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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

Blackie and Laura worried about Emma as days turned into weeks, weeks into months. They even tried to make her ease up on herself, to relax a little, go with them to Armley Park on Sundays to hear the brass band playing the popular tunes. But she wouldn’t hear of it. Occasionally, she promised to come but never arrived.

Her schedule was brutal, but it was of her own creation. By day she worked at the mill; at night, after a quick supper, she retired to her bedroom, where she designed, cut and sewed clothes for a rapidly growing clientele of local women, informed by the loving Laura of Emma’s flair with a needle. And her reasonable prices. Everyone raved about the clothes she created.

On Saturdays and Sundays, once a month she went to visit her baby daughter in Ripon. The rest of the time she made all kinds of pies, tarts, cakes and custards, trifles and jellies. Many of them were from recipes given to her long ago by Olivia Wainright.

She made jams of every kind; raspberry, strawberry and plum were everyone’s favorites. She bottled apricots, plums, pears and various vegetables. The list was long; all were relished.

The pies and fancy pastries were sold at once. The bottled fruits and vegetables were stored in Laura’s cellar for future sale. Everything Emma did was well thought out, and by the end of the year she knew she had enough money to find her first shop. There was enough to pay the rent, buy fixtures and fittings and display stands. And more money to purchase the stocks.

Emma was dogged, ruthless with herself. She skimped and saved, worked seven days a week, and seven nights as well.

Her first goal was her first shop in Upper Armley if she could find one. And after that more shops until she had a chain of them, just as Michael Marks had a chain of Penny Bazaars. But hers would be elegant stores, which would cater to the carriage trade.

Sixty

Blackie stood with Siobhan in front of the altar in the church in Bolton Manor village.

They were looking at the flower arrangements the servants had created yesterday and finished with their final touches this morning.

All of the flowers were white: roses, carnations, lilies, orchids, hollyhocks and tulips. Not a single spot of any other color was visible.

It was Siobhan who spoke first. “Although I expected it, I think they have done a wonderful job.” She smiled. “The whole church looks beautiful, you do know that, Blackie?”

“Thank ye, me darlin. I think Miss Moira will be pleased the way they’ve banked them up on each side of the organ and down the steps to the nave.”

“Not to mention around the back of the pulpit. And what about the alcoves and windowsills, Blackie? I love the vases of roses and carnations against the stained-glass windows, as well. Perfect.”