Chapter 2

"I love you," he saw Elizabeth mouth to him as the horse carried her away. Her once white wedding dress was ripped from the battle and stained with blood.

This is what their life together would be like. Constantly struggling. Losing those they loved. Fighting a battle that could never be won while Wickham lived. Death lurking around every corner. Living in an imperfect world washed in blood. But… it was their world. If they had to fight, they would do so together. If the battle raged on, as husband and wife they would persevere day after day. If they were dripping in blood, they would wash each other clean. If death lurked about, they would embrace their fate as one. If trials separated them, they would fight to get back to each other, whatever the cost. Until death do us part.

"Wickham!" Darcy yelled furiously. The Four Horsemen kicked their horses into motion and began to follow single file behind their leader along the road.

Darcy swung his katana and decapitated three undead in his path before taking off in a run, chasing after the brigade. Flipping the dagger Elizabeth had given him into his hand, blade now in palm, he stopped after a few minutes, drew it back, and forcefully released the weapon. It soared through the air and plunged into the back of the final horseman's skull, sending the rider plummeting to the ground. The horse bucked wildly in terror.

Darcy ran towards the pale steed and swiftly mounted, urging it after Wickham. He could see the remaining four horses in the distance and dug his heels, urging it onward. With any luck, they would slow around the narrow bend, giving him an opportunity to gain some momentum. At that point he wound try taking down the riders one at a time.

He saw them disappear at the dip in the road some distance away. Lowering himself closer to his horse's mane, Darcy dug his heels in the horse again and verbally urged it to continue faster. The horse obliged and they quickly approached the narrow curve. Grasping the reigns tighter Darcy was ready to command the horse into a full out gallop after they rounded the corner. Instead, he pulled the reigns back, abruptly halting their advance.

In front of him stood at least a dozen zombies waiting, blocking the narrow road. They all smiled creepily as he approached, teeth bared in mocking repugnance. It appeared as if they had been waiting for him and he narrowed his eyes. Once again Wickham had been one step ahead.

Neither Darcy nor the undead moved, which gave him time to breakdown the situation. The forest surrounding the road was thick and although it would provide shelter the way would not be quick. He could turn around and try to evade the undead but who knew what other traps Wickham had laid out for him. Nevertheless regardless of whatever choices he rationalized, the quickest way to Elizabeth was on the road. Meaning that would be the route he would take even if he had to plow through the dozen zombies blocking his way. Without another moment's hesitation, Darcy brandished his katana and kicked the horse into gear as the undead began charging towards him. He griped the hilt tightly as he had to make the most of his blade, for it was his only line of defense apart from the steed.

The horse made contact with the first undead, trampling it to the ground. He tried urging the steed forward but the horse remain in place, unable to move due to the volume of undead before him. Three undead, two young men and one middle-aged woman, descended upon Darcy. They tried clawing at his right leg, attempting to pull him off. Darcy promptly brought his katana downward and rid them all of their hands. Pulling the reigns to the left, the horse trampled the stunned undead to the ground with its hind legs. He then turned his attention to the left side of the horse where two more zombies attacked. Both had their mouths open, ready to strike, but he swiftly decapitated the undead, one after another. Darcy then brought his katana around to the other side once again, stabbing one young undead female through the brain and sending blood splattering onto the fur of the horse.

Six other undead were descending upon him and even more emerged from the woods. Darcy urged the horse forward, off the path, and into the dense forest where the zombies would have difficulty following him. Darcy ducked under low branches and urged the horse over fallen logs in the rough terrain.

He could hear the leaves crunching under their feet and the growing mob was growling on the nearby road as he made his way onward. A male undead suddenly came upon him, grasping tightly to Darcy's cravat, dragging alongside the horse. Darcy began losing his balance on the steed, his body listing to the right. He reached into his coat and removed a small knife, remembering the forgotten blade Elizabeth gifted him that morning. Bringing it near his throat, he quickly made work of cutting the cloth from around his neck, sending the undead to the damp ground.

Darcy urged the horse back in the direction of the path, knowing more could be hiding about. Hooves soon hit gravel and the horse galloped quickly towards Meryton.

He rode for several miles before he approached a divide in the road. North or south? Darcy cursed under his breath and pulled back the reigns, bringing the steed to a halt. Glancing around, he saw no indication of the direction they had taken. Dust was not settling to the earth, there were no fresh tracks, and he could hear no hooves in the distance. She was gone.

Darcy cried out in frustration. Tilting his head back, he stared up at the gray sky. He had lost her.

A movement suddenly grabbed his attention, and Darcy glanced down. A lone zombie meandered towards him on the north road.

"Where is she?!" Darcy hollered angrily at the undead male. The zombie wore a black apron and what appeared to be a once white tunic. Dry blood caked his mouth and chin, and his dark hair was disheveled for it was overly grown and had twigs sticking out in various directions. There was nothing in his hands, but Darcy guessed he had at one time been a blacksmith for the undead hunched slightly.

The zombie remained silent, enticing Darcy to descend from atop the horse and storm towards it. Gripping the undead by the collar, Darcy brought his katana to its throat and asked again, "Where is she?" saying it slowly, enunciating each word.

