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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

As he followed her into the parlor, he glanced around as he always did. As usual, the table was already set. Tonight it was for six, and there were vases of flowers here and there. The room was divided in half in a sense. The big wooden table was for preparing food; the circular table in the center of the room was the divider. Beyond it were a sofa and chairs that created the feeling of a parlor. A fire burned in the hearth, and there were two high-backed chairs on each side of it. The air was filled with delicious smells of baking bread and roasting meat that made his mouth water.

“Would you like a cup of tea?” Laura asked, leaning against the wooden table. “Or a lemonade?”

“Nothing at the moment, thanks anyway,” Blackie responded, and reached into his pocket. He took out a small box tied with a ribbon bow. Smiling, as he walked over to her, he then said, “This is just a little something from Aunt Eileen. She made it for ye, and ’tis with pleasure she did it, faith and I knows that.”

“Why, thank you, Blackie, how nice of her.” Laura took the little box from him, untied the ribbon and lifted out a white handkerchief edged with a wide border of fine lace. “Oh my goodness, it’s beautiful!” she cried, unfolding it.

“Look in one corner, Laura, and ye’ll see an L embroidered by Aunt Eileen.”

“Oh yes, here it is. I shall treasure it. How thoughtful of her to make this for me.”

“She likes you a lot, but then ye knows that, I do believe.”

Leaning forward, he kissed her cheek lightly. “Laura, me sweet mavourneen.”

“What does that word mean?” she asked, as she went to the table and started to cut a freshly baked loaf of bread. “You’ve called me that before.”

“It’s the Irish word for ‘dear’ or ‘darling.’ ’Tis a word of affection, Laura.”

She turned and nodded. “That’s what I thought,” she answered, smiling to herself.

Forty-Six

After looking in the oven at the food she was cooking, Laura nodded to herself and turned it off. Everything was ready to serve, and she wanted to keep it warm until the other guests arrived. To her way of thinking, there was nothing worse than hot pies gone cold.

As she came back into the parlor, Blackie said, with a hint of admiration in his voice, “Everyone says you’re the best cook they know, and I agree.”

“Thank you.” Laura sat down in the other chair in front of the fire, and said, “I’m glad your work is going well, Blackie, and with these connections you’re forming with the big houses.”

“Well, now ye knows, mavourneen. I’m serious all right. I’ve some news, so I have. I’ve to build a guesthouse for Lord Lassiter at his estate in Harrogate, Bolton Manor.”