Chapter 6: Rosings Park
Darcy galloped Combat over the English countryside at a fast pace. He wished to reach Rosings Park before twilight and he could just spot the tips of the turrets peaking above the distant tree line. He urged Combat down one of the rolling hills surrounding the estate and into the forest, where he came across the gravel road leading to Rosings. Urging Combat onto the road, they pressed on and Rosings soon arose from between the tree canopies.
As he approached the elaborate house one of the Black Guard signaled for the stairway to be lowered. He dismounted Combat in front of the small garden, where a servant was waiting to take his steed to the stables. Darcy walked through the lavish gardens, up the stairway, and into the main foyer. He was greeted by the butler, Franklin, who bowed and instructed for Darcy to follow him into his aunt's throne room. They walked up a lavish corridor boasting gilded ceilings, rich dark wooded engravings, and a posted member of her Black Guard every few feet.
Franklin entered the room first, and announced Darcy's presence.
"Ah! My favorite nephew! You have finally arrived," exclaimed Lady Catherine when Darcy stepped into the room. She sat in a large, richly upholstered chair. Her dark hair was pulled back tightly into an elaborate updo and a black eye patch covered the hole where her left eye used to be. He approached his aunt and bowed formally in greeting to her and then again towards his cousin, Anne, who sat quietly by her side. His cousin was just as Darcy remembered: sickly, pale, and immobile.
"How was your trip?" inquired his aunt.
He gave her a thorough explanation of his journey from Pemberley, including the chance encounter he had with a few rogue undead. She proceeded to pervade him with questions until she determined it was time they all adjourned to freshen up for dinner.
Walking the hallways of Rosings en route to yet another elaborate parlor room before dinner, Darcy remembered the times he spent here as a child. He approached a wall in the corridor that housed the painting of his aunt vanquishing the undead Lucifer. Darcy smirked. His aunt's ostentatious nature never ceased to amaze him. He then moved to inspect the next paining. It held four men on horseback- the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse as they were termed. When he was younger, he heard many legends and stories claiming that when they arrived the end of days was nigh. Now that he was older, he let go of such fanciful fables.
Franklin announced his presence and Darcy entered the parlor. His aunt and cousin were already present, dressed in fine, fashionable dresses. Darcy himself traded his black leather overcoat for a more sensible black dinner jacket, at his aunt's request. Aside from his aunt's occasional question about his sister or an indirect comment about Anne and Darcy's farfetched union, the three ate in silence. After dinner Darcy and his aunt proceeded to discuss strategies should the worst occur concerning the undead. His aunt was brazen when it came to battling the undead, and she never shied away from the opportunity to partake in combat or boast about her superior warrior skills, for she was the deadliest swordswoman in all of Great Britain. Having heard quite enough of her nonsense for one night, he excused himself for the night.
Sleep did not come easy for thoughts of Elizabeth filled his mind. He rolled onto his back, placing his arms above his head. Darcy had been distracted all night. He knew he was behaving recklessly, and realized he should not have come, to make himself vulnerable like this. And yet, he could not help but see her once more. He was angry with himself for leaving Meryton, when he was just beginning to understand her. He had been kinder towards Bingley than his own self in that regard. But whenever he thought of her visiting the following day, he couldn't help but smile.
The guests were to arrive at two o'clock for afternoon tea, and, knowing Parson Collin's particular obsession with his aunt, Darcy imagined they would be prompt. He paced back and forth down a hallway that ran along the front of the house in anticipation of their arrival. From there he was able to glance discretely at the front road.
Darcy paused and approached a window upon seeing three figures walking up the drive. He stared out and immediately singled out Elizabeth. Her eyes were shining bright and her brunette hair had a few stray untamable curls profiling her face. She glanced occasionally at her cousin and then towards her chaperone in discussion. Darcy looked at her female companion and recognized her as Sir William Lucas' daughter, Charlotte. Elizabeth seemed happy, and she was never one to hide her feelings, so maybe she was excited about her upcoming nuptials.
His aunt told him to present himself in the throne room upon their arrival, wanting to make proper introductions. Darcy conveniently avoided telling her that they were already acquainted, not wishing to disclose all of their history. He walked over to a side door and heard them greeting his aunt. Darcy took a deep breath and entered the room to the right of where his aunt and cousin sat.
