Does anyone remember a while back when I spilled the beans that there’d been a request for proposals about the sequel to Pride and Prejudice and Zombies and that I put together some sample pages amidst the madness of the Romantic Times Convention in Orlando, thereby stressing me out to the point of near constant irritable bowel syndrome? Well, regardless, during her recent visit at Chez Henry, one Heather Osborn (Tor Editor, Chronic Twitterer, Bon Vivant) almost talked me into posting my sample pages.

I figured I’d get to it one day, but was in no hurry, for as far as I knew, they’d scrapped it in lieu of the whole Sense and Sensibilities and Sea Monsters thing. Well, then I see this…

Sure. I grumbled. It was a whole lot easier to think of the project being shelved than the fact that someone else had beaten me down bloody. *coughstevehockensmithcough* And seriously, all the best to the guy. But now, I am forced to share. How could I not.
::weeps::
So now, for your Friday afternoon reading pleasure. A scene from the never-gonna-happen-sequel… Consider it Fan Fic…

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The defense against an infestation of zombies is as suitably agreeable an occasion as any for chance encounters between old friends or the odd spot of matchmaking. Such incidents did occur by happenstance and more than a little arrangement, at the most important and foundational party of the handsome and personable Mr. Darcy and his new bride, Lizzie, a couple more prepared for the practice of deadly arts, an unmentionable would be hard-pressed to shamble upon. That particular reception played out thusly:

“Are those not strawberries atop the cake, dear Lizzie?” Georgiana gestured toward a delightful array of sweets on trays, the tiered cake being centermost.

“I know how you love them so, Georgiana.”

“You’re ever so kind.” Cake was sliced and proffered on the delicate family bone china, tiny rose vines veined the lip.

“No. It is you that is kind,” Elizabeth implored to Georgiana. “Your help with my many letters afforded me the opportunity to practice new and even deadlier arts with Master Chow Gou. My skill with the long-chained mace is improving greatly.”

The two passed the Master, holding court amongst Elizabeth’s neighbors in the drawing room. Adorned in a robe of crimson, embroidered with a ferociously spined dragon coiled from a hiding spot behind the moustached oriental’s waist, Chow Gou regaled the crowd with tales of battle and Chinese spirit ghosts. Gasps were audible and many. Elizabeth smiled to think of him having such an agreeable moment.

She slipped onto the verandah, Georgiana gliding in her wake. The hem of their dresses shirred the slate and almost concealed the grating footsteps of the pair of unmentionables rounding the corner.

“Oh Lizzie,” Georgiana’s voice was heavy with disappointment. “Surely not at your first engagement as a Darcy. It really is uncalled for.” To the zombies, she chastised, “Too much. Really. This is simply the outside of enough.”

The first, once a woman and without shoes, stumbled on the bare bones of feet, clacking, the other trapped behind a tall potted shrub, lacking the understanding that it could simply stumble around it and instead, clawing at the wall and breaking branches from a lovely ficus.

Elizabeth was mortified. Pemberley was her home now, and she preferred her shrubbery manicured and unbroken. She was already reaching for a throwing star when Georgiana said:

“It is truly Master Chow Gou who is kind to offer his aide in these most trying times.”

“Certainly,” Elizabeth agreed and launched the sharp star across the gap where it struck the zombie between the eyes, dispatching it verily and completely. The woman fell next, thudding to the ground in a soft heap.

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And that’s all you get, in its totally unedited glory. I shared a few ideas, as much as I could pull together on 2 hours sleep a night (as anyone who has seen an RT recap post knows, it’s not the most relaxing of cons), but a month later was given the sad news.

Addendum: credit where credit is due. Austen scholar Osborn insisted on the phrase “outside of enough,” which I can’t stop saying in everyday speech. Thanks, Heatha!

So it goes. Good luck on the book’s success. Has anyone read Sense and Sensibility and Sea Monsters?