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'Historically speaking,' whispered the White Rabbit, 'one of the best, Your Majesty.'
'Ah!' said the King. 'Proceed.'
'And not for her own love either,' continued the Gryphon. 'She did it so that two others who were in love might stay that way and not be parted. For such things are against the natural order, a court far higher than the court Miss Next faces today.'
There was silence, so he continued:
'I contend that Miss Next is a very extraordinary person with a selfless streak that demands the highest leniency from this court. I have only one witness to call who will prove the veracity of this defence. I call … Edward Rochester!'
There was a sharp intake of breath and the remaining guinea pig fainted clean away. The clerks of the court, unsure what to do, popped the guinea pig in a sack and sat on it.
'Call Edward Rochester!' cried the White Rabbit in his shrill voice, a demand that was echoed four times with a succession of voices each diminished further by the distance.
We heard his footfalls shuffle on the floor before we saw him, a slightly hesitant stride with the click of a cane for punctuation. He walked slowly into the courtroom with a fragile yet resolute air, and scanned the room carefully to gauge, as well as he could, which of the shapes before him were judge, jury and counsel. The change I had wrought upon Jane Eyre had not been without its price. Rochester had lost a hand and had only the milkiest vision in one eye. I put my hand to my mouth as I watched his form shuffle into the silenced courtroom. If I had known the outcome of my actions, would I still have taken them? Acheron's perfidy had been the author of Rochester's ills, but I had been the catalyst.
Edward's face was healed although badly scarred, but it did no desperate harm to his looks. He took the oath, his features glowering beneath the dark hair that hung in front of his face.
'Excuse me,' said the dormouse who was sitting closest to Rochester, 'would you sign my slate, please?'
Rochester gave a dour half-smile, took the stylus and said:
'Name?'
'Alan.'
Rochester signed and returned the slate and was instantly handed eleven more, all wiped clean of their carefully written notes.
'Enough!' roared the King. 'I will not have my court turned into a haven for autograph hunters! We pursue the truth here, not celebrities!'
There was dead silence.
'But if you wouldn't mind,' said the King, passing his notebook down to Rochester and adding quietly: 'It's for my daughter.'
'And your daughter's name?' asked Rochester, pen poised.
'Rupert.'
Rochester signed the book and passed it back.
'Mr Rochester,' said the Gryphon, 'I wonder if you might expound in your own words on what Miss Next's actions have done for you?'
The court fell silent. Even the King and Queen were interested to hear what Mr Rochester had to say.
'To me alone?' replied Rochester slowly. 'Nothing. For us, my own dear sweet Jane and I – everything!'
He clenched the hand that carried his wedding ring, rubbing the band of gold with his thumb, trying to turn his feelings into words.
'What has Miss Next not done for us?' he intoned quietly. 'She has given us everything we could want. She has released us both from a prison that was not of our making, a dungeon of depression from which we thought we should never be free. Miss Next gave us the opportunity to love and be loved – I can think of no greater gift anyone could have been given, no word in my head can express the thanks that are ours, for her.'
There was silence in the courtroom. Even the Queen had fallen quiet and was staring – quite like a fish, I thought – at Rochester.
The Gryphon's voice broke the silence.
'Your witness.'
'Ah!' said Hopkins, gathering his thoughts. 'Tell me, Mr Rochester, just to confirm one point: did Miss Next change the end of
your novel?'