The undead male scoffed but remained silent.

"Tell me!" Darcy hollered into the zombie's face, pressing the blade into the undead's throat.

The zombie simply smirked and haughtily retorted, "Maybe in another life."

Darcy cried out in rage and swiftly decapitated the zombie's head. Once it fell to the ground, he bashed it in with his boot. He wiped his boot off on the nearby grass and walked back to the middle of the road. Darcy stared silently up each path for some time, trying to regain composure and rationalize how best to proceed.

"I will find you," he vowed silently to the wind after some time. With one last glance around, he reluctantly turned back the horse and proceeded in the direction of Rosings Park.

Darcy slowly ascended the steps into the heart of Rosings, dreading what was to come. He had been thinking about what he would say, knowing no matter how he worded it, he would come us short for he had lost her; his Elizabeth. His wife. Their sister. Daughter. Friend.

"Fitzwilliam!" Georgiana called as she threw her arms around her brother in a tight embrace. "I am so happy you're alright."

She pulled back, holding him now at arms length, and began examining his face.

"What's wrong?" she asked, immediately sensing his distress. "Bingley, Jane and the others have just returned, but I saw you riding up the road and wanted to wait for you. I thought Lizzy would be with you," she added, glancing around.

He continued to stare silently at her, and saw the realization slowly coming to her face.

"No!" she gasped, her hands rising to her mouth in shock. "Oh, dearest, I'm so sorry. Did an undead…"

She let her sentence drift off, and Darcy simply asked her to lead him to the rest of the party, not wanting to relive the last few hours more times than necessary.

She took him into Aunt Catherine's throne room and immediately all eyes fell upon him.

"Where's Lizzy?" Mr. Bennet inquired upon seeing him. Darcy slowly met his gaze.

"He took her," Darcy responded quietly, his mind still processing the words even as he spoke them. He walked towards the corner of the room, already sick of the scrutiny. Pausing, he was quiet for several moments before he began shaking his head in disbelief, his breathing growing rapid. "He took her!" Darcy roared in pure anger, promptly kicking over a nearby candelabrum, sending it crashing to the floor. Sparks flew when the metal hit the cold marble floor and the flames snuffed out from the force.

He stood there seething for several moments before his anger turned to shame for his lack of control. Elizabeth could be anywhere in Great Britain by now. Possibly dead. Or undead. He had to focus. Yes, focus and find her. He had to save his wife.

Darcy ran his hands over his face wearily. "I'm sorry," he choked out, completely distraught. When he looked up again, Darcy met Mr. Bennet's eyes. Where he expected to see shame and contempt, he instead saw worry and determination.

"It's not your fault, son," Mr. Bennet said to him, clearing his throat in an attempt to hide his emotions. "We will find her. She's strong, our Lizzy."

"Oh poor Elizabeth!" cried Mrs. Bennet from her seat by Lady Catherine.

"Damn that Wickham!" one of her sisters said.

"Which way were they heading?" inquired his aunt.

"They were on the road heading east. I lost them at the fork by Meryton. From that point they could have gone anywhere: south towards Brighton to board a ship and flee the country, or north to vanish in the vast countryside. Either way, only the good Lord knows where they are now and what state she is in," Darcy said. He turned to Jane. "Did Lizzy mention any other places aside St. Lazarus to you? Anywhere Wickham felt at ease? Somewhere he could hide?"

"No," Jane replied sadly. "To my recollection that was the only location she spoke of. Though she did said he was never in one place too long for he was traveling with the militia constantly, so it sounded like he didn't get much opportunity until he was stationed in Meryton."

"Fitzwilliam," Georgiana said quietly after a few seconds. He turned towards his sister, curious, as she never liked speaking out in front of strangers. "What about Pemberley?" She took in a nervous breath. "He took Lydia to St. Lazarus last time. If he is following that same pattern, the only other place where he felt comfortable or at home was Pemberley."

Darcy mulled over his sister's suggestion, his brow furrowing in concentration. Wickham took Lydia to St. Lazarus, knowing he would come to save her although he had never been to the church himself. And now that he had Elizabeth, Wickham also knew that without a doubt or moment's hesitation he would search for her until the day he died. But Wickham wanted his revenge. He wanted to pain him in the greatest possible way. He had already tried with Georgiana and one of the Bennet sisters. However the best way of doing that would be to kidnap Elizabeth. His wife. And now he would retreat to another playing field, wanting to demonstrate his strength and sheer force. Somewhere he would think of. Somewhere they were both familiar. Somewhere he knew was presently unoccupied. Somewhere Wickham thought was supposed to be his. A place north of Rosings Park. The road the undead was blocking. Georgiana was right. They took the road northward towards Pemberley.

"Georgiana is right," he announced to the room as he placed an arm protectively around his younger sister. "He has taken Elizabeth to Pemberley. It makes sense. He wants his revenge on me and the best possible way to accomplish that is to kidnap Elizabeth and seize control over my estate. I will not disclose past woes, but his history with my family definitely makes it a possibility, and I believe it is our best hope."

"So what shall we do?" asked Bingley, ready to spring into action, an attentive Jane by his side.

"Fight," said Darcy.