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
Emma went icy cold all over. ‘My father saved Edwin Fairley’s life!’ she cried with such ferocity that even Winston was brought up sharply, aghast at her tone. ‘He died to save a Fairley! My father sacrificed himself for one of them!’ She spat out the words venomously, and a sick, fulminating fury rose up in her.
And so it began, something Blackie had never seen in his life ever before. The most relentless pursuit of money ever embarked upon, the most grinding and merciless work schedule ever conceived and willingly undertaken by a seventeen-year-old girl.
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 her flair with a needle. And her reasonable prices. Everyone raved about the clothes she created.
Once a month, on a Saturday or Sunday, 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 favourites. 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 she 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 scrimped 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 Laura in front of the altar in the church in Bolton Manor village.
They were looking at the flower arrangements the servants had created yesterday, finishing their final touches this morning. All the flowers were white: roses, carnations, lilies, orchids, hollyhocks and tulips. Not a single spot of any other colour was visible.