A/N: I wrote this some years ago, but just found it again. It is how I would have liked to see the 1841 PT timeline in Dark Shadows resolved. (This is one time I definitely don't go for canon!)

Bramwell's Revenge
By JM Lane
An 1841 PT Dark Shadows story

Characters:

Bramwell Collins, Daphne Harridge Collins – son of Barnabas, and his wife
Catherine and Morgan Collins – Bramwell's cousin and his wife, Bramwell's former lover
Quentin Collins, a cousin
Flora Collins, mother of Morgan and Quentin, widow of Justin
Josette Collins, mother of Bramwell and Melanie
Julia Collins, another cousin
Melanie Collins, half-sister to Bramwell (Josette's daughter by Justin Collins)
Kendrick Young, Melanie's fiancé

Bramwell Collins was angry. Now, it generally took a lot to set him off, but of late, injustice had piled upon injustice until no sane person could be expected to take any more. Worst of all, he had lost the one he loved to another, simply because the other man had had more money—and not just any "other man" but his own cousin, Morgan. His rich cousin.

It obviously wasn't enough to drive his father Barnabas to an early grave, but to treat him and his mother like dirt simply because they didn't have as much money as the rest of the family was unpardonable. As if having money automatically made them better—which he knew for a fact was 100% wrong. He had even been excluded from the family lottery...and then called a coward for not participating.

He didn't believe in all that anyway, so being excluded didn't bother him all that much—but being called a coward did. What really galled him, though, was being told by the woman he had loved since childhood that he wasn't good enough for her and could never give her all she needed, simply because he was what was commonly referred to as "the poor relation." No one seemed to care about his feelings in the matter, least of all Catherine.

He now realized that what was most important to her was furthering her own agenda. Losing her was the proverbial straw that broke the camel's back—so he decided to marry her younger sister, Daphne. Purely on the rebound, of course, since she was the first woman to treat him decently. Especially when she had nursed him after Morgan had called him out, then shot him, even though he had been the one challenged and technically should have fired first.

Since then, Catherine hadn't lifted a finger for him. It was Daphne who had helped him recover and get back on his feet … and then that two-faced, high-handed, mercenary bitch thought that she could judge him! Well, he would show her how wrong she was—and soon.

Bramwell had noticed the crush that Daphne had developed for him since she had been caring for him. Once he was fully healed, he decided to propose marriage and give Daphne all that Catherine had so casually thrown away. Perhaps even have a child with her—espe-cially since his first child, the result of his last night with Catherine before her marriage to Morgan, was to be denied him.

She had told him of her pregnancy, yet had flatly refused when he had suggested that they run away together. She even declared that the father of her child would be who she said it was, that only the two of them would know otherwise. None of the rest of the family … not Flora, not Quentin … would ever know the truth. Not if Catherine had her way.

At this point in time, Bramwell Collins was thinking only of wreaking revenge on the woman who had so wronged him and thrown his love away for the sake of money and position. One thing he knew for sure, though—if she ever hoped to make Morgan believe the child she carried was his, she had bloody well better seduce him thoroughly, often … and fast!

As for Daphne Harridge, Bramwell knew she would enter into marriage with him for the reason most women do...because she loved him. With a part of him, Bram realized that he would be taking advantage of her feelings, using her for his own ends—but at the moment, he believed the end justified the means. That was all that truly mattered to him at the moment.

How sweet a balm to his injured heart and crushed vanity it would be to truly be loved for himself, particularly the slow burn Catherine would do when she saw how happy he would make Daphne, knowing her sister was getting all the attention Morgan denied her...not to mention seeing the love she had scorned given to another. He would see to it that it was thrown in her face at every opportunity. It would be pure pleasure!

As far as he was concerned, Catherine deserved all she got, particularly if Morgan rejected her once he found out that she was pregnant by a man not her husband. She was probably telling herself that Morgan would accept the child as his own, if only to save face and avoid scandal—but it was just as likely that the illegitimate offspring of Catherine and himself would be every bit as much an outcast as he was.

He might even declare that he wouldn't have any child of Bramwell's in the house, even though he or she would be just as much a Collins as they would be were the child his own. However, Bramwell was also certain that Morgan suspected that the perfect revenge on his despised cousin would be for him to accept and raise the latter's child as his own, growing up with all his true father had been denied.

She could also have married Morgan simply to prove she could do it—purely for spite, no matter how many times he had tried to stop her. Whatever the case, she was out of his life, if not his heart...and it was his duty to make Daphne as happy as possible, even if he wasn't- even if he had to pretend that she was Catherine in order to perform sexually.

As Bramwell had expected, Daphne readily accepted his proposal and they made arrange-ments to marry at the earliest possible time. He would have Quentin as his best man and Daphne chose her sister as Matron of Honor. The only other persons to attend the simple ceremony at the Old House would be the minister and Josette, Bramwell's mother. It would be held in the drawing room, and he would wear the same suit his father had worn to marry his mother. Daphne had chosen to wear her late mother's wedding gown and veil.

