Chapter 12

Darcy gipped Combat's reins tighter. Kicking the sides, his steed galloped faster over the dirt road, his katana bouncing securely against his leg. They were drawing closer to Pemberley grounds and he knew he should slow down and remain alert should an undead attempt to take them by surprise, but he did not want to waste another moment. He could feel the anxiety, anger and frustration fleeing his body with every mile they got closer to Pemberley. Alastair and his men had ridden out after aiding with the cleanup and burials at Rosings Park. It was decided that they would reconvene some distance from Pemberley and then the final battle between the living and the undead would begin.

The remaining militia had arrived at Rosings from The Canal with supplies, explosives, and all available horses, which were quite numerous given the circumstances. Mr. Bennet rode alongside Darcy, followed by Charles and Jane, Georgiana and Ashton, Caroline and his other sisters-in-law. The remaining militia held up the rear of the convoy. The typically two day journey only lasted a night and a half given the fast pace Darcy ordered, but all were especially eager for the battle. Many present had personal vendettas against Wickham and his undead and the anticipation of their impending retaliation grew with each passing moment.

They arrived at Thornton Hall before Alastair and his men. At Ashton's insistence, it was decided that his abandoned home would be used as their base of operations, mostly due to its close proximity to Pemberley. After sweeping it for undead, the party moved on the grounds. It was difficult work maneuvering around with only the moonlight aiding them, but they did not wish to alert Wickham of their presence by building fires or lighting torches. They made quick work of organizing horses, and distributing weapons, food, and other necessities before sleeping rotations were assigned.

Darcy opted to remain awake, knowing sleep would not come to him. Instead, he occupied himself with other tasks. While he was sharpening his blade on a whetstone Georgiana walked over and held out some bread. "You need to keep your strength up," she insisted. "If you aren't going to sleep, you should at least eat."

Knowing he would save time by not arguing, Darcy took the food without protest and downed it in two bites before turning back to his task. Admittedly, his head was feeling woozy from a lack of sleep, but he had to focus. There was too much for him to do, and his training could not fail him now when it mattered most. He had just gotten all his strength and mobility back from the blast at the bridge and subsequent coma thereafter, and he needed his blade to be sharp as possible for when he drove it through Wickham's brains.

After many had retired, Charles arrived discretely by his side and knelt down. "Do you think it's time?" he asked quietly.

"Yes," responded Darcy as he scanned the camp. All his sisters-in-law seemed occupied. Jane was chatting with her father. Georgiana was bringing some food to Ashton, and Caroline had retired long ago.

The pair rose and rounded to the back of the house. On foot, they began their journey towards Pemberley. The men knew the way by heart for even Charles had spent many days as a guest at the great mansion, wandering around on occasion in the surrounding lands hunting for undead. After some time they could see the fortification around the property in the distance, Charles and Fitzwilliam crouched down and spied for several quiet moments, trying to discern different shapes in the night.

A twig snapped behind them and Darcy rounded quickly. In one swift motion he jumped up from his position, removed his katana, and swung it in the air. It struck another blade, both stopping just short of Lydia's neck.

He lowered his blade and took in a deep, calming breath. Grasping her shoulders, he quickly lowered her into a crouch next to Bingley.

"What are you doing here?" he hissed.

"I saw you sneak away and wanted to see if I could get a look at the undead bastard myself," she demanded. Her eyes were full of loathing, narrow and rimmed with dark circles from many sleepless nights. This was her moment of retribution and, like him, she was not going to let it slip away.

"Fine. Keep out of sight and follow my lead," Darcy ordered. "We only want to see their numbers for ourselves and determine if the tunnel is even an option. Stay close, stay low, and don't make a sound."

He led them over several small hills and then towards a group of trees near the grounds. They waited in the shadows of the tree trunks for a few moments before maneuvering discretely towards the iron grate Darcy's father had showed him when he was just a boy. From there they peeked around the sole tree sheltering them and could make out a solid black mass of undead walking around Pemberley. Darcy could never have imagined such a sight. His home was completely overtaken. In numbers alone they did not stand a chance, but should his plan work, it could give them the advantage they so desperately needed.

He reached his hand out and slowly began opening the hatch, lowering it quietly onto the ground. One by one they entered the dark, dank space. Gliding his hands along the walls, Darcy found the torch once used by his father and several matches as well. After removing one match and pocketing the rest, he motioned for Lydia and Charles to place one hand on each of his shoulders the other on the wall as they walked onward in the darkness. Darcy did not want any light escaping the tunnel, so he waited until after they no longer saw moonlight streaming in from the hatch. He then lit the torch and they continued the rest of the way in complete silence, finally arriving at the other set of stairs that led to the kitchens.

