Most scenes together: Elizabeth Bennet & Mr. Darcy (3), Elizabeth Bennet & Mr. Bennet (2)
Miss Bennet, what possible cause would the two of you have for leaving Hertfordshire and entering into the inbetween?
If adventures will not befall a young lady in her own village, she must seek them abroad... We had no choice. Wickham has run off with Lydia. He's taken her to where his zombie aristocrats congregate. St. Lazarus.
I was unaware that zombies possessed such acuity so as to set such traps. Before we know it, they'll be running for Parliament.
I fully comprehend your feelings and now have only to be ashamed of what my own have been. Please forgive me, and accept my best wishes for your health and happiness.
Dear Miss Elizabeth Bennet, I'm not writing to renew the sentiments which were so disgusting to you, but to address the two offenses that you accuse me of. I did not intentionally wound your sister. It was a most unfortunate consequence of protecting my dearest friend. Mr. Bingley's feelings for Miss Bennet were beyond any I had ever witnessed in him, or indeed even thought him capable of. The evening of the dance at Netherfield, after overhearing your mother coldly state her intention of having all her daughters marry favorably, I persuaded Bingley of the unfitness of the match. If I have wounded Miss Bennet's feelings it was unknowingly done. As to your other accusation of having injured Mr. Wickham, no sooner had my father made clear his intention to leave Mr. Wickham a handsome sum than Mr. Darcy was mysteriously infected by the plague. It was left to me, his son, to provide a merciful ending. Still I gave Wickham the inheritance my father left. Wickham squandered it, whereupon he demanded more and more money until I eventually refused. Thereafter, he severed all ties with me. Last summer he began a relationship with my 15-year-old sister and convinced her to elope. Mr. Wickham's prime target was her inheritance of 30,000 pounds, but revenging himself on me was a strong additional inducement. Fortunately, I was able to persuade my sister of Mr. Wickham's ulterior motives before it was too late. I hope this helps explain and perhaps mitigate my behavior in your eyes. Of all weapons in the world, I now know love to be the most dangerous, for I have suffered a mortal wound. When did I fall so deeply under your spell, Miss Bennet? I cannot fix the hour or the spot or the look or the words which laid the foundation. I was in the middle before I knew I began. What a proud fool I was. I have faced the harsh truth: that I can never hope to win your love in this life. And so I sought solace in combat. I write to you from the siege of London. There is now a cunning design to the zombie attacks. I sense a dark hand is at work here, guiding the enemy, Miss Bennet. By taking London they've increased their ranks a hundredfold. Now we endeavor to keep them trapped within the great wall. This isn't the random act of some mindless horde. They struck the palace and both houses. They cut off our heads before we could cut off theirs. If we should fail to contain them and they breach Hingham Bridge, it'll be as if a great dam has broken and they'll reach out for us swiftly, and in overwhelming numbers. Dear Miss Bennet. I implore you to be ready.
It wasn't always like this my dear daughters. As the century began Britannia was rich with the fruits of worldwide trade. From the colonies there came not just silks and spices but a virulent and abominable plague. Naturally many suspected the French were to blame. Are you surprised? Once bitten, the newly infected were filled with an insatiable hunger for the brains of the living. Millions perished, only to rise again. As legions of undead. So certain it would seem the end of days had come. But even the four horsemen of the apocalypse are said to have ascended from hell. To protect the living, the Grand Barrier was built. A one hundred foot wall, encircling London. Then excavation began on the royal canal. A vast mote thirty fathoms deep surrounding both the city and its walls. The land twixt the two fortifications became known as The Inbetween. At this time it became fashionable to study the deadly arts of the orient. Japan for the wealthy. China for the wise. In the second battle of Kent, one of the bridges that cross the royal canal was breached. Ravenous zombie hordes massacred every villager of The Inbetween. It was said the sight of this slaughter drove young King George mad. When the battle was finally won, he ordered the destruction of all the bridges, save one. Hingham Bridge. Which to this day remains the only means by which to cross the royal canal. Many believed the enemy was finally vanquished. The gentry began to leave the safe confines of London's defenses for their newly fortified country estates. But vigilance is still every essence. Remember this. Keep your swords as sharp as your wit. For the ultimate battle between the living and the undead has yet to be staged.
From the very first moment I beheld you, my heart was irrevocably caught.
Her face is rendered uncommonly intelligent by the beautiful expression of her dark eyes. And I'm forced to acknowledge her figure as both light and pleasing. That her arms are surprisingly muscular yet not so much as to be unfeminine.
A newly infected zombie is almost impossible to detect. Until they've ingested their first human brains, at which point the transformation accelerates with every subsequent kill.
A woman is either highly trained or highly refined one cannot afford the luxury of both in such times.
A woman must have a thorough knowledge of music, singing, drawing, dancing and the modern languages. She must be well trained in the fighting styles of the Kyoto masters and weapons and tactics of modern Europe.
Daughters do not dance well with masticated brains.
I don't care to be paraded like a herd of heifers at a farm auction.
I shall never relinquish my sword for a ring.
