Cover image for Emma's secret
Emma's secret
Bradford, Barbara Taylor, 1933-
[Large print edition].
Publication Information:
Waterville, ME : Wheeler, 2004.
Physical Description:
672 pages (large print) ; 25 cm
Format :


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LARGE PRINT FICTION Adult Large Print - Floating collection Floating Collection - Large Print
LARGE PRINT FICTION Adult Large Print Large Print

On Order

Audubon Library1Received on 1/7/05



A #1 New York Times Bestselling Author. A Book of the Month Club Alternate Selection. A Literary Guild Main Selection. The legendary Emma Harte, heroine of A Woman of Substance, returns in a novel that showcases the storytelling power of Barbara Taylor Bradford. Paula O'Neill, beloved granddaughter of the legendary Emma Harte and the guardian of her vast business empire, believes that everything Emma left to the family is secure. Beneath the surface, however, sibling rivalry and discontent flare. Into this volatile mix walks young American fashion designer Evan Hughes, looking for Emma Harte (dead these thirty years) and bearing an uncanny resemblance to Paula O'Neill.

Author Notes

Barbara Taylor Bradford was born in Upper Armley, Leeds, in Yorkshire on May 10, 1933. At the age of fifteen, she was working as a typist for the Yorkshire Evening Post. After six months, she was promoted to cub reporter in the newsroom. At eighteen, she became the newspaper's Woman's Page Editor and at twenty, she headed for London where she became Fashion Editor of the magazine Woman's Own. She also reported for the London Evening News, Today Magazine and other publications, covering everything from crime to show business. In 1961, she met her future husband Robert Bradford and they were married in 1963. After they married, they moved to the United States and she began writing a syndicated column, Designing Woman. The column was published for twelve years and received several awards.

Her debut novel, A Woman of Substance, was published in 1979 and she has since written over 20 novels. Many of her novels have been made into television mini-series including A Woman of Substance, Voice of the Heart, Act of Will, Everything to Gain and A Secret Affair. She also wrote children's books and eight books on decorating.

She has received numerous awards for her work including the Matrix Award from New York Women in Communication Inc in 1985, the City of Hope's Spirit of Life Award in 1995, the Five Towns Music and Art Foundation's Award of Achievement for outstanding accomplishments in the field of Literature in 1997 and the British Excellence Award in 1998. She was inducted into the Matrix Hall of Fame in 1998 and into the Writers Hall of Fame of America in 2003. In 2007, she was awarded an OBE (The Order of the British Empire) by Queen Elizabeth II for her contributions to Literature. She is a member of the James Madison Council of the Library of Congress. She is also involved in several charity projects such as Literacy Partners and the Police Athletic League of New York City. She made the New York Times Best Seller List in 2014 with her title Cavendon Hall.

(Bowker Author Biography)

Reviews 3

Booklist Review

Emma Harte, the heroine of Bradford's novel A Woman of Substance (1979), has been dead for more than 30 years when Emma's Secret opens, but her past factors heavily into the events of the novel. At the bequest of her dying grandmother, young American Evan Hughes arrives at Emma's magnificent English clothing store, Hartes, only to find out that Emma has long since died. She is soon hired as a store assistant to Linnet O'Neill, Emma's great-granddaughter, who can't help but notice the American's resemblance to her own mother, Paula. Evan and Gideon Harte, Paula's cousin, fall in love amid whispers that Evan might be the descendant of one of Emma's husbands. The truth lies in Emma's diary, but Paula is reluctant to read it. Curiosity finally gets the better of her, and the journal takes Paula to Emma's life during World War II, and at least partially answers the family's questions about Evan's heritage. It is up to Paula to figure out the rest. Readers new to the series might have a hard time getting a handle on the large cast of characters and their relationships to each other, but those familiar with Emma Harte and her large family will feel right at home. --Kristine Huntley Copyright 2003 Booklist