Naturally Catherine did all she could to discourage her sister from marrying Bramwell upon finding out about it, but to no avail. All that mattered to the infatuated girl was the fact that she was to marry the man she loved. Of course, deep down Daphne knew her bridegroom was marrying her simply to get back at Catherine, yet told herself that Bramwell would eventually learn to care for her—if she loved him enough. She was enough of a young, idealistic, dyed-in-the-wool romantic to believe in the old adage, "Love conquers all."

Josette also questioned her son's sudden decision to marry Daphne and had asked him point-blank if he loved her. He had said yes, too quickly—and she knew that he couldn't possibly be telling her the truth. Anything was possible, however, so she prayed for Daphne's sake as well as Bramwell's that he would eventually learn to love her. Until then, it would be pain- ful and difficult for the poor child to have to live with the fact that even as much as she loved her husband, his heart belonged to another. She vowed to do all she could to help facilitate matters, but even at that could only do so much.

Even now, the younger woman recalled her sister's last words about how she would ruin her life if she married Bramwell. Daphne's hazel eyes had almost literally shot sparks in Cath- erine's direction as she tartly replied, "Oh, really? Stop trying to run my life, Catherine! Stop patronizing me, and most of all, stop treating me like a stupid child! I know exactly what I'm doing. And incidentally, Bramwell's not the one who ruined your life. You did that to your-self. If any marriage is a colossal mistake, it's yours! At least I'm marrying for the right reasons. All you seem to care about is money and social position!"

Daphne swung about on her heels and headed for the door of Catherine's room, Catherine following close behind. "And just look where your gold-digging has gotten you. Miserable...and don't try to deny it. You can't stand to see me marry Bramwell because he represents all you once had, but threw away because status and wealth matter more to you than love. Well, you deserve everything you've got, dear sister. One thing is for certain—I intend to give Bramwell so much love and attention that he'll soon forget he ever knew you!"

With that, the younger woman had flounced smartly out of the room, slamming the door on her sister's continued protests.

Catherine sighed, knowing that nothing she said was going to change her sister's mind. Arguing with her was a lost cause. It only made her all the more stubborn and determined to have her way. She could only hope that Daphne didn't end up neglected, disillusioned and heartbroken. However, she herself was far too stubborn to admit that all Daphne had said about her own marriage was all too accurate—at least not publicly.

Nor did she like to think that her younger, more sheltered sister could have learned more of life, gained more inborn wisdom in her bare 23 years on earth than she herself had in nearly thirty. In the meantime, it was necessary to help prepare Daphne for her wedding...and even if she had to bite her tongue to do it, Catherine vowed not to say anything which would further antagonize her sister. Daphne would soon learn Bramwell's true nature for herself.

Within two hours, all the necessary people had gathered in the gaily decorated Old House drawing room. Pink roses and ribbons were everywhere. Quentin had Daphne's ring on his right pinky for safekeeping and both men wore pink roses at their lapels. He had even consented to walk Daphne down the aisle, since her and Catherine's parents—particularly their father, Dr. Elias Harridge—were long deceased, giving her over to Bramwell as a surrogate father.

She was ready by the time he went to fetch her. Catherine answered the door, clad in an old- rose colored, sleeveless and off-the-shoulder, ruffled and Empire-waisted, lace-trimmed dress; deep pink roses adorned her upswept blonde curls. But even as beautiful as Catherine looked, it was Daphne who was the true vision of loveliness. Her wedding dress fit as though it had been made for her; the bodice and sleeves molded to her young and very feminine body like a second skin.

The waist tapered to a point and the satin skirt was full, billowing out with three lacy petti-coats so she could walk comfortably. Queen Anne lace covered the bodice and sleeves, and the scalloped collar was held up with tiny pearl buttons at her throat. The chapel-length veil was held in place with a headdress adorned with pink roses, her dark shoulder-length hair falling attractively over the white lace of her gown.

Daphne's dainty hands held a bouquet of pink roses mixed with lilies-of-the-valley, all held together with pink ribbons. Quentin could only hope that his cousin would soon realize what a gem he was getting, and how beautiful his bride was, both inside and out.

The traditional bridal items were as follows: something old—her mother's wedding dress and veil; something new—a pearl necklace she had bought and worn especially for the wedding; something borrowed-Bram's ring (Josette had loaned her her husband's ring), and something blue—the lacy chemise Daphne wore under her gown.

"Are you ladies ready?" Quentin asked with a smile.

