Chapters (73)
- Cover
- Dedication
- PART ONE
- ONE
- TWO
- THREE
- FOUR
- FIVE
- SIX
- SEVEN
- EIGHT
- NINE
- TEN
- ELEVEN
- PART TWO
- TWELVE
- THIRTEEN
- FOURTEEN
- FIFTEEN
- SIXTEEN
- SEVENTEEN
- EIGHTEEN
- NINETEEN
- TWENTY
- TWENTY-ONE
- TWENTY-TWO
- TWENTY-THREE
- TWENTY-FOUR
- TWENTY-FIVE
- TWENTY-SIX
- TWENTY-SEVEN
- TWENTY-EIGHT
- TWENTY-NINE
- THIRTY
- THIRTY-ONE
- THIRTY-TWO
- PART THREE
- THIRTY-THREE
- THIRTY-FOUR
- THIRTY-FIVE
- THIRTY-SIX
- THIRTY-SEVEN
- THIRTY-EIGHT
- THIRTY-NINE
- FORTY
- FORTY-ONE
- FORTY-TWO
- FORTY-THREE
- FORTY-FOUR
- PART FOUR
- FORTY-FIVE
- FORTY-SIX
- FORTY-SEVEN
- FORTY-EIGHT
- FORTY-NINE
- FIFTY
- FIFTY-ONE
- FIFTY-TWO
- FIFTY-THREE
- PART FIVE
- FIFTY-FOUR
- FIFTY-FIVE
- FIFTY-SIX
- FIFTY-SEVEN
- FIFTY-EIGHT
- FIFTY-NINE
- SIXTY
- SIXTY-ONE
- ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
- Keep Reading …
- About the Author
- Also by Barbara Taylor Bradford
- About the Publisher
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; 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 Robert 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 Robert 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 his head, mostly architectural thoughts: Palladian? Georgian? Elizabethan? He settled on Georgian, which would match the main house and would suit Lord Robert’s tastes well.
Turning into St Ives Mount, he 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 parlour 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 to 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.’