AN: This story is now only a preview (kept up for the purpose of showing proof of ownership since this has a date stamp). It is now on amazon and nook (links are on my author page). Thank you to all of the reviewers and followers and unknown readers who have kept encouraging me to keep at it. I could not have done this without you.

Chapter 1

The carriage stopped in front of Rosings. Mr. Darcy descended first, allowing his cousin out after himself. He hated this annual trip to visit his overbearing aunt. He looked out so as to observe his surroundings. The formal gardens surrounding them had barely recovered from the cold winter. The distant woods were more inviting.

"Another boring Easter lies ahead of us," Colonel Fitzwilliam managed.

"It might not be so bad. Eventually she will stop trying to convince me to marry Anne." Mr. Darcy's attempt at sarcasm was weak, drawing a grunt from his cousin. "The footmen are already opening the door. It is time to get this over with."

Within minutes, the two gentlemen were standing in front of Lady Catherine de Bourgh. She sat in her regal manner and asked outright if Mr. Darcy had set a date for his wedding.

"I am not engaged to anyone," was his simple response. He had been saying the same thing for too long. He was tired of refusing to marry Anne at each visit. And when he left, she would pretend the engagement was official. She would tell everyone the news. He would then have to spend too many hours refuting her claims during the season. Matchmaking mammas thought that the comparison of their daughters to Anne would help their cases. It never did. Then, in a year, the same would happen again. If only he could find the bride he sought so that she would no longer encourage this false engagement.

"Of course, you are engaged to Anne. You must set a date soon. Her health will not last forever."

Mr. Darcy barely restrained the roll of his eyes. "I am not engaged to Anne, nor do I have any intentions of becoming so. Neither does Anne, if you ever bothered to ask her."

Lady Catherine was about to respond, when the door opened, and Mr. Collins entered moments after being announced, out of breath but eager to show his respect. He spoke with little eloquence, and it was another fifteen minutes before anyone else could interject.

Lady Catherine finally cut him off. "Mr. Collins, I am having an important discussion with my nephews. Will you kindly leave us?"

Mr. Collins turned to depart immediately and was apologizing most profusely when Mr. Darcy stopped him. "That is not necessary. We have nothing further to say. Mr. Collins, my aunt informed me that you are recently married." He decided that meeting the parson's ridiculous wife was preferable to his aunt's company. She must be ridiculous if she had married this parson.

Mr. Collins bowed as deeply as he could. "Yes, I married quickly after my proposal was accepted following the ball at Netherfield. Your esteemed aunt insisted I marry speedily, so that I would not delay my return to my parish. We married at the beginning of the year after a short courtship. We are very happy together."

Mr. Darcy blanched as he remembered whom Mr. Collins had paid his attentions to the previous autumn. Surely it could not be her. "I wish to pay my respects to her. Will you escort me to your house?"

"You are most gracious!" Mr. Collins continued praising him as he skipped out of the house, but Mr. Darcy did not listen.

Colonel Fitzwilliam followed behind Mr. Darcy, cautiously wondering what could have taken his cousin. The wife of the small-minded parson would be no one in particular to require this condescension. He whispered his thoughts to Mr. Darcy, but he only shrugged in response. Mr. Collins continued quickly ahead of Mr. Darcy and Colonel Fitzwilliam. So quickly, in fact, that he had reached the parsonage ten minutes ahead of them.

Mr. Darcy and the colonel entered the house with mixed emotions. The colonel was more curious than he had ever been before, while Mr. Darcy was white as a sheet. His complexion worsened when he entered the parlor where Mr. and Mrs. Collins were waiting for them.

Mr. Collins spoke very grandiosely in his glee. "Mr. Darcy of Pemberley, Derbyshire, and Colonel Fitzwilliam of His Majesty's Army, may I present to you Mrs. Elizabeth Collins, my wife of just over three months."

Colonel Fitzwilliam moved forward when he saw that his cousin was in no mood to either move or speak. His polite congratulations were enough for the two of them. He watched with concern as Mrs. Collins lifted her head high after her polite curtsey. She attempted to move away from her husband, but he moved closer and wrapped an arm around her waist. She was effectively trapped. The colonel observed that she seemed squeamish at such closeness. He entered into conversation easily with her and asked many questions about her family and how she liked Kent. He had hoped the parson would release his wife, but it was not to be.

Mr. Darcy stood in silent mortification. Elizabeth, who had spent so many nights in his dreams making passionate love to him, and whom he had seen many times in the halls and rooms around him as he had daydreamed of a future with her, was married to the odious parson. Mr. Collins put his arm around her waist with such a familiarity that he had only dreamed of for himself. Elizabeth looked lovely, despite a cap covering her hair. He looked at the cap, which covered all of her curls. Her hair was as dark as he remembered, but he could barely see it as it was so tightly bound. Not even one curl escaped the cap.

She looked at her husband in disgust, but he did not register her emotions and moved closer. When the colonel asked how Mrs. Collins was enjoying Kent, Mr. Collins stepped forward, disliking his lack of opportunity to speak before this moment. "My Elizabeth is very happy here. We are of one mind, and she is an excellent mistress. Why, just today she told me that this is the second month she has missed her courses. It is very likely we will have a child before next winter. I am thrilled that I chose my wife so well."

Mr. Darcy abruptly recovered his faculties and left the room without a bow. The images he had dreamed of were now replaced in his mind with images of Elizabeth submitting to her husband. The front door slammed shut behind him, and he walked away.