Chapter 3

Mrs. Bentley Drummle spent the first several weeks of her marriage growing accustomed to her new lifestyle as the bride of such a commendable young member of England's nobility. These weeks passed in comparatively pleasant marital bliss and eventually, before Mrs. Bentley Drummle had a moment to collect her personal thoughts, nearly two months had passed. It was during this period of time that Estella was informed that her adopted mother had suffered from a very unexpected accident and, at length, had died.

With perceptible reluctance, Mr. Drummle accompanied his wife to Satis House, where they were to attend Miss Havisham's wake and funeral. Their visit was very brief, as Estella had very little desire to converse with any of the mourners in attendance, which primarily consisted of many covetous members of the Pocket family. After the funeral had ended, the funeral attendants were requested to travel into Little Britain, where Miss Havisham's attorney was to deliver the contents of her will.

Due to Mr. Drummle's indolent manner, Estella made a late arrival at Miss Havisham's funeral. However, when her husband discovered that there was to be a distribution of Miss Havisham's wealth directly after the funeral proceedings, he traveled with considerably greater enthusiasm towards the legal office of Mr. Jaggers.

As they entered the office, the Drummles were immediately greeted by a certain Mr. Wemmick, who spoke to them with suppressed civility. "Good day. How may I be of service to you?" he inquired.

"I am Mr. Bentley Drummle, sir," Mr. Drummle announced with a certain degree of ostentation. "This is my wife, the late Miss Havisham's daughter by adoption. You know the name, I presume? Miss Havisham of Satis House."

Mr. Wemmick turned towards Estella with great interest, immediately attempting to conceal the excitement he must have felt, meeting the long spoken-of Estella Havisham for the first time in his life. "Mrs. Drummle. Of course," he began, turning his face away for a moment to collect himself. "I have heard much of you."

"From whom?" Estella asked, puzzled.

"Why, Mr. Jaggers, of course." Estella made an ill-fated attempt to conceal her scoff. Mr. Wemmick eyed her curiously. "I beg your pardon, Mrs. Drummle. Do you think me insincere?"

"I wouldn't dream of thinking so, Mr. Wemmick," she replied coolly. "I… wouldn't have thought Mr. Jaggers would have had the occasion to speak of me to anyone. That is all."

Wemmick's eyes shifted to the floor, a disconcerted expression (which, Estella thought, seemed to convey some form of guilt) passing over his features, only to be instantaneously repressed. An expression that much resembled that of Mr. Wemmick's employer, Estella observed. She had always believed that Miss Havisham's attorney had simply been an odd sort of fellow, but now Estella began to wonder if perhaps this awkwardness was to be found in every member of the London Court.

"Well," Wemmick began, regaining his air of composed indifference. "Mr. Jaggers is currently working on a case. He is due to arrive from Court at any moment. Several of Miss Havisham's relatives have already arrived and are currently waiting in his office. If you would like, you are certainly welcome to join them."

"Thank you, Mr. Wemmick," Estella said. "And where might we find this office?"

"Ah. Follow me," Wemmick muttered, stepping in front of them and leading them towards Mr. Jaggers' office, where they found several eager members of the Pocket family.

Though Estella was by no means pleased to see these distant relations, she forced a calm grin upon her face as she approached them, her husband loitering near the fireplace. "Miss Pocket," she whispered quietly, crossing to Sarah Pocket. "Mrs. Camilla," she continued, turning from Sarah Pocket to the other relation. "How good it is to see you."

"Yes. It's just so very terrible that we must meet under such dismal circumstances," Mrs. Camilla cried, her words muffled by a large, tear-soaked handkerchief. "Oh! I wonder when that attorney will arrive. I will certainly grow ill waiting! Not that… Not that I'm at all interested in our dear Miss Havisham's will. It's only that… I'd like to return home. So that I might go to bed. I have been in such a state ever since I heard the horrible news! I declare, I wasn't able to leave my bed for three days after I heard of it."

"Of course," Estella muttered consolingly. Sarah Pocket lifted her eyes to meet Estella's and the latter wondered if perhaps the former had caught the subtle hint of mockery in her tone. Of all her 'well-meaning' relatives, Estella found Mrs. Camilla to be by far the most insufferable. However, she would never have wished to let anyone know of this. After all, that would have been very uncouth, no matter how much satisfaction it might have given Estella.

"Mrs. Drummle," her husband called quietly. Estella glanced up to see him signaling for her to come closer. She obliged, wondering what could possibly have captivated his interest so very much.

"Yes?" she whispered.

"What do you make of this?" he asked quietly, directing her attention to several casts that sat on the shelf above them. Estella stared for a moment with morbid curiosity.

