Pride and Prejudice and Zombies

“Your examination of Mr. Darcy is over, I presume,” said Miss Bingley, “and pray what is the result?”

  “I am perfectly convinced by it that Mr. Darcy has no defect.”

  “No,” said Darcy, “I have faults enough, but they are not, I hope, of understanding. My temper I dare not vouch for. I have taken many a life for offenses which would seem but trifles to other men.”

  “That is a failing indeed!” cried Elizabeth. “But you have chosen your fault well, for it is one which I share. I too live by the warrior code, and would gladly kill if my honour demanded it. You are safe from me.”

  “There is, I believe, in every disposition a tendency to some particular evil—a natural defect, which not even the best education can overcome.”

  “And your defect, Mr. Darcy, is to hate everybody.”

  “And yours,” he replied with a smile, “is willfully to misunderstand them.”

  “Do let us have a little music,” cried Miss Bingley, tired of a conversation in which she had no share. “Louisa, you will not mind my waking Mr. Hurst?”

  Her sister had not the smallest objection, and the pianoforte was opened; and Darcy was not sorry for it. He began to feel the danger of paying Elizabeth too much attention.

  CHAPTER 12

  IN CONSEQUENCE OF AN AGREEMENT between the sisters, Elizabeth wrote the next morning to their mother, to beg that the carriage might be sent for them in the course of the day. But Mrs. Bennet, who had calculated on her daughters remaining at Netherfield till the following Tuesday, which would exactly finish Jane’s week, could not bring herself to receive them with pleasure before. Her answer, therefore, was disappointing. Mrs. Bennet sent them word that they could not possibly have the carriage before Tuesday, for it had been badly damaged by errant musket balls during a skirmish between soldiers and a party of the sorry stricken near the encampment at Meryton.

  This was at least partially true—for the carriage had indeed been caught in a crossfire when Catherine and Lydia used it to visit with a group of officers; but the damage was in fact less severe than Mrs. Bennet suggested. In her postscript it was added that if Mr. Bingley and his sister pressed them to stay longer, she could spare them. Against staying longer, however, Elizabeth urged Jane to borrow Mr. Bingley’s carriage immediately, and at length it was settled that their original design of leaving Netherfield that morning should be mentioned, and the request made.

  The request excited many professions of concern; and enough was said of wishing them to stay at least till the following day to allow the ground to further harden; and till the morrow their going was deferred. Miss Bingley was then sorry that she had proposed the delay, for her jealousy and dislike of Elizabeth much exceeded her affection for Jane.

  Mr. Bingley heard with real sorrow that they were to go so soon, and repeatedly tried to persuade Miss Bennet that it would not be safe for her—that she was not enough recovered to fight if the carriage should meet with trouble; but Jane reminded him that Elizabeth was as capable a bodyguard as there was in all of England.

  To Mr. Darcy it was welcome intelligence—Elizabeth had been at Netherfield long enough. She attracted him more than he liked—and Miss Bingley was uncivil to her, and more teasing than usual to himself. He resolved that no sign of admiration should now escape him. Steady to his purpose, he scarcely spoke ten words to her through the whole of Saturday, and though they were at one time left by themselves for half an hour, he adhered most conscientiously to his book, and would not even look at her.

  On Sunday, after morning service, the separation took place. Miss Bingley’s civility to Elizabeth increased at last very rapidly, as well as her affection for Jane; and when they parted, after assuring the latter of the pleasure it would always give her to see her either at Longbourn or Netherfield and embracing her most tenderly, she even shook hands with the former. Elizabeth took leave of the whole party in the liveliest of spirits.

  The ride to Longbourn was altogether agreeable, save for a brief encounter with a small herd of zombie children, no doubt from Mrs. Beechman’s Home for Orphans, which had recently fallen along with the entire parish of St. Thomas. Mr. Bingley’s coachman could not help but vomit down the front of his cravat at the sight of the tiny devils grazing on sun-hardened corpses in a nearby field. Elizabeth kept her musket close, lest they advance. But luck was on their side, and the cursed children took no notice of the carriage.

