Pride and Prejudice and Zombies

by Jane Austen

  “I am,” said he, with a firm voice.

  “And never allow yourself to be blinded by prejudice?”

  “I hope not.”

  “It is particularly incumbent on those who never change their opinion, to be secure of judging properly at first.”

  “May I ask to what these questions tend?”

  “Merely to the illustration of your character,” said she, endeavouring to shake off her gravity. “I am trying to make it out.”

  “And what is your success?”

  She shook her head. “I do not get on at all. I hear such different accounts of you as puzzle me exceedingly.”

  “I can readily believe,” answered he gravely, “that reports may vary greatly with respect to me; and I could wish, Miss Bennet, that you were not to sketch my character at the present moment.”

  “But if I do not take your likeness now, I may never have another opportunity.”

  “I would by no means suspend any pleasure of yours,” he coldly replied. She said no more, and they went down the other dance and parted in silence; and on each side dissatisfied, though not to an equal degree, for in Darcy’s breast there was a tolerable powerful feeling toward her, which soon procured her pardon, and directed all his anger against another.

  Elizabeth then sought her eldest sister. “I want to know what you have learnt about Mr. Wickham. But perhaps you have been too pleasantly engaged to think of any third person; in which case you may be sure of my pardon.”

  “No,” replied Jane, “I have not forgotten him; but I have nothing satisfactory to tell you. Mr. Bingley does not know the whole of his history, and is quite ignorant of the circumstances which have principally offended Mr. Darcy; but he will vouch for the good conduct, the probity, and honour of his friend. I am sorry to say by his account, Mr. Wickham is by no means a respectable young man.”

  “Mr. Bingley does not know Mr. Wickham himself?”

  “No; he never saw him till the other morning at Meryton.”

  “I have not a doubt of Mr. Bingley’s sincerity,” said Elizabeth warmly; “but you must excuse my not being convinced by assurances only. Mr. Bingley’s defense of his friend was a very able one, but since he is unacquainted with several parts of the story, I shall venture to still think of both gentlemen as I did before.”

  She then changed the discourse to one more gratifying to each. Elizabeth listened with delight to the happy, though modest hopes which Jane entertained of Mr. Bingley’s regard, and said all in her power to heighten her confidence in it. On their being joined by Mr. Bingley himself, Elizabeth withdrew to Miss Lucas; to whose inquiry after the pleasantness of Darcy she had scarcely replied, before her fat cousin Mr. Collins came up to them, and told her with great exultation that he had just been so fortunate as to make a most important discovery.

  “Ah! May I suppose, then, that you have discovered the location of the buffet?” said Elizabeth, rudely.

  “No! I have found out,” said he, “by a singular accident, that there is now in the room a near relation of my patroness. I happened to overhear the gentleman himself mentioning to the young lady who does the honours of the house the names of his cousin Miss de Bourgh, and of her mother Lady Catherine. How wonderfully these sort of things occur! Who would have thought of my meeting with, perhaps, a nephew of Lady Catherine de Bourgh in this assembly! I am most thankful that the discovery is made in time for me to pay my respects to him, which I am now going to do.”

  “You are not going to introduce yourself to Mr. Darcy!”

  “Indeed I am. I shall entreat his pardon for not having done it earlier. I believe him to be Lady Catherine’s nephew.”

  Elizabeth tried hard to dissuade him from such a scheme, assuring him that Mr. Darcy would consider his addressing him without introduction as an impertinent freedom, rather than a compliment to his aunt; that it must belong to Mr. Darcy, the superior in consequence, to begin the acquaintance. When Elizabeth ceased speaking, Mr. Collins replied thus:

  “My dear Miss Elizabeth, I have the highest opinion in the world in your excellent judgment in all matters within the scope of your understanding, particularly in the slaying of Satan’s armies; but permit me to say, that there must be a wide difference between the established forms of ceremony amongst the laity, and those which regulate the clergy. After all, you may wield God’s sword, but I wield His wisdom. And it is wisdom, dear cousin, which will ultimately rid us of our present difficulties with the undead.”

  “You will excuse me for saying so, but I have never seen a zombie’s head taken off by words—nor do I ever expect to.”

  “You must allow me to follow the dictates of my conscience on this occasion, which leads me to perform what I look on as a point of duty.”

