Chapter 1: First Meetings

Elizabeth was determined not to enjoy herself. The very thought of her mother parading her and her sisters in front of the town and this new master of Netherfield was highly embarrassing. For all of her life her father had ensured her and her sisters had received the finest training in order to become the fiercest of warriors in all of Meryton, capable of extinguishing any threat the undead posed. That image was always being stripped away by their mother, however, who strived to simply see her daughters married off and confined to a man for the whole of their life- Preferably rich, affable men. Elizabeth highly preferred her father's take on child rearing.

Dressed in her favorite blue dress, matching blue shawl, and white gloves, she reluctantly made her way down to the family carriage to join her mother and sisters; their father had once again refused to join the family in an outing, instead preferring the quiet seclusion of his study. If she was to be forced into going to the dance, she would take it with both poise and confident indifference.

"Oh, hurry up, Lizzie!" shouted Lydia from the carriage. Elizabeth slowed her pace even further, both to reduce their time at the dance and vex Lydia further. Lydia and Kitty were positively giddy about the prospects for the evening, and Elizabeth could not blame her youngest sisters for their ignorance towards mother's true objective. In a way she envied their carefree naiveté. But for both her and Jane, their mother's words became more and more exasperating with every subsequent effort.

Finding her seat in the carriage, her mother signaled the servant to carry on. Placing her hands on her lap, Elizabeth leaned her head back and glanced out the window at the dark countryside, wishing she too could stay home.

At least she was armed with her trusty daggers hidden away within the confines of her dress and boots. If the night grew really dreary she could sneak away and practice her throwing technique on some unsuspecting tree.

Sighing, she soon spotted the assembly room approaching through the window of the carriage. Jane shot Elizabeth a comforting smile from her spot next to Lydia. Jane understood her apprehension regarding any scheme their mother concocted, but she handled it with more grace than Elizabeth was able to. Elizabeth was more opinionated and stubborn than her older sister, who instead was kindhearted and patient.

At any rate, Elizabeth would have Jane and Charlotte to keep her company, for she knew she was not likely to dance with any Meryton gentlemen. Her warrior spirit and skills with weaponry were well known throughout the village and surrounding area. None were equal to her abilities and talents in vanquishing the undead and because of that, no gentlemen, regardless of their position, would approached her. For who wished to court a lady who had eliminated more undead or received far superior training than they had?

By the time the Bennet ladies arrived at the assembly room, the dance was in full swing. Kitty and Lydia immediately ran off in search of two men of their acquaintance to dance with, while Mary collected a book from her purse and settled into a corner of the room, promptly shutting out her surroundings for the evening. Elizabeth looped her arm through Jane's and together they walked into the connecting room to watch the dancing.

Elizabeth knew her sister was excited at the prospect of meeting Mr. Bingley and perhaps forming an attachment, and she fully intended to give her sister her full support. Glancing around the room, she spied the young ladies present at the reception.

"Well, I say you're easily five times as beautiful as any other woman in this room," she said to Jane after completing an initial skim of the space.

"Oh, stop it, Liz!" Jane said, a light blush flooding her cheeks.

"It's true!" Elizabeth retorted. "These girls don't stand a chance."

Jane smiled in politeness at Elizabeth, uncomfortable with the attention or topic of conversation. If anyone deserved to be happy, Elizabeth thought, it was Jane, the most humble and sweet tempered of all of her sisters.

"They say Mr. Bingley brought a tribe of London dandies with him!" shouted Lydia as she ran towards them, Kitty tight on her heels.

The two girls joined Elizabeth and Jane on the side of the dance floor, laughing at the newest prospects. Jane returned a good-humored smile, but Elizabeth rolled her eyes and tried to remain indifferent.

"Smile, Liz," encouraged Lydia upon seeing her sister's standoffish demeanor.

"I will later," Elizabeth responded sarcastically. She turned back to the lively dancing and spotted her friend Charlotte across the room. They both waved to each other in greeting, and Charlotte began weaving through the crowd in their direction.

Jane squeezed her arm just then and Elizabeth shot a questioning glance at her sister. She wasn't looking at her, however. Instead, Jane's eyes were fixed on the door where a certain gentleman had just entered. Elizabeth wondered if this was the Mr. Bingley they had heard so much about.

"What a magnificent husband he'd make," said Charlotte when she finally reached them.