  They were not welcomed home very cordially by their mother. Mrs. Bennet thought them very wrong to give so much trouble, and was sure Jane would have caught cold again. Her protests were inflamed by the sight of vomit on the coachman’s cravat—a sure sign that they had encountered unmentionables en route. But their father was truly glad to see them, for the evening sparring sessions had lost much of their animation by the absence of Jane and Elizabeth.

  They found Mary, as usual, deep in the study of human nature; Catherine and Lydia had information for them of a different sort. Much had been done and much had been said in the regiment since the preceding Wednesday; several of the officers had dined lately with their uncle, a private had been flogged for engaging in base acts with a headless corpse, and it had actually been hinted that Colonel Forster was going to be married.

  CHAPTER 13

  I HOPE, MY DEAR,” said Mr. Bennet to his wife, as they were at breakfast the next morning, “that you have ordered a good dinner to-day, because I have reason to expect an addition to our family party.”

  “Who do you mean, my dear? I know of nobody that is coming, I am sure, unless Charlotte Lucas should happen to call in—and I am sure my dinners are good enough for her, since she is an unmarried woman of seven-and-twenty, and as such should expect little more than a crust of bread washed down with a cup of loneliness.”

  “The person of whom I speak is a gentleman, and a stranger.”

  Mrs. Bennet’s eyes sparkled. “A gentleman and a stranger! It is Mr. Bingley, I am sure! I shall be extremely glad to see Mr. Bingley. But—good Lord! How unlucky! There is not a bit of fish to be got to-day. Lydia, my love, ring the bell—I must speak to Hill this moment.”

  “It is not Mr. Bingley, you senseless old cur,” said her husband; “it is a person whom I never saw in the whole course of my life.”

  After amusing himself some time with their curiosity, he thus explained:

  “About a month ago I received this letter; and about a fortnight ago I answered it. It is from my cousin, Mr. Collins, who, when I am dead, may turn you all out of this house as soon as he pleases.”

  “Oh! My dear,” cried his wife, “Pray do not talk of that odious man. I do think it is the hardest thing in the world that your estate should be entailed away from your own children!”

  Jane and Elizabeth tried to explain that all five of them were capable of fending for themselves; that they could make tolerable fortunes as bodyguards, assassins, or mercenaries if need be. But it was a subject on which Mrs. Bennet was beyond the reach of reason, and she continued to rail bitterly against the cruelty of settling an estate away from a family of five daughters, in favour of a man whom nobody cared anything about.

  “It certainly is a most iniquitous affair,” said Mr. Bennet, “and nothing can clear Mr. Collins from the guilt of inheriting Longbourn. But if you will listen to his letter, you may perhaps be a little softened by his manner of expressing himself.”

  Hunsford, near Westerham, Kent,

  15th October

  DEAR SIR,

  The disagreement subsisting between yourself and my late honoured father always gave me much uneasiness. He was a great warrior, as you once were, and I know he looked with fondness upon the days when both of you fought side by side—back when the strange plague was but an isolated inconvenience. Since his passing, I have frequently wished to heal the breach; but for some time I was kept back by my own doubts, fearing lest it might seem disrespectful to his memory for me to be on good terms with anyone with whom my father had once vowed to castrate. My mind, however, is now made
up on the subject, for having entered the priesthood, I have been so fortunate as to be distinguished by the patronage of the Right Honourable Lady Catherine de Bourgh . . .

  “Heavens!” cried Elizabeth, “He works for Lady Catherine!” “Let me finish,” said Mr. Bennet, sternly.

  . . . whose skill with blade and musket are unmatched, and who has slain more unmentionables than any woman known. As a clergyman, I feel it my duty to promote and establish the blessing of peace in all families. If you should have no objection to receive me into your house, I propose myself the satisfaction of waiting on you and your family, Monday, November 18th, by four o’clock, and shall probably trespass on your hospitality till the Saturday following. I remain, dear sir, with respectful compliments to your lady and daughters, your well-wisher and friend,

  WILLIAM COLLINS

  “At four o’clock, therefore, we may expect this peace-making gentleman,” said Mr. Bennet, as he folded up the letter. “He seems to be a most conscientious and polite young man, and I doubt not will prove a valuable acquaintance, especially in light of his association with Lady Catherine.