"Mr. Darcy?" Elizabeth said shocked upon noticing his presence.
Darcy stared at Elizabeth, his mouth slightly agape. He glanced over at his aunt, knowing she would be confused, and suspicious, at the lack of explanation regarding their prior acquaintance.
"Miss Bennet," Darcy responded to Elizabeth, giving a polite bow.
Lady Catherine glanced from Darcy to Elizabeth and asked her pointedly, "You know my nephew?"
"Yes," Elizabeth responded pleasantly. "I had the tremendous pleasure of meeting him in Hertfordshire." Darcy continued staring at the ground, ceiling, or walls, avoiding eye contact with her, or anyone else for that matter. He noticed she did not stand directly next to her intended. Instead Charlotte Lucas was standing awkwardly between them.
Franklin then entered the room to announce that Mr. Wickham had arrived. Darcy's eyes grew wide in shock, and rage consumed him. Why was he here?
"Is that the soldier you spoke of?" inquired his aunt as Wickham entered the room, bowing gallantly. When Wickham righted himself, he noticed Darcy. His eyebrows rose with shock, and Darcy rewarded him with a scowl.
"Yes, Miss Bennet requested he attended that he might confer with your Ladyship about a strategy with which to combat the scourge," said Parson Collins.
"Hmm… a Leftenant …really," said Lady Catherine unimpressed. Darcy scowled at Wickham, his eyes narrowing and eyebrows furrowed. What sort of game was he playing?
"Indeed," agreed Collins in the same condescending tone.
"And tea is brought up," said Franklin, interrupting their conversation.
"Oh!" exclaimed Lady Catherine in delight. "Shall we?" She arose from her chair.
"Oh, delighted to," said Parson Collins as he stepped forward to assist her down the stairs of her platform.
Seeing his cousin left alone on her chair, Darcy extended his hand towards Anne and aided her down the stairs before falling into step behind his aunt. Elizabeth leaned over and whispered something to Wickham before falling into step beside Darcy as they made their way into the parlor.
They all proceeded to sit after Lady Catherine took her position at the head of the table. All except for Wickham, who opted to stand behind his intended chair. Parson Collins, wishing to have the best view of Her Ladyship, resided in the seat directly across from Darcy's aunt, with Charlotte on his right. Meanwhile Darcy sat to the left of his aunt, with Elizabeth to his left and his cousin across from him. Darcy ignored the tea and scones in front of him for he had no appetite, and instead continued focusing on the man who infected his father and almost ruined his sister.
"Your Ladyship has perhaps heard that some of the stricken have not succumb to the urge to feed upon the living and in so doing have maintained their human ways," began Wickham.
"And they have managed to resist this most primal of zombie urges how? Their ironclad constitutions?" Lady Catherine joked, gaining a chuckle from Parson Collins.
"Yes," confirmed Elizabeth. "Fortified by religious piety in pig brains, which they receive in communion as the blood of Christ." Elizabeth glanced towards Darcy. "The pigs brains quench their appetite for human brains." He furrowed his brow, confused how she could possibly believe the undead could sustain their old ways while they lost their moral capabilities. He had himself seen it many times before: after one was stricken, regardless of the struggle, the infected would always gorge on human brains when exposed, thus completing the transformation. You cannot rationalize with the undead as they had no control or restraint. It was inevitable.
"Oh, yes, of course," declared Lady Catherine.
"The crown's funds are being drained," declared Wickham.
"You're here to solicit money!" exclaimed Darcy incredulously. He should have known that was Wickham's scheme. Surely his aunt would see right through his happy manners to his real objective.
"I'm here," retorted Wickham, "to propose a venture that would end the war forever. These new zombies can be reasoned with. With the proper funding I believe we can cultivate trust and even good will with this new iteration of the undead, who seem to posses an inherent power of the lower ranks of their kind."
"Zombie aristocrats?" Lady Catherine asked laughing.
"Oh, really!" said Collins smirking.
"I prefer to think of them as souls lost in purgatory," Wickham said defending himself.
"Hmm…" said Lady Catherine as she considered what Wickham was proposing.
"The common hordes look to them for leadership," said Wickham. "It takes just one of them to realize that power and then to lead the hordes into battle."
"The undead are like locusts!" Lady Catherine stated.
"Locusts," repeated a still smirking Collins.