"Charlotte Lucas, do you think of nothing else?" Elizabeth said teasing her friend, but taking in Mr. Bingley's appearance. He could be no more than seven and twenty and boasted a rich red overcoat on his muscular frame. He had sharp features that were softened by a jovial expression that plagued his face, and he greeted everyone with a genuine smile.

"Zombies or no zombies, all women must think of marriage, Lizzy," Charlotte responded, still eyeing the new gentleman hopefully.

"I shall never relinquish my sword for a ring," said Elizabeth matter-of-factly.

"For the right man you would," Charlotte quickly stated.

'The right man wouldn't ask me to," retorted Elizabeth with a grin.

Elizabeth knew her prospects were few and far between, but there were several principles she was firm on. One of which was not marrying someone who expected her to relinquish her warrior skills once she was wed. Her warrior spirit was a part of her and if they could not accept that, they were not worthy. The very idea of parting with her katana and favorite dagger was enough to bring tears to her eyes. The second was not marrying without affection. Regardless of their lofty position in society or tempting financial status, she refused to marry someone she did not love. She would rather take a poor soldier who loved her conditionally, warrior skills and all, than the richest man in England who she thought little of. And if she never met him, she was determined to die an old maid than settle or compromise her values.

Two older women in front of them then began discussing another gentleman that had walked into the room.

"Mr. Darcy!" one of them gasped. "Rather an imposing presence."

Elizabeth looked over at the man. So this was the significant Colonel Darcy she had heard so much about. Rumors spread that he had almost killed more undead than the infamous Lady Catherine de Bourgh. The king himself had called upon the Colonel on many occasions for his counsel on fending off the scourge.

Her eyes raked over the man, and her heart stirred. She imaged him to be much older given his position in the militia, but standing before her now he could not be older than eight and twenty. He was dressed from head to toe in black, which complimented his dark features. His brown hair fell across his brow, his eyes surveying his surroundings from behind a few stray strands. Even from across the room Elizabeth could tell he was quite tall. Given the way he carried himself, she could detect his lofty upbringing and his elite training, for he seemed ready to pounce on any undead threat should the cause arise. Elizabeth smiled for she could not deny he was broodingly handsome, even if she would never subject to admitting it aloud.

"Owns half of Derbyshire," the other lady added to the conversation. "£10,000 a year at least!"

Elizabeth was too fixated on the gentleman to notice her mother approaching her and Jane.

"Stand up straighter, Elizabeth," she said reproaching her. "And put your shoulders back for when you don't your gown wrinkles. What chance do you have for finding a husband with that posture and a disheveled dress? Mr. Bingley and his party have arrived; you must look your best. And for goodness sakes, smile!"

Elizabeth sighed and took the opportunity to glance back at Mr. Darcy. She surveyed him again, a hint of a smile on her face. She wondered what brought him here and secretly wished to witness his celebrated warrior skills first-hand. The man soon turned in greeting to Mr. Bingley, giving Elizabeth the answer to her initial question. The two gentlemen were acquainted.

Noticing their mother had finally stepped away, Elizabeth turned towards Jane and noticed she was still gazing in Mr. Bingley's direction. Elizabeth smiled for it appeared her sister was quite taken with this mysterious stranger.

"I believe if you stare at one spot for too long," said Elizabeth to her sister, "it'll make you cross-eyed."

Jane met her eyes and laughed, knowing she had been caught. Elizabeth watched her silently and noticed her sister's gaze slowly returning to look at the gentlemen once more. She turned and saw Mr. Bingley had caught her sister's eye as well.

"Well apparently all that staring paid off," teased Elizabeth.

Jane turned back to her and said, "Don't be ridiculous, Lizzy."

"They say to be fond of dancing is a certain step towards falling in love," said Elizabeth. "Maybe he will come over, sweep you off your feet, and give our poor mother's nerves a much deserved rest."

"Jane! Lizzy!" said their mother in hushed urgency as she stepped between them once more. "Mr. Bingley is on his way over. Be on your best behavior now."

Elizabeth shot her sister a wry smile and then turned in the direction of Mr. Bingley. Instead of looking at him, however, she found her eyes once again fixated on his friend. She assessed Mr. Darcy and could not deny his handsome countenance. Their eyes soon met and she was secretly pleased he was evaluating her as well. Instinctively, she pursed her lips together, an unfortunate nervous habit she had never been able to break, and unwaveringly stared back.

