Upon our arrival at Satis House, Sarah Pocket came to the gate and unlocked it for us; just as I had done so many times for Pip when we were younger, before I went away to France to be properly educated. As we crossed through the courtyard and into the house, I heard Pip exclaim softly. Evidently, he had not been there since Miss Havisham had died.
Miss Havisham had left Satis House to me in her will, stating that I could do whatever I pleased with it, so long as it stayed in the family. (What family she was referring to I have no idea, even to this day. Mr. Jaggers told me that he was not informed of the specified family either, so I have come to assume that if I am ever to have a family of my own, Satis House is to stay in it.) After enduring the darkness of that house for five-and-twenty odd years, I was finally able to open it up. I took it upon myself to clean the place up, namely by opening the windows, tending to the garden, and other simple things of that sort. The change had been a drastic one, and Pip noticed it as we passed through the house. Everything was bright with sunlight indoors; outdoors, brilliantly coloured flowers bloomed in what used to be a garden overgrown with weeds.
Only two things remained the same from Miss Havisham's period of ownership: Miss Havisham's room, and the feast room. These I kept the way Miss Havisham had so diligently kept them. No sunlight was allowed to enter; the only light in these rooms, which were seldom used at all, came from candles or the fireplace. All clocks were kept at twenty to nine; Miss Havisham's dresser still had the shoe that was never worn; the jewels that I had not received sat in the exact spot they were in twenty years prior. In the feast room a heaping mound of grey dust sat in the centre of the table, all that was left of the wedding cake. The mice and beetles and spiders and had long since left, as the cake had just barely outlived its owner. When Pip politely asked to see these rooms (as I had explained that I had kept them the same) I consented, and together we toured Miss Havisham's rooms by candlelight only.
He paused for quite some time before the long table in the feast room, pondering something (exactly what, I do not know). He seemed to be remembering something from long ago, for he was smiling sadly and nodding his head the whole while. I was about to ask him what he was thinking about when he spoke again. "Miss Havisham died how long ago?"
I told him that it would be nine years this coming January. He nodded some more, but that was all. I wonder if, had not my servant boy come to notify us that dinner was on the table, he would have said something more to me concerning her death.
Dinner was filled with polite conversation of what had been going on in our lives since we had parted ways thirteen years before. He told me of Herbert Pocket marrying his fiancée, Clara. He spoke of Mrs. Joe Gargery's death and the odd funeral that occurred thereafter. He remembered, with aid from my memory, the first time we had met, playing cards. We laughed when he reminded me that he called them knaves now, and not jacks. I told him about Miss Havisham's death and how Camilla, Raymond, Sarah Pocket, and Georgiana had received next to nothing in her will, while Matthew Pocket got his fair share and profuse thanks.
"Yes, Herbert told me that his father had come into a great deal of portable property, but he did not specify from where. I wonder if he knew and did not want to tell me, for he feared that I might become upset." Pip sat across from me and throughout dinner I could not help but be enthralled by his eyes. They were so expressive, so full of half-forgotten memories and laughter that one could not help falling in love with them.
The time came when Pip had to leave, and we were both thoroughly disappointed. Our memories were being rekindled, and neither of us wanted them to die out again. He promised to write from London soon with an invitation to join him for dinner at his home, and I said I was already looking forward to it. As he was leaving I recalled something that I had allowed him to do only twice before; calling him back, I sanctioned him once again. He bent and kissed my cheek, and I did not turn away.
I am still awaiting Pip's invitation. I have thought often of him, particularly on those nights when I am alone and Satis House whispers to me, long forgotten memories returning, gradually, one at a time. Right now I must end my recollection of my meeting with dear Pip. Not only does my tale end here, but also my husband is home and Ruth, our daughter, is asking to play cards.
(c)2000 Liz D.