Dreaming of Mr. Darcy Read Free

Sullivan,’ he said. ‘How she will be missed.’
    Kay nodded as she stood up and could instantly feel her eyes vibrating with tears again. She turned back around to the desk and took another tissue from the box—just to be on the safe side.

Chapter 2
    Kay sat at her desk in the office at Barnum and Mason. It had been three months since Peggy’s funeral, and Kay still couldn’t believe that her dear friend was gone and that Kay could no longer visit her at the nursing home, a pile of books in her bag ready for reading.
    On a February morning that was sunny but bitterly cold, Peggy’s funeral had taken place in the same church as that of Kay’s mother. The snow had melted, and everything seemed wonderfully green, but there had been nothing to rejoice about that day. Kay had sat shivering in the same pew that she occupied only a few sad weeks before, watching the service through a veil of tears.
    Now here she was sitting in the office as if nothing had happened. How callous time was, she thought. It hadn’t stopped to mourn the passing of a dear friend but had marched onwards with ceaseless optimism and dragged Kay along for the ride.
    She hadn’t sketched for weeks, choosing to read instead. There had been the usual diet of Jane Austen, with Kay choosing Northanger Abbey in the hopes that Catherine and Tilney’s company would cheer her up. She’d also been trying to find out more about preparing her illustrations for publication and had raided the local library. There was one very useful book full of tips for the first-timer, and she’d sneaked it into work in the hope that she’d be able to photocopy some of the pages in a quiet moment.
    â€˜Which is possibly now,’ she said to herself, looking around the office. It was a small open-plan office with four desks occupied by her colleagues. Paul and Marcus were out at lunch and Janice was on the phone laughing. It obviously wasn’t a work-related call; none of the business at the solicitors was the stuff that provoked laughter.
    Opening her bag, she took out the book and walked over to the communal photocopier. She hoped she could get the pages copied before the silly old machine pulled a paper-jam stunt.
    She was halfway through her copying when her phone went. Janice was still laughing into her own phone, so Kay had no choice but to return to her desk to answer it.
    She was just replacing the receiver when Roger Barnum walked into the office brandishing a large document that looked as if it had an appointment with the photocopier.
    Kay watched in horror, unable to make a move in time to rescue her book, watching as Mr Barnum lifted the lid of the photocopier.
    â€˜Whose is this?’ he barked, holding the book up and grimacing at it as if it might be infected. ‘ Painting for Pleasure and Profit .’
    Kay, blushing from head to foot, stood up to claim the book. ‘It’s mine, Mr Barnum.’
    â€˜And what’s it doing on the photocopier?’ he asked.
    Kay wanted to groan at the ridiculous question, but she didn’t. She simply took it from him and mumbled an apology.
    Mr Barnum sniffed. ‘I’d like to have a quiet word with you in my office, Miss Ashton,’ he said.
    Kay nodded and followed him through.
    â€˜Close the door and sit down,’ he said.
    Kay did as she was asked.
    Mr Barnum walked around his desk and sat down on an expensive-looking chair. It wasn’t like the threadbare office chair Kay had.
    â€˜If you don’t mind my saying,’ Mr Barnum began, ‘your mind hasn’t really been on your work lately, has it?’
    â€˜Well, no,’ Kay said. ‘My mother died recently, and I’ve just lost a dear friend too.’
    â€˜Ah, yes. Well, one has to get over these things—move on and all that.’
    Kay blinked hard. Had she just heard him right?
    â€˜People come and people go. It’s a sad fact of life, and we have to