At a neighborhood ball, 
Elizabeth, Darcy, and Bingley come upon unmentionables feeding on some slaughtered servants. Says Mr. D: 
''I don't suppose...that you would give me the honour of dispensing of this unhappy business alone. I should never forgive myself if your gown were soiled.'' Miss Bennet 
replies, ''The honour is all yours, Mr. Darcy.''

As Mr. G-S says, Mr. D ''cut the two zombies with 
savage yet dignified movements. He then made quick work of beheading the slaughtered staff, upon which 
 Mr. Bingley politely vomited into his hands.'' O happy world — even though, in the end, ''the dead continued to claw their way through crypt and coffin alike, feasting 
on British brains.''
http://www.ew.com/ew/article/0,,20267705,00.html

I'm pretty excited about reading about love, life, and slaughtering hordes of the undead by the upper class in 19th century Britain.