Mrs Darcy vs The Aliens

Lady Catherine de Bourgh swept into the room and surveyed its occupants. “Well, well, well,” she said. “What do we have here?”

“My Lady, ’tis – ” began Mr Collins.

“Oh, do be quiet, Collins, you snivelling wretch,” said Lady Catherine. He flinched and gave an uncertain smile.

“As you w– ”

“Of course I wish. Now be quiet until I ask you to say something, and even then make sure that your answer is of the highest quality before you venture to respond. Is that understood?”

Collins made to reply, caught himself and ended up giving a passable impression of a particularly absent-minded goldfish.

“Good,” said Lady Catherine. “So, I see we have almost a complete hand to play with here, even if most of them will ultimately be … discarded.”

“You’ll never get away with th– ” said Wickham.

“Wickham, do you ever say anything else? Or does your conversation consist of a series of selections from a limited set of tiresome stock phrases?”

“You have to admit he was right last time,” said Elizabeth. Lady Catherine turned on her with an evil eye.

“Ah, the feisty Mrs Darcy! I wonder, will you be so bold when I probe your husband to within an inch of his life – ”

“No! Not the probe!” said Sutherland. Lady Catherine blinked and stared at him.

“And who on earth are you?” she said. “Do I know you? Perhaps I should probe you first.”

Sutherland gulped. “Madam, it would be an honour,” he said, his voice rising to a squeak.

“Enough!” said Darcy, twitching against the metal bands that held him in his chair. “If I am to be probed, let it be done now.”

Lady Catherine laughed. “Ha! You poor fools. There will be no probing tonight. There is no need for any more probing at all. The probes have done their work.”

There was an audible sigh of relief from all four prisoners.

“No,” said Lady Catherine. “I shall simply dispose of all of you except Mrs Darcy. Her destiny is yet incomplete.” She reached into her bag and withdrew what appeared to be a small firearm – albeit one that was far smoother in shape and more compact than anything Elizabeth had seen before. Lady Catherine pointed it at each of the four of them in turn, and then – to everyone’s astonishment – at Mr Collins, who stood up and began to edge away from her.

“Lady Catherine!” he said. “Pray wh – wh – what are you doing, ma’am? Have I not served you faithfully all these years? Have I not obeyed every command, followed every whim and indulged every nuance of your desires? Please, I beg you – ” He seemed uncertain as to whether to abase himself before her or to try to make a run for it.

“Mr Collins, you tiresome, repulsive little man, I thank you for delivering this band of deluded idiots to me and thus ensuring the success of our great Plan. But now that victory is in sight, your life serves no purpose to me any more. Moreover, I am tired of your wretched, obsequious fawning and if I have to spend one more minute in your company, there is every chance that I shall strangle myself with one of my own tentacles.”

“Lady Catherine – ”

“Enough!” She raised the firearm and pointed at Mr Collins’ body. Panic-stricken, he turned and looked at Elizabeth, pleading at her instead.

“Mrs Darcy!” he said. “Go to my wife. Ask her … ask her about … about the potting shed – ”

“I beg your pardon?” said Elizabeth, taken aback. But before he could elucidate, there was a sharp crack, a blinding flash and the room filled with smoke. When it cleared, there was no sign of Mr Collins at all.