  With a low bow he left her to attack Mr. Darcy, whose reception of his advances she eagerly watched, and whose astonishment at being so addressed was very evident. Her cousin prefaced his speech with a solemn bow, and though she could not hear a word of it, she felt as if hearing it all, and saw in the motion of his lips the words “apology,” “Hunsford,” and “Lady Catherine de Bourgh.” It vexed her to see him expose himself to such a man. Mr. Darcy was eyeing him with unrestrained wonder, and when at last Mr. Collins allowed him time to speak, replied with an air of distant civility. Mr. Collins, however, was not discouraged from speaking again, and Mr. Darcy’s contempt seemed abundantly increasing with the length of his second speech, and at the end of it he only made him a slight bow, and moved another way.

  As Elizabeth had no longer any interest of her own to pursue, she turned her attention almost entirely on her sister and Mr. Bingley. She saw her in all the felicity which a marriage of true affection could bestow; and she felt capable, under such circumstances, of endeavouring even to like Bingley’s two sisters. Her mother’s thoughts were plainly bent the same way, and she determined not to venture near her, lest she suffer her endless prattling. When they sat down to supper, therefore, Elizabeth considered it a most unlucky perverseness which placed them within one of each other; and deeply was she vexed to find that her mother was talking to Lady Lucas freely, openly, and of nothing else but her expectation that Jane would soon be married to Mr. Bingley. It was an animating subject, and Mrs. Bennet seemed incapable of fatigue while enumerating the advantages of the match. His being such a charming young man, and so rich, and living but three miles from them, were the first points of self-gratulation; and then it was such a comfort to think how fond the two sisters were of Jane, and to be certain that they must desire the connection as much as she could do. It was, moreover, such a promising thing for her younger daughters, as Jane’s marrying so greatly must throw them in the way of other rich men. “Oh! What joy to see them all thus provided for! To see them entertaining at their own estates; raising their own children, instead of all this silly training and fighting.” She concluded with many good wishes that Lady Lucas might soon be equally fortunate, though evidently and triumphantly believing there was no chance of it.

  In vain did Elizabeth endeavour to check the rapidity of her mother’s words, or persuade her to describe her felicity in a less audible whisper; for, to her inexpressible vexation, she could perceive that the chief of it was overheard by Mr. Darcy, who sat opposite to them. Her mother only scolded her for being nonsensical, her breath thick with meat and port.

  “What is Mr. Darcy to me, pray, that I should be afraid of him? I am sure we owe him no such particular civility as to be obliged to say nothing he may not like to hear.”

  “For heaven’s sake, madam, speak lower. What 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 well, child. You have delighted us long enough. Let the other young ladies have time to exhibit.”

  To Elizabeth it appeared that, had her family made an agreement to embarrass themselves as much as they could during the evening, it would have been impossible for them to play their parts with more success.

  The rest of the evening brought her little amusement. She was teased by Mr. Collins, who continued most perseveringly by her side, and though he could not prevail on her to dance with him again, he put it out of her power to dance with others, by using his thick middle to hide her from view. In vain did she offer to introduce him to any young lady in the room. He assured her, that he was perfectly indifferent to it; that his chief object was by delicate attentions to recommend himself to her and that he should therefore make a point of remaining close to her the whole evening. There was no arguing upon such a project. She owed her greatest relief to her friend Miss Lucas, who often joined them, and good-naturedly engaged Mr. Collins’s conversation to herself.

  She was at least free from the offense of Mr. Darcy’s further notice; though often standing within a very short distance of her, quite disengaged, he never came near enough to speak. She felt it to be the probable consequence of her allusions to Mr. Wickham, and rejoiced in it.

  When at length they arose to take leave, Mrs. Bennet was most pressingly civil in her hope of seeing the whole family soon at Longbourn, and addressed herself especially to Mr. Bingley, to assure him how happy he would make them by eating a family dinner with them at any time, without the ceremony of a formal invitation. Bingley was all grateful pleasure, and he readily engaged for taking the earliest opportunity of waiting on her, after his return from London, whither he was obliged to go the next day for a meeting of the Society of Gentlemen for a Peaceful Solution to Our Present Difficulties, of which he was a member and patron.

