About a week later, I was walking through the busy streets of London. I felt very unsettled and worried. Suddenly, a large hand was laid on my shoulder. It was Mr. Jaggers.
"Since we are walking in the same direction, Pip, let’s walk together," he said. "Where are you going?"
"To the Temple, I think," I replied.
"Are you going to have dinner?" he asked. "Wemmick is coming to my house. Why don't you join us?"
I accepted his invitation. We walked to his office in Little Britain first. It was dark and foggy outside. Inside the office, the candles were burning low, and the strange plaster faces on Jaggers’s shelf looked down at us in the shadows.
We took a carriage to Mr. Jaggers’s house in Gerrard Street. During dinner, Wemmick was very quiet and professional. He didn’t act like the friendly man I knew from his "Castle" in Walworth. He acted as if he hardly knew me.
"Wemmick, did you give Miss Havisham’s note to Pip?" Mr. Jaggers asked.
Wemmick handed me a short letter. Miss Havisham wanted to see me regarding the "business matter" I had mentioned—helping Herbert. I decided I would travel to see her the next day.
Then, Mr. Jaggers looked at me and said, "So, Pip! Our friend 'the Spider'—Bentley Drummle—has won. He has married Estella."
It was painful to hear, but I nodded.
"He is a cruel man," Jaggers continued. "In a marriage like that, one person will try to control the other. A man like Drummle either beats people or hides from them. He is a brute."
I felt sick thinking about Estella being married to such a man. Just then, Jaggers’s housekeeper, Molly, entered the room to serve the next dish. As she put the plate on the table, she stood still for a moment. I noticed the way her fingers moved. It was a nervous, rhythmic movement—exactly like the movement of someone knitting.
I stared at her. I looked at her eyes, her hair, and her hands. Suddenly, a memory flashed through my mind like lightning. I remembered seeing those same eyes and hands before. I thought of Estella. I realized that Molly’s face was an older version of Estella’s face.
I felt absolutely certain: this woman was Estella’s mother.
After dinner, Wemmick and I left the house together. As soon as we were away from Mr. Jaggers, Wemmick’s personality changed. He became the "right twin" again—the friendly man from Walworth.
"That’s better," Wemmick said, breathing a sigh of relief. "Mr. Jaggers is a wonderful man, but I have to act very strictly when I am with him."
"Wemmick," I said, "do you remember telling me to watch that housekeeper?"
"Yes, I remember," he said. "I called her a tamed wild beast."
"How did Mr. Jaggers tame her?" I asked. "I am very interested in her story. I promise I won’t tell anyone."
Wemmick looked around to make sure no one was listening. "About twenty years ago," he whispered, "that woman was put on trial for murder. She was a very handsome young woman, a gypsy. She was extremely jealous."
"Who did she kill?" I asked.
"She was accused of killing another woman in a barn," Wemmick explained. "There had been a violent fight. Mr. Jaggers was her lawyer. It was a very difficult case, but he was brilliant. He showed the jury that the other woman was much larger and stronger than Molly. He argued that Molly wasn't strong enough to kill her."
Wemmick touched my arm. "The backs of Molly's hands were covered in deep scratches. The police said they were marks from the victim's fingernails. But Mr. Jaggers argued they were just scratches from brambles and bushes."
"And the jury believed him?"
"They did. She was found not guilty," Wemmick said. "But there was another sad part to the story. People believed that, at the time of the murder, Molly had also killed her own child—a little girl—to get revenge on her husband. Mr. Jaggers managed to keep that out of the trial, too."
"What happened to the child?" I asked, my heart beating fast.
"Everyone thought the child was dead," Wemmick said. "Molly went to work for Mr. Jaggers immediately after the trial, and she has been there ever since. She has been 'tamed' all these years."
"Was the child definitely a girl?" I asked.
"That’s what they said," Wemmick replied. "Anyway, I must go now. Good-night, Pip."
I walked home, my mind spinning with new thoughts. I was sure now. Estella was the daughter of a murderer and a convict. The mystery of her past was finally starting to come together.