Barbara Taylor Bradford’s 4-Book Collection. Barbara Taylor Bradford

and handsome Adam fireplaces of carved oak or marble. The rooms on the second, third and fourth floors grew increasingly smaller the closer they came to the roof, but even these had a special charm of their own.

      The spacious drawing room, a handsome book-lined library, and the dining room opened off a small square entrance hall, where a lovely old staircase with a carved oak banister rose to the upper floors. Beyond the dining room there was a large family kitchen, somewhat old-fashioned in design, but relatively efficient since Francesca had partially modernized it with a new Aga stove and a refrigerator. ‘They look a bit incongruous. Out of place, wouldn’t you say,’ her father had ventured cautiously on first viewing the shiny new objects. Francesca had glanced proudly at her innovations, raised an eyebrow and pronounced, ‘But they work, Daddy.’ Recognizing that her tone discouraged further discussion, the Earl had murmured, ‘Quite so, my dear,’ and retreated to the safety of the library. He had fled, the next day, to Yorkshire. The additions to the kitchen were only part of the refurbishing of the house, which Francesca had plunged into, flouting her father’s wishes. He was, for the most part, opposed to her plans, considering them far too elaborate, and far too costly.

      For all of his adult life, Francesca’s father, David Cunningham, the Eleventh Earl of Langley, had been striving to make ends meet. At an early age he had wisely come to the conclusion that he could not recoup the considerable fortune his grandfather, the Ninth Earl, had frittered away on mistresses and merrymaking and the high-stepping living that was obligatory for that charmed circle who were members of the Marlborough House Set of the Edwardian era. Keeping pace with, and in step with, Edward Albert, the Prince of Wales, had brought ruin to more than one noble house of England. If the Ninth Earl had not exactly ruined the Langley family with his extravagant living, he had certainly made considerable inroads into their immense wealth, before he had died at the age of fifty-five in the delectable arms of his twenty-year-old mistress, literally in flagrante delicto.

      The task of replenishing the almost-denuded family coffers was one that David’s father, the Tenth Earl, had undertaken with enormous relish and only a fair amount of success. Whilst he had not decreased their worth, neither had he made them newly prosperous. He had merely plugged the dam, so to speak. And then, towards the end of his life, he had plunged into a financial venture, one highly speculative in nature, which he was convinced would enable him to restore the fortune his own father had so carelessly squandered. The failure of the scheme brought him up short and doused his enthusiasm for any type of further business activity that might endanger his family’s future. He had enjoined David, the present Earl, not to follow his example. ‘Preserve what we have,’ he had implored. His son, who had never harboured any desire to indulge in the tricky game of financial wheeling and dealing, considering it too risky by far, had willingly acquiesced at once, since he was simply adhering to the decision of his youth.

      Death duties, the running of the vast estate in Yorkshire, the education of Kim and Francesca, and maintaining the style of living his position dictated continually stretched his resources to the limit. However, although David Cunningham was cash poor, he was land rich. The Yorkshire estate covered hundreds of miles of fertile farming acres, forests and parklands. In more than one sense the situation was ludicrous, but even if he had wanted to, David could not have sold off any of the land. Or, for that matter, any of the family’s other properties, comprised of Langley Castle, the Home Farm, the tenant farms, or the valuable antique furniture, Georgian silver and paintings, many by some of the great English masters. Although the Langley Collection included bucolic landscapes by Constable and Turner, that unsurpassed water-colourist being also represented by several of his marine paintings, the collection was most especially renowned for its superb examples of the work of such inimitable and celebrated portraitists as Sir Peter Lely, Sir Joshua Reynolds, Thomas Gainsborough and George Romney. In the main these were full length, life-size depictions of the Langley ancestors, presented with grace and charm in all of their elegance and finery. However, the Langley Collection, other properties and possessions and the land were either entailed or in trust. Furthermore, the Earl’s own natural instincts and inclinations would have prevented him from plundering the estate; also, he took his promise to his father seriously and he wanted to keep the holdings intact for new generations of Cunninghams.

      In consequence, from an early age, Kim and Francesca had been brought up to understand and accept their responsibilities to their great family name and their ancient heritage. Scrimping, saving and making do whenever possible had become a way of life; thrift was the byword of their youth; and keeping up the proper front on virtually next to nothing was so ingrained in them it was now second nature.

      The maintenance of the Yorkshire estate, the castle, the Home Farm and the tenant farms were the first priorities, took precedence before anything else. There was rarely, if ever, any spare money available for luxuries, and one luxury the Earl deemed totally unnecessary was the redecoration of the Chesterfield Street house, despite Francesca’s arguments to the contrary: arguments which had increased as she had become ever more conscious of such things. And so the house had deteriorated into shabbiness over the years, and by 1955 it was in such a sorry state it was almost beyond redemption.

      Early in January of that year, three months before Kim’s twenty-first birthday, their father had announced he planned to give a birthday party for Kim at Langley Castle in March. He also explained that he fully intended to do more entertaining in London than was his usual habit, during this important and significant year when his only son and heir came of age. In essence, the Earl made it perfectly clear, he was determined to launch Kim into London society in the manner only fitting for a man of his standing. Francesca had once again viewed the London house with concern, worried about its dilapidated condition and disreputable appearance, in view of her father’s plans for Kim. She had immediately launched another highly voluble campaign for its refurbishing, but to her surprise her father had been coldly adamant in his refusal to accede to her wishes. She had told him angrily, and in no uncertain terms, that he was not only being cavalier in his attitude, but downright unfair to Kim. He had shrugged, uninterested in her opinion and unmoved by her words, and he told her, with unusual firmness, never to broach the subject again. It was then she decided to take the matter into her own hands, and risk the consequences of her father’s disapproval.

      Francesca owned a diamond ring, an heirloom passed down through generations of women on the maternal side of the family. She had inherited it upon her mother’s death, and for years it had reposed in their bank vault in London, along with other pieces of jewellery and a seventeenth-century diamond tiara which had been worn by successive Countesses of Langley on State occasions in Westminster Abbey, all part of the family trust. Francesca had taken her ring to a leading dealer in antique jewellery, who had promptly offered to purchase it for a thousand pounds.

      When he heard about this decisive and unprecedented action on the part of his daughter, who was then only eighteen, the Earl had been outraged. However, since the ring belonged to Francesca, and was not part of the Langley Trust, he could merely voice his objections not act upon them. Finally, Francesca’s logical reasoning and persuasiveness, not inconsiderable, had brought him round, if only to a degree. Realizing she had engaged in an enterprise that threatened his authority, and knowing she had acted presumptuously, Francesca had been astute enough to ask her father’s permission to use the money for the redecoration of the house, it being his property.

      The Earl had given his blessing, albeit reluctantly, believing it to be a ridiculous extravagance. Later he did confess he thought her gesture was admirable and touching. Kim had been overwhelmed by her unselfishness, but, understanding her obstinate nature, he had not wasted time protesting, and by then it was already too late. He had thanked her profusely and then shown his appreciation by plunging into the transformation of the house as energetically and enthusiastically as she.

      There was barely enough money to do everything required, and Francesca portioned it out in the most practical way, stretching the thousand pounds as far as she could. She had the roof and the exterior walls repaired, the interior walls replastered wherever this was necessary, and she put in new pipes and electrical wiring. The remainder of the money from the ring was used for what she termed ‘my cosmetic job’, and it was exactly that. The scuffed parquet floors in the dining room, the library and the drawing room were refinished and polished; the wall-to-wall carpets