About the Author
Books by Barbara Taylor Bradford
About the Publisher
THE FALCONERS
Philip Henry Rosewood Falconer, founder of the dynasty; a head butler.
Esther Marie Falconer, his wife and co-founder of the dynasty; a head housekeeper.
Their sons
Matthew Falconer, his eldest son and heir; a stall owner at the Malvern Market.
George Falconer, a noted journalist on The Chronicle daily newspaper.
Harry Falconer, a chef and owner of a café, the Rendezvous.
Their grandchildren (Matthew’s offspring)
James Lionel, an ambitious young businessman on the rise.
Rosalind, known as Rossi, a seamstress.
Edward Albert, assistant to his father on the stalls.
Their daughter-in-law
Maude Falconer, Matthew’s wife and mother of his children; a seamstress.
THE VENABLES
Clarence Venables, Esther Falconer’s brother-in-law, great-uncle of James Falconer, owner of a shipping company in Hull.
Marina Venables, Clarence’s wife and younger sister of Esther Falconer. Great-aunt of James Falconer. A noted artist.
Their children
William Venables, eldest son and heir, working at the Hull shipping company.
Albert Venables, second son, working at the Hull shipping company.
Their daughter-in-law
Anne Venables, Albert’s wife.
THE MALVERNS
Henry Ashton Malvern, owner of the Malvern Company, a big business enterprise and real-estate company.
Alexis Malvern, his only child and heir; a partner in the business.
Joshua Malvern, his brother and business partner.
Percy Malvern, his cousin who runs the wine business in La Havre.
THE TREVALIANS
Claudia Trevalian, eldest daughter and heir of the late Sebastian Trevalian.
Lavinia Trevalian, sister of Claudia.
Marietta Trevalian, sister of Claudia.
Dorothea Trevalian Rayburn, an art collector and member of the Trevalian private bank’s board. Sister of the late Sebastian; now the head of the family.
Cornelius Glendenning, Claudia’s husband, a banker, now running the Trevalian private bank in London.
THE CARPENTERS
Lord Reginald Carpenter, a publishing tycoon and proprietor of The Chronicle.
Lady Jane Cadwalander Carpenter, his wife.
Their daughters
Jasmine Carpenter, a debutante.
Lilah Carpenter, a debutante.
Their twin sons
Sebastian and Keir Carpenter, born in March 1889.
THE PARKINSONS
Maurice Parkinson, a well-known biographer, journalist and academic.
Ekaterina Parkinson, known as Kat, his wife, descended from the Shuvalovs.
Their children
Natalaya Parkinson, eldest daughter, known as Natalie, assistant to Alexis Malvern, in charge of the arcades.
Irina Parkinson, second daughter, a dress designer.
Alexander Parkinson, son, known as Sandro, a theatrical designer of stage scenery.
(All three children are English born.)
Dread. That was the feeling James Lionel Falconer was experiencing as he sat at his desk in his office at Malvern House in Piccadilly.
It was the afternoon of Wednesday 25 September 1889, and an hour since a packet of documents had arrived by courier from Paris. James had opened the packet hastily and read them immediately, shocked by the bad news they contained.
James looked down at his hands resting on the pile of documents, a chill running through him at the thought of giving them to Henry Malvern, who was an ailing man. Rocked by his daughter’s breakdown and his brother Joshua’s stroke and lingering death, his employer had been unwell all summer with a debilitating fatigue. But James had no choice. The head of the company had to know everything.
A deep sigh escaped him as he opened the top drawer of his desk, placed the documents inside, locked the drawer and pocketed the key.
Taking out his watch he saw that it was almost seven o’clock. At least he didn’t have to face Mr Malvern until tomorrow morning, by which time his friend and colleague Peter Keller would be in his office next door if James needed him. Keller was stalwart; they had shared interests and had become close friends. And Keller worked in the Wine Division and might be able to help solve this mess. Though it was hard to see how, since it now turned out that Percy Malvern, Mr Malvern’s cousin, was not only a thief who had stolen millions from the Wine Division in Le Havre, but also a bigamist.
Striding across the room, James put on his coat and left his office.
When he stepped outside onto Piccadilly, it was drizzling after a day of heavy rain. The early evening light had dimmed, and there was a slight mist, but the street lamps were aglow. People were rushing home, dodging in and out and around each other, the pavements wet and slippery. James joined the throng.
He hurried toward Half Moon Street, wanting to get home as fast as he could. The sound of horses’ hooves, the rattling of carriage wheels, and the general bustle of the traffic in the streets grated on him tonight. He turned up the collar of his topcoat and plunged his hands into his pockets. It was not only wet but also cold for September.
The moment he opened the