"They're positively dreadful," she muttered. "What would possess anyone to proudly display such grotesque vulgarities? One would think Mr. Jaggers was proud of them."

"He most likely would be proud," Mr. Drummle mumbled.

"What?" she asked, keeping her voice at a steady, low pitch. "How could you suggest it? Proud of these death masks?"

"You've said yourself that he's a strange sort of person," Drummle explained impatiently.

"Strange, indeed!" she replied. "Positively morose, I should think."

"Quiet," he ordered softly, turning his attention towards the door. "I think I heard footsteps. Yes! I have. It must be he."

As Mr. Drummle finished speaking, the door opened and Mr. Jaggers entered. He turned to the group of mourners (all of whom scrutinized him), a certain degree of irritable reluctance conveyed in his countenance as he crossed towards his desk, refusing to acknowledge any of the onlookers until he had properly situated himself in his high-backed chair. He lifted a stack of papers from the corner of his desk and methodically fingered through them, silently muttering to himself as he did so, until he came across one particular item that was of interest to him. The room remained chillingly silent as he perused the document, still acting as though he were alone in the small office.

Several moments passed before Estella chose to abandon her spot near the fireplace. Slowly crossing towards him, she passed her eyes over each member of Miss Havisham's avaricious family. Finally, she allowed her eyes to focus on Mr. Jaggers, who just happened to glance up at the exact same moment.

"Well," he began, immediately shifting his eyes from Estella to the nearby Sarah Pocket. "I see you're all here. You must have adored Miss Havisham very much indeed to be willing to travel all the way from Satis House to London. And for what? Just to assure that the dear old woman's earthly possessions were properly distributed. How very loving and selfless you all have proven to be."

"We care nothing for her fortune, Mr. Jaggers!" Sarah Pocket retorted defensively, her complexion lightened with various shades of green and yellow. "We simply wish to assure that our dear late relative's… earthly possessions, as you call them… are taken care of. She would wish it of us!"

"I have no doubt that your intentions are of the purest nature," Mr. Jaggers replied calmly, a slight smirk forming in the corner of his mouth.

"You can't imagine how I feel, Mr. Jaggers!" Mrs. Camilla exclaimed, fanning herself with her handkerchief as her husband grasped at her arm for support. "I didn't leave my bed once for a whole day after I heard the terrible news!"

"I thought it was three days," he stated, leaning back in his chair, biting at his forefinger with visible amusement.

"Oh," Mrs. Camilla muttered, her brows furrowing as she worked herself up into a frenzy. "Well… Yes- Yes! Three days! That was it! Tell them, my husband! Tell Mr. Jaggers how very distraught I became!"

"It was three days, sir," her husband quickly echoed.

"Three days! And I could hardly eat! I couldn't drink! All I could do was weep!"

"Yes, I'm sure you were quite the ardent sufferer," Mr. Jaggers replied with blatant mockery. Estella turned her face towards the opposite wall, attempting to ignore the urge to mirror Mr. Jaggers' cruel smirk. "Now… As painful as I'm sure it will be for all of you, I fear I must commence with legal proceedings. I have here…" He gestured to the paper in his hand. "… The last will of your departed relation, Miss Havisham. Now… Are there any objections to my proceeding to read it?" Mr. Jaggers was immediately accosted by a sea of shaking heads. "Very well. Shall I read the entire will or shall I simply skip to the parts that interest you?"

"Oh, how I would love to here every blessed word our sweet relation wrote before her untimely demise!" Mrs. Camilla exclaimed. "But, I fear my weak countenance will not permit it. If I am not returned home shortly, I shall certainly faint! There. You see how my grief-stricken nerves torment me?"

"So should I infer that you wish me to skip over the parts that are in no way related to all of you?" Mr. Jaggers asked indifferently.

"That might be for the best," Mrs. Camilla's husband said hesitantly.

"Very well," Mr. Jaggers replied resolutely as he glanced down at the paper. "To Miss Georgiana… You have been left twenty pounds per-annium." Miss Georgiana, who had not spoken once since her arrival, silently retreated to the back of the room, a bitter grimace distorting her features. "Miss Sarah… You have been given twenty-five pounds per-annium. She specifically states that she leaves this to you on account of your being bilious." Sarah Pocket attempted to seem slighted, but was quickly silenced once Mr. Jaggers stated that she was in no way obliged to take the twenty-five pounds, if she found it to be so very offensive. "Mrs. Camilla… Oh…" He glanced up with a devious expression. "Miss Havisham was very thoughtful indeed…"

"Oh?" Mrs. Camilla mumbled, suddenly quite intrigued. Estella knew, judging by the attorney's darkened features, that Miss Camilla was about to receive a very unexpected surprise.

