pride and prejudice and zombies:: dreadfull ever after

Part 13

The hunt for the MacFarquhars began the next day in Section Three Central—Hyde Park. This was the afternoon playground of the elite, where the fashionable went to see and be seen. Elizabeth wasn't anxious for the former and dreaded the latter, even with the new look she'd been given by the waiting geishas supplied by Lady Catherine. A preparation of yogurt and powdered henna had turned her dark hair red; meticulous plucking had reshaped her eyebrows into thin, elegant arcs; a padded petticoat gave her a rounder, fuller shape while obscuring the tautness of her well-developed muscles.

Her father and sister declared her to be utterly transformed, yet Elizabeth remained unconvinced. How long would it be before someone recognized her as Mrs. Fitzwilliam Darcy?

"Longer than you might think," Nezu told her. "In my experience, the English see the rank more clearly than the person. Change the one, and the perception of the other is altered in kind."

Elizabeth wasn't so sure. It comforted her more to know that she was by no means a perennial in town. Not long into their marriage, she'd convinced her husband to stop spending the Season there. It hadn't been hard: They both preferred the bucolic simplicity of Derbyshire to the venom of London's so-called polite society. Elizabeth hadn't been a pariah, as Lady Catherine had predicted before she married Darcy, but she wouldn't have entirely minded if she had been.

When they reached Hyde Park, she found it just as she'd remembered, if a trifle more crowded in advance of the recoronation. The grounds were beautiful: lushly wooded and verdant, despite the long shadows of the towering walls all around. No one was there to admire the greenery, though; they were there to be admired themselves. Gentlemen bounced upon the broad backs of black-maned thoroughbreds that cost more than Mr. Bennet earned in a year, while carriages of every size and design whizzed up and down the park's paths, completing the same circuits over and over, going nowhere in the finest style.

"Oooo, is that the Prince Regent?" Kitty cried as their barouche passed a particularly resplendent chaise and four. "No? But that simply must be the Duke of York over there! No? Well, how about that gentleman? Surely he's someone important. No? Really? Why, just look how grand is his ... is that a landau or a calash? I can never tell the difference. Oh, now that must be the Prince Regent. He looks so wonderfully fat and flushed ... and so grumpy! I suppose I would, too, if I had to give up a throne."

"That is not the Prince Regent," Elizabeth said.

"Then how about that gentleman over—?"

Mr. Bennet put a hand on Kitty's knee. "You're getting too worked up, my dear. Remember, the point is to appear indifferent. If we are impressed by important people, how important can we be ourselves?"

"But the Shevingtons are supposed to be new to London. I can't imagine they'd be so blasé about ... ooo, tell me that's the Prince Regent! Please, do!"

"If you wish," Mr. Bennet sighed. "It is the Prince Regent."

"It is not," Elizabeth said before her sister could wave to His Royal Highness (who was indeed looking fat and flushed and grumpy that day). "And, at any rate, it's not the royal family we're looking for."

"Oh, that's why he's here." Kitty said, fluttering a hand at the front of the carriage, where Nezu sat beside the driver. Both were dressed in the powdered wigs and silver-satin liveries of coachmen to the upper crust. "If Bunny MacFarquhar turns up, he can tell us."

"He'll be here," Nezu said. "His five o'clock appearance at Hyde Park is the only time he can be counted on to be punctual. And if the king decides to grace us with a visit from St. James's, it is a certainty that Sir Angus will be at his side."

"Ooooo! We might see the king?" Kitty squealed. "I didn't think they'd let him out in public for fear he'd start barking and chasing phaetons. I know we're all supposed to be so very glad he's not a loony anymore—as if it were the whole country that had gone mad, not just him—but I can't help wondering ... Good heavens, who's that magnificent creature?"