Sing Not For Others, But For Me

A/N – This will be a drabble fic of currently indeterminate length, I know where I want the characters to go, but not necessarily how they get there. I'm not a naturally gifted writer, so please excuse any glaring spelling/grammatical errors. I'm also not a Regency period historian, whilst I'll try not to jar you out of the JA world or make too many faux pas, there will be a more contemporary style of language, basically due to the fact that I'm (a) a lazy writer/fact checker and (b) (disclaimer alert) I'm not Jane Austen and didn't write the original P&P.

Chapter 1 – Making a Silk Purse from a Sow's Ear

As the door closed behind Elizabeth Bennet's retreating figure, Charlotte sat heavily on the chair behind her and scoffed angrily and loudly into the empty sitting room.

How dare Elizabeth castigate her choice of husband so roundly. Yes, she could agree with her "friend" that Mr. Collins would not be her first choice of husband if she had the option of waiting for romantic love, but Charlotte Lucas was ever practical. She knew she did not possess the noted beauty of the two eldest Bennet sisters, nor could she claim to have a tenth of Jane Bennet's grace and charm or Elizabeth's ready wit and outspoken confidence.

At the supposedly advanced age of twenty seven years Charlotte Lucas had little to recommend her to suitors. Although her papa had been honoured with a knighthood by the King, he was not viewed as a true gentleman by way of making his small fortune in honest trade rather than by lucky inheritance. Her father did have some funds, but as she was the first born female of a brood of Lucas children, her eldest brother Charles would inherit the estate on their father's death, leaving Charlotte with an income of a mere two hundred pounds per year and very little in the way of a dowry.

An acute pain in her hands made Charlotte aware that she hand been clasping both into tight fists since the beginning of her heated discussion with Elizabeth. Her fingers had begun to cramp and her nails had made cruel red half moons in both palms. She massaged her hands together as she rose from the chair and walked over to the large mirror above the mantle.

Charlotte had always thought of herself as a vivid watercolour left to fade in the sunlight, visually everything about her was progressively...less than those around her.

It was an undisputed fact that she was not in the least handsome. Her skin was clear, but there was no rosy glow about fashionably pale cheeks, instead there was rather an unladylike tan to her exposed skin. Her hair was glossy and hung to her waist when she freed it from it's usual confines, but it was of a boring dun colour which, given her frequent jaunts in the surrounding countryside to escape the disappointed looks of her parents, had progressively become lighter in the sun.

Unlike the rest of her siblings she looked decidedly like her father except for inheriting her mama's incredibly light green eyes, which her papa had insultingly compared to the colour of boiled gooseberries. She believed that her mouth was her only redeeming feature, her lips were pink and plump and when she smiled they framed her uncommonly white and even teeth.

Her hand's swept down the front of her apron covered muslin frock. Her figure was fairly pleasing she supposed, although she was head and shoulders taller than all of her female companions, she was rounded in the hip, belly and backside with slim well toned legs from years of the solitary walking and riding she was partial to. Charlotte sighed deeply, if only her bosom's were not so overly generous, it was not at all flattering in the current style of dress, therefore she made every attempt to cover the offending part of her body with shawls and other drapery, making her appear evermore unfashionable and spinsterish.

And then there was the issue with her intelligence. From an early age Charlotte had recognised that she had a thirst for knowledge that far outstripped the education her father was willing to provide to his eldest daughter. She read voraciously; preferred debating with her father and his friends to netting or embroidery with her sisters and thoroughly enjoyed gaining knowledge of agriculture and animal husbandry from her father's tenant farmers. Her parents attempted to explain to Charlotte that most men found worldly young women objectionable. To her parent's dismay, Charlotte laughed out loud and proudly stated that any man who wished to gain her favours would desire to be challenged intellectually.

As she became older her mother attempted to school Charlotte in using her feminine charms, but to Mrs. Lucas' chagrin, Charlotte did not appear to have a coquettish bone in her body. When she was in her first flush of youth Charlotte did have a few local swain vying for her attention, but a discernible lack of interest of her part and the small matter of her plain visage and almost non-existent dowry put paid to even this half-hearted wooing.

Now that the bloom was definitely off the rose, Charlotte knew deep down that she would have to lower her expectations significantly from her youthful imaginings. Marrying Mr. Collins was the only respectable and acceptable route to leaving her family home. Admittedly she did not love Mr. Collins, and although he professed that he he loved her she did not believe that he did so. Nor did she find him attractive; mentally or physically, but Charlotte believed that despite his obvious deficiencies he was a kind man who would make a tolerable husband. She persuaded herself that setting up her own establishment as the wife of the obsequious clergyman was the best course of action for her to follow.

After Mr. Collins had successfully won her hand, if not her heart, and had promptly announced their betrothal to her parents, her mama had taken her to one side and explained, with no little stammering and clearing of her throat, Charlotte's wifely duties and the bothersome sins of the flesh which Charlotte would have to endure.

Whilst her mama had not given much detail on what this would entail, Charlotte had tended to her younger brothers and sisters as babes, so knew the physical differences between male and female and her endless curiosity had some functional usefulness as she had often been present whilst the cattle and horses had been placed together to mate. Yet another example of Charlotte's lack of ladylike sensibilities.

This in turn had lead Charlotte to seek out one of her papa's tenant's, Mrs. Dainty, a local midwife and reputed witch, who had a wealth of knowledge when it came to assisting married (and unmarried) ladies wishing to stop conception after biting into the forbidden fruit.

As his wife, Charlotte would do her duty and lay with Mr. Collins, but she was quite sure that she did not wish to have a child with him. She believed with all her heart that children should be borne of love and not necessity. If her feelings towards Mr. Collins should ever change she would cease drinking the special tea concocted by Mrs. Dainty and let nature take its course.

Mr. Collins, on the advice of Lady Catherine de Bourgh, was keen for the marriage to take place as soon as possible and Charlotte wished for as little fuss as possible, therefore the wedding and their subsequent departure to her new home in Hunsford would take place within the next fortnight.

When Elizabeth had called on Charlotte earlier that day, Charlotte believed that her dearest friend was calling to give her belated blessing to the joining. Instead, Elizabeth had thoroughly berated Charlotte; told her that she was disgusted with Charlotte's choice of husband and informed Charlotte that she had sunk low in her esteem. Charlotte had rebutted all of Elizabeth's arguments calmly and laid out her own reasons for the marriage going ahead as planned but had felt her ire rising by the minute, hence the cramped hands.

Whilst Charlotte felt that, in part, Elizabeth's outburst had been coloured by Mr. Collins speedy recovery from her refusal of his offer of marriage, she wished to believe that Elizabeth only had her best interests at heart and in time would come to wish Charlotte well.

The whispers regarding her lack of eligibility and beauty; the sly jokes about her being an old maid over the years had hurt Charlotte deeply, but now as she looked into the sitting room mirror she smiled broadly as she realised that she would have the last laugh – she would be the first of their group to be married...even if it was to be to the most stupid man of her acquaintance.