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“ Here we go again, ladies.” The woman offered Lizzy a nod as they tried to find space in the crowded cell. “I’m Bessie.”

“ Elizabeth.” She nodded back, then glanced about.

The cell was made for one person, but there were at least a dozen packed inside.

The stone walls dripped, and the only light came from a barred, filthy window high above their heads.

Lizzy jumped as the iron door clanged shut once more.

There was a filthy bucket in the corner, which Lizzy assumed was their toilet facilities.

The small cell offered nowhere to sit. “I have to get out of here or I’ll lose my situation.

” Amongst the chatter, her own voice startled her.

It was, surprisingly, chatter. Some, like her, were on the verge of tears or weeping outright, but most of the women seemed to take their imprisonment in stride.

Their composure instilled a bit of calm in Lizzy.

“ They usually release us once the fine is paid. Of course, they may charge us, and that will mean a court appearance.” Bessie patted Lizzy’s hand. “If your people know you are here and have the means to pay your fine, you have nothing to worry about.”

There was so much to worry about. Jane and Lydia didn’t know where she was, and they would be frantic.

At least Jane would. Missing her start time at Selfridges would mean immediate dismissal.

The rules at the store were harsh but fair, and Elizabeth would abide by them.

She had no choice. Jane and Lydia would have to wire their father for the fine or the bail money, and that would set off a rippling eruption in her entire family, not to mention ruining all their reputations.

A Bennet sister in prison. What if they tortured her?

Would she be expected to further the cause with a hunger strike?

This downward spiralling vortex of thoughts must have shown as Bessie put her arm around her and squeezed.

“ Not to worry. Not to worry. This is your first time enjoying His Majesty’s hospitality.

If you stay with us, it won’t be the last. Whatever happens, you did what you did for a noble cause, and you should never be ashamed of that.

It is the gaolers who are the villains, not us.

Hm?” Bessie bent her head to look at Lizzy, and her words did invigorate her a bit.

“Here, give me your particulars, and I will contact your people. I will be out in a thrice.”

Bessie was as good as her word. She didn’t spend more than two hours in the sordid cell.

Someone came for her directly. As she watched her go, Lizzy was reminded of an old campaigner shaking off the horrors of one battle and readying herself for the next.

Lizzy straightened her shoulders. She was a soldier for the cause, that’s what she was, and she would bear whatever came with fortitude.

As the darkness fell, so did Elizabeth’s spirits.

She might well be here overnight; even if Bessie did try to contact Jane, she and Lydia would be at the cinema and perhaps be out for a quick dinner.

They may not be home for hours. Then her sisters would have to wire their father.

He might even want to come to London himself, and that would take time.

She would never get out of here before tomorrow morning, she was sure of it, and then, she would lose her precious position at Selfridges.

She would lose her dream. A small space opened against the wall as others were released. She leaned on it.

“ Miss Elizabeth Bennet? Is there an Elizabeth Bennet here?” The police sergeant, hatless, clean-shaven except for a black moustache, called into the cell.

“ I am Elizabeth Bennet.”

“ Come along, miss.”

The relief that swept over Elizabeth was palpable. She could feel it as if recovering from a near-fatal illness. Standing at the desk, which was higher than her head, she was given back her handbag. She opened it and found the toffee hammer missing.

“ Looking for this, miss?” The desk sergeant held up her toffee hammer. “You ain’t gettin’ it back.”

“ I was looking to see if the bus fare that I brought with me was still there.” Her archness returned to her now that the danger had passed. She regretted her tone immediately.

“ You think us coppers would steal a lady’s money?”

She thought it prudent not to answer. “Do I have a ticket or something for a court appearance?”

“ No, you’re free t’ go. Fine’s been paid.” He shuffled some papers on his desk.

“ Really? Did my sister pay the fine?”

“ Your sister, ha. It was some nob. Now, move along. We’ve got others waiting.”

Another bobby took her gingerly by the elbow, but she twisted away from him and made for the door. Stepping onto the street, she looked about for a sign of her benefactor, but there was no one to be seen.

Reaching the Tube, she rummaged in her bag for the fare, when she noticed a letter that had not been there before.

Stepping aside and leaning against the tile wall, she looked at the handwriting.

Her name was printed on the front of the envelope, but on the back, in rather more hasty writing, was a quick note.

