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Prologue

Peggy Sullivan leant forward in an attempt to get the pillows behind her just right.

‘It’s my eyes I miss the most,’ she said to the young woman sitting by the side of the bed. ‘I wasn’t too bothered when my legs went. I was too tired to walk around much anyways. I didn’t even mind when my right ear went last month, but I do miss my eyes.’

The young woman leant forward and patted her hand.

‘It’s so kind that you come and read to me, Kay,’ Peggy said.

‘It’s my pleasure.’

‘It can’t be easy for you, my dear. Coming here, I mean.’

Kay looked at Peggy for a moment before answering. ‘It wasn’t at first. I kept seeing Mum everywhere—sitting in the conservatory gazing out at the gardens or serving everyone tea in the sitting room.’

‘We all miss her so much. She always loved taking care of everybody—just like you do.’

Kay nodded. ‘She used to call me “Little Mother” when I was growing up.’

Peggy smiled, but then her expression changed to one of bemusement. ‘How you came to work at Barnum and Mason’s, I’ll never understand.’

‘It was the first job I was offered,’ Kay said with a shrug. ‘I took it thinking I’d be there only a little while. I was hoping—’

‘Someone would discover your paintings,’ Peggy interrupted.

‘Yes.’

‘They’re taking their time, I must say.’

They were silent for a moment, and Kay looked out of Peggy’s window. She was on the ground floor of The Pines and overlooked the communal garden, which was shivering under a layer of early snow. The poor Cyclamen were doing their best to survive, but one more fall of snow, and they’d be buried alive, Kay thought.

Buried. The word sent a shiver through her. It had been only a month since her mother had been buried in the local churchyard after a brief but devastating illness. She’d been sixty-seven—not old by today’s standards—and Kay missed her more than she could say. Perhaps that was why she was spending time with Peggy. She’d met her whilst visiting her mother, and the two of them had clicked. Both had a profound love of the novels of Jane Austen, and when Kay had discovered that Peggy was blind—a fact that she’d kept marvellously hidden—Kay had offered to read to her.

Peggy never seemed to have any visitors, and Kay couldn’t quite give up visiting The Pines.

‘I do wish I could see your paintings,’ Peggy suddenly said.

‘I do too, Peggy.’

‘Tell me about your new ones.’

‘I’ve got only one new one. I’m afraid work’s been a bit hectic, and—’

‘That ratbag Roger still working you late?’

Kay grinned.

‘I remember him when he was a lad. I knew his father. Lived in my road. Bullies—both of them. You mustn’t let him push you around, Kay.’

‘I don’t.’

Peggy nodded. ‘Because I’ll have words with him, if he’s bullying you. I’ve got one of them portable phone jobbies. It’ll only take one call.’

‘It’s all right. There’s no need to call him.’

Peggy shifted forward, and Kay got up to rearrange her pillows.

‘So, tell me about your picture.’

Kay’s eyes took on a wistful look as she thought about her latest painting.

‘You know the last chapter of Persuasion we read together? That moment when Anne Elliot and Captain Wentworth see each other for the first time since he went away?’

‘I love that scene,’ Peggy said, her face glowing with the pleasure of remembering it.

‘I chose that moment when Jane Austen writes “a thousand feelings rushed on Anne”.’

‘Wonderful!’ Peggy said with enthusiasm.

‘And “a bow, a curtsey passed”.’

‘Yes, yes!’ Peggy said. ‘I can see it now. All those pent-up emotions they still have for each other. Oh, I wish I could see it.’

‘I’ve always wanted to capture that moment when their eyes meet,’ Kay said, tucking a strand of toffee-coloured hair behind her ear. ‘It’s fleeting, yet so much happens in it.’

‘Which scene are you illustrating next?’

‘One of the Lyme Regis ones. I want to paint that wonderful seafront with the sweep of the Cobb. I only wish I could visit it.’

‘You’ve never been to Lyme?’

‘No,’ Kay said, her eyes taking on a dreamy look again. ‘I’ve always imagined myself living by the sea one day, and I think Lyme would be just the place to be.’

‘Then what are you doing in landlocked Hertfordshire?’ Peggy asked. ‘I mean now that you don’t have any family ties.’

‘My job’s here. My house is here.’

‘Oh, rot!’ Peggy said. ‘I know it’s a terrible cliché, but if you don’t take charge of your life, nobody’s going to do it for you. Think of Anne Elliot and all those years she wasted.’

‘But I’ve got a mortgage to pay. I’m kind of stuck here.’

Peggy’s mouth narrowed. ‘I don’t like to hear such excuses. If you want to live near the sea then you should. It’s as simple as that.’

‘I wish it were,’ Kay said. ‘I really wish it were.’

“A delightful ode to all things Austen...If you pick up this novel, you’ll fall in love with Connelly’s characters, and her delicious prose. It’s a fantastic escape from the everyday, and a step into the romantic seaside of Lyme.” - Luxury Reading

“The author of A Weekend With Mr. Darcy has penned another dreamy novel for Janeites to swoon over... If you ever wished Jane Austen wrote a novel with both Mr. Darcy and Captain Wentworth, your wish has been granted! DREAMING OF MR. DARCY is an unexpected and delightful treat for anyone who has ever read and fallen in love with a Jane Austen novel.” - Fresh Fiction

“...filled with interesting characters, wonderful descriptions of Lyme Regis and the surrounding countryside, and enough miscommunication and misunderstanding to keep any reader turning its pages.” - A Curious Statistical Anomaly

“Connelly almost makes Lyme a character itself, and her love for Austen’s final novel is very evident in the frequent mentions of the book’s characters and scene locations... There were times of humor, family drama and of course delightful romance. And while there’s a wink to the previous A Weekend with Mr. Darcy, this title stands on its own very well. Janeites (and Persuasion fans in particular) will enjoy this one, and I look forward to the third book in the collection, Mr. Darcy Forever.” - Calico Critic

“There are lots of romantic mishaps and misunderstandings in Dreaming of Mr. Darcy, certainly reminiscent of Austen’s books. Connelly is fast becoming one of my favorite authors of modern-day Austen-inspired novels... Connelly uses original characters and plenty of humor to create lively new stories, and her love and respect for Austen’s novels shines through.” - Diary of an Eccentic

“...a very enjoyable read. It was interesting and well-paced, something that you don’t always find with Brit-lit. I had read Ms. Connelly’s earlier book in the trilogy “A Weekend with Mr. Darcy” so I knew I would enjoy this book. 5/5 stars” -

“...good, clean romantic fun...hilarity ensues. Connelly generously sprinkles both Austen and Shakespeare throughout this diverting tale, proving all’s well that ends well.” - Publiishers Weekly