SETH GRAHAME-SMITH - PRIDE AND PREJUDICE AND ZOMBIES

“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 himself at another table with Mr. Bennet, and prepared for backgammon.

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.

Elizabeth, equally next to Jane in birth and beauty, and perhaps surpassing her in skill, succeeded her of course. Mrs. Bennet treasured up the hint, and trusted that she might soon have two daughters married; and the man whom she could not bear to speak of the day before was now high in her good graces.

Lydia’s intention of walking to Meryton was not forgotten; every sister except Mary agreed to go with her, determined that she survive the trip. Mr. Collins was to attend them, at the request of Mr. Bennet, who was most anxious to get rid of him, and have his library to himself.

Mr. Collins used the walk to Meryton to his advantage, spending most of it at the side of Elizabeth-who was watching the surrounding woods, prepared to meet to first sign of trouble with her Brown Bess. Jane and the others followed behind, their muskets also thus engaged. Mr. Collins, who fancied himself a man of peace, carried neither barrel nor blade; he happily puffed away on his ivory and chestnut pipe-“a gift from her ladyship,” he boasted at every opportunity.

They were scarcely a quarter mile past the old croquet grounds, when Elizabeth first caught the scent of death. Seeing her body tense, the other girls raised their muskets and closed ranks, ready to meet an attack from any direction.

“Is… is there some sort of trouble?” asked Mr. Collins, who suddenly looked as if he might faint.

Elizabeth pressed a finger to her lips, and motioned for her sisters to follow. She led them along a set of carriage tracks, her footsteps so light as to leave even the smallest grain of sand undisturbed. The tracks continued for a few yards before suddenly veering toward the woods, where broken branches signaled the very spot it had left its wheels and plummeted into the ravine that paralleled one side of the road. Elizabeth peered over the side. Some twenty yards below, eight or nine blood-soaked zombies crawled over a shattered wagon and its leaking barrels. Most of them were busy picking at the innards of the carriage horse; but one happy dreadful was scooping the last morsels from the broken skull of the driver-a young girl the sisters recognized at once.

“Good Heavens!” whispered Jane. “Penny McGregor! Oh! Poor, miserable girl! How often we warned her not to ride alone!”