  Mrs. Bennet was perfectly satisfied, and quitted the house under the delightful persuasion that she should see her daughter settled at Netherfield, her weapons retired forever, in the course of three or four months. Of having another daughter married to Mr. Collins, she thought with equal certainty, and with considerable, though not equal, pleasure. Elizabeth was the least dear to her of all her children; and though the man and the match were quite good enough for her, the worth of each was eclipsed by Mr. Bingley and Netherfield.

  CHAPTER 19

  THE NEXT DAY opened a new scene at Longbourn. Mr. Collins made his declaration in form. On finding Mrs. Bennet, Elizabeth, and one of the younger girls together, soon after breakfast, he addressed the mother in these words:

  “May I hope, madam, for your interest with your fair daughter Elizabeth, when I solicit for the honour of a private audience with her in the course of this morning?”

  Before Elizabeth had time for anything but a blush of surprise, Mrs. Bennet answered instantly, “Oh dear! Yes—certainly. I am sure Lizzy will be very happy—I am sure she can have no objection. Come, Kitty, I want you upstairs.” And, gathering her work together, she was hastening away, when Elizabeth called out:

  “Dear madam, do not go. I beg you will not go. Mr. Collins must excuse me. He can have nothing to say to me that anybody need not hear. I am going away myself.”

  “No, no, nonsense, Lizzy. I desire you to stay where you are.” And upon Elizabeth’s seeming really, with vexed and embarrassed looks, about to escape, she added: “Lizzy, I insist upon your staying and hearing Mr. Collins.”

  Mrs. Bennet and Kitty walked off, and as soon as they were gone, Mr. Collins began.

  “Believe me, my dear Miss Elizabeth, that your modesty adds to your other perfections. You would have been less amiable in my eyes had there not been this little unwillingness; but allow me to assure you, that I have your respected mother’s permission for this address. You can hardly doubt the purport of my discourse, for however preoccupied you might be with hastening the Devil’s retreat—for which I earnestly applaud you—my attentions have been too marked to be mistaken. Almost as soon as I entered the house, I singled you out as the companion of my future life. But before I am run away with by my feelings on this subject, perhaps it would be advisable for me to state my reasons for marrying—and, moreover, for coming into Hertfordshire with the design of selecting a wife, as I certainly did.”

  The idea of Mr. Collins, with all his solemn composure, being run away with by his feelings, made Elizabeth so near laughing, that she could not use the short pause he allowed in any attempt to stop him further, and he continued:

  “My reasons for marrying are, first, that I think it a right thing for every clergyman to set the example of
matrimony in his parish. Secondly, that I am convinced it will add very greatly to my happiness; and thirdly, that it is the particular advice and recommendation of the very noble lady whom I have the honour of calling patroness. It was but the very Saturday night before I left Hunsford that she said, ‘Mr. Collins, you must marry. A clergyman like you must marry. Choose properly, choose a gentlewoman for my sake; and for your own, let her be an active, useful sort of person, not brought up high, but able to make a small income go a good way. This is my advice. Find such a woman as soon as you can, bring her to Hunsford, and I will visit her.’ Allow me, by the way, to observe, my fair cousin, that I do not reckon the notice and kindness of Lady Catherine de Bourgh as among the least of the advantages in my power to offer. You will find her powers of combat beyond anything I can describe; and your own talents in slaying the stricken, I think, must be acceptable to her, though naturally, I will require you to retire them as part of your marital submission.”

  It was absolutely necessary to interrupt him now.

  “You are too hasty, sir,” she cried. “You forget that I have made no answer. Let me do it without further loss of time. Accept my thanks for the compliment you are paying me. I am very sensible of the honour of your proposals, but it is impossible for me to do otherwise than to decline them.”

  “I am not now to learn,” replied Mr. Collins, “that it is usual with young ladies to reject the addresses of the man whom they secretly mean to accept, when he first applies for their favour; and that sometimes the refusal is repeated a second, or even a third time. I am therefore by no means discouraged by what you have just said, and shall hope to lead you to the altar ere long.”

  “You forget, sir, that I am a student of Shaolin! Master of the seven-starred fist! I am perfectly serious in my refusal. You could not make me happy, and I am convinced that I am the last woman in the world who could make you so. Nay, were your friend Lady Catherine to know me, I am persuaded she would find me in every respect ill qualified for the situation, for I am a warrior, sir, and shall be until my last breath is offered to God.”