Disclaimer: I do not own the rights to the novel Bleak House by Charles Dickens nor to the BBC miniseries of the same title. No profit is generated.
The sun tastefully ushered John Jarndyce down Chancery Lane, desisting its comportment only to genuflect at his shadow. The soles of the gentleman's shoes, however, objected to the business entirely. Tsk, tsk, tsk. They remonstrated, never faltering throughout their peregrination. Was he mad? Had his heart relinquished all it once abhorred regarding the legal affairs that had shaped his life? Had he torn the very memories in two and scattered them to the wind like the countless Jarndyce statements that were destroyed on that Day of Judgement? Had time enough elapsed since young Mr. Carstone's death to propound that John Jarndyce's convalescence had ended?
No, that certainly could not be it. Poor Rick's situation had been held in contempt with Mr. Jarndyce for years. Spasmodically would he recall the days when Chancery's most famous case loomed intrinsically over Bleak House and its occupants. John Jarndyce had sworn off all interest in the contingent battle, though in truth it saved him little grief. No nepenthe ever did meet his lips, not while the man insisted on laboring over the welfare of young Richard, almost more vehemently than Rick himself and Vholes ever did. How Jarndyce had combed over his every action regarding his wards - for Ada's own prospects were never very separate from her love's - with fine teeth, often distrusting his boundless sensibility while doing so! Ultimately, upon forming a decision regarding either of them, he would declare to himself that his efforts were indeed for the best, and should those intentions prove deficient, they would be agonized over when such a conclusion was derived. By fostering his young cousins, both physically and emotionally, John Jarndyce had afflicted his misery entirely unto himself. The repercussion of his actions haunted him still, though to a great majority Jarndyce and Jarndyce was now esteemed as little more than an anecdote. Never would the inborn protector discard his own melancholy if ever it were possible to alter former times, but often had John Jarndyce wondered if perhaps Ada and Rick - and Esther, too - would have been better off without him.
But on that particularly blithe day, not even Rick's tragedy dared to taint his thoughts. Mr. Carstone's business had long been resolved, no matter how regrettably. The droves that traipsed over the cobblestone, the courthouse at hand, and the cerulean curtain that set such a stage were reserved only for John Jarndyce's interests today. And so, the aforementioned protestations subsided as those raucous soles came into contact with the smooth granite that skirted the judicial edifice. They ceased entirely after a jovial voice roused the placid contemplation of Mr. Jarndyce, who halted and removed his glistening top hat as if to catch the salutations that followed in it.
The towering barrister shook hands with his long-endeared client. "Why, my dear Mr. Jarndyce, it has been quite some time, has it not? I scarcely recognized you for a moment, there!" With this comment, the gentleman inclined his head to better absorb the figure before him. The fulgent orbs and discerning smile of his face proved him to be dashing, indeed, but his imposing choice of comrades - tails, a silver-tipped walking stick, and those pronounced leather shoes - helped to threaten spectators who may reach a different conclusion. All of this, accompanied by the winsome articulation that began to flow from the smaller man, kept the lawyer in his contorted position, as one obliges himself toward a well-lit fireplace so long as satisfactory benefit is to be obtained.
"Quite some time indeed, Mr. Carboy, though your partner has been taking very good care of me, and thus I am not half as inclined to complain."
The two shared a laugh. "But today, it is I who will serve you to the best of my ability, Mr. Jarndyce. I would not have it any other way. I shall be with you forthwith, sir. It is early - the court has not yet convened even - and there is one final bit of business I must attend to."
"At your leisure, Mr. Carboy," John Jarndyce insisted with a resolute shake of the head. "I must reacquaint myself with what a court of law looks like after having been away for so many years."
The old associates parted for the time being, the client slipping within the walls of the acropolitan monstrosity while his manager fled tactfully from it.
