I really need to not keep starting new stories, but I've wanted to write this fic for quite a while, and I finally found the leisure time to get started on it! In my opinion, Charlotte and Mr. Collins never get the compassion and romance they deserve, and my goal is to remedy that.

Disclaimer: I own nothing.

Chapter 1:

William glanced at the plain young woman sitting beside him as they drove away from Hertfordshire, away from her family and away from his troublesome cousins. His new wife was certainly no Jane Bennet. She wasn't even Elizabeth's equal in beauty.

He could feel his neck growing red at the thought of Elizabeth's rejection. He had been so sure that she would accept him. He had presented himself as best he could, striving to exude competence, reliability, morality, and chivalry. Upon his arrival, he had waited outside Longbourne for 9 minutes, waiting until exactly 4 o'clock to knock at the door in the hopes of displaying an admirable punctuality. At the Netherfield ball, he had shown himself to be attentive and considerate. Every evening, he had read from Fordyce's sermons, proving his assiduous devotion to his duties as a clergyman.

Besides all that, marrying him was clearly best for Elizabeth's family. What other option did a young lady of no fortune have? At first, his proposal had gone completely according to plan. She had initially refused, like any elegant young woman would. But then she had kept refusing, and then her sisters were all in the room, squealing with laughter at his expense, and then her mother was wailing, and then he had wanted to die of shame. Looking back, he marveled all his efforts to present himself well. The outcome would have been unchanged if he had shown up late, ignored Elizabeth, and mocked every tenet of the Christian faith.

Well. Someday he would own Longbourn, and the Bennets would be utterly awestruck to see him to repay their mockery with kindness. That would make them sorry for how they'd humiliated him. He would take good care of his fair cousins – did not the scriptures say, "If your enemy is hungry, feed him, for in doing so you will heap burning coals on his head"?

After Elizabeth's refusal, he had left in a huff, unsure of what to do, for he could not show his face before Lady Catherine de Bourgh without a wife. Upon his departure, she had told him quite strictly, "The next time I see you, I insist you be accompanied by your new bride."

He was stomping through Meryton, enraged and embarrassed, when he encountered the good-natured Sir William Lucas. Out of courtesy, the man invited him to dine, and he accepted with alacrity, as he knew a dinner away from his cousins' smirks would do him good. Before he knew what was happening, the Lucases were shoving Charlotte at him, and with hardly a moment's thought he had decided, "I suppose she'll do."

Now, sitting beside him in the carriage, Charlotte met his gaze. She glanced away almost immediately, as though she had no desire to look upon him. William felt a twinge of hurt. Shouldn't she be grateful? He was, after all, saving her from a lifetime of spinsterhood. And whatever his cousins might think, he was not so unattractive that a woman could not even look at him.

At the thought of his cousins, a comment from his least favorite of them all, that wild Lydia, resurfaced in his memory. As he and Charlotte drove away from their wedding, the girl had loudly remarked to her sisters, "I daresay they'll make the homeliest couple in all the county."

He wondered if Charlotte had heard that comment. Did it injure her as it had injured him?

As she averted her eyes from her new husband, only one thought ran through Charlotte Lucas's mind: Lydia was right. Of all the couples in the county, she and William Collins were without a doubt the least physically appealing.

He was short, stocky and puffy. She was two years older than him and had never been pretty, with her thin hair, rough complexion and asymmetrical features. Perhaps it was right that they should marry. Their children would probably be rather unsightly. How would they ever marry them off?

A jolt of fear and disgust ran through her at the thought of actually producing children with Mr. Collins. She looked at him again and barely suppressed a shudder. Yes, this fate was better than ending up a spinster, but not by much.

She could feel his eyes upon her. She willed him not to speak, as she had no desire to listen to his blathering idiocy when she was in such a fragile state, but evidently her will was too weak, as he remarked, "You are trembling, my dear. Are you quite well?"

"Only a little fatigued from the wedding festivities," she tightly replied.

"Of course you are. What a splendid day it was! The decorations did your family credit, although I must say, they were nothing compared to the finery seen at even the most humble dinner party of my patroness, Lady Catherine de Bourgh. When last I dined with her – for she often does me honor by inviting me to dine – I observed, 'The swags above your mantel could grace the bower of Titania!' I often pay her such little compliments, as are appreciated by all members of the fairer sex, regardless of age or station." He paused and seemed to be grasping for something else to say, before observing, "I believe married life suits you already; your complexion seems much less ruddy."

Charlotte didn't know whether to laugh or cry at such a backhanded compliment. Of course her skin looked better now that she was miserable and pale and married. If she continued at this rate, she'd become a beauty to rival any of the Bennet girls within the year.

William frowned, as his speech had apparently had no effect on his bride. He had hoped to inspire some sort of enthusiasm for her new life under the patronage of Lady Catherine de Bourgh, but Charlotte's face remained as impassive as ever. If anything, she looked more displeased. He mentally made a note to compose some special compliments for her when he had the spare time, although it would be difficult, as she had fewer points of beauty than most other women.

Her taciturnity did not worry him overly much. She would certainly grow more cheerful once they arrived at the parsonage and she assumed her role as materfamilias. No lady could fail to be impressed at the cottage, the gardens, the proximity to Rosings Park.

A new thought struck him. Perhaps she was anxious about facing Lady Catherine and being dwarfed by her majesty. She could well fear that her husband would judge her by the standards of a great lady and think less of her for her deficiencies.

"I wish to reassure you, my dear, that I will never condemn you for any of your points of inferiority to Lady Catherine or her daughter, the beautiful and elegant Lady Anne de Bourgh," he said, the words rushing out of him in his eagerness to soothe his bride's nerves. "No sensible man could expect a woman of your upbringing to compete with such exalted personages."

Charlotte merely stared at him. Her mouth opened, then closed, then her face grew blank, and at last she replied, "I had no intention of competing."

"I'm so glad to hear it; that's very sensible of you," William warmly replied.

Only two words came to Charlotte's mind as she stared incredulously at her insufferable new husband: Sod off.