The Runaway Women in London

by Lesley Eames

  ‘You’re not imagining it.’ Lydia spoke quietly which was unusual for her.

  ‘I’m not?’ Ruth was confused. ‘You love him?’ Why would Lydia let Harry go if she knew she loved him?

  ‘Harry and I aren’t right for each other. It’s as simple as that,’ Lydia said, and now she sounded tired. Worn down. Again, it was unusual for Lydia. ‘We wouldn’t be happy.’

  ‘Harry’s perfect for you.’

  ‘But I’m not perfect for him. He deserves… better.’

  ‘Just because you’re not rich or—’

  ‘It’s nothing to do with money or class or anything like that. It’s to do with me. The sort of person I am.’

  Lydia was strong, brave and loyal. Admirable, in fact. ‘Surely Harry loves you as you are?’

  ‘Yes, but he doesn’t understand how the past can— Please, Ruth. You’ve spoken and I’ve listened. But you won’t change my mind.’

  Ruth went away, more puzzled than before. What did Lydia mean about the past? The past could… What?

  It wasn’t until later that Ruth suddenly understood. Of course. Harry was well-known in racing circles and well-connected in society. If word got out that Lydia’s past included a scandal over a necklace – a necklace she’d been accused of stealing – he’d be caught up in gossip that might damage his reputation and possibly his career. Lydia loved him too much to let that happen.

  Ruth was such a fool. Why hadn’t this occurred to her before? The consequences of her actions that fateful day in Ruston really were rippling outwards with devastating effect.

  Sadly, Ruth couldn’t change the past, but she could influence the future. She knew now what she was going to do about Vic Rabley.

  Up at dawn, she wrote a letter, then went out to post it before cowardice set in. She dropped it into the post-box and swallowed. There was no going back.

  She returned to find Lydia and Jenny stirring.

  ‘I need to talk to you both. I’ve already written to Grace to confess and now I—’

  ‘Confess?’ Lydia swapped puzzled looks with Jenny. ‘Confess what?’

  ‘Sit down and I’ll tell you.’

  Fifty

  Lydia heard Ruth’s story in silence.

  ‘I know you must despise me,’ Ruth finished.

  Her woebegone face cut Lydia to the quick. ‘I don’t despise you.’ She nudged Ruth with her elbow.

  Jenny got up and gave Ruth a hug. ‘Neither do I.’

  Ruth burst into tears. ‘But you must. I despise myself.’

  ‘You’re our friend and we love you,’ Jenny told her. ‘In your shoes I might have done the same. Look at me, protecting my mother from knowing the truth about Jonas.’

  ‘You haven’t betrayed your friends,’ Ruth argued. ‘It’s my fault you lost your jobs and good names.’

  ‘It’s Vic Rabley’s fault,’ Lydia corrected.

  ‘Quite,’ Jenny agreed. ‘Vic stole the necklace. It was just your bad luck that you saw him on the Arleighs’ drive.’

  ‘I’d never have covered up for him to save my own skin, but to save my family’s…’

  Poor Ruth, living with this on her conscience. No wonder she’d been willing to do almost anything to help them rebuild their lives in London. But why confess now? ‘Has something else happened?’ Lydia asked.

  ‘Vic’s here. In London. He’s been threatening to tell you my silence cost you your jobs unless…’

  ‘Unless what?’ Lydia asked. ‘Unless you give him money?’

  Ruth nodded miserably. ‘I’ve been paying him off for weeks. But I couldn’t see an end to it and I realised I was still causing damage by keeping quiet.’

  ‘You haven’t damaged me,’ Lydia told her. ‘I’ll always be glad I came to London. Who’d have thought it? The worst housemaid ever getting to follow her dreams? Silver Ladies and racing have been wonderful. You made them possible, Ruth.’

  Lydia couldn’t regret Harry either. Loving him while knowing she had to let him go was lacerating, like breathing broken glass. But he’d shown her she was worthy of being loved and capable of feeling love, and that made her a better person than she’d ever thought possible.

  ‘Lydia’s right,’ Jenny agreed. ‘Without you, we’d never have had the satisfaction of working together to start a business and make it successful. Grace will agree.’

  ‘You’re all so kind,’ Ruth said.

  ‘Not kind. Honest,’ Jenny corrected. ‘Anyway, Vic’s threat to tell us what happened is an empty threat now you’ve told us yourself.’