I have written this letter and struggled with myself as to whether to post it. Your present difficulty strengthened my resolve to put it into your hands.

Fitzwilliam Darcy

Upon reading his name, her heart leapt to her throat.

Clutching the letter, she paid her fare and got on the Underground train.

The Sunday crowd was thin, and she obtained a seat.

After sitting down, she held the letter in her hand a few moments, reading the message on the back.

It must have been Mr Darcy who paid her fine and, no doubt, called upon his formidable sphere of influence to have charges against her dropped.

She had to admit she was grateful for that. She tore open the envelope.

My Dear Miss Elizabeth,

Please read further. I promise not to reopen a painful subject but wish to clarify some points raised in our latest, rather heated, discussion.

You accused me of interfering with your sister’s happiness.

I plead guilty to that charge, but you must believe that I did not know it would affect your sister in such a profound way.

In observing her, she seemed not to bestow on Charles any more affection than she bestowed on anyone else.

Perhaps it is her open and sweet nature that gives the appearance of such magnanimity, but I took it to mean that she did not care for my friend very deeply.

That was my mistake, and I admit it. My friend, Charles, also has a nature very like your sister’s, and I set myself up as his protector.

I think, from now on, I might mind my own affairs, and let him mind his.

Another point that you brought up is the pride I have in my place in society.

I do believe that is natural, since my birthright not only conveys on me a great privilege, but it also lays at my feet great responsibility.

From what I have seen of your family, although briefly, I hate to say, my opinion is less than favourable.

Your younger sisters seem to run wild because of neglect on your father’s side and encouragement on your mother’s.

Only you and Jane seem to have emerged from this rather free and easy rearing with any modicum of decorum.

It pains me to say it, but there you have it.

I know I only observed them during the regatta when you disappeared, but it was enough time for me to form my opinion.

Elizabeth laid the letter down for a moment and let the words seep in.

He was a proud man to be sure, and brutally honest. She had to admit to herself that he hit the mark accurately when it came to her family.

Still, it raised her ire once again, for after all, she could say anything she liked about her family, but no one outside of it should dare attack it.

She would defend it as a mother wolf would her pups. She took up reading once more.

Finally, I feel compelled to address your accusation that I have ill-treated Mr Wickham.

I know he goes about saying he was cheated and ill-used by me and, after I have explained our circumstances, I leave it for you to judge.

Mr Wickham is, as you might know, the son of our estate manager, and we grew up together.

I had great affection for his father, and for George as well.

Both of our fathers died within a year of one another, and my father gave instruction, but not so far as writing it in his will, that his estate should pay for George’s education with the idea that he would train for the clergy.

By the time he reached his late teens, he told me he had no interest at all in the church and begged me to let him study law.

I, therefore, gave him a considerable stipend, more than what my father had designated for seminary, and he left for university.

After some months of hearing nothing from him, I took it upon myself to visit him and found that he had been sent down within a month of his arriving and was living a dissolute life somewhere in London, using the stipend I had provided.

I returned home and did not hear from him for a period of some years.

Now comes the most painful part of my narrative.

I have a younger sister, Georgiana, who is seven years my junior.

One summer she was invited by a close family friend to visit the Japanese-British Exhibition in the city.

Trusting in the character of the family, I allowed her to go.

By chance or by design, Mr Wickham also attended the exhibition and sought out my sister.

Being young (only fifteen) and vulnerable to his charms, he convinced her to elope with him.

I am sure that Mr Wickham’s only interest in my sister was her considerable fortune.

You can imagine the state I was in when I discovered the plan and soon intervened to stop it.

Wickham disappeared again, and not wishing to drag my sister’s name through the mire, I did not pursue him.

So, you can see, I am powerless to answer any charges he lays against me as I seek to protect my sister’s good name.

I hope you believe me and my version of events.

I have tried to be honest and forthright with you, as I hope I am in all things, even if they be unpleasant.

My cousin, Col Fitzwilliam, is in my confidence and can verify all details of what I have told you, and you are free to consult him if you wish.

I thought that explaining everything in a letter might be the best way to broach these subjects, since I can lay out my explanation coolly and without interruption.

Please know that I wish you all success in your endeavours at Selfridges and with the WSPU. The more I learn of that organization, the more I come to see their point of view. Thank you for introducing me to the cause.

Yours Sincerely,

Fitzwilliam Darcy