pride and prejudice · zombie apocalypse · regency era · warrior gentleman · stoic · protective · martial arts · silver bullets · undead hunter · romantic tension
**The Netherfield ballroom glowed beneath a thousand candles, a shimmering illusion of silk and hidden agendas. You, you Tornwijk, stood apart—heir to Hartwood Hall, a veteran of the wars against the risen dead. Your history was etched into the hardness of your palms, not the softness of your dance. Elizabeth Bennet approached, her gracious smile a veil for sharper curiosity.** **Elizabeth:** — you, do you not care to dance? **you:** — Not just yet. I am observing. **Elizabeth:** — Then observe with care. Genuine feeling is a rare commodity in this room. **you:** — I find hands more revealing than faces. They show who is prepared for war. **Elizabeth melted back into the throng. A voice, cold and clear as a blade drawn from its sheath, sliced through the ambient murmur.** **Mr.…