Publisher's Weekly Review

It has been nearly 25 years since Bradford made her name with the female rags-to-riches saga A Woman of Substance, the first in a trilogy of novels that concluded with 1988's To Be the Best. Gambling that there is still life to be squeezed out of the story of indomitable super-survivor Emma Harte and her descendants, Bradford returns to the chase with this present-day sequel. The novel opens in 2001 at Pennistone Royal, Emma's magnificent country estate in Yorkshire, now occupied by her granddaughter Paula's family. Paula heads the Knightsbridge store, flagship of the nationwide Harte chain, and her grown daughters, Linnet and Tessa, work there. A young American, Evan Hughes, with an uncanny Harte family resemblance, appears one day seeking a job. She's hired at once, since Linnet needs help with an upcoming fashion spectacular, a retrospective featuring Emma's couture wardrobe. Linnet's cousin Gideon, who works for the Harte newspapers, is smitten with Evan, and soon the mystery of her background is of concern, especially when it's discovered that Evan's grandmother had a close relationship with Emma. The overwhelming amount of descriptive detail clothing, interior decor, food and drink slows down the narrative, but such Victorian props as a decorative locked box, a key taped behind a photograph and long-lost diaries provide mild suspense. The saga was already losing steam with To Be the Best, and this fourth installment is further diluted. Lacking the dynamic impact of the original, it will be best appreciated by those with an irresistible desire to follow the further adventures of the Harte clan. (Jan. 6) Forecast: A substantial 25th-anniversary marketing campaign will help rope in old fans, though some may find the series has lost its luster. True stalwarts, however, will be pleased to hear that another entry is in the works. (c) Copyright PWxyz, LLC. All rights reserved

Library Journal Review

Public libraries should expect high demand for this long-awaited fourth installment in Bradford's Emma Harte saga (after A Woman of Substance, Hold the Dream, and To Be the Best), which also celebrates its 25th anniversary. Before American Evan Hughes's grandmother dies, she advises Evan to go to London in search of Emma, who holds the key to her future. Department store founder Emma has actually been dead for many years, but her legacy lives on through granddaughter Paula and competitive great-granddaughters Linnet and Tessa. While Tessa struggles with a shaky marriage, Evan is hired to help Linnet work on an 80-year fashion retrospective that spotlights Emma's couture. Several people are suspicious of Evan, who looks like Paula. Is she related somehow? What does she want? What was Emma's secret? Those who haven't read the previous books will get a crash course on the characters, while series fans will get a refresher. Because there are so many characters to keep straight, the genealogical information that precedes the text is essential. Although plagued by stilted dialog and passages that are sometimes too descriptive and long-winded, this book has plenty of drama, romance, and intrigue to keep readers interested. Bradford is already working on the next installment. [Previewed in Prepub Alert, LJ 9/15/03.]-Samantha J. Gust, Niagara Univ. Lib., NY (c) Copyright 2010. Library Journals LLC, a wholly owned subsidiary of Media Source, Inc. No redistribution permitted.