"They go forth and destroy," continued his aunt. "They have no use for leaders!"
"Oh, uh, except one actually," Collins hesitantly stated.
"Hmm?" questioned Lady Catherine, turning to face Parson Collins. Darcy leaned back in his chair and averted his scowl hesitantly from Wickham to Collins.
"Oh, well, um," he began, "according to the Book of Revelation actually the antichrist shall lead the undead, uh, on the day that shall be the last day of mankind."
"How cheery, Collins," said Lady Catherine flippantly.
"Thank you, Lady Catherine, very generous. Franklin, are there more scones?" Parson Collins inquired, taking a sip of his tea. The butler hustled to complete Parson Collins' demand.
"If we can negotiate with a select group of…"
"Aristocrats?" finished Lady Catherine. "To what end?"
"A treaty," responded Wickham.
"Appeasement?!" said a shocked Darcy, glowering at Wickham. "Never!"
"Well then the human race is surely doomed," responded Wickham. "Your Ladyship, the undead will always multiply faster than the living can procreate. Nine months to make a baby, then sixteen years to make a soldier, and one raw second to make a zombie. You must realize that if they were to organize we cannot defeat them. The only hope is to find a way to coexist with them before they find their antichrist." Wickham glanced at Darcy and boldly stated, "The late Mr. Darcy would have supported such a venture."
"I have tolerated your presence long enough, Wickham," responded Darcy with more control than he knew himself capable of. How dare he mention his father's name. "Guards!"
As the guards approached, Wickham looked at Darcy and boldly said, "Please do remember this moment and the opportunity so glibly spurned. The day of the zombie is already broken. Awake and face the light or slumber into oblivion." Wickham nodded in politeness towards Lady Catherine and was then escorted out of the room by the Black Guard.
"Mr. Darcy," said Elizabeth, he turned to look at her, "You are as unfeeling as the undead."
Ignoring all sense of decorum, he abruptly stood and quit the room. Darcy stormed into the hallway, down the main stairway and out towards the stables. Saddling Combat, he mounted him, and took off, needing to escape.
Darcy did not know which he hated more, Wickham's consistent presence in his life or his feelings for Elizabeth. Wickham had done more wrongdoing to his family than any other, and against his better judgment what he had come to feel toward Elizabeth was something he never thought himself capable of. Now Elizabeth was to be another's and Wickham was once again to walk free, at least until the next time he decided to haphazardly enter his life again.
Darcy rode until the stars were shining and the moon was bright in the sky. He brushed Combat down and fed him before walking up into the house. He discretely collected his katana before venturing back outside into the gardens. His aunt's dojo was restricted to her purposes, so he instead began hacking wildly at the various shrubberies in her garden, grunting in frustration. After he had made a thorough mess, he ascended the main stairwell and began walking towards the living quarters.
"I do not know what's happened in the past between you and that Leftenant," said a female voice, "but I found him to be charming. Misinformed, but charming."
Darcy turned around and saw his aunt dressed in her training apparel, her cheeks red and katana in hand. Darcy stared at her, not replying.
"Do you wish to eat something?" she asked more tenderly.
"No, but thank you," he responded.
His aunt then wisely chose to avoid discussing Wickham further, but unfortunately set her thoughts on a subject that unintentionally disturbed him just the same.
"I think Parson Collins has found a most sensible wife," she commented as they walked together. "She is pretty and has good breeding, despite her circumstances and obvious forthcomings. Overall a pleasant girl."
"Indeed," Darcy replied.
"Yes, Miss Lucas will suit him just fine," She continued. Darcy looked at her astonishment and stopped in his tracks.
"What are you implying?" Darcy quickly asked.
"I'm implying," said Lady Catherine turning to look at him, "that Miss Lucas' quiet disposition will balance Parson Collins' …outlandish… behavior. What? Did you think Miss Bennet was a suitable match?" His aunt laughed. "Why that girl is very opinionated and brash, not to mention her lack of connections. What a poor match she would make."
"Yes… quite," responded Darcy quietly. He heard not a word of what his aunt said for he was too shocked at what she uttered. Elizabeth was not Collin's intended. She was free. And despite her inferiority and his family's expectations, Darcy admitted he had come to care for her. And there was hope. It was then that Darcy decided he would, within the course of the next morning, present to her an offer she would dare not refuse.