  Mr. Collins was punctual to his time, and was received with great politeness by the whole family. Mr. Bennet indeed said little; but the ladies were ready enough to talk, and Mr. Collins seemed neither in need of encouragement, nor inclined to be silent himself. He was a short, fat young man of five-and-twenty. His air was grave and stately, and his manners were very formal. He had not been long seated before he complimented Mrs. Bennet on having so fine a family of daughters; said he had heard much of their beauty, but that in this instance fame had fallen short of the truth; and added, that he could hardly wait to see a display of their legendary fighting skill.

  “You are very kind, I am sure; but I should rather see them with husbands than muskets, for else they will be destitute enough. Things are settled so oddly.”

  “You allude, perhaps, to the entail of this estate.”

  “Ah! Sir, I do indeed. It is a grievous affair to my poor girls, you must confess.”

  “I am very sensible, madam, of the hardship to my fair cousins, and could say much on the subject, but that I am cautious of appearing forward and precipitate. But I can assure the young ladies that I come prepared to admire them. At present I will not say more; but, perhaps, when we are better acquainted—”

  He was interrupted by a summons to dinner; and the girls smiled on each other. They were not the only objects of Mr. Collins’s admiration. The hall, the dining-room, and all its furniture, were examined and praised; and his commendation of everything would have touched Mrs. Bennet’s heart, but for the mortifying supposition of his viewing it all as his own future property. The dinner too was highly admired; and he begged to know to which of his fair cousins the excellency of its cookery was owing.

  Briefly forgetting her manners, Mary grabbed her fork and leapt from her chair onto the table. Lydia, who was seated nearest her, grabbed her ankle before she could dive at Mr. Collins and, presumably, stab him about the head and neck for such an insult. Jane and Elizabeth turned away so Mr. Collins would not see them laughing.

  He was set right by Mrs. Bennet, who assured him with some asperity that they were very well able to keep a good cook, and that her daughters were too busy training to be bothered with the kitchen. He begged pardon for having displeased Mary. In a softened tone she declared herself not at all offended; but he continued to apologise for about a quarter of an hour.

  CHAPTER 14

  DURING DINNER, Mr. Bennet scarcely spoke at all; but when the servants were withdrawn, he thought it time to have some conversation with his guest, and therefore started a subject in which he expected him to shine, by observing that he seemed very fortunate in his patroness. Lady Catherine de Bourgh was not only one of the King’s richest servants, but also one of his deadliest. Mr. Bennet could not have chosen better. Mr. Collins was eloquent in her praise, offering that he had never in his life witnessed such self-discipline in a person of rank. Lady Catherine was reckoned proud by many people he knew, but he had never seen anything but a singular dedication to the art of killing zombies. She had always spoken to him as she would to any other gentleman; she made not the smallest objection to his watching her spar nor to his leaving the parish occasionally for a week or two, to visit his relations. She had even advised him to marry as soon as he could, provided he chose with discretion.

  “I have oft dreamt of watching Lady Catherine spar,” said Elizabeth. “Does she live near you, sir?”

  “The garden in which stands my humble abode is separated only by a lane from Rosings Park, her ladyship’s residence.”

  “I think you said she was a widow, sir? Has she any family?”

  “She has only one daughter, the heiress of Rosings, and of very extensive property.”

  “Ah!” said Mrs. Bennet, shaking her head, “then she is better off than many girls. And what sort of young lady is she? Is she handsome?”

  “She is a most charming young lady indeed. Lady Catherine herself says that, in point of true beauty, Miss de Bourgh is far superior to the handsomest of her sex, because there is that in her features which marks the young lady of distinguished birth. She is unfortunately of a sickly constitution, which has prevented her from following her mother’s example in regards to the deadly arts. I fear can she hardly lift a saber, let alone wield one with such skill as Her Ladyship.”