ONE It was a blustery morning. The penetrating wind blowing in from the North Sea was laden with moisture, and the dampness was heavy on the air, and icy. Linnet O'Neill felt as though it were seeping into her bones. She huddled further into her thick, loden green wool coat and tied her scarf tighter around her head. Then, thrusting her gloved hands into her pockets, she trudged on, doggedly following the winding path which would bring her to the crest of the moors. After a moment she lifted her head and glanced up. Above her, the arc of the sky appeared hollowed out, resembled the inside of a vast, polished bowl. It was the color of steel, its metallic grayness relieved by a few scudding clouds, pale and wispy in the clear, crystalline light so peculiar to these northern climes. It was an eerie light that seemed to emanate from some hidden source below the horizon. When she'd set out to walk up into the high country which soared above Pennistone Royal, Linnet had anticipated rain, but the massed black clouds of earlier had been scuttled by the gusting wind. Since she had lived here all her life, she knew about the weather and its unpredictability, knew that the skies of Yorkshire were ever-changing. By lunchtime the sun could easily be creeping out from behind the grayness to fill the heavens with radiance, or rain might be slashing down in a relentless stream. You took your chances when you went walking on the Yorkshire moors. But she didn't care. Ever since she had been a small child, these moors had been irresistible to her; she had loved to come here with her mother when she was little, to wander amongst the heather and the bracken, content to play alone with her stuffed animals in the vast emptiness surrounding her. It was her world; she had even believed it belonged to her, and in a way, she still did. It was quiet on the moors this morning. In the spring and summer, even in the autumn, there was always the splash and tinkle of water as it tumbled down over rock formations into pebble-strewn becks, and the whistling of little birds, the rapid whirring of their wings, was ever-present. All were absent on this cold January Saturday. The birds had long ago flown off to warmer places, the becks had a layer of ice, and it was curiously silent as she climbed higher and higher, the land rising steeply. Linnet missed the sounds of nature so prevalent in the summer months. To her there was nothing sweeter than the twittering and trilling of the songbirds as they wheeled and turned in the lucent air. On those lovely, balmy days it was a treat to come up here just to hear the choruses of the larks and linnets, often delivered with gusto from an exposed branch of a bramble bush. They loved those bushes, these little birds, as well as the gorse that grew on the moors, where they often made their nests or searched for seeds. And on those days, in the sunlight and under cerulean skies, were the scurry of rabbits, the calls of larger birds, the scent of warm grass, wildflowers, bracken, and bil-berry mingling, all so sweet and redolent on the air. Then the moors were at their most beautiful, except for late August and September, when the heather bloomed and transformed the dun-colored hills into a rolling sea of royal purple and soft, muted greens. Suddenly the wind became fiercer, buffeting her forward, and taken by surprise, she almost stumbled on the path but quickly regained her balance. No wonder the wildlife has gone to ground, or gone away, she thought, and she couldn't help asking herself if she had been foolish to come out in this bitter cold weather. But whenever she returned to Pennistone Royal, even after only a short absence, she headed for the moors at the first opportunity. When she was walking across them, she felt at peace and at ease with herself. Up here she could collect her thoughts and sort things out. Most especially if she was troubled. These days her troubles centered on her sister, Tessa, who had become her rival in various ways, especially at Harte's, the store where they both worked. It pleased her to know that she was home again, in the place where she truly belonged. Her mother also loved the moors, but only in the spring and summer months; Paula did not entirely share her daughter's feelings about this wild and desolate landscape in the winter, considered by some to be the bleakest country in England at this time of year. It was her father, Shane O'Neill, who had a deep affinity for the high country all year round and a rare, almost tender love of nature. She always thought of her father as a true Celt, a throwback to a much earlier century, and it was he who had nurtured her own love of the outdoors, of wild things, and of the flora and fauna which abounded in Yorkshire. She knew from her mother that her great-grandmother had been just as passionate about the moors as she was, and had spent a considerable amount of time on them. "Whenever she was troubled, Grandy headed for her beloved moors," her mother had told Linnet years ago. Linnet fully understood why they had given Grandy such solace; after all, she had been born in one of the moor villages, had grown up in the Pennine hills. Her great-grandmother was the renowned Emma Harte, a legend in her own time; people who had known Emma said she was like her. Linnet laughed somewhat dismissively, but secretly she was thrilled. Who wouldn't want to be favorably compared with that most extraordinary woman, who single-handedly had created a family dynasty and a business empire circling the globe? Her mother said Linnet was a chip off the old block because she had considerable business acumen and a talent for merchandising and retailing. "Just like Grandy," Paula