Once he had advanced several paces down the sweeping hallway, the few nerves that were riled up within Mr. Jarndyce's system calmed. The aged gentleman had initially retained foreboding for the event, despite the fact that he desired more than anything the exodus to all proceedings that would be delivered with this verdict. He had imagined that the corridors would feel dank and overwhelming, but in truth they offered their encouragement heartily. The grain of the dark wooden walls seemed to smile and wink in its array of patterns, and the sunlight that had been so kind as to escort him to court had found its own entrance and continued along with John Jarndyce cordially. Its beams illuminated patches of the area, exposing the mass of dust particles that served as the court's true regulars. This, too, proved very auspicious, for Jarndyce could not help but imagine that these specks were the wizened remains of Demosthenes, or perhaps Solonas, raining down upon his prosaic soul what inspiration they could. Entering the courtroom at last, the most remarkable observation he could make about the burnished place was that it had not changed in the slightest. The tables strewn with documents of varying degrees of importance stood rigidly in their same locations, and parchment and ambition could still boldly be sensed in the fusty air. The scent, however, John Jarndyce found to be condoling. His contemplative eyes made a loop around the room. Mr. Carboy had not deceived him. Not a soul yet stirred in court. Deciding for the time being to ensconce himself in the gallery, the strengthened fellow moved through the portal and assumed a seat. Laying his accessories beside him, Mr. Jarndyce discovered that he was not as alone as he had imagined. A small distance away sat Miss Flite, rather absorbed in her bag of documents. The moment her presence was detected, however, her eyes snapped away from her papers and into those of John Jarndyce.
"Why, bless my soul, Mr. Jarndyce! How anxious I was when I was first informed that your case should come up today! You are come already? It has been so very long since last we met, near the time of Mr. Carstone's judgement I should think, and yet I had not expected to find you here so early. Bless me, bless me!" The little woman worked herself into a joyous little fit, and before tears could spill out of her shining eyes, Mr. Jarndyce patted her hand reassuringly.
"It is nothing as exciting as all that, dear Miss Flite. I never did find this court business particularly alluring myself, but nonetheless even I am contented to be here today - and to find that you are still enjoying your occupation of the court."
The little woman simpered. "Yes, yes, I never did leave. So many have passed through since Mr. Carstone did, but your spirit should be at ease regarding him, good sir. Providence offered its arbitration in the end, and though it may have left him dissatisfied, many before and after him have received far less. And as for myself, my company remains agreeable to those in this place, and I am honored that they allow me to conduct my business."
Mr. Jarndyce beamed as Miss Flite dove once again into her collection of paper. Seizing the opportunity to check the time, he felt in his breast pocket for his watch, but found only a delicately-folded message instead, inscribed in a flourish with the words Dearest Guardian. Suddenly, John Jarndyce was brought to his senses. He turned back to Miss Flite to pardon himself, but seeing how deeply engaged she was, the gentleman unfolded his parchment and read, shamelessly and ardently:
My Dearest,
You will recall that I took great pains to relate, just a short period of time after arriving to you, that I was not particularly clever. Now, promptly after parting ways, I take the liberty of imparting unto you that same opinion, and thus relieving my mind.
That being said, I will now profess all of the expressions that my heart and mind have begot over time and which you have suggested should be saved for this prescribed occasion. Surely you realize that to narrate all I desire to is impossible, and perhaps you shall even feel that some of the contents of this message are superfluous. Nonetheless, I feel my final selections for inclusion are those most dire for me to relate to you, and as such is the purpose of my activity, I may only pray that they are agreeable to you and may also set you at ease.
Always seeking diligence, I did not squander much time at your departure to speak of my tremendous love for you, but I feel I must do so now that a larger vacancy is available. Never allow it to be doubted that I love you most dearly of every creature that ever walked this earth. While I devote my very being to Ada, Allan, and our most cherished Johanna and Laurencia, I believe ours is a connection much different and more unyielding than any two souls may possess. I hope you do not feel disappointment toward me for expressing as much. I can cite a long list of reasons for believing this suspicion, but for brevity I will merely say that this must not be so very inconceivable to you, for without your empathy, I would have none of these resplendent souls in my life.