Darcy sighed with relief at their small victory. He turned and smiled at his companions and then towards the trap door above them. Not much longer, my love, he thought. Not much longer.

Darcy ordered several militia members and Ashton to follow him upon his return to Thornton Hall. Gathering as many explosives as one could reasonably carry, they made their way back towards the grate and began wiring the detonations beneath Pemberley. Once his group returned, Charles left with the next, and so on, until only a small walkway was left by the stairwell beneath Pemberley.

Much to their blessing, the night was calm with clear skies, and the undead remained ignorant of their presence. Alastair and his men had arrived during his third trip to the tunnel and he insisted upon inspecting the grounds himself. Accompanying the men and some highlanders, Darcy and the group stealthily made their way across the countryside to the wall surrounding Pemberley grounds. The groans of undead grew exceedingly louder the closer they got to the outer wall, which helped conceal the sound of their footsteps.

Darcy steered them towards a break in the fence and motioned for everyone to stay silent and vigilant, out of sight of the undead, lest their cover be blown and all their work be for naught. He led them to a small shed on the backside of the house, which provided the perfect angle to observe the undead meandering around. As the riders had mentioned, they walked around the house in a circular pattern, never breaking off unless some unfortunate animal found its way in.

After familiarizing himself with their behaviors, Darcy took in his home. The upper stories were dark, with no undead upon the rooftop. He sighed in relief. However, the first and second levels of his home were full of life. Light from candles showed movement of both living and undead beings and the ballroom was lit to its proper glory. The shimmers of glass and crystal shimmered through the windows and danced upon the ground at the feet of the undead.

Although there were no undead on the rooftop, many were stationed around the parameter of the house. There were not as far gone as the others for they were as still as the Black Guard and Darcy could see the yellow in their eyes constantly move around scanning the grounds for any potential threat. He would have led them all to their deaths, or undeaths, if he had taken a direct assault.

The group sneaked back to Thornton Hall and arrived at first light. The ground was cool and fog coated the land, providing them with coverage they desperately needed. Dark clouds had also filled the sky, threatening to bring rain.

Darcy reached into his coat pocket, ensuring the matches were in place. His katana was at his hip, and he took three extra daggers as well. He, along with a small group, would sneak back into the tunnel and enter the house to retrieve Elizabeth. Meanwhile, the militia and Scots would keep the zombies, and hopefully Wickham, occupied with the assistance of his aunt, Ashton, Lydia, Kitty, Mary, and, to his dismay, Georgiana. Mr. Bennet, Charles, Jane, and Caroline would journey through the tunnel with him. Lydia had fussed about not being able to confront Wickham, but Darcy could not trust her for at present her emotions were clouding her judgment.

He walked through the chaos towards Ashton. The boy stiffened slightly at his appearance, as Darcy had never revisited the intimate moment between him and his sister the other night. Ashton opened his mouth to speak, seemingly to apologize, but Darcy spoke first.

"Take care of my sister," he ordered. "I am trusting you with one of the things I cherish most in the world. Keep her safe."

"I will, sir," Ashton responded sincerely. "Best go get your wife," he added with a smirk.

Darcy smiled and turned as if to walk away but then rounded back. "I have a favor to ask of you," he added slowly.

Ashton glanced quizzically at him. Reaching into his pocket, Darcy removed two matches and placed them into Ashton's palm. "A time may come when I am the only living soul inside. If that happens, get everyone to safety and then take it down, but by God you had better take Wickham with me."

Ashton stared at him, his mouth hung open in shock. "You plan on trading yourself for your wife?"

"Yes," said Darcy earnestly. "It's always been about me. I am the only one that can finish this, and if I have to sacrifice myself, then so be it. But I trust only you to do as I ask- no one else would, should I have requested it of them."

Ashton stared at him for some time before reluctantly nodding his head once.

"I pray it does not come to that," said Ashton. "But if I must, I shall check and detonate them myself." Darcy nodded and walked away, mentally preparing for what was to come.

Darcy lit the torch and moved the group silently into the tunnel. He cautiously knelt down, noting the trigger wire running along the floor.

"The wire runs all the way through the tunnel to the explosives at the other side," he explained. "It will be quick to detonate so you must be swift in lighting it and escape as soon as you can. As you could see when we entered, the tree provides shelter from the house, so no one will see us standing there guarding the entrance, but I anticipate undead will wander in this direction once the battle has begun."

He looked around him, taking in every face, before reaching for the spare torch and lighting it. "One more thing," he added, holding it out to Charles, "I'm going in alone."

"No!" Bingley retorted.

"Charles, I know the house better than anyone else. I will be able to sneak in, get Elizabeth, and get out without being seen. And I will not put others in peril needlessly. Stay here and guard the tunnel. We cannot risk loosing this advantage."