would point out constantly, and with a proud smile. Linnet felt warm inside when she thought about her mother, Paula McGill Harte Amory Fairley O'Neill. She was a very special person, and fair and just in her dealings with everyone, whatever others might believe. As for Linnet's father, he was awesome. Linnet had always enjoyed a most harmonious relationship with Shane, and they had drawn even closer after Patrick's death ten years ago. Her elder brother had died of a rare blood disease when he was seventeen, and they had all mourned the sweet-natured Patrick, retarded from birth but so loving and caring. He had been every-body's favorite; each of them, especially Linnet, had protected and nurtured him in her or his own way. She still missed him, missed mothering him. As she tramped on, moving ever upward, Linnet noticed tiny icicles dripping from the bramble bushes; the ground was hard as iron. It was becoming colder now that she was almost at the summit, and the wind was raw. She was glad she was wearing warm clothes and boots, and a woolen scarf around her head. Just as she knew it would, the path suddenly rose sharply, and she felt her calves tightening as she climbed higher. Within minutes she was puffing hard, so she paused to rest. Peering ahead, she realized she was only a few feet from the crest; there, a formation of jagged black rocks jutted up into the sky like some giant monolith erected as a monument to an ancient Celtic god. Once she had suggested to Gideon Harte, her cousin and best friend, that the monolith was man-made, perhaps even by the Celts themselves. Or the Druids. But Gideon, who was well informed about a lot of things, had immediately dismissed that idea. He had explained that the black boulders piled so precariously on their pedestal had been carried there by a vast glacier during the Ice Age, long before man had existed in Britain. Then he had pointed out that the rocks had been sitting there for aeons and aeons, and therefore were not actually precariously balanced. They merely looked as if they were. Anxious to reach the top, Linnet set off again, and suddenly there she was, stepping onto the plateau to stand in the shadow of the monolith floating immediately above her. Its pedestal of limestone, formed by nature millennia ago, was an odd shape, with two pieces protruding on either side of a tall, flat slab, which was set back. Thus was created a narrow niche, a niche protected from the winds that blew at gale force up here on the high fells. Years ago Emma had placed a boulder in the niche, and this served as a makeshift bench. Linnet sat down on it, as she always did, and gazed out at the vista in front of her. Her breath caught in her throat; she never ceased to be awed by this panoramic spread. Her eyes roamed across bare, untenanted fells, windswept under the lowering sky, stark, implacable, and lonely, yet she never felt lonely or afraid up here. The wild beauty of the moors filled her with wonder, and she relished the solitude, found it soothing. Far below her Linnet could see the pastures of the Dales, their verdant lushness temporarily obliterated in this harsh weather. The fields were gleaming whitely, covered as they were with winter frost, and the river flowing through the bucolic valley was a winding, silver rope that glittered in the cold northern light. And there, in the center, sitting amidst the peaceful meadows punctuated by drystone walls, was Pennistone Royal, that ancient and stately house acquired by Emma Harte in 1932, almost seventy years ago. In the years she had lived there, Emma had turned it into the most magical of places. The grounds were extensive and picturesque. Lawns rolled down to the river, and in the spring and summer months the flower beds and shrubs were ablaze with riotous color. But there were no roses anywhere in those lovely rambling gardens. It was a family legend that Emma Harte had detested roses because she had been spurned by Edwin Fairley in the rose garden at Fairley Hall. On that day, when she was just a young girl, she had told Edwin she was carrying his child. In his panic, and fearing his powerful father, Adam Fairley, he had repudiated her. He had offered her a few shillings; she had asked to borrow a suitcase. Emma had run away. From her family and Fairley village, nestling in the shadow of the Pennine Chain of hills. She had traveled to Leeds to find her dear friend Blackie O'Neill, whom she knew would help her. And of course he had. He had taken her to live with his friend Laura Spencer, later his wife, who had looked after her until Edwina was born. It was then that Emma Harte made a vow: She would become a rich and powerful woman to protect herself and her child. She had worked like a drudge to accomplish this, and as it happened, everything she touched had turned to gold. Linnet's grandfather Bryan O'Neill had told her that her great-grandmother had never once looked back. As a young woman she had gone from success to success, reaching even higher, always attaining the seemingly impossible, becoming a true woman of substance in every way. According to Linnet's grandfather, Emma had apparently never forgotten that horrible day in the rose garden at Fairley Hall. Her senses had been swimming, and she had vomited violently when she was alone. Emma had blamed her attack of nausea on the roses, and for the rest of her life she had felt overcome when she smelled them. Out of deference to her beloved grandy, Paula had never permitted roses to be grown at Pennistone Royal, nor were they used in floral arrangements in the house. Emma's ruling still held. Linnet had been born in her great-grandmother's house twenty-five years ago, in the middle of