  ‘What an idiot that man is,’ Lydia said. ‘He’s admitted in writing that he took the necklace and included his name and address too. You can take this letter to the police, Ruth. It’s evidence. We’ll come with you if you don’t want to go on your own.’

  ‘Ruth’s worried about her family,’ Jenny guessed.

  ‘That’s the reason I haven’t gone to the police so far,’ Ruth confirmed. ‘I was worried Vic’s father might evict my family out of revenge if I blackened the Rabley name. But I’ve decided to do it anyway. I need to help Grace to clear her name so she can find a job.’

  ‘Even if your family suffers?’ Jenny asked.

  ‘I’m not certain old Mr Rabley will turn them out. Besides, I was wrong to put my family first. All my life I’ve been hearing how my brothers need to keep their money for their futures, but why shouldn’t they help our parents? Grace has no one. She’ll never admit to being desperate, so I’ve written to tell her what I’m going to do.’

  Jenny turned thoughtful. ‘I think you should wait to hear back from Grace before going to the police. Just in case she has any thoughts about the best way forward. Grace is so sensible.’

  ‘She is,’ Ruth agreed, ‘though I’m not going to listen if she tells me to put my family before her.’

  ‘Quite right,’ Lydia said. ‘You need to stop Vic from stirring up trouble in the meantime, Ruth, so why don’t you write back and ask him to meet?’ Lydia said.

  ‘I don’t think Ruth should meet him alone,’ Jenny cautioned.

  ‘We’ll go with her,’ Lydia suggested. ‘Or ask the police to go, depending on what Grace says.’

  ‘I’ll suggest meeting him on Tuesday afternoon as we’ve no bookings then,’ Ruth said. Lydia went down to the garage to wash the car and Ruth appeared a few minutes later.

  ‘All done?’ Lydia asked, assuming Ruth was here to confirm that she’d written.

  ‘Signed, sealed and soon to be delivered,’ Ruth said. ‘So you can marry Harry now.’

  The mention of Harry’s name brought a bittersweet thrill to Lydia. She squeezed her hands into fists to ride out the worst of the agony, but then she wondered what on earth Ruth was talking about.

  ‘I’ll be clearing your name as well as Grace’s so there’s no need to worry about the scandal reflecting badly on him anymore,’ Ruth explained.

  Scandal reflecting…? Oh! How courageous, how darling of Ruth to try to put things right for Lydia, but the scandal of the necklace had nothing to do with her decision to let Harry leave.

  ‘I’m sorry, Ruth, but it changes nothing for Harry and me.’

  ‘I don’t understand.’

  ‘I know. And I’m sorry if that upsets you. But please. I really don’t want to talk about it.’ Even if she’d thought of little else.

  Tuesday morning brought Grace’s reply, which was as forgiving as predicted. ‘She thinks she should speak to Vic’s father before we expose Vic publicly, to see how he’s likely to react. She’ll try to see him soon,’ Ruth said.

  It was typical of Grace to care about Ruth’s parents even though they were horrible. Perhaps she was also thinking about the Rableys. It might not be their fault that Vic was a common thief, but it was their reputation that would be dragged through the mud with Vic’s.

  ‘Why do you think Vic took the necklace?’ Lydia asked. ‘The Rableys are well off, aren’t they?’

  ‘I thought he took it because he treated stealing like
a game or because he was just plain greedy,’ Ruth told her. ‘But I’ve started to wonder if his family might actually have got fed up with giving him money because he wastes it and does nothing to earn it. He’s never had a job as far as I know. It was always old Mr Rabley who dealt with my parents over rents and repairs.’

  ‘We should still see Vic this afternoon,’ Lydia suggested and the others agreed.

  Lydia was glad to have the confrontation with Vic to look forward to, and glad to have a booking to occupy her time in the morning, though not all the activity in the world could stop her from thinking about Harry. She wondered what he was doing. Thinking. Feeling. Her breath threatened to choke her when she considered she might never see him again. But she had to be strong for his sake.

  That afternoon, she sat with Jenny in the far corner of a tea shop while Ruth sat alone near the window. Five minutes passed, then Vic swaggered in and slumped into the chair opposite Ruth. The sight of that arrogant face made Lydia’s hands bunch into fists though she knew she had to bide her time before the right moment came for confrontation.