  “Has she been presented? I do not remember her name among the ladies at court.”

  “Her indifferent state of health unhappily prevents her being in town; and by that means, as I told Lady Catherine one day, has deprived the British court of its brightest ornament. You may imagine that I am happy to offer these little delicate compliments which are always acceptable to ladies.”

  “You judge very properly,” said Mr. Bennet. “May I ask whether these pleasing attentions proceed from the impulse of the moment, or are the result of previous study?”

  “They arise chiefly from what is passing at the time, and though I sometimes amuse myself with suggesting and arranging such little elegant compliments as may be adapted to ordinary occasions, I always wish to give them as unstudied an air as possible.”

  Mr. Bennet’s expectations were fully answered. His cousin was as absurd as he had hoped, and he listened to him with the keenest enjoyment, maintaining at the same time the most resolute composure of countenance.

  When tea was over, Mr. Bennet was glad to invite him to read aloud to the ladies. Mr. Collins readily assented, and a book was produced; but, on beholding it (for everything announced it to be from a circulating library), he started back, and begging pardon, protested that he never read novels. Kitty stared at him, and Lydia exclaimed. Other books were produced, and after some deliberation he chose Fordyce’s Sermons. Lydia gaped as he opened the volume, and before he had, with very monotonous solemnity, read three pages, she interrupted him with:

  “Do you know, mamma, that my Uncle Philips talks of an additional battalion coming to join Colonel Forster’s? My aunt told me so herself on Saturday. I shall walk to Meryton to-morrow to hear more about it, assuming one of my sisters is willing to join me.”

  Lydia was bid by her two eldest sisters to hold her tongue; but Mr. Collins, much offended, laid aside his book, and said:

  “I have often observed how little young ladies are uninterested by books of a serious stamp. I will no longer importune my young cousin.”

  Then turning to Mr. Bennet, he offered himself as his antagonist at backgammon. Mr. Bennet accepted the challenge, observing that he acted wisely in leaving the girls to their own trifling amusements. Mrs. Bennet and her daughters apologised for Lydia’s interruption, which, claimed Mrs. Bennet, would have earned her ten wet bamboo lashes had she still been under the tutelage of Master Liu. They promised that it should not occur again, if he would resume his book; but Mr. Collins, after assuring them that he bore his young cousin no ill-will, and should never resent her behaviour as any affront, seated hi
mself at another table with Mr. Bennet, and prepared for backgammon.

  CHAPTER 15

  MR. COLLINS WAS NOT a sensible man, and the deficiency of nature had been but little assisted by education or society; the greatest part of his life having been spent under the guidance of a brave but illiterate father; and though he belonged to one of the universities, he had oft borne the condemnation of his peers for a perceived lack of bloodlust. The subjection in which his father had brought him up had given him much knowledge of the art of combat; but it was a good deal counteracted by his weak head, fleshy figure, and now, the ease of his current patronage. A fortunate chance had recommended him to Lady Catherine de Bourgh, who had been forced to behead her previous rector when he succumbed to the walking death.

  Having now a good house and a very sufficient income, he intended to marry; and in seeking a reconciliation with the Longbourn family he had a wife in view, as he meant to choose one of the daughters, if he found them as handsome and amiable as they were represented by common report. This was his plan of amends—of atonement—for inheriting their father’s estate; and he thought it an excellent one, full of eligibility and suitableness, and excessively generous on his own part.

  His plan did not vary on seeing them. The eldest daughter’s lovely face and striking muscle tone confirmed his views, and for the first evening she was his settled choice. The next morning, however, made an alteration; for in a quarter of an hour’s tête-à-tête with Mrs. Bennet before breakfast, a conversation beginning with his parsonage-house, and leading naturally to the avowal of his hopes, that a mistress might be found for it at Longbourn, produced from her, amid very complaisant smiles and general encouragement, a caution against the very Jane he had fixed on. As to her younger daughters, she could not take upon her to say—she could not positively answer—but she did not know of any prepossession; her eldest daughter, she must just mention—she felt it incumbent on her to hint, was likely to be very soon engaged.