I would have devoted my existence to you as your wife, dear Guardian, and abandoned your decision if I thought that such an arrangement would have benefitted us. The truth of the matter is that I had acquired satisfactory information from Mister Boythorn, whom I regard as your truest friend on this earth. We spoke from time to time of past people and past events, though never attaining a very high degree of particularity regarding them. Such reminiscences led Mister Boythorn to believe, with the utmost respect to your person, that while you possessed a larger amount of love to administer to the world than any of its other occupants, the love of one person could perhaps never serve you justly. I also ventured my own conjecture at our situation. If I should be so painfully incorrect in my findings, I beg of you a thousand pardons and refer you to my afore stated warning. I also do mention that if your confidence had never administered to my weary soul, I would never have had the courage to offer my reasoning to an audience. Regardless, I will never be able to fully thank you for - among every other generous gift you bestowed upon my undeserving self - the beauteous proposal of marriage you did offer me. I express my utmost gratitude for the compassion you felt for an unwanted young woman, for your extended and delicate formulation of that plan to one day make her your wife - to bring a sense of being cherished and desired to her life that she never before felt - even at the risk of appearing self-interested. I thank you heartily for guiding my efflorescence as a woman with your tender love, and for - by your equally as generous releasement - allowing me to feel more wished-for than I ever expected to be in my life.
Do not imagine, however, that only your kindness is the object of my endearment. Generosity is a beautiful solo, but love must comprise a very complicated orchestra. If generosity alone was what makes me reserve such great sentiment for you, I doubt if I would ever dislike anything. Rather, I feel it is the essence of your very soul that evokes so much love from my heart: the way you reserve adamancy for only the most serious of matters, how I could oftentimes find you in deep contemplation, with your eyes affixed so distantly that I have sworn you to be doing no less than talking to the angels - the list could continue into infinity. A great many people adored John Jarndyce for his philanthropy, but please know, dear Guardian, that though I may be just one meek and mundane person, within you I have found so much more. It is perhaps the very reason why I could never allow myself to entirely detest Mister Skimpole. Though he abused and betrayed your benevolence, he was not one of those who tried to deny such actions against you. Not a single soul, myself included, has provided proper remuneration for the blessings you have brought to their lives. I do not expect this message to square the debt, but I do hope that it provides my love for you until we meet, if ever I may be granted such an extraordinary wish, again.
Ever if Loving,
Esther
John Jarndyce ran a finger over the farewell of the letter, where a single droplet of water had caused the ink to smudge. Faintly in the distance, he heard the crowd approaching and exhaled.
"No tears, Esther," he whispered, folding the letter up gently and replacing it in his breast pocket. "This is to be a day of joy."
An easterly wind blew across John Jarndyce's Bleak House, propelling the black crepe and alabaster ribbon on his propitious door into utter tribulation.
Deep inside the fortified walls sat a blanched Esther Summerson unwaveringly beside her recumbent guardian. Her azure gaze was bound to some far-off point in space, as if it raced the woman's heart and mind to the location where her beloved's soul now dwelled. Even if none of her yearning entities reached such a place, at least perhaps -
She felt at the letter she had secured within his pocket, experiencing both atonement and shamefulness by doing so. Her sentiments regarding the issue, Esther resolved, did not matter in the least. It had been her Guardian's last request from her, and she certainly would not neglect his petition.
At that moment, Johna creaked open the door silently, the glow from the hallway annunciating her presence. Esther turned to face her, realizing her younger daughter presented herself too, albeit not as stoically.
"They are arriving now, mother," Johanna quietly informed.
Esther smiled. "Thank you, Johanna, Laura. I'll be out directly."
The pair exited as quietly as they had arrived, leaving their mother with their darling. She observed her most cherished friend in his state of placid dormancy, but no bleakness could result from it. No one who truly loved John Jarndyce could be distressed by the fact that he had departed to collect his rightful heritance, a wealth that no one could squander for him. Whoever should enter the chamber and mourn for him truly did not understand his quintessence. Certainly Esther could not grieve for him. He was not merely a pair of auburn eyes that would no longer open, nor an affectionate set of lips that would never again bend into radiance - nor even a magnanimous heart that would no longer beat. Nonetheless, Esther Summerson's humanness would not allow her to embark from the room without one final kiss.
Esther's vision of her dear Guardian was perhaps different from all else's. To her, he was nothing less than love itself. As such, he would accompany her through the rest of her journey, until the day the very ardor that embodied him would reunite John Jarndyce with his Esther once again.