Provis' story caused a new fear to grow in my mind: If Compeyson were still alive, he might discover that Provis had returned to England. I knew that I must take Provis abroad as soon as possible because Compeyson would waste no time turning him over to the police.
I told Herbert that I must see both Estella and Miss Havisham before I left England. But when I went to Richmond, I found that Estella was away visiting Miss Havisham. So the next day, I set off for home by the early morning coach.
When I arrived at the Blue Boar Inn, the first person I saw was Bentley Drummle! We pretended not to see each other. It was a very lame pretense because we both went into the coffee room, where he had just finished his breakfast and where I ordered mine. It pained me to see him in town for I knew why he was there.
I pretended to read an old newspaper at my table while he stood in front of the fire. But after a while, I got up, determined to have my share of the warmth. In order to stir the fire, I had to reach behind him for the poker.
"Are you acting like you don't know me?" said Drummle.
"Oh, it's you. I was wondering who was blocking the fire."
With that, I gave the fire a tremendous poke and planted myself by his side, my shoulders squared and my back to the fire.
"You've just arrived?" Drummle edged me a little away with his shoulder.
"Yes." I edged him a little away with my shoulder.
"This is a beastly place," he said. "Your part of the country, I think?"
"Yes, I'm told it's very much like Shropshire, where you grew up."
"Not at all. There are large tracts of marshes near here, I believe?"
"Yes, what of it?"
"I'm going out for a ride to explore those marshes. Remote villages there, they tell me. Curious little pubs and blacksmiths. Waiter! Is that horse of mine ready?"
"Yes, sir," said the waiter, hurrying over to us. "He's being brought around to the door."
"The lady won't ride today because the weather's bad," said Drummle. "And I won't dine here tonight because I'm going to dine at the lady's."
"Very good, sir."
Drummle glanced at me with an insolent triumph. I knew we couldn't go on much longer without mentioning Estella by name. And choked and boiling as I was, I couldn't bear to hear him say her name.
"Mr. Drummle, I did not seek this conversation, and I don't think it's an agreeable one. I suggest that we have no further communication in the future."
"I quite agree. But don't lose your temper. Haven't you lost enough without that?"
Before I could respond, he went out and mounted his horse. He called for a light for his cigar. A man in dust-colored clothes appeared, and as Drummle leaned down from the saddle and lit his cigar, something about the man reminded me of Orlick.
I washed my face and hands and then went out to the old house that I wished I'd never seen. I found Miss Havisham seated by the fire in her gloomy room. Estella was knitting as she sat by Miss Havisham's feet.
"Miss Havisham," I began, "I'm as unhappy as you could ever have meant me to be." Miss Havisham looked steadily at me; Estella did not raise her eyes from her knitting.
"I have found out who my patron is. It's not a discovery that is likely to enrich me in any way. However, I must say no more of that because it's another person's secret. Why did you let me believe you were my patron, Miss Havisham? Was that kind?"
Miss Havisham struck her walking stick on the floor and said angrily, "Who am I to be kind? What else do you have to say?"
"I started to help my friend Herbert Pocket two years ago without his knowledge. Why I cannot continue is part of someone else's secret. But if you could spare the money to help him, I would tell you how to do something useful and good."
Miss Havisham stared into the fire for a long time. Then she said, as if there had been no pause in our conversation, "What else?"
I turned to Estella and tried to control my trembling voice. "You know that I have always loved you."
Estella raised her eyes to me but showed no emotion.
"I thought Miss Havisham meant us for one another," I went on. Estella shook her head. "I know I have no hope of ever calling you mine. I don't yet know how poor I am or where I'm going. But I still love you."
"When you say you love me, you touch nothing in my heart. I've tried to warn you of this, have I not?"
"Yes," I said miserably. "Is it true that Bentley Drummle is pursuing you? That you encourage him and ride out with him and that he will dine with you today?"
She seemed surprised that I knew all this but said, "All quite true."
"You cannot love him. You would never marry him, would you, Estella?"
She looked toward Miss Havisham and then studied her knitting for a moment. "Why not tell you the truth? I'm going to be married to him."
I dropped my face into my hands, but I was able to control myself better than I expected, considering the agony her words caused me. When I raised my face, there was a ghastly look upon Miss Havisham's face.
"Dearest Estella, do not let Miss Havisham lead you into this fatal step. Refuse me forever, but bestow yourself on some worthier person than Drummle. Miss Havisham gives you to him as a great injury to the many far better men who admire you."
Estella responded in a gentle voice. "The preparations for my marriage have begun, and I shall be married soon. Do not blame Miss Havisham. It is my own decision."
"Your own decision to fling yourself away on such a mean and stupid brute? Even if I remained in England, how could I see you as Drummle's wife?"
"Nonsense. You will get me out of your thoughts in a week."
"Out of my thoughts! You are part of my existence, part of my self."
She offered me her hand and my bitter tears fell upon it. I held her hand to my lips. "God bless you, Estella. God forgive you!"
And so I left her. I remembered later that Estella looked at me with wonder while Miss Havisham—her hand covering her heart—gave me a horrible stare of pity and remorse.
So much was done and gone; outside, the light of the day seemed much dimmer now. I decided to walk back to London because I wanted to tire myself out. It was past midnight when I crossed London Bridge. As I passed through the gate to our lodgings, the porter handed me a note. On the outside was written, Please read this here.
I opened it and read in Wemmick's writing: Don't go home.