Catherine nodded, returning the smile. He then moved to join Daphne, offering her his right arm, which she took. Her left hand rested lightly on the sleeve of his suit coat. By the time the three reached the drawing room, Josette Collins was seated near her son, her long silver hair up in large curls. She wore her best burgundy lace dress, a large jasmine flower in full bloom gracing her left shoulder. Bramwell's left hand was on his mother's right shoulder and her left hand rested over his.

He didn't look up until Quentin and Daphne had nearly reached them...then in spite of himself, felt a strong surge of desire for his bride. The promise of her youthful but thoroughly feminine curves inflamed him almost beyond control, and he vowed to teach her all that physical love between husband and wife entailed as soon as they were alone long enough.

Moments later Quentin relinquished Daphne to her bridegroom; the couple moved to stand in front of the minister as Quentin and Catherine took their accustomed places, the latter carrying a smaller but otherwise identical version of the bridal bouquet. The minister then opened his Bible and quoted 1st Corinthians 13 in its entirety before reciting the traditional vows...with some minor changes.

"Dearly beloved, we are gathered here today in the sight of God and this company to join this man and this woman in holy matrimony. If there is anyone here who does not believe this marriage should take place, let them speak now or forever hold their peace."

Both of the couple shot a brief glance at Catherine, but it was the dangerous look in Bram-well's dark eyes which checked her tongue; her mouth had opened to speak, but no words had come out and she had soon snapped it closed again.

"Very well, we shall continue. Bramwell Jonathan Collins, do you take this woman, Daphne Elizabeth Harridge, to be your lawfully wedded wife, to love, honor and cherish for better or for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, forsaking all others for as long as you both shall live?"

As the minister spoke, Quentin handed Daphne's ring to Bramwell and the latter prepared to place it on her finger, which was waiting and ready to receive it. "I do," came Bramwell's voice, clear and distinct, as if he wanted to assure everyone present of his honorable inten-tions—whether they were or not. "And with this ring I thee wed—and bestow upon thee my name and all my worldly goods." Once the ring had been placed on Daphne's slender finger, the minister turned to address her.

"Daphne Elizabeth Harridge, do you take this man, Bramwell Jonathan Collins, to be your lawfully wedded husband, to love, honor and cherish for better or worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, forsaking all others for as long as you both shall live?"

Daphne looked up into her groom's handsome face, her eyes shining with the deep love she bore him. "I do," she returned softly but firmly and distinctly.

"Is this a double-ring ceremony?" the minister then inquired.

Daphne nodded, reaching for the larger but otherwise identical ring Catherine reluctantly held out to her—Bramwell's father's ring—then placed it on her own groom's finger. "With this ring, I thee wed...and hereby claim thee, Bramwell Jonathan Collins, as my lawfully wedded husband, for now and as long as we both shall live."

Once she had done so, the couple faced the minister again. The latter looked at them both and smiled, then said, "By the power vested in me by the Commonwealth of Maine, I hereby pronounce Bramwell Collins and Daphne Harridge man and wife. Bramwell, you may kiss your bride."

Bramwell then moved closer to his new wife, needing no further encouragement to do so than the love shining from her eyes. He bestowed upon her a long, delicious kiss, with the sensual promise of more to come later. Take that, Catherine, he thought smugly as he passionately pressed Daphne's young sweetness close to him—and was pleased when she responded in kind, but was even more so to catch Catherine wincing and closing her eyes in pain to blot out the sight.

Now you know how I feel when Morgan has kissed you! And I hope you drive yourself mad picturing us in your mind tonight as you lie next to your cold fish of a husband...provided you even share his bed at all! One thing for sure—my marriage to Daphne is definitely not going to be in name only. If I have anything to say in the matter, she will bear me a son by this time next year!

Both participants of the kiss were breathless and flushed by the time they came up for air. A short time later, they were hugged, kissed and congratulated within an inch of their lives by all present...yet it was Josette Collins who was the most vocal, and even then only to her son and new daughter-in-law.

"Congratulations, mon cher fil—and every happiness to you and your new wife." She hugged and kissed him warmly. "If only your father could have lived to see this day." She then spoke to Daphne and repeated her actions. "Congratulations, mon cher fille. Welcome to the family."

"Thank you, Mother," said a slightly flustered Bramwell.

"Thank you, Josette," Daphne returned. "This day would never have happened without you."

"You are most welcome, my child," she answered with a smile. "And I am sure you will make my son very happy."

"I fully intend to," declared Daphne, giving her new husband a loving smile as she squeezed his nearest arm.

Bramwell made himself smile back and pat her hand before raising it to his lips to kiss it as well, making sure that Catherine saw him do it. Not long afterward, the women hustled Daphne off to change into her going-away outfit. (It had been decided to hold the reception after the couple returned from their honeymoon.)

Within the hour Daphne, Josette and Catherine returned—then shortly thereafter, Daphne threw her bouquet. It landed in Josette's arms, but despite the old tradition, all knew that she was unlikely to ever marry again. Even at that, Josette had every intention of saving at least one rose and lily from the bridal bouquet to press into her lace-covered prayer book.