Bingley started shaking his head. "William," he began, taking a step towards him, "I know you are capable of completing this mission on your own, but what if the worst should occur and Wickham captures you? You need at least one person in there watching your back."

"I will not drag someone else into the lion's den," responded Darcy. "I go in alone."

Bingley began protesting once more, but Darcy cut him off. "I cannot loose anyone else, Charles!"

Bingley shot him a hurt expression, which gradually grew to understanding. "Fine," Charles began, "You have one hour." He took out his pocket watch and Darcy instinctively did the same.

Elizabeth had surprised him with the watch the morning of their wedding. As tradition dictated, the he and Elizabeth swapped gifts. He found a lovely pair of daggers he knew Elizabeth would cherish along with a new katana bearing her new last name and she had given him his father's pocket watch. Something he thought was long gone. Along with the give was a note in her elegant scripted writing. As he was being carried off what remained of Hingham Bridge, she found it lying on the ground. The face was broken and it no longer worked, but a clocksmith in the village had made it his mission to have it as good as new by their wedding day. He had never been happier.

Darcy smiled at the memory and ran his thumb over the front before clicking it in unison with his friend on command.

"Be safe, my dear friend," said Bingley, taking him in a brief hug. "One hour. And then we aid in the rescue."

"We'll be out before then," he encouraged, offering a small smile in the direction of Jane and his father-in-law.

"Be careful, my son," Mr. Bennet said. Darcy nodded and began his journey through the tunnel and into the depths of Pemberley.

Darcy placed the torch in a mount on the wall before creeping up the steps. He paused by the doorway and he could hear shuffling on the other side. Unsheathing his katana, he took a deep breath, pushed open the door, and pounced into the room.

Familiar faces surrounded him, all of which held the same shocked expression. The servants rushed towards Darcy and in hushed tones asked how he had managed to infiltrate Pemberley. He pointed to the hidden door behind the counter and answered their other questions as best he could but wanted his own answered as well. They informed him Elizabeth was in the ballroom with Wickham but there were undead guarding all the hallways. Even the kitchens were monitored every so often.

"Listen," he said, gathering everyone together, "I want everyone to leave. Go down the stairs- It will lead you to a narrow tunnel. Put your hand on the wall and follow it to the other side. There are friends there who will take you to safety. Be discrete. Only a few go at a time, so as not to draw attention in case undead should return."

"I cannot go!" exclaimed one maid who he vaguely recognized. She grasped his arms and he could see tears streaming down her redden face. "He has my daughter. Please don't let him turn her!"

"I'll save her," Darcy promised, gazing down at the woman. "Her and my wife. But you have to go through the tunnel." He glanced at his servants. "Close the hatch after every group flees so the undead do not see it. And be mindful of the explosives just at the bottom here."

At that, their eyes grew wide with fright. "Explosives?!" one exclaimed.

"That is why you have to get out now," he explained. "Go."

He urged several towards the trap door in the floor before walking to the door leading to the main dining room. Darcy removed a dagger from his boot and gripped his katana tightly in his right hand.

Darcy pushed through the door and was greeted by a swarm of undead dressed in militia uniforms. He crossed both blades and slit the throat of the first guarding the kitchen doors before twisting around and piercing the other through his skull. Another began running towards him. He kicked a chair in front of the zombie, sending him falling to the ground. He landed face down in front of Darcy, who put the male undead out of his misery. Several more tried surrounding him, but he ducked and swerved, stabbing everyone last one of them. Never had he felt so in tune with his blade: fluid and agile. Bodies soon covered the floor, and after wiping the bottom of his boots clear of blood he pressed on towards the ballroom.

He ran up the hallway past the dining room and encountered more undead in the foyer. He threw the dagger at the first, who fell and skidded to a stop. Going to his knees, he swept the legs out from under the next and pierced it. He yanked the dagger out of the first and stood as the final ran towards him. Darcy lifted his katana and it impaled the zombie through the stomach. The undead reached his arms out, grasping at Darcy's face, his mouth growing closer to his skin. Darcy pulled his katana towards him and stabbed the undead in the skull with the dagger. Kicking the undead off, he leaned over and cleaned both blades on its militia clothing.

Darcy rose and stalked his way up the final hallway leading to the ballroom. Two undead guarded the doors. Upon noticing him, they snarled and began running at him, teeth bared and yellow eyes narrow. When they were within range, he lifted his blades and pierced them both at once. They tumbled to the ground. Nothing stood in his way now. Darcy swept his hair from his face and made for the door. Pushing it open, he sauntered inside the bright room and was overwhelmed by the sound of familiar music.