Chapter 13

Elizabeth blinked, not believing what her mouth had uttered. What her voice had realized before her brain did. Her husband was here. Standing before her now. She tried to calm her rapid breathing and take in the moment. This moment. The one she had been dreaming about since she was taken, kidnapped by Wickham; for the instant when her husband would walk through the door and they would fight towards freedom together.

She watched as William's eyes frantically surveyed the room in search for her. She could see the tension flee his body once his eyes landed upon hers. His shoulders loosened and his eyes grew rounder, relief flooding his face. Then he rose up and regained the confidence she recognized from their many skirmishes together. He was taller, focused, confident- stronger now in her presence. And so was she.

She felt Wickham grasp her tighter, drawing her closer to him. Spinning her around, her back to his front, he brought his makeshift arm up tauntingly to her neck.

Darcy's eyes darkened as he took a step forward. He threw her a concerned look; one that asked a million questions within a single desperate glance. All knowingly, she forced a smile, assuring him that she was fine, despite the circumstances. She then discretely raised her eyebrows and broke their eye connection, indicating for him to follow her gaze to the servant girl who stood at the mercy of the undead at the other end of the room.

"Not another pace," Wickham ordered Darcy, brining his arm closer and allowing the barbs to barely prick Elizabeth's skin.

"It's me you want," Fitzwilliam said, addressing Wickham but keeping his stance wide to ensure he would not be taken off-guard should an undead attack him from behind. "Not her."

Wickham took him in before resuming. Elizabeth could see her husband discretely inspecting the room from his spot near the entryway. Movement in the hallway drew her attention and she could only assume Wickham had called undead to block the exit and their path towards freedom. They would have to find another way out. The windows or glass doors perhaps?

"I used to want everything that you had, Fitz," Wickham stated. Elizabeth could feel his breath upon her neck. "Your home. Your wealth. Your status in the militia… Your wife." He threw a smirk in Darcy's direction as he caressed her cheek with his hand before moving it over her arm in a seemingly tender gesture. Darcy's glare grew darker. "But then I became this. I hated you for it. Still do in fact. Your actions brought me here."

"Your actions made you this!" Darcy shouted, tightening the grip on his katana in frustration. "Yours and yours alone."

Wickham ignored his outburst and continued, "But then I saw the whole picture. I was created for this: To lead the undead. Raise them up and be the leader they so desperately need. To be the one that could control them and have my every whim carried out. But before I can reach my full potential, I realized I needed to get anything out of the way that was holding me back; namely, you. Granted I tried at St. Lazarus but then your wife here had to go and trample me with her horse, knocking me unconscious."

Elizabeth winced as his grip tightened. She could feel bruises beginning to form on her arms, waist and the other various places he had been clutching her.

"Then," Wickham continued, "imagine my delight when I heard Hingham Bridge had blown up with you on it. Oh the irony! My foe had been slain neither by my hand nor that of the undead, but by the living. The ones he had spent his entire life fighting for, defending. I reveled in my achievement until I heard you still lived and were in fact marrying Miss Bennet here."

"I knew you would lure him to me," Wickham added, addressing her. He moved his arm around her waist, and Elizabeth cringed as he brought his mouth close to her ear. "Fitz wouldn't hesitate to save his wife regardless of the trap set before him. Well," Wickham scoffed, addressing Darcy once more, "you have managed to find your way inside, but there is no way you shall escape. Thousands of undead await you just outside these walls and more shall descend upon this ballroom the moment I order for them to come."

"I have no intention of leaving," Darcy admitted.

"You mean without your wife?" Wickham mocked.

"Let her go," Darcy said, taking in a deep breath and slowly releasing it, "…and you can have me."

"No!" Elizabeth shouted. Her husband glanced at her and pleaded for her to understand. She tried to fight free from Wickham's restraining grip, and could feel blood begin to trickle down her neck from the new gashes. She would not let him do this.

Her blood began to boil and rage consumed her. For the helpless state she found herself in since her wedding day. Towards the undead man pressed against her back. And now because her husband was willing to sacrifice himself yet again for her safety, this time knowing he would inevitably die.

