A Weekend with Mr. Darcy Read Free Page A

to cash in on the fact that Jane Austen’s Regency is a perennial favourite,’ one critic wrote, ‘but what we have here is a cheap imitation. It’s soft porn dressed in a little fine muslin.’
    The words had stung bitterly until the book had become a bestseller in the United States and was now seen as the forerunner in a very popular genre of Austenesque literature which included sequels, updates on the six classic novels, and the sort of sexy books that Lorna wrote. It was a huge and much-loved industry.
    Lorna’s fingers brushed the spines of the UK editions. Each featured a sumptuously clad heroine. ‘All breasts and bonnets,’ another critic had declared, after which sales rocketed. The public couldn’t get enough of the feisty young heroines and devilishly handsome heroes and, of course, the happy endings.
    Lorna loved writing. Nothing could beat the day-to-day weaving of a new story or getting to know characters that might captivate the readers’ imaginations as strongly as they did their creator. But there was more to being a writer than writing, and Lorna was under increased pressure to handle publicity, hence the agent’s phone call about the conference. Year to year, those publishers had tried to persuade their favourite writer that it would be a great idea to attend.
    â€˜Incognito, if you must,’ they’d said, but Lorna hadn’t been at all sure about it. The public face of publication had never been appealing. Writing was a private thing, wasn’t it? One didn’t need to be endlessly signing copies and giving talks. What was there to say, anyway? Surely the books spoke for themselves, but Lorna’s publisher had often spoken of how writers were now seen as celebrities.
    â€˜The public has to be able to see you.’
    â€˜Oh, no,’ Lorna had said. ‘I don’t want anybody to see me.’
    What was to be done about Purley Hall? A part of Lorna was desperate to go. Being a writer was a lonely job and it would be good to get out and actually talk to real live people for once. That part would be fun, wouldn’t it—to get away from the study and meet people?
    â€˜Katherine,’ Lorna suddenly said. Katherine was going to be there. Her letter had made it very clear that she’d love to meet her favourite author, and a part of Lorna wanted that very much too. Over the months, they’d become very close, sharing secrets and talking about their hopes for the future. Maybe it was the fact that they were writing letters—beautifully old-fashioned, handwritten letters that one savoured and kept. It wasn’t like receiving an email one reads and deletes. These were proper letters on high-quality paper that the writers took time to fill. They had crossings out and notes in the margins and funny PS’s too. They were to be reread and treasured just like in the time of Jane Austen when letters were a vital means of staying in touch with loved ones.
    If there was one good reason for Lorna to attend the conference, it was Katherine.
    Suddenly her feet thundered upstairs to the bedroom where a wardrobe door was quickly opened and clothes were pulled out and flung onto the bed. What to take? What should Lorna Warwick take to the Jane Austen Conference? That was a question that was easy to answer because although Lorna gave very few interviews and never gave out author photographs, it was obvious how the public perceived their beloved author. Nothing but velvets and satins would do in rich jewel colours with sequins and embroidery. Old-fashioned but with a quirky twist. A fascinator wouldn’t be completely out of place or a sparkling brooch in the shape of a peacock. Shawls, scarves, a pair of evening gloves, perhaps even a shapely hat. Shoes that were elegant but discreet. That kind of thing people would expect.
    Lorna wasn’t going to wear any of those things, though. Velvets and satins were instantly rejected and