Chapter 11

Undead appeared and dragged her off towards the house, Wickham following closely behind. Even though she had countless questions, she had learned quite a bit from Wickham's babblings. He could control undead with his mind and didn't even have to utter commands aloud. She could be controlled. Elizabeth shuddered at the thought. But not only her; all of the militia, her sisters, Fitzwilliam. The concept was so outrageous it hurt to even think about. The vastness alone was unconceivable.

The undead numbers had not dwindled around the house and she had to reason that there was more his plan than he was letting on. So did he already have an undead horde hiding near Rosings? It was possible. But how would they infiltrate Rosings without alerting her husband and aunt? They would have to sneak past the outer barrier and gain entry into the mansion all without being seen by her Black Guard. And they were posted everywhere about the grounds. Unless…

Elizabeth halted and turned her head round to face Wickham.

"It's the Black Guard, isn't it," Elizabeth stated matter-of-factly.

"You are quite clever," Wickham responded. The undead turned her round to face him.

"How?" she inquired.

"I can't reveal all my secrets," he answered, "but don't worry, I left strict orders for that husband of yours to be left unharmed. I want to deal with him myself."

A stray animal soon began exciting the undead and a feeding frenzy commenced. "Take Miss Elizabeth back to her room," Wickham ordered the undead guards as he reached for Elizabeth's hand and raised it towards his lips. She yanked it away before his flesh touched her skin.

He smiled devilishly at her and uttered, "I will see you in the morning," before she was whisked away into the house.

The following morning Elizabeth awakened to the first rays of sunshine streaming through her window. Glancing around her room she saw a new dress laid out overtop the chair in her room. It was a lovely corseted deep blue gown with off the shoulder sleeves. She walked over and ran the silky fabric between her fingers before a sickening feeling caught in her stomach. How had it gotten here? Someone must have entered her room as she slept and she had not even noticed. Curse her lack of sleep for it had weakened her warrior ears.

Her own tattered wedding gown still clung to her body, but it grew more and more tattered by the hour. Just then, the door opened and the same servant girl entered holding a tray with a simple note.

"What does it say?" Elizabeth asked.

"I do not know madam," the girl responded, her voice shaking. "But he said I was to stay until you read it and then deliver your answer."

Elizabeth walked over to her and placed a reassuring hand on the girl's shoulder before taking the envelope. Ripping it open, she read:

My Dearest Elizabeth,

I hope the gown is to your liking. Please join me for breakfast this morning in the ballroom. If you choose to not come or wear the gown, I will turn this servant girl. It's your choice.

Regards,

Wickham

Elizabeth roared in frustration and ripped the letter in half, sending the pieces floating to the floor. The girl stared at her wide-eyed.

"Don't worry," she assured her with a smile after she had calmed down. "I will not let him harm you."

The girl forced a weak smile and Elizabeth asked for her assistance with donning the gown. She reluctantly removed her tattered wedding gown and the girl gasped upon seeing her hidden daggers. Elizabeth raised her finger to her lips, telling the girl to remain silent on the matter.

After she was dressed, the pair left her room and walked down to the ballroom accompanied by the undead guards. The two undead standing on either side of the grand doors pushed them inward and Elizabeth walked in, followed closely by the young girl.

Wickham smiled upon seeing her. "I knew you'd see reason."

At that moment two undead seized the girl. After they had dragged her to one side of the room, one raised her arm to his mouth, threatening to take a bite.

"You said she would remain unharmed if I wore the gown and joined you," she spat. "Well here I am!"

"And she shall remained unharmed," he retorted, "so long as you cooperate."

He smirked as he rose from his place at a small table positioned at the far end of the room. Soft music came from the piano in the corner where surprisingly an undead female sat playing. As he neared, he held out his hand, indicating for her to take it.

Reluctantly, she played along, for the girl's benefit alone. If the girl's life were not at steak, she would have stabbed Wickham already, her life be damned. She would keep her promise though and do whatever she could to keep this girl safe.

Wickham's hand pressed against the small of her back until she was flush against his hard body. Elizabeth turned her head sideways so she didn't have to look at him. Her other hand had to lightly grasp his barbed makeshift arm. She felt queasy and was praying a word of thanks for her empty stomach when the melody changed. She recognized the tune immediately as the song she danced with Darcy at the Netherfield Ball. Her brow furrowed in both fond remembrance and present query.

"Yes," Wickham answered her silent question. "I did command her to play this song. I said earlier, I regretted not being able to join you on the dance floor that night. This dance should have been ours."

Elizabeth glanced at her left hand and saw it had begun to bleed from the sharp barbs. Blood trickled down her arm, little droplets falling to the floor about their feet. She ignored the pain and he attempted to spin her. It took all her might to twirl back into his arms instead of running for the doors. As if on cue, however, they were forced opened, and a dark gentleman appeared. His clothing and weapons shimmered with fresh blood and his eyes were narrow and fierce, giving him a dangerous pretense. Behind him Elizabeth could see dead zombies that had been slaughtered in his pursuit.

"William," she gasped.