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Lesley Eames – The Silver Ladies of London

About the book

1920’s London. Featuring four attractive heroines, a scandal, a secret and a silver Rolls Royce. 

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 inheritance of a beautiful silver Rolls Royce leads them to set up in business as female chauffeurs. But they soon discover that driving is a man’s world and find themselves facing a future fraught with constant challenges.

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

This is a heart-warming story of friendship, loyalty, courage and love. Perfect for the fans of Elaine Everest and Daisy Styles.

Buy now links:

Amazon: mybook.to/SilverLadies

Kobo: http://bit.ly/2sXL6zw

iBooks: https://apple.co/2t9HJFb

Google play: http://bit.ly/2sXBl4r

EXTRACT

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.

About the author

Born in Manchester but currently living in Hertfordshire, Lesley’s career has included law and charity fundraising. She is now devoting her time to her own writing and to teaching creative writing to others. In addition to selling almost 90 short stories to the women’s magazine market, Lesley has won the Festival of Romance’s New Talent Award and the Romantic Novelists’ Associations Elizabeth Goudge Cup.

Follow Lesley

Twitter: @LesleyEames

Facebook: @LesleyEamesWriter

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