A Pride + Prejudice + Zombies Fanfiction

Written from the point of view of Miss Mary Bennet.

Chapter 1.

I never did like parties, and I’ve realised I like them a lot less since the departure of my four sisters. Although, Lady Catherine’s soiree’s are much more elegant than the village dances in Meryton Mother always made us attend. It - Lady Catherine’s magnificent gala ball that is - being the first one since young Anne’s death, I feel I must. Two summers have passed since the marriage of my two eldest sisters, one summer since Kitty eloped with the ageing nobleman Lord Hornsby and just a matter of weeks since Lydia and her new husband departed for their honeymoon in Brighton.

After my “delightful” sisters left me to adhere to Mother’s incessant and anxious blathering as she insists on finding me a favourable match, I was nearly at my wits end. When the invitation arrived to become the pupil of Lady Catherine de Bourgh - who now is without an heiress after young Anne’s unfortunate passing - I accepted the kind invitation with gratitude. However at the time, I did not foresee her other intentions.

The sparkling chandeliers dance above my head as the surviving members of the British gentry parade in circles around me. At least the host of this gathering, it seems, shares the same mutual dislike towards these particular socials as I do. Lady Catherine de Bourgh is perched on her velvet settee above the throngs of guests, looking so positively devoid of emotion that no man will even ask for her dance card! I believe she plans to spend the night attached at the hip to the chalice of wine in her right hand. The surviving members of the British high society all gather to drink, be merry and feign ignorance to the deafening plague that has taken over Great Britain. However the pretences do not last long. A late night messenger suddenly arrives amidst the merriment, claiming urgent business with de Bourgh, who quickly shuffles his quivering frame into the adjoining study, following after the greatest swordswomen of our time.

With de Bourgh now excused, I go in search of my sisters. Mr and Mrs Bingley are seated at a small table towards the end of the ballroom, for I have heard it is much harder to stand for periods of time when you are with child. Kitty, or ‘Lady Catherine Hornsby’, is gossiping with a bunch of insufferable ladies by the buffet table while her husband is gambling in the sitting room. With Lydia still indisposed, I scan the room for my missing sister and her swashbuckling pirate husband Mr Darcy. It is then, before I can finish scanning the room, when the live music ceases to play and I notice Lady Catherine calling the room to attention.

“It is to my upmost displeasure to announce that Mr Fitzwilliam Darcy has been bitten by an unmentionable.”

The room burst out in gasps and anguish. Some of the room’s population begin to fret, but before it becomes overwhelming Lady Catherine continues speaking.

“Following Mrs Darcy’s request,” I could almost hear her spit Lizzie’s new title from across the room.

“I would ask anyone with information on the “Miracle Cure” to please come forth.”

Since residing at Rosings, I have learnt a great many things. Not only has Lady Catherine honed and refined my combat skills, she also trained me to be a sort of spy. She has been even kind enough to gift me with a pair of correctional glass contact lenses, created by a Swiss physician, the first pair in Britain.

And so, as I locked eyes with Lady Catherine with my newly invented glass lenses, I knew this would be my next task. However I, like the rest of the room, are hearing about this said miracle cure for the first time. If someone had heeded about this before, they were doing an excellent job of concealing it.

Chapter 2.

After the terrible news had rocked the attendees, especially Mr. and Mrs. Bingley, everyone quickly returned to their fortified homes. With the threat of the undead more apparent than ever and no idea whether or not Wickam was alive, we needed to act quickly.

I was seated in Lady Catherine’s study the day later as she paced across the deep golden asymmetrical rug that adorned the floor.

“Only Mr. Crawford had heard of the said “Miracle Cure”. Apparently, someone had mentioned it in passing after his young brother had turned several summers ago, but he hadn’t thought much of it at the time. Thought it to be “codswallop”, a trick.” She’d said as she continued to pace, a mix of anger and anxiousness playing across her face.

“Do we know who had spoken to him about it?”

“A Mr. Barton. My men are searching the two Inn’s within the area as we speak. What I request of you to do, is find the mans family.”

I opened my mouth to speak but she continued.

“See what they know about the cure. Preferably a name. We do not have long before Mr. Darcy turns.”

So now I find myself donning my katana and making my way through the small town centre, that's always being patrolled by a regiment of brave men. Questioning every surviving store as to whether or not they know a man, or his family by the name Mr. Barton, is becoming extremely tedious very quickly. I walked into Mrs. Livingstone’s Bakery at the end of the street, the last one. The smell of fresh bread hangs low in the air and embraces me with a warm welcome as the little brass bell hanging above the door jingles with my arrival.

“Just a moment!” I hear Mrs. Livingstone call out from around the back.

I can smell her before I see her. She carries a tray of brandy snaps to the counter as she speaks.

“Oh Miss Bennet, what can I do for you?” Mrs. Livingstone dusts the flour off her apron and looks at me kindly.

“Mrs. Livingstone, I had a question about a gentlemen you may have seen. His name is Mr. Barton.”

She looks at me sideways with a peculiar glint in her eye for a moment.

“Never come across that name in my years sorry love. Can I offer you a brandy snap?”

The freshly made batch of cream filled treats eye me from the tray now held out toward me.

“Unfortunately not today Mrs. Livingstone, I must return back in time for luncheon. Thank you for your time.”

She smiles and lowers the tray to the bench before I turn to leave. I take two steps toward the door with my hand on the hilt of my katana when I hear a small shuffling behind me. Without hesitation my katana is unsheathed from it’s saya and spinning in a clockwise direction across my body as I spin on my right foot back towards Mrs. Livingstone. Who is, simultaneously decapitated as my blade finds her throat.

Rule number one when dealing with the undead: Never turn your back on someone you do not trust with your life.