He broke the trance first and followed his friend, pausing a few steps behind him.

"Charles Bingley," he said to Jane with a bow, "pleased to make your acquaintance."

They all bowed and smiled in politeness, their mother spoke quickly, taking the opportunity to introduce herself.

"Mrs. Bennet. We've heard so much about you, Mr. Bingley."

Her mother's overzealous smile and batty eyelashes in Jane's direction did not go unnoticed. Granted, she shouldn't be surprised given the effort her mother exerted on a daily basis to marry them all off. She was surprised, however, to hear her mother's voice coming from her left for only moments ago her mother stood to her right, between her and Jane. She also noticed Charlotte had been pushed aside, most likely by their mother, and Lydia, Kitty and Marry now joined them.

She peaked at Mr. Darcy once more, hoping he at least had not noticed her mother's discourteous actions. She released a quiet sigh of relief upon confirming his gaze was fixated on Bingley and Jane. This was exactly why she did not want to go to the assembly in the first place; she knew her mother would disregard all decorum to ensure they were flung in the direction of Bingley and his other rich friends. It was mortifying. But never had she been as infatuated with anyone of the opposite sex as the mysterious Mr. Darcy.

"My daughters, all of impeccable character," Mrs. Bennet continued, motioning towards her line of daughters. Elizabeth shot Bingley an awkward smile when his eyes glazed over her, still uncomfortable with the situation.

"May I introduce my friend, Mr. Darcy of Derbyshire," said Mr. Bingley.

Elizabeth joined her sisters in bowing a greeting to Mr. Darcy and offered him a coy smile. She hated herself for fawning the way her mother wished, but Elizabeth could not deny her infatuation with this gentleman.

Darcy offered a curt nod but remained silent.

Knowing Jane would be too shy to engage Mr. Bingley in conversation, and not risking her mother's discomforting manners, Elizabeth took the opportunity to address the man.

"Are you enjoying Hertfordshire, Mr. Bingley?" Elizabeth inquired with a sweet smile.

"Very much," he responded, beaming in Jane's direction.

"I've heard the library at Netherfield is one of the finest," she probed, hoping to open up conversation and determine some common interest between him and Jane.

"Li-library? Is it?" responded Mr. Bingley with a stutter.

Elizabeth glanced sideways at her sister, eyebrows up in both shock and disgust. She wasn't sure if she was more surprised at his own incompetency towards his new home or his disregard for reading. She always believed any person, be it gentleman or lady, who has not pleasure in a good novel, must be intolerably stupid. One look at her sister, however, showed that she did not share this opinion. For her sister was glancing at Mr. Bingley like he held all her hopes and dreams for the future.

Mr. Bingley seemed to have received Jane's silent message, for he soon inquired if she was free for the next two dances. After Jane quietly confirmed that she was not spoken for, the pair left hand in hand towards the dance floor. Elizabeth smiled after the couple.

"Good for you, Mr. Bingley, you chose the loveliest of my daughters!" shouted Mrs. Bennet as they walked away.

Elizabeth's smile quickly faded, and she shot her mother an incredulous expression. Mary, Kitty and Lydia threw phrases of caution towards their mother for her remark. Elizabeth began wracking her brain, trying to think of some means of engaging her mother before she subjected them to further embarrassment in front of Mr. Darcy, but she was too late.

"I consider dancing to be the first refinement in polished society, don't you agree, Mr. Darcy?" Mrs. Bennet queried, taking several steps towards her next gentlemanly prey. Elizabeth wondered if her mother had previously known of his stately reputation previously or if she overheard others discussing the vastness of his wealth and property at the assembly.

"No," said Darcy sternly at her mother. "Every savage can dance. Why I imagine even zombies could do it with some degree of success."

Elizabeth's sisters erupted into a tizzy despite his cold politeness. She, however, remained unyielding for his statement had not sought such a response. With that, Darcy quickly nodded his head, wished them a good evening, and walked away, leaving the Bennet ladies standing in baffled astonishment. Only the good Lord knew what he thought of them: the overzealous mother and foolish daughters.

Elizabeth watched as he walked away. Half of her was happy that he had escaped from her mother's grasp, and yet the other part of her wished that escape had included him asking her to dance.

Her mother soon walked away as well, no doubt in search of her friends in order to brag about Jane standing up with Bingley on the dance floor. Meanwhile, Elizabeth's gaze still remained on Darcy, admiring his noble mien. Charlotte quietly approached her.

