Free Pride and Prejudice and Zombies by Seth Grahame-Smith

Catherine’s proclivity for slaying the sorry stricken, which, she dare thought, exceeded that of her own nieces’.
    In describing to her all the grandeur of Lady Catherine and her mansion, which had received considerable improvements, including a grand dojo, and new quarters for her private guard of ninjas, Mr. Collins was happily employed until the gentlemen joined them; and he found in Mrs. Philips a very attentive listener, whose opinion of his consequence increased with what she heard, and who was resolving to retail it all among her neighbours as soon as she could. To the girls, who could not listen to their cousin without taking a silent inventory of the countless ways they could kill him, the interval of waiting appeared very long. It was over at last, however. The gentlemen did approach, and when Mr. Wickham walked into the room, Elizabeth felt as if she had just been stunned by a devastating roundhouse kick. Such was his effect on her—that those traits of her sex, despite all her training, remained susceptible to influence. The officers of the shire were in general a very creditable, gentlemanlike set; but Mr. Wickham was as far beyond them all in person, countenance, air, and walk, as they were superior to the broad-faced, stuffy Uncle Philips, breathing port wine, who followed them into the room.
    Mr. Wickham was the happy man toward whom almost every female eye was turned, and Elizabeth was the happy woman by whom he finally seated himself; and the agreeable manner in which he immediately fell into conversation, though it was only on its being a wet night, made her feel that the commonest, dullest, most threadbare topic might be rendered interesting by the skill of the speaker.
    With such rivals for the notice of the fair as Mr. Wickham and the officers, Mr. Collins seemed to sink into insignificance; to the young ladies he certainly was nothing; but he had still at intervals a kind listener in Mrs. Philips, and was by her watchfulness, most abundantly supplied with coffee and muffin. When the card-tables were placed, he had the opportunity of obliging her in turn, by sitting down to Crypt and Coffin.
    Mr. Wickham did not play at Crypt and Coffin, and with ready delight was he received at the other table between Elizabeth and Lydia. At first there seemed danger of Lydia’s engrossing him entirely, for she was a most determined talker; but being likewise extremely fond of cards, she soon grew too much interested in the game, too eager to know whether players would find their “crypts” eerily empty or their “coffins” happily full. Allowing for the common demands of the game, Mr. Wickham was therefore at leisure to talk to Elizabeth, and she was very willing to hear him, though what she chiefly wished to hear she could not hope to be told—the history of his acquaintance with Mr. Darcy. She dared not even mention that gentleman. Her curiosity, however, was unexpectedly relieved. Mr. Wickham began the subject himself. He inquired how far Netherfield was from Meryton; and, after receiving her answer, asked in a hesitating manner how long Mr. Darcy had been staying there.
    “About a month,” said Elizabeth. “He is a man of many kills, I understand.”
    “Yes,” replied Mr. Wickham; “his talent as a warrior is above reproach. You could not have met with a person more capable of giving you certain information on that head than myself, for I have been connected with his family in a particular manner from my infancy.”
    Elizabeth could not but look surprised.
    “You may well be surprised, Miss Bennet, at such an assertion, after seeing, as a lady of your training probably might, the very cold manner of our meeting yesterday. Are you much acquainted with Mr. Darcy?”
    “As much as I ever wish to be,” cried Elizabeth very warmly. “I have spent four days in the same house with him, and I think him very disagreeable.”
    “I have no right to give my opinion,” said Wickham, “as to his being