May. Her grandmother Daisy had inherited Pennistone Royal from Emma. But she had immediately gifted it to her daughter, Paula, because Daisy preferred to live in London, and also to save death duties later. Paula had lived there since Emma's death. The house meant more to Linnet than any other place on earth; even though she worked in London during the week, she came up to Yorkshire every weekend. This past November, Paula had taken Linnet into her confidence about a matter close to Paula's heart. "Grandy made a rule years ago," she explained. "And it was this... Pennistone Royal must go to the one who loves it the most, as long as that person has the intelligence and the knowledge to look after the estate properly. I know that Tessa, as the eldest, believes I'm going to leave it to her, but I just can't, Linnet. She doesn't even like the house and grounds, they're meaningless to her. She's only concerned with what they represent in terms of power and prestige in the family. That's certainly not what Grandy wanted or intended." Paula had shaken her head and gone on: "Lorne has no interest in the house, and Emsie cares only about her stables." A loving smile had crossed her mother's face as she continued. "I doubt she'll ever change, bless her heart. And as for Desmond, he'll have his grandfather's house in Harrogate one day, when Grandfather Bryan is gone." Her mother had reached out and taken her hand, saying, "And so I am planning to leave Pennistone Royal to you, Linnet, because I know how much it means to you, how much you really care. But not a word to anyone about this. Understand, darling?" Linnet had thanked her mother profusely, and promised not to betray her confidence. She fully understood the ramifications. But Paula's words had startled her; her mother's intention was the last thing she had expected. Deep down she was thrilled, but she did not like to dwell on anything she might one day inherit, especially if it involved her mother and father. She wanted them to have long lives. Leaning back against the limestone slab in the niche, Linnet sighed, still dwelling on Paula's words. There would be trouble with Tessa if she ever found out about their mother's intentions. It was true that Tessa did not have any genuine feelings for the house and the estate, but she did covet them, greed being one of her least attractive traits. And Paula was correct, Lorne wouldn't care at all. London was his bailiwick; he rarely came north anymore, except for special family occasions and holidays. He was caught up in the world of the West End theater, where he was a successful and popular young actor. He was truly dedicated to his career, and unlike his twin sister, Lorne was not avaricious or combative. He had a loving, gentle heart and had often been Linnet's fierce and loyal champion against Tessa. This did not mean he did not love Tessa, because he really did. Like most twins, he and Tessa were very close and saw a lot of each other. Put simply, Lorne was not particularly interested in his mother's business, nor did he have a desire to inherit any part of it. Tessa was welcome to it. As for the two youngest of the O'Neill brood, they didn't figure in the scheme of things as far as Tessa was concerned. Emsie was a dreamy-eyed girl, rather whimsical, with an artistic nature. Linnet thought of her as a true Celt, like their father. Possessions were of no consequence to Emsie; she loved her horses and her dogs more than new dresses and pretty things. Nonsenses, she called the latter, and rather disdainfully, preferring to muck out the stables in a pair of jeans and an old sweater. Linnet smiled inwardly, reflecting on her sister, of whom she was extremely protective and whom she loved dearly. Emsie, at seventeen, was vulnerable and sensitive, but also riotously funny when she wanted to amuse the family. Named for Emma Harte, she had become Emsie a few days after her birth, her parents suddenly realizing that there was no room for another Emma in the family. The Emma who was dead still dominated them all. The last-born child of the O'Neills was the son Linnet's father had yearned for, especially after Patrick's death. Desmond, who was now fifteen, was the spitting image of Shane: six feet tall, dark haired, and ruggedly handsome, he was looking very grown-up already. Linnet had always thought Desmond was the most gorgeous child, and he was turning into a stunning young man. There was no doubt in her mind that women were going to fall at his feet like ninepins, as they apparently had at her father's before he was married to their mother. Desmond was the apple of Shane's eye and the much-desired heir to the O'Neill hotel empire founded by Blackie and built up into a worldwide company by Bryan O'Neill and his only son, Shane, who ran it today. Funnily enough, Tessa had always been rather taken with Desmond, favoring her youngest half brother over her O'Neill half sisters. "Mostly, that's because he doesn't represent a threat to her," Linnet had said to Gideon recently, and her cousin had nodded. "But he is irresistible," Gideon had thought to add.   Excerpted from Emma's Secret by Barbara Taylor Bradford. Copyright  2004 by Beaji Enterprises, Inc. Published in 2004 by St. Martin's Press. All rights reserved. This work is protected under copyright laws and reproduction is strictly prohibited. Permission to reproduce the material in any manner or medium must be secured from the Publisher. Excerpted from Emma's Secret by Barbara Taylor Bradford All rights reserved by the original copyright owners. Excerpts are provided for display purposes only and may not be reproduced, reprinted or distributed without the written permission of the publisher.