"Are you considering marriage now, Lizzy?" she asked with a smirk.

Elizabeth promptly blushed, knowing she had been caught. "I was doing nothing of the kind," she promptly replied, raising her head in defiance.

Charlotte offered her an all-knowing expression but did not push the subject. Instead she said, "Jane looks quite happy."

"I think she likes him very much," verified Elizabeth with a smile. They watched as her sister join hands with Mr. Bingley as they danced to the opposite end of the room.

"Well," said Charlotte, "she should snatch him up…"

Mrs. Lucas then stepped forward, requesting to steal away her daughter. They offered a polite bow and meandered across the floor, heading towards Charlotte's father, who stood speaking with a couple Elizabeth was not yet acquainted with. Having no one left to talk to and no gentlemen on her dancing roster, Elizabeth glanced around in search of a familiar face and some form of amusement.

Kitty and Lydia were surrounded by gentlemen, and Jane was still engaged with Bingley. She did spot Mary sitting alone once again at a table book in hand. Sighing, Elizabeth made her way over, placed her shawl on the table, and promptly sat down in a rather unladylike manner. She watched Jane and Bingley dance until it ended, and was debating whether she should go off in search of her sister or, at the very least, practice throwing daggers outside, when she glanced over and saw Darcy staring at her. After catching her eye he glanced back at Bingley and continued his conversation. She decided to get up and walk closer, hoping to catch some of their discussion.

"Well she's tolerable..." she overheard Darcy saying. Elizabeth's eyebrows shot up and rage consumed her. What a proud, disagreeable man!

"Tolerable!?" responded Mr. Bingley, shocked.

"Yes, tolerable," verified Darcy haughtily, "but not handsome enough to tempt me. Nor any man here apparently."

"Darcy, your standards my dear fellow…" said Mr. Bingley

Elizabeth had heard enough. She stormed around to the front of the table and abruptly yanked her shawl up, hoping to make a quick getaway. Her actions however knocked an empty bottle to the floor, sending it shattering into hundreds of pieces. She gasped and squeezed her eyes shut, praying this was just a dream.

The entire assembly room had grown quiet and she heard Darcy murmur, "Oh that is unfortunate," under his breath.

She wanted to turn around and confront him, but stabbing a rich and amiable gentleman was sure to make her the most hated lady in town, especially from her mother's point of view. Besides tears were already threatening to spill down her cheeks and she did not want to appear any more vulnerable than she already was.

Elizabeth stormed outside, gasping in the fresh night air. She moved towards one of the lit fire torches. Only when she was several yards away and gazing back at the building did she finally relinquish all control over to her emotions.

"Darcy," she whispered between sniffles, "you insufferable prick…"

"Fitzwilliam Darcy?" a familiar female voice inquired from behind her. Elizabeth quickly wiped her eyes for she thought she was alone in this part of the yard. "I quite detest the man. So high and so conceited I don't know how they ensure him."

"Indeed," agreed Elizabeth, determined that any regard towards him was negated by his pompous airs and comments regarding herself. "I wouldn't have danced with him if he had…"

Elizabeth abruptly realized where she had heard this women's voice before. She had hosted many games of whist and afternoon teas at her estate. When Elizabeth had heard her entire household had been stricken, she and her sisters had been tasked with eliminating many threats seen wandering the grounds but they never were able to locate her or her daughter. Some feared they had been completely eaten by undead guests while others suspected they had turned and managed to escape.

"Mrs. Featherstone…" said Elizabeth before turning around to face her. Her suspicions were proven correct upon inspecting her appearance. Pieces of flesh were peeling off Mrs. Featherstone's face and dry blood caked her chin, neck, and hands. Her hair was matted, leaves and twigs sticking out from it, and her dress was tattered in many places.

"You're undead," she whispered in astonishment.

"Shhh," said Mrs. Featherstone, raising a finger deftly to her mouth. "I've come to tell you…"

Elizabeth gasped in astonishment as Mrs. Featherstone was suddenly decapitated; her head in bloody fragments all over the ground. The body hit the grass with a flop and now lay lifeless in a heap. Elizabeth's hands flew to her mouth still working through the shock to comprehend what just happened.