  ‘I knew you’d see sense, Ruthie,’ he said. ‘Have you ordered tea? No? Waitress!’ He clicked his fingers, though the waitress was busy at another table. ‘Waitress!’

  She hastened over.

  ‘Tea,’ he told her. ‘And currant buns. Don’t scrimp on the butter.’

  The waitress departed and Vic leaned forward.

  ‘You’ve been a naughty girl, Ruthie, so you can pay for our tea. It’s just a small punishment. Nothing to what you’ll get if you cross me again. Is that understood?’

  Ruth’s hand lay on the table. He squeezed it. Harder and harder, until she whimpered. Lydia would have jumped up there and then had Jenny not laid a restraining hand on her arm.

  ‘I said is that understood?’ Vic repeated.

  ‘Yes!’ Ruth cried.

  ‘Good. Now, you owe me some money.’ He made beckoning movements with his fingers.

  ‘I’m not giving you money,’ Ruth told him.

  His ferrety eyes hardened. ‘Look, you little bitch. Give me money or else I’ll—’

  ‘What, Mr Rabley?’ Lydia’s moment was here at last. Walking over, she sat down beside him.

  Jenny sat on his other side and he gaped in surprise.

  ‘You were saying?’ Lydia reminded him.

  ‘I wasn’t saying anything.’ His face turned red, clashing horribly with his hair.

  ‘I distinctly heard the words “or else”. Didn’t you, Jenny?’

  ‘Distinctly,’ Jenny confirmed.

  ‘You thought you had a hold over Ruth because you imagined she’d never risk our friendship by telling us what happened,’ Lydia continued. ‘You were wrong. Ruth did tell us. So that particular threat is empty.’

  ‘I don’t know what you’re talking about.’

  ‘Then let me explain. Blackmail.’

  He attempted a disbelieving laugh but couldn’t pull it off. ‘That’s ridiculous. Anyway, you’ve no proof.’

  ‘Haven’t we?’

  ‘Do you think the word of a bunch of servants will count for more than the word of the son of a landowner and magistrate?’ he sneered.

  ‘You’re not a very clever blackmailer, Victor. Not when you put your threats in writing.’

  ‘Eh?’

  Lydia took out a copy of the letter he’d sent to Ruth and read from it. No one will believe I took the Arleighs’ necklace…

  His face turned white and he tried to snatch the note from Lydia’s fingers.

  Lydia held it fast. ‘This is just a copy. The original is in a safe place, Victor. It may be going to the police.’

  ‘Aren’t you forgetting something? You make accusations against me and my father will throw the Turners out on the street.’

  ‘He can throw the Turners out on the street, but will he? I expect you’re a severe trial to your father. It wouldn’t surprise me at all if he washed his hands of you. We’ll soon know. Our friend will be talking to him any minute now.’

  Vic swore and got up, pushing his chair back so hard it fell to the floor. Leaning forward, he stabbed a finger an inch from Ruth’s face. ‘You’ll regret this, bitch. I’ll make sure you regret it.’ He stood upright. ‘Damn all of you.’

  With that he stormed out of the tea shop, narrowly missing the astonished waitress who was carrying the tea and buns he’d ordered.

  ‘We’ll take those,’ Lydia told her, calmly picking up the chair.

  Ruth was trembling.

  ‘Well done for standing up to him,’ Lydia said.

  ‘You stood up to him for me. Do you think he was serious about making me regret it?’

  ‘Lots of people make threats when they’ve come off worst in a fight. It’s just a way of salvaging their pride.’

  ‘That’s right,’ Jenny agreed.

  But when Lydia glanced at Jenny, they shared a look of concern. Vic’s malice ran deep, and hadn’t he locked his arm around Ruth’s throat when he’d first threatened her? ‘If he’s got any sense, he’ll be more worried about avoiding prison or being disinherited than taking revenge,’ Lydia added.

  It was good to see the colour return to Ruth’s cheeks, but it was a pity Lydia could do nothing about her own aching heart. Harry, Harry, Harry… She felt like weeping but, not wanting to dampen the spirits of the others, she allowed them to link arms with her as they walked back to Shepherds Mews.

  ‘Silver Ladies takes on the world,’ Jenny said.

