pride And prejudice And zombies: dawn of the dreadfuls

chapter10

THE STRANGER'S AIR of chilly calm seemed to help everyone recover their nerve—at least enough to stop throwing up or hiding in the shrubbery. Even the dogs settled down, though this was more because the dreadful had been dispensed with and an attempt to catch another scent (with Emily Ward's fresh-severed arm) had come to naught.

There were no more unmentionables near Netherfield Park—at least not any that smelled like Mr. Ford or Miss Ward.

"Oakham Mount might be a good spot to try for the scent again," Mr. Bennet suggested. "Perhaps it would be wise to carry on the search from there . . . this time with a little less pomp and a little more firepower."

Lord Lumpley kept sneaking nervous peeks both at the body lying in the shallows of the lake and at Jane on the shore, splattered with its blood. Elizabeth supposed he was trying to decide which sight he found more monstrous.

"Yes . . . yes, I see your point," he said. "We should proceed more in the manner of . . . a grouse hunt. I shall return to the house and see that the gun room is opened . . . for those who wish to continue."

He shuffled away listlessly, and before long he and his dogs (both of the hound and lap variety) were gone, with the Reverend Mr. Cummings trailing after them in the interests of "ministering to the sorry stricken." Mr. Bennet and the stranger had volunteered to attend to Emily Ward "in the necessary way," and no one seemed anxious to stay and see just what that meant.

After cutting the dead girl free from her drowning stone, the men carried her body a short distance into the woods. As they settled it down in a small, rocky clearing, Elizabeth steeled herself, walked back to the water, and collected Emily's head. She grasped it by the hair as she brought it to her father, holding it far out before her, like Diogenes with his lantern.

Jane turned her back as she went by.

"So . . .," Elizabeth said once head and body were reunited. She had to lick her lips and swallow hard before she could go on. "What happens next?"

The stranger narrowed his dark eyes, squinting at her as if she were a pane of frosted glass he was trying to peer through.

Her father spoke up before the other man could.

"If you will permit it, sir, I would like to spare my daughter this one, last thing."

It disturbed Elizabeth to hear her father deferring to such a far younger man, yet it bothered her even more that she might be dismissed—as indeed she was.

"You have spared your daughters too much already, Oscar Bennet," the stranger said. "A final indulgence would be but a pebble atop Mount Fuji." He looked at Elizabeth and gave a brusque wave toward the lake. "Go. Wait."

Elizabeth held his gaze a moment, not moving, before choosing to do as he said.

"What will become of Emily's body?" Jane asked as her sister rejoined her by the water.

"I don't know. Something Papa did not want me to see."

Together, they watched their father and the stranger. But the men were shrouded in the shadows of the forest, and all they could discern was a flurry of movement, a ray of stray sunlight flashing off a raised blade, and then, a moment later, flames and smoke that rose high like a pyre before dying out with surprising speed.

When Mr. Bennet came to collect the girls, he looked as grim as Elizabeth had ever seen him.

"Come," he said. "We return to Longbourn."

"All of us?" Elizabeth asked.

The stranger was striding in the opposite direction, toward a large, black horse—practically a Clydesdale, it was so big. It stamped a huge hoof with impatience as it waited for its master, its reins wrapped around a low-hanging branch.