She glanced to her left and, as the gun smoke cleared, made out the shape of Mr. Darcy, musket still in hand. He began approaching her in his signature haughty gait that she now detested. His piercing eyes locked on hers.

"What happened, Lizzy?!" cried her mother as her family and Darcy's acquaintances joined them.

"I narrowly just saved her life," Darcy answered smugly, not taking his eyes from her.

"From Mrs. Featherstone?" she responded in mock surprise. She was quite capable of taking care of herself and required no man to fight her battles on her behalf.

"From an undead Mrs. Featherstone," he corrected.

"I find that to be exceedingly tolerable," Elizabeth replied, emphasizing the last word. She fixed a stern glare at him, refusing to back down.

"Well done, Darcy. Very heroic," said a man of his acquaintance.

Elizabeth wanted to lash out. They would praise him for barging into a situation that was completely under control. Not to mention he utterly misread what was occurring.

"She was trying to tell me something," explained Elizabeth.

"A recipe perhaps?" Darcy jested, his mouth turning up into an arrogant smirk. All his acquaintances but Bingley joined him in laughter and Elizabeth automatically liked Bingley all the more for it.

"Laugh as much as you choose," she retorted, "but you shall not laugh me out of my opinion. She posed no threat!"

She wondered what Mrs. Featherstone wanted to tell her. Granted it could have been a trap, and she was just luring her in with a false sense of security. However, if she had really meant to harm her, she could have simply done so instead of making her presence known. Mrs. Featherstone had resorted to conversing with her though, which further verified Elizabeth's reasoning that she truly wished to convey some sort of a message and would have if Darcy had not interfered.

Despite being lost in thought, she quickly straightened up when she heard the undead groans close by, her training returning to her. She straightened up and was about to alert the others but at the same time Darcy yelled, "We're under attack!"

Drawing up her skirts, Elizabeth removed the blades from her boot and upper thigh, and ran with her sisters towards the assembly room. People were running outside in panic, and the girls pushed their way through the crowd, making their way inside.

As they had practiced for many years, Elizabeth and her four sisters automatically grabbed their weapons and maneuvered into a V formation. Stepping into the assembly room, Elizabeth scrutinized the chaos before her from her spot at the front. Undead flooded the space. Some were feasting on the brains of unlucky guests while others began rushing towards her and her sisters. Her eyes furrowed in determination and she raised her blades into the air, ready for her first kill.

She crossed her blades and sliced open the first undead's neck that rushed towards her. Then, quickly pulled back her right arm, she thrust her blade into another's head, sending that one to the ground as well. The undead kept approaching her and her sisters.

Elizabeth fell into the Zen like state she experienced when in the heat of battle. Her breathing was steady, motions fluid, and she easily recalled all the lessons her Master drilled into her brain. Always attempt a killing strike. Do not leave your back unguarded. Never under any circumstances relinquish your weapon. Excitement coursed through her body as she and her sisters fought their way to the middle of the dance floor.

She stabbed one more with the blade in her left hand and alternated back to her right, piercing the next one in the head. She raised her foot, pushing it against the zombie's chest to relinquish her blade from its skull. Rising up, she released a cry as her blade sliced another female undead across the face, splattering her blood across the floor.

Her sisters had now reached the center of the room. Arranging their selves in a circle facing outward, Elizabeth could feel Mary's shoulder on her left and Jane's on her right. They were all panting from exertion, but Elizabeth thrived on the rush that came with killing undead.

She eyed the undead that began bravely approaching. Raising her blades up, she saw many more still plagued the room, but she was more determined than ever. Without having to communicate, her and her sisters began fighting their way outward.

She struck the first undead man that charged towards her and gracefully turned, slicing another zombie attacking on her left. They fell to their hands and knees, their groaning like a dog's growl. Elizabeth sliced another that filled in the gap on her right and cartwheeled over the hunched zombie in front of her, kicking another to the ground. She quickly stabbed a female zombie in the throat and spun around, driving both blades into the final undead with a cry. Elizabeth released her weapons and breathed rapidly through her mouth, keeping her blades at the ready in case more undead poured into the room.

Glancing around the space, she checked each sister to ensure they were unscathed. She saw Mr. Darcy standing off to the side of the room with Mr. Bingley, their unsullied katanas in hand. Darcy's eyes were focused on her. His expression was one of both shock and admiration. She shot him an imperious glance before bending over to clean her blades on one of the overcoats of a fallen undead.