Elizabeth is married to her dream guy. Jane is perfectly happy and always will be. And Mrs. Bennet will never, ever stop bragging to the neighbors about any of her family's good fortune. (She might leave Lydia's story out, but hey, whatever.) It's an insanely happy ending, right?
Well, kind of. Yes. Pretty much. But there are issues:
Like so many before it, her ladyship's serum proved folly, for while it slowed some effects of the strange plague, it was helpless to stop them all. England remained in the shadow of Satan. The dead continued to claw their way through crypt and coffin alike, feasting on British brains. Victories were celebrated, defeats lamented. And the sisters Bennet—servants of His Majesty, protectors of Hertfordshire, beholders of the secrets of Shaolin, and brides of death—were now, three of them, brides of man, their swords quieted by that only force more powerful than any warrior. (61.14)
Hmm. So, you mean no one ever found a cure for the plague that was turning everyone into zombies? And the dead continued to rise from their graves and attack the living? Um, yeah, well, we're not exactly going out on the highest of all notes then.
The good news is that this leaves the door wide open for a sequel. We can't wait to see what zombie-slaying antics Mr. and Mrs. Darcy get up to. After all, that's kind of the basis for their relationship, so what would they do if the zombies stopped coming? Play croquet?
Yep, this ending's about as good as you could hope for.