Pride and Prejudice and Zombies by Seth Grahame-Smith

advantage can it be for you to offend Mr. Darcy? You will never recommend yourself to his friend by so doing!”
    Nothing that she could say, however, had any influence. Elizabeth blushed and blushed again with shame and vexation. She could not help frequently glancing her eye at Mr. Darcy, though every glance convinced her of what she dreaded; for though he was not always looking at her mother, she was convinced that his attention was invariably fixed by her. The expression of his face changed gradually from indignant contempt to a composed and steady gravity.
    At length, however, Mrs. Bennet had no more to say; and Lady Lucas, who had been long yawning at the repetition of delights which she saw no likelihood of sharing, was left to the comforts of cold ham and chicken. Elizabeth now began to revive. But not long was the interval of tranquillity; for, when supper was over, not a servant was to be found to attend to their empty plates. Seeing his guests grow restless, Mr. Bingley rose from his seat and excused himself—no doubt to scold his steward for the embarrassment.
    Upon his return, Elizabeth promptly reached for her ankle dagger. Mr. Bingley’s white face and troubled countenance were enough to solicit such a reaction.
    “Mr. Darcy, if I may have the pleasure of your company in the kitchen,” said Bingley. Darcy rose, taking care not to move too quickly, lest he alarm the guests. Elizabeth took it upon herself to follow him. When Darcy took notice of this, he turned to her and said, in a whisper, “Miss Bennet, I would much prefer you took your seat. I am quite capable of attending to Mr. Bingley myself.”
    “Of that I have no doubt, Mr. Darcy. Just as I have no doubt in my ability to form my own opinion on the matter. Now, do you wish to cause a stir, or shall we to the kitchen?”
    Mr. Bingley led the two of them down a hidden staircase and into the cellar, which was divided into two halves by a long corridor—one side belonging to the servants’ quarters and armory, the other to the exercise parlor and kitchen. It was in the latter that a most unfortunate sight awaited them. Two adult unmentionables—both of them male—busied themselves feasting upon the flesh of the household staff. How two zombies could have killed a dozen servants, four maids, two cooks, and a steward was beyond Elizabeth’s comprehension, but she knew precisely how they had gotten in: The cellar door had been opened to let in the cool night air and relieve the oppression of the woodstoves.
    “Well, I suppose we had ought to take all of their heads, lest they be born to darkness,” she said.
    Mr. Bingley observed the desserts his poor servants had been attending to at the time of their demise—a delightful array of tarts, exotic fruits, and pies, sadly soiled by blood and brains, and thus unusable.
    “I don’t suppose,” said Darcy, “that you would give me the honour of dispensing of this unhappy business alone. I should never forgive myself if your gown were soiled.”
    “The honour is all yours, Mr. Darcy.”
    Elizabeth thought she detected the slightest smile on his face. She

    “TWO ADULT UNMENTIONABLES—BOTH OF THEM MALE—BUSIED THEMSELVES FEASTING UPON THE FLESH OF THE HOUSEHOLD STAFF.”
    watched as Darcy drew his blade and cut down the two zombies with savage yet dignified movements. He then made quick work of beheading the slaughtered staff, upon which Mr. Bingley politely vomited into his hands. There was no denying Darcy’s talents as a warrior.
    “If only,” she thought, “his talents as a gentleman were their equal.”
    When they returned to the ball, they found the spirits of the others very much disturbed. Mary was entertaining them at the pianoforte, her shrill voice testing the patient ears of all present. Elizabeth looked at her father to entreat his interference, lest Mary should be singing all night. He took the hint, and when Mary had finished her second song, said aloud:
    “That will do extremely