Elizabeth fisted her hands tightly and jerked her head back as hard as she could muster. Wickham blanched and released her, his only hand instinctively gripping his now bloody nose. Turning to face him, she kicked him swiftly in the groin with a shout, sending him stumbling back several steps before falling to the floor in pain. Elizabeth removed the two hidden daggers from beneath her skirts and whirled towards the piano player, striking her dead. The other two undead had since abandoned the servant girl and were running across the room towards Darcy. Elizabeth hurled one of the daggers across the room, lodging it right in an undead's brain. Her husband had just finished killing the second undead as she approached him.

Bending over, she dislodged her blade from the undead's head and cleaned it off on his uniform. She then stood up and came face to face with her husband.

Opening her mouth, Elizabeth took in a breath to reprimand him, especially after everything she had endured on the bridge, but Darcy spoke first.

"Yell at me later," he breathed before pulling her into his arms and kissing her passionately. Immediately all of her rage abandoned her. She fell into him, not believing it was real. He was exactly as she remembered: strong and warm. His protective arms wrapped around her and she felt like she was home. She wanted to run her fingers through his hair and draw him closer. All too soon, he released her all and quietly said, "Save the girl. Bring her to the kitchens. There's a hidden trap door behind the preparation tables. It'll take you to a tunnel that leads underneath the grounds and out of Pemberley."

Elizabeth shot him a stern look. No. There was no way she was leaving him here to fend for himself. Especially when Wickham lay so helpless on the floor. He could walk over there, stab him through his brains, and they could flee together.

"I'll follow right after I take care of him," Darcy promised as he threw a wicked glance in Wickham's direction.

Elizabeth considered protesting, but she had a promise to fulfill.

"You had better," she responded, kissing him quickly before running towards the girl, who was now cowering in the corner of the room crying.

"Come with me," she said, grasping the girl's arm and pulling her upright. They began moving towards the door. "I can take you to safety, but I need you to direct me to the kitchens."

Elizabeth paused at the door and saw Darcy approaching Wickham, who still lay helpless on the ground. She would come back, regardless of what Fitzwilliam said. She would be back to ensure he followed after her.

"Stay behind me," she ordered, "in case we come across any undead."

Peeking around the corner, she saw the hallway was empty. She furrowed her brow in confusion but cautiously proceeded into the open space, her daggers up and at the ready. The girl directed her up several hallways, gasping wide-eyed at every lifeless undead they came across. Elizabeth smiled at each one however, knowing it was yet another Darcy had killed in his attempt to free her. She had to get this girl to safety as quickly as possible so she could get back.

They arrived at the foyer and Elizabeth paused, glancing around the open space. She couldn't get over how easy this was. Where were the other undead? Shouldn't there be some obstacle that was meant to keep her from escaping? She heard movement to her right and raised her daggers higher, ready to slice down the zombie.

"Elizabeth?" she heard a deep voice ask instead.

"Father?" she asked incredulously. Mr. Bennet emerged from a hallway and stealthily approached them.

"What are you doing here?!" Elizabeth hissed.

"Trying to help your husband," he answered. "You need to get out now."

"Not without William," she said. "He's still in the ballroom with Wickham. Take this girl to safety. I am going back to help him."

Elizabeth turned to run but Mr. Bennet grabbed a hold of her arm, fixating her in place.

"You don't understand, Elizabeth," he said urgently. "Fitzwilliam is on a suicide mission. There are explosives rigged below Pemberley, and he ordered for them to be detonated with him inside should you manage to escape. Mr. Bingley tried to talk sense into him, but Fitzwilliam wouldn't see reason."

Her eyes grew wide as she comprehended the enormity of what her father was telling her. He lied. Again. And she was right not to trust that he would follow after her. Well he may want to sacrifice himself, but she was not going to let him be a martyr. Not today.

"You tell whoever is manning those charges," she said angrily, "that they will have me to deal with should they kill my husband."

"There's another thing," he said quickly. "Wickham can control the undead."

"I know," she said despairingly. "He said as much during one of his coarse conversations with me."

Elizabeth saw a pained expression blanket his now dazed face but he immediately suppressed it. "What is it?" she asked, worried.

"It is for another time," her father added somberly after a brief pause. "Be safe, my Lizzy."

He kissed her on the forehead as she responded, "I will. Now, I'm off to have some choice words with that husband of mine."

Mr. Bennet chuckled quietly despite himself before ushering the servant girl up the hallway he had come from. After they were out of sight, Elizabeth turned on her heels and ran back to the ballroom for she would rather die with her husband than face the rest of her life alone.