Posted on Sunday, 19 February 2006
It was the height of the London Blitz and the girls of Penrhos College were being housed at the ducal mansion of Chatsworth.
It was most pleasant. There were plenty of cups of tea.
The only unpleasant thing was the doorman. He was the Duke’s former butler and seemed to take perverse pleasure in shooing the ladies in and out of rooms. They had nicknamed him Norman the doorman.
Lizzy Bennet, a great studier of human nature, and an excellent student, had nicknamed him so, for it afforded her much pleasure.
By giggling at him, which did she granted cause him to be even more perverse in his random attacks of booting, his power was quiet removed.
She was thus voted class president and given the job of smoothing out all problems.
The next problem was a Sherman Tank.
The Yanks had decided to park one on the lawn leading to the Emperor’s fountain, quite destroying the maze as they manoeuvred it in.
However, while they said it would provide security for the house, it actually provided a target for ….while not bombers, but the local boys. They would come running in and climb over it and the ladies would find their bloomers nicked from all the washing line!
The tank must be got rid of.
But as much as Lizzy cajoled and batted her eyelids, no handsome GI would move it for her.
So the only solution was she had to solve it herself! By driving the Tank!
A man could do it, so it clearly meant she’d be able to do it easily!
It was a simple process of sneaking out in the middle of the night in Khakis. She had borrowed a hat from one of the aforementioned GI’s. Well they’d call it a helmet, but as far as Lizzy was concerned it was a glorified little hat, that made men feel powerful.
Unfortunately, Lizzy had presumed that the gentlemen would need little signs on each of the controls like ‘on’ and ‘forward’ and ‘stop.’ Clearly someone had ripped them off.
So when Lizzy thought she was heading for the main road, she was actually heading for the cemetery.
Lizzy tore through the cemetery at about 40kms an hour, knocking over a couple of headstones and causing the vicar to wail from the church windows about desecration of church property and blasphemy.
Lizzy accidentally however really got bogged down outside one crypt, and once the little rolly wheel thingies got traction the tank shot off and flattened the tomb.
The Vicar shrieked – “The late lady Catherine de Bourgh paid over eight hundred pounds for that plot!”
One of the occupants of the tomb a Mr Fitzwilliam Darcy 1784 – 1812, ‘Loving Son who lost his life saving children and small animals’ was less than impressed.
So unimpressed was he that he rose from the dead.
Unfortunately Lizzy had accidentally backed up, and he actually unearthed himself in front of the tank, not behind it as he had intended.
“No! No!” He shrieked waving his grey arms about. “I’m too young to die! Again!” as Lizzy the Sherman started rolling towards him.
Zombie Darcy had no choice but to flee.
He chose to flee towards the house because even silly college women could not be stupid enough to aim a tank at a house! A house worth millions and would be the set of a many a swoon worthy costume drama for many years to come.
Zombie Darcy was wrong. He had always underestimated people and things; it was why he had died. He’d underestimated the desire of Mr Hurst to get to his dinner and well…been shot.
He wasn’t quite sure where the saving of children and small animals came into it, well perhaps the small animals since Mr Hurst had shot him instead of a cute partridge…but it must have sounded good and noble to Lady Catherine when she ordered the engraving. Better then “Was shot by fat man”.
Zombie Darcy ran screaming through the state apartments, the painted hall and the library. Only stopping screaming to wave his hands around at some frightened college girls who started yelling about finding some pitchforks to wave at him.
He was a Zombie and still he could not scare people, he tried his patented look on them but this was a mistake, because the women stopped their search for pitchforks and swooned and started chasing him.
So now he had women and a Sherman Tank chasing him!
The Only person who seemed terrified of Zombie Darcy was the Marquis of Hartington, and he was saved by a hot young lady who intended to be a lawyer. The Marquis was so impressed he immeadiately made her his marchioness.
Zombie Darcy rolled his eyes – trust him to get women for other men! And not be able to have found any for himself (well apart from crazy fangirls) either alive or dead!
After roaring through the corridors, and losing the women (they decided not even a hot Zombie was worth being crushed into the marble) Zombie Darcy gave up.
“Look press the bloody stop button!” screamed Darcy.
This permeated into the Tank and Lizzy screamed back – “Which one is the stop button?”
“It’s normally big and RED!”
And with that suddenly the Tank stopped.
Lizzy climbed out of the Tank and looked around at the descruction. “Oh. Whoops!”
“Whoops! Whoops!” said Zombie Darcy.
“Yes, Whoops? At least it isn’t on the front lawn anymore!”
Zombie Darcy just looked at her. “You raised *me* from the dead and almost demolished Pemberley Chatsworth, and this is all you can say?”
“But surely getting another chance at life, despite being er…you know a bit floppy and grey is a good thing? And They are always remodeling this place!”
Zombie Darcy blinked. “Well you will have to marry me you know, I can’t explain this” He pointed to the bullet hole in his head “To anyone else.”
Lizzy shrugged. “I’m always up for a challenge!”