"Hmm… Yes, your dear relation was so very good-natured… that she left you a full… five pounds, in order that you may buy rushlights to put you in spirits when you awaken in the middle of the night. Now wasn't that kind of her? It's as though she knew the exact reaction her death would have upon you."

Mrs. Camilla was unable to speak for several minutes. In fact, the entire room fell into silence. Finally, the silence was broken by Mr. Drummle, who impatiently crossed to the desk. "And what of my wife, sir?" he asked.

Mr. Jaggers glanced up from the will for a brief moment. "Hmm? Oh… Quite right. Mrs. Bentley Drummle… Well, you wouldn't be surprised to learn, sir, that your wife has inherited Miss Havisham's fortune, almost in its entirety. There's a small fortune set aside for a Matthew Pocket, but… with this exception… the fortune belongs to her." Estella could not help but notice that, as he said this, he did not once turn his attention from the paper, as he had when discussing its contents with the other relations. She took a step towards the desk.

"The fortune is in my name, Mr. Jaggers?" she asked.

Clearing his throat, he focused his attention on the stack of papers before him. "Quite right, Mrs. Drummle. It can be of no surprise to you."

"No," she said quietly.

"Well, this is just too much!" Mrs. Camilla exclaimed from the back of the office, where all of the Pockets had gathered. "I must leave! It's too much for my spirits!" And at this, Mrs. Camilla, accompanied by her husband, Sarah Pocket and Georgiana, departed from Mr. Jaggers' office in a resentful fury.

Mr. Jaggers watched them with vague satisfaction before turning his focus once more to the stack of papers. "Sir," Estella began quietly, placing her hand on the edge of his desk. "I should wonder that Miss Havisham did not leave you a small fortune."

"Me?" Mr. Jaggers repeated, his eyes only lifting enough to perceive her gloved hand. "How very absurd, Mrs. Drummle. Why would she leave anything to me?"

"Well, you were the only person she trusted with her business affairs. I should think she would have liked to compensate you for all your service."

"I assure you," Mr. Jaggers replied slowly, his gaze fixed on her hand. "I have received very generous compensation from Miss Havisham. I want for nothing in that regards."

"Yes, of course," she muttered. "Of course you have. How very ridiculous of me."

"No matter," he said quietly, standing from his chair and turning his attention to Mr. Drummle. "If you're curious about the casts I have placed on that shelf there, you might have asked. They were both very generous clients of mine. Fortunately, neither of them was saved from the hangman's noose."

"Fortunately?" Mr. Drummle repeated, bewildered.

"Well, it would be society's fortune, I suspect."

"Mr. Jaggers," Mr. Drummle began slowly. "How did you know that I was curious about the casts?"

"Why, the same way I knew that Mrs. Camilla had been bed-ridden for three days," he replied simply, leading them towards the door. Mr. Drummle and Estella exchanged curious glances before following him.

"It's quite nice to see you again, Mr. Jaggers," Mr. Drummle said with very little enthusiasm. "We must certainly meet again. I… do hope you'll forgive me for… my previous conduct. I'm sure I behaved most abominably at your dinner party."

"Dinner party?" Estella repeated, staring at him with astonishment.

"Yes," he replied hurriedly. "As I've said, we must certainly meet again. In fact, what say you to dining with me this evening?"

"Well, I suppose that would be quite fine," Mr. Jaggers replied. "You might come to my house on Gerrard Street, if you wish. Would you have any objection to my inviting Mr. Wemmick?"

"Certainly not," Mr. Drummle replied. "And… I suppose Mrs. Drummle must be invited as well." He glanced at Estella with an air of reluctance.

His eyes widened, Mr. Jaggers immediately turned his attention to his boots. "But of course. We should meet at the Inn Yard."

"Inn Yard?" Mr. Drummle repeated, perplexed. "I thought you said-"

"Yes, it suddenly came to my attention that the Inn Yard would be a much more suitable location for an evening out," Mr. Jaggers said with the utmost composure. Yet there was something in his expression that Estella did not quite trust. "We'd better go to the Inn Yard."

"Very well," Mr. Drummle agreed, still eyeing him curiously. "The Inn Yard it is, sir."

"Good," Mr. Jaggers said, swaying back and forth with his hands behind his back. "Seven-thirty."

"Until then," Mr. Drummle said, leading Estella out the door. As she left the office, Estella glanced back at its peculiar inhabitant, her attention suddenly captivated by a small water basin where he stood, fervently scrubbing his hands with a small brush. Before she could observe any more, her husband shut the door behind them.