Steve Hockensmith - Pride and Prejudice and Zombies - Dawn of the Dreadfuls

“ Yes ,” the lieutenant said without hesitation.

A little high-pitched “hmf!” of irritation escaped Elizabeth’s lips, and she had to clamp her teeth to keep from saying more.

Almost! Almost she’d allowed herself to think well of the man! She was growing as soft-hearted as Jane!

“You think me a prig,” Lt. Tindall said rather ruefully. “But what I am is a soldier who loves his country. Its traditions. Its values. Everything it stands for. And if we destroy the unmentionables but allow them to destroy all that—including our ideal of genteel English womanhood—can we even say we’ve truly won?”

“ Yes ,” Elizabeth said, pleased to throw the word back in the lieu-tenant’s face with certitude equal to his own. “And if you preserve genteel English womanhood while serving up genteel English women as so much steak tartare, I would say that you have most definitely lost.”

“You must keep faith in those things that have made England great, Miss Bennet.”

“Those were General Cornwallis’s sentiments, too, Lieutenant Tindall. And the last time he was seen, I believe, he was feasting upon one of his own dragoons.”

In her pique, Elizabeth had sped up her pace considerably, so much so that the lieutenant had to scurry to keep up with her. But now she came to such a sudden stop the young man shot past her by several steps.

“Ah!” she said. “Muskets! Who’s going to teach me to shoot, then? You, Lieutenant?”

Before them were a dozen soldiers, each with a Brown Bess in his hands. They looked tentative and bewildered to Elizabeth—not like fierce warriors at all. They were watching a tub-gutted sergeant as he held up his own musket with one hand and reached down to a black box at his side with the other.

“CarTOUCHE!” the sergeant boomed.

The soldiers groped at identical boxes hanging at their hips.

The sergeant pulled out a small, yellowish tube.

“Paper CHARGE!”

The soldiers pulled out their own charges with much fumbling and furrowing of brows. More than one dropped the little tube and had to bend down and pick it up off the lawn.

“Bite top off CHARGE! Keep ball in MOUTH!”

The sergeant put the tube up to his teeth, ripped off the top, and spat away a loose wad of paper.

The soldiers struggled to do the same, many of them grimacing. Apparently, paper charges didn’t taste particularly good.

“Powder in PAN! Lock pa—SimmmmmmmMONS! What is the probLEM?”

One of the soldiers had gone pop-eyed.

“Cuuuuuuuuu cuuuuu cuuuuuuu,” he wheezed.

“I think he swallowed his musket ball, Sergeant,” the soldier next to him said.

Simmons nodded emphatically.

“Dammit!”

The sergeant stomped over and swatted Simmons on the back until a small gray ball exploded from the man’s mouth with such force he could have almost served as a musket himself.

“All RIGHT! Begin aGAIN!”

“With all due respect, Lieutenant,” Elizabeth said, “after seeing this, not to mention the incident upon the road the other day, I’m not especially inclined to return to my needlework and let the king’s army attend to anything.”

Lt. Tindall snapped up to his full height as if something very sharp had just been poked into something very tender.

“These are new recruits, conscripted in London little more than a week ago. They still need much in the way of training. And, I might add, it doesn’t help matters much when that training is disrupted by the presence of a young lady. To allow you to actually join in . . . it’s madness.”

Elizabeth straightened up as tall as she could, too, lifting her chin high. “So you refuse to teach me to shoot?”

The lieutenant shook his head. “No. I have orders and I will follow them. If you insist on this frivolous exercise, I will find someone who might be spared to indulge you. I would ask, however, that you remove yourself to the back lawn so as not to create a spectacle and further distract the men.”

Elizabeth found herself gripping the hilt of her katana. The sword might have even slid an inch or two from its scabbard by the time she noticed.

“Far be it for me to wreck the morale of the whole English army,” she said. “You need not worry about further distractions on my account. Good day to you, Sir.”

She whirled around and headed for the trees on the far side of the lawn.

“Miss Bennet! Wait! Where are you going?”

Elizabeth stopped and looked back just long enough to say, “Home. And no, I will not require an escort. This sword is all I need!”

Then she was off again. She didn’t slow down until she was on the path that led to Longbourn—and she was certain she was out of sight.

“Yes, that’s the way to prove you wouldn’t be a distraction,” she fumed. “That’s how to prove your mettle. Throw a tantrum and stomp off like a child!”

She knew she should go back. To do as her father asked. To learn to use a musket. To apologize to the lieutenant for causing a scene. To avoid the unmentionable eager to refill its belly with fresh meat.

Yet though she slowed, she couldn’t turn herself around. She was grateful to be heading back to Longbourn, she realized. Perhaps she was even excited. But why?

Could it be something as foolish as, as improper as, as hopeless as—?

A tall, thin figure came bounding out of the brush by the road, and Elizabeth whirled on it, blade already flashing brightly in the sun.

“Ahhhh, Miss Bennet!” Dr. Keckilpenny said, his toothy grin undimmed by the katana poised to slice through his scrawny neck. “I’m so glad I caught up to you! Good morning! Sorry to startle you! My, what an exquisite piece of cutlery!”

Elizabeth resheathed her sword and heaved a sigh heavy with both embarrassment and thwarted bloodlust. “Good morning, Doctor. I’m honored to find that you remember me. When we first met, you said you had to know someone at least ten years before you could recall their name.”

Dr. Keckilpenny furrowed his brow and frowned. “Did I? I have no memory of that, of course, but it’s certainly true enough. Only . . . yes. Elizabeth Bennet .”

The doctor was in proper (if wrinkled and rumpled) clothes this day, and his dark hair, though free of the leaves and twigs he’d sported in his zombie disguise, was as wild as the thicket he’d just crashed through.

In his hands was something that looked very much like a butterfly net.

“Well,” he said with a shrug of his bony shoulders, “how could I forget after our first meeting proved so memorable?”

He planted the long pole he was carrying in the ground and leaned against it. Straps and buckles ringed the inside of the netting, Elizabeth now saw, and it didn’t hang limp but rather jutted out stiffly, as if the mesh had been woven from copper wire. If this were a butterfly net, it had been designed for butterflies the size and strength of eagles.

“I say, Miss Bennet,” Dr. Keckilpenny said, “are you engaged?”

Elizabeth blinked. “Excuse me?”

“Are you engaged, at the moment? Occupied? Busy? Unavailable? Spoken for? I was just about to head off into the woods again when I spied you up this way, and I thought to myself, ‘Ooooo, I’d really rather not be eaten. I wonder if the young lady would care to join me. I’m no duke or earl or what have you, but if I’m lucky, perhaps I’ll rate my own Bennet as a bodyguard!’”

“Oh. Of course. So you’ve heard about that. Well . . .”

Elizabeth looked away, facing again the winding lane to Longbourn, feeling again the tug that drew her on—a pull that intrigued and confused and perhaps even frightened her.

She decided to test her strength against it.

“I would be delighted to accompany you.”