The Well of Lost Plots (Thursday Next 3)

For the next two hours we listened not only to Mrs Fairfax but also Grace Poole, Blanche Ingram and St John Rivers, all giving evidence to explain the old ending and how by calling 'Jane, Jane, Jane!' at Jane's bedroom I had changed the narrative completely. The jury tried to keep up with the proceedings, and they wrote as and when directed by the King until there was no more room on their slates, whereupon they tried to write on the benches in front of them, and failing that, on each other.

After every witness the smallest dormouse in the jury was excused for a trip to the bathroom, which gave the Gryphon time to explain to the King – who probably wouldn't have been able to touch his head with his eyes shut – the procedure of the law. When the dormouse returned the witness was given to the Gryphon for cross-examination, and every time he called: 'No further questions.' The afternoon wore on and it became hotter in the courtroom. The Queen grew more and more bored, and seemed to demand the verdict on a more and more frequent basis, once even asking during a witness's testimony.

And throughout this tedious performance, as the characters from Jane Eyre came and repeated the truth in front of me, a seemingly endless parade of guinea pigs interrupted the proceedings. Each one was immediately set upon and placed head first into a large canvas bag, then ejected from the court. Each time this happened there followed a quite inordinate amount of confusion, cries and noise. As the din grew to fever pitch the Queen would scream, 'Off with his head! Off with his head!' as though she were somehow in direct competition with the tumult. By the time the latest guinea pig had been thrown from the court, Grace Poole had vanished in a cloud of alcoholic vapours, and no one knew where she was.

'Never mind!' said the King, with an air of great relief. 'Call the next witness.' He added in an undertone to the Queen: 'Really, my dear, you must cross-examine the next witness. It quite makes my forehead ache!'

I watched the White Rabbit as he fumbled over the list and read out at the top of his shrill little voice the name: 'Thursday Next!'

'Excuse me,' said the Gryphon, stirring himself from the lethargy he had shown throughout the trial, 'but Miss Next will not be giving evidence against herself in this court of law.'

'Is that allowed?' asked the King. The jury all looked at one another and shrugged.

'It proves she's guilty!' screamed the Queen. 'Off with her head! Off with—'

'It proves nothing of the sort,' interrupted the Gryphon. The Queen went scarlet and would probably have exploded had not the King laid his hand on her arm.

'Come, come, my dear,' he said softly, 'you must stay calm. All these orders of execution are probably not good for your hearts.' He chuckled. 'Hearts,' he said again. 'I say, I've made a joke, that's rather good, don't you think?'

The jury all laughed dutifully and the brighter ones explained to the more stupid ones what the joke was, and the stupid ones explained to the even stupider ones what a joke actually is.

'Excuse me,' said the dormouse again, 'may I go to the bathroom?'

'Again?' bellowed the King. 'You must have a bladder the size of a peanut.'

'A grain of rice, so please Your Majesty,' said the dormouse, knees knocking together.

'Very well,' said the King, 'but make it quick. Now, can we reach a verdict?'

'Now who wants a verdict?' asked the Queen triumphantly.

'There's more evidence to come yet, please Your Majesty,' said the White Rabbit, jumping up in a great hurry. 'We have to hear from the defence yet.'

'The defence?' asked the King wearily. 'Haven't we just heard from them?'

'No, Your Majesty,' replied the White Rabbit. 'That was the prosecution.'

'The two always confuse me,' replied the King, staring at his feet, 'a bit like that "overruled" and "sustained" malarkey – which was which again?'

'The prosecution rests,' said Hopkins, who could see that this trial might last for months if he didn't get a move on, 'and I think,' he added, 'we have conclusively proved that Miss Next not only hanged the ending of Jane Eyre but was also premeditated in her actions. This is not a court of opinion, it is a court of law, and there is only one verdict which this court can reach – guilty.'

'I told you she was guilty,' muttered the King, getting up to leave.

'Please Your Majesty,' said the White Rabbit, 'that was just the prosecution summing-up. You must listen to the defence now.'

'Ah!' said the King, sitting down again.

The Gryphon stood up and walked to the jury box. They all recoiled in fear as he scratched his chin with a large paw. The dormouse put up his hand again to be excused and was allowed to leave. When he had returned the Gryphon began.

'The question here is not whether Miss Next took a few textual and narrative liberties with the end of Jane Eyre, as my learned friend the prosecution has made so abundantly clear. We admit that she did.'

There was a gasp from the jury.

'No, I contend that while Miss Next broke the law in a technical sense, she did so for the best possible motives – love.'

The Gryphon paused for dramatic effect.

'Love?' said the King. 'Is that a defence?'