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Everybody gasped and all eyes turned towards the Bennett family. Mrs Bennet went white and even Mr Bennet’s usual laconic attitude deserted him. Several guests began whispering and pointing as they eyed Elizabeth and her sisters.
“This is preposterous!” spluttered Bingley. “It is inconceivable that any of the Miss Bennets could be involved with such a heinous person. I cannot believe it!”
“Are you certain of your facts, madam?” Forsythe asked.
The young lady gave him an agonised look, but nodded firmly. Elizabeth hardly dared look at Darcy. She knew that he had watched her dance with Wickham—surely he must suspect her of being the “accomplice” in question? Why was he not voicing his suspicions?
Forsythe gestured towards Elizabeth and her sisters, and addressed the young lady again, “Can you indicate which of the Miss Bennets you are referring to?”
“No...” said the young lady. “I own, I did not see her clearly—the dancing was so fervent and my attention was centred on my own partner. I did not take time to mark the appearance of Wickham’s companion. Indeed, I would not have recalled the conversation were it not for the shock of his exposure. I had only noticed him in the dance because I admired his tall fine figure...” She trailed away, her cheeks flushing with embarrassment.
Forsythe cleared his throat. “Thank you for coming forward, madam, and providing such a valuable witness account.” He bowed to Mr and Mrs Bennet. “Sir, madam, I am obliged to follow this avenue of enquiry—therefore I regret to inform you that I shall have to question your daughters. Would you be so kind as to allow them to accompany me to the interview room?”
Mr Bennet nodded numbly whilst Mrs Bennet looked as if she would swoon at any moment. She swayed and leaned heavily on Charlotte Lucas’s arm.
Forsythe turned once more to the Bennet girls and said gravely, “If one of you is the guilty party, I would urge you to come forward and confess now. It would relieve everyone concerned of much distress and anguish.”
Elizabeth slowly began to step forward. She was trembling as much as those who had been struck by the illness. She felt all the terror of discovery and longed to run away from this nightmare, but she knew that there was no other choice. She must confess her part in the deception. She could not allow her sisters to partake of her disgrace. At least she could spare them the humiliation of an interrogation.
Then a clear, gentle voice broke the silence.
“It is not necessary for my sisters to be questioned. I will confess now—I was the Miss Bennet that Wickham was dancing with,” Jane said.
This time the gasps of horror were even louder. Bingley stared, his face ashen. Mrs Bennet moaned and would have fallen to the ground had not Charlotte and Mr Bennet hurried to support her.
“Jane! What are you saying?” cried Elizabeth, aghast.
Jane did not reply. Instead, she lifted her chin and walked over to Forsythe, who looked at her uncertainly. Her sweetness of countenance made even he hesitate to arrest her and treat her as a criminal.
He gestured awkwardly towards the side door and said, “If you will come with me, Miss Bennet, there are a few questions I would like to ask you.”
Elizabeth ran to her sister’s side and caught her arm. “Jane! No! This is wrong! I am—”
“Be quiet, Lizzy!” said Jane, turning to frown at her. “Nothing you say will sway me. My mind is quite made up.”
“No, but—”
Jane ignored her and turned to Forsythe. “I am ready, sir.”
The crowd parted as Jane followed Forsythe out of the room, her head held high and her figure as graceful and beautiful as ever. The door had barely shut behind them when the conversation resumed with a vengeance as gossip and speculation hummed around the room. Elizabeth looked desperately to Bingley for assistance, but he was standing stock still, an expression of horror and devastation in his eyes. His sisters, Caroline Bingley and Mrs Hurst, stood together nearby, discussing the turn of events in scandalised tones. They spared no compassion for Jane—indeed, Elizabeth heard them urging Bingley to cut all contact with her and the Bennet family, for fear of soiling their names by association. So much for their feigned affection for their “dear friend”, Elizabeth thought furiously.
Her anger rose even more as she soon found that the attitude of the Bingley sisters was mirrored by other guests in the ballroom. Elizabeth reflected bitterly on the fickle nature of society’s friendships. Instead of coming to offer sympathy and support, most acquaintances drew away, keen to distance themselves from the taint of scandal. Soon the Bennets were left in a little island of their own company, though Elizabeth was extremely touched to see Charlotte Lucas remaining in her place beside them. Elizabeth’s heart filled with gratitude for her friend’s loyalty and she felt her faith in this friendship restored at least.
Her thoughts returned with tortured consternation to Jane and she felt her previous fears for herself transferred to her sister. Jane was too good! How like her to always think of others first. Elizabeth knew that her sister must have made the false confession to protect her from exposure, but it was too great a sacrifice. How Jane must be suffering in the interrogation, Elizabeth thought miserably. She wished desperately that she could be with her sister.
Next to her, Mrs Bennet sat, tearful and distraught, as Kitty and Mary attempted to console her. Even Lydia looked remarkably subdued as she stood by her mother. Mr Bennet said nothing but stared at the floor, his face grave.
“Oh... oh... my poor Jane! My poor Jane! She shall be ruined! Who will marry her now?” sobbed Mrs Bennet.
“Mama! This is hardly the time to worry about Jane’s marriage prospects,” Elizabeth snapped. “Her very life could be at stake!”
Kitty turned wide eyes towards her. “Lizzy, you do not think Jane could be in any real danger?”
“You heard the pronouncement in Meryton,” said Elizabeth evenly. “Anyone found to be an accomplice of the highwayman is also likely to be arrested and hanged.”
“Ohhhh!” Mrs Bennet wailed, dissolving into a fresh flood of tears.
Elizabeth bit her lip, regretting her unguarded tongue. She was well used to her mother’s histrionics by now and should not have reacted so forcibly. Her own worry for Jane had robbed her of her usual tolerance and good humour. No good would come of teasing her own family, she reminded herself. But she had to do something! Things had never been more dire. It was no longer just the danger of scandal—though that alone would have been threat enough—but the very real danger now of Jane’s incarceration and possible execution. Elizabeth’s heart wrenched as she thought of how happy Jane had looked earlier in the evening, with Bingley at her side...
Bingley.
Surely he could challenge the official ruling? It was after all in his house where the crime had taken place. He could persuade the authorities to show leniency in this situation!
Elizabeth left her family and went eagerly towards him, hoping that she would be able to persuade him to help her exonerate Jane. But she found the man completely undone—his eyes were glazed and he appeared to barely hear her as she attempted to rouse him and explain the situation. Abandoning the exercise, Elizabeth looked around in desperation. Then she spied a familiar tall figure on the other side of the room. It was Darcy; he was standing alone, his expression dark and grim. Elizabeth knew that a man of his consequence had but to say the word and Forsythe would bow to his authority. Could he be prevailed upon to help her? Elizabeth took a deep breath and made her way across the room towards him.
