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Chapters (71)
  1. Copyright Notice
  2. Dedication
  3. Part One
  4. One
  5. Two
  6. Three
  7. Four
  8. Five
  9. Six
  10. Seven
  11. Eight
  12. Nine
  13. Ten
  14. Eleven
  15. Part Two
  16. Twelve
  17. Thirteen
  18. Fourteen
  19. Fifteen
  20. Sixteen
  21. Seventeen
  22. Eighteen
  23. Nineteen
  24. Twenty
  25. Twenty-One
  26. Twenty-Two
  27. Twenty-Three
  28. Twenty-Four
  29. Twenty-Five
  30. Twenty-Six
  31. Twenty-Seven
  32. Twenty-Eight
  33. Twenty-Nine
  34. Thirty
  35. Thirty-One
  36. Thirty-Two
  37. Part Three
  38. Thirty-Three
  39. Thirty-Four
  40. Thirty-Five
  41. Thirty-Six
  42. Thirty-Seven
  43. Thirty-Eight
  44. Thirty-Nine
  45. Forty
  46. Forty-One
  47. Forty-Two
  48. Forty-Three
  49. Forty-Four
  50. Part Four
  51. Forty-Five
  52. Forty-Six
  53. Forty-Seven
  54. Forty-Eight
  55. Forty-Nine
  56. Fifty
  57. Fifty-One
  58. Fifty-Two
  59. Fifty-Three
  60. Part Five
  61. Fifty-Four
  62. Fifty-Five
  63. Fifty-Six
  64. Fifty-Seven
  65. Fifty-Eight
  66. Fifty-Nine
  67. Sixty
  68. Sixty-One
  69. Books by Barbara Taylor Bradford
  70. About the Author
  71. Newsletter Sign-up

He was heading for Laura Spencer’s house; she had invited him to join her for a bite of supper with other friends. Blackie was looking forward to seeing her. He had been to her home in St. Ives Mount three times now, and had grown fond of her. She was a lovely-looking young woman, with fair hair filled with golden lights, and soft hazel eyes.

But it was her character he admired the most, and she had a warm, welcoming personality. Also, she was calm and made him feel comfortable, and whenever he was with her he was peaceful inside and somehow felt safe, protected even.

Aside from the lovely weather, Blackie knew this had been a special day for him. Lucky. He had received a letter from Lord Robert Lassiter himself. He knew it was from the Earl before he even opened it. There was a crest on the back of the envelope.

Lord Lassiter had written to him to ask him to build a small guesthouse on the Yorkshire estate. Furthermore, he had requested that Blackie design it. “Something of medium size, reflecting Bolton Manor,” Lord Lassiter had suggested, and had asked him to come over to Harrogate within the next week to discuss it with Wilson and him.

Uncle Patrick had been as thrilled as he could be. They had built garden sheds, greenhouses and house extensions, and he himself had designed and built Mrs. Wilson’s conservatory. But they had never been hired for a project like this. Uncle Pat was so proud they had been chosen.

Thoughts whirled in Blackie’s head, mostly architectural thoughts: Palladian? Georgian? Elizabethan? As usual, he settled on Palladian, his favorite. Nothing else would do. Lord Lassiter must have the best.

Turning into St. Ives Mount, Blackie grimaced. The whole street was filled with what he thought of as modern monstrosities, built during the boom of the past fifty years. Neat Victorian terraced houses with steps up to a front door. A parlor and small kitchen up those steps, with two bedrooms up narrow stairs.

Once he arrived at Laura’s house, Blackie rapped on the door. She saw him through the window and waved. A moment later, she was opening the door to him, her face full of smiles, her eyes sparkling, obviously happy.

“Oh, how lovely to see you. Come in. Come in.” She opened the door wider, the smile intact.

“I’m early, I’m afraid,” he said, smiling back. “But ye see, I never want ter be late for ye, keep ye waiting, Laura.”

“I’m glad you are early, Blackie; you can keep me company while I finish making supper.”