped through the gap to walk through the alley to the back door to let herself in as her father would be at work. The kitchen felt chilly as she entered, but it had never exactly glowed with life and love.

  Hanging her coat up, Lydia took a cup into the parlour and poured a measure of whisky from the bottle her father kept on the table he used as a desk. A packet of Woodbines and a box of matches were on the desk too. Lydia lit a cigarette, then sat in a worn brown armchair to smoke it.

  The wallpaper was the same pattern of tired pink roses on a cream background she’d always known, though time and smoke had stained it to the colour of old tea. The brown linoleum floor covering was equally stained. Everything around the fireplace bore the grey dust of ash, while the brass coal scuttle was black with soot. So too was the poker.