After that, all that was left to do was see the newlyweds on their way. The small group of guests and wedding party had thrown handfuls of rice as the couple headed for the waiting carriage, courtesy of Quentin, which would take Mr. and Mrs. Bramwell Collins to the honey- moon suite of the Collinsport Inn for the weekend, then return them to the Old House to begin their married life.

Once the couple was alone, Bram slipped an arm around his wife's slender waist; she sighed and snuggled close to him, cradling her head on his shoulder and resting her right hand over his in the privacy of the enclosed carriage. He felt the silkiness of Daphne's hair on his cheek and smelled the fragrance of roses, which seemed to be in a soft, scented cloud all around her.

Despite his feelings for Catherine, Bramwell could not resist another lingering kiss on his wife's tempting lips. As they reluctantly parted, Daphne could still taste the sweetness and passion of her husband's kiss on her lips. She hoped it was a good omen for the coming evening, silently vowing to enjoy her wedding night to the fullest despite the sobering fact that her new husband would have someone else in his mind and heart even as he held her in his arms and they made love.

It was for this reason that Daphne concluded that Bramwell was a very passionate man and she had every intention of surprising him with the depth and intensity of her own at the first opportunity. Most importantly, she planned to go on surprising him—not only once, but over and over again, throughout their married life.

Upon arrival at the Collinsport Inn, the newlyweds checked in, then a bellboy carried their luggage as they followed him to the honeymoon suite on the second floor. When they got there, a smiling Bramwell swept his young wife into his arms; her hands were locked around his neck and love shone from her eyes as he carried her over the threshold and into the room.

If one had asked him, the bellboy would likely have said that as far as he could tell, the couple seemed like typical newlyweds; nothing unusual or different about them—at least not at first glance. If you'd told him they were putting on an act, he wouldn't have believed it for a moment. At least not on the part of the bride. He knew a woman in love when he saw one; he couldn't be mistaken about that...but couldn't have said for sure about the husband, although the man acted happy enough.

He had never met Bramwell Collins, although he certainly knew of the Collins family. The man definitely had the look of a Collins about him, even though he was not as well-dressed as the other Collins males he had seen, despite the fact that the man was obviously wearing his best—possibly his only—formal suit. Whatever the case was with this couple, he had neither the time nor inclination to dwell on it. Other people's private lives were none of his business...unless they happened to involve him in some way.

However, he said nothing to either of them, simply carried their luggage inside and deposited it on the floor near the foot of the bed. After Bramwell had set a radiant Daphne on her feet again, he fished in his pocket for a tip. For him, a dollar was an unusually generous tip, since he didn't often have any substantial amount of money in his possession—but that would change if things worked out for him regarding the ship's cargo in which he had invested his life's savings.

He would then be as rich as, if not richer, than any of his high-brow relatives. Certainly a lot better off than his late, lamented father had been. He had been told that if the ship came in within two weeks with all her cargo intact, his fortunes could and likely would multiply a thousandfold and he wouldn't have to subsist on the reluctant charity of his more affluent kin. He had always hated having to depend on them, especially when they had always thrown it up to him with such infuriating regularity.

It was bad enough that he had to endure it, but his mother had done nothing to deserve such treatment. If only for Josette's sake, Bramwell was determined to make his fortune so that he could set her up as she deserved. Barnabas Collins had died when Bramwell was but a teenager, around fourteen. There had been no money to send him to school. It was all Josette could do to keep a roof over their heads, clothes on their backs and food in their bellies by acting as a private tutor to various students of well-to-do families until Barnabas' Uncle Justin, his father Joshua's brother—the only one of their rich relatives who had ever been decent to them—had taken them in and set them up in the Old House, giving them an ample, if not generous, monthly allowance to live on.

Only then, two years later, had Bramwell gotten more formal education. Up to that point, Josette Collins had taught her son to read, write and do mathematics herself when she wasn't teaching the other students. She had also taught French, her native language, as well as history, geography and English grammar, since English was his main language.

Bramwell had discovered a love of reading at a young age and Josette had shamelessly indulged him as much as she could—not to mention an uncanny knack for spotting true antiques. The cargo of the aforementioned ship, the Lucky Lady, had in fact been both a shipment of rare first-edition hardback books, some of which were even personally autographed by their authors. There were also several rare and ornate pieces of furniture on the cargo manifest.

If the designated buyers paid the asking prices for the merchandise, he would take a substantial share of the ensuing profits. At least three million dollars would be his free and clear, and he would at last be able to support his family and himself in style. Meanwhile, he had his wedding night ahead of him and intended to make it a memorable one.

A/N: This is as far as I've typed in so far. Updates will come as soon as I can finish them. Reviews and constructive criticism welcome.