  They unlinked arms instantly when they saw a car parked outside the garage gates. Lydia’s first thought was that a customer had come to make enquiries on behalf of a relative. But she stopped in her tracks when she recognised the Lanchester and watched, heart pounding, as the chauffeur helped Harry’s godmother to alight.

  Had something happened to Harry? Had there been an accident? A sudden illness?

  Lydia waited in dread, but when Lady Violet turned to her, it was with steely coolness rather than alarm. Just for a moment Lydia allowed herself the giddiness of relief.

  But if Lady Violet wasn’t here to deliver news of Harry, it was to warn Lydia away from him. Clearly, Harry’s godmother was behind the times, but that didn’t mean Lydia would be cowed by her.

  Matching coolness with coolness, Lydia tilted her chin.

  ‘Are you going to invite me inside or shall we discuss our business on the cobbles?’ Lady Violet demanded.

  ‘You can come inside if you want.’

  The ungracious answer earned Lydia a stern look, but she didn’t care. Jenny and Ruth had already retreated into the building and must have gone straight into the living quarters as the office was empty.

  Lydia gestured to a chair.

  ‘Thank you, but I prefer to stand,’ Lady Violet told her. ‘I hope this visit will be of only short duration.’

  Whatever insults Lady Violet intended to hurl at her would make no difference. Lydia was too wounded already to feel any new barbs.

  ‘My godson has formed an attachment to you, I believe. He fancies he’s in love.’

  The words were followed by an aristocratic sniff that doubtless indicated distaste. ‘Let me save you the bother of warning me off,’ Lydia told her. ‘I’ve already refused him.’

  ‘So I heard.’

  ‘You needn’t fear I’ll change my mind.’

  ‘Because you don’t return his love or because you consider yourself unsuitable?’

  Lydia shrugged. ‘Does it matter?’

  ‘I also heard you were an intelligent girl, but it appears I was misinformed.’

  That brought Lydia’s chin up even higher.

  ‘Better,’ Lady Violet approved. ‘Well, Miss Grey, you haven’t denied loving Harry, so I conclude that you consider yourself unsuitable. Is it the disparity in wealth and background that troubles you? Do you think he’ll be happier with a pretty social butterfly whose family tree goes back to William the Conqueror? If that’s what you’re thinking, you really are a fool.’ />
  Lady Violet took a turn around the office.

  ‘Harry doesn’t need a simpering miss. He needs a girl with a spirit of adventure to match his own. Someone who’ll share his passions and let them soar instead of dragging them down with commitments to cocktail parties and bridge evenings. Is that girl not you, Miss Grey?’

  Lady Violet’s lips tightened as someone knocked on the downstairs door. ‘Etiquette dictates that I should leave if you have a visitor, but etiquette is going to have to play second fiddle today. I left Harry packing the last of his things. He’s leaving within the hour.’

  Harry leaving today? Within the hour? Emotion clawed at Lydia’s heart, but her decision was unchanged. Her reasons for rejecting Harry had nothing to do with illustrious family trees and money.

  Another knock reached them from downstairs and a thought burst into Lydia’s mind. The visitor might be Harry, come to say goodbye. To see him one more time…

  She ran downstairs and opened the door, but the visitor wasn’t Harry. She stared at her father in stupefaction.

  ‘I’m here for a meeting,’ he said. ‘The Union. Thought I’d look you up.’ He shuffled awkwardly.

  Lydia gave herself a mental shake. ‘You’d better come in.’

  Heaven only knew what Frank Grey and Lady Violet would make of each other.

  Frank reached the office, took in Lady Violet’s regal bearing, then looked at the floor, out of his depth.

  Lady Violet was made of stronger stuff. She raised an imperious brow at Lydia. ‘Are you going to introduce us?’

  ‘This is my father, Frank Grey. This is Lady Violet, an acquaintance.’

  ‘Acquaintance? Humph!’ Lady Violet offered Frank Grey a hand.

  He took it without meeting her eyes.

  ‘Is this your first time in London, Mr Grey?’ Lady Violet asked.

  ‘I came once before. A few years back. For the Union.’

  ‘You’re here for the Union again?’

  ‘Aye.’

  ‘How long has it been since you saw your daughter?’

  He glanced at Lydia and she answered for him.

  ‘Almost a year.’

  ‘You’ve been kept away by other commitments, perhaps?’ Lady Violet’s tone was disdainful.