Author's Note: I wrote this as part of a college assignment. Just a missing moment from Pip's time in London and his feelings for Estella.
All characters belong to the Genius Dickens and im only playing with them.
Like a Moth Drawn to a Flame
I stopped midway in my conversation with Herbert and stared unabashedly as she entered the room on Drummle's arm. But I wasn't the only one who had been captivated by her charm; every other man silently prayed that she would grace them with a dance or at least a word. I looked at her like Astrophel looked at his Stella, the Goddess who kept him alive, alive only to feel the pain of his existence.
Herbert cleared his throat and said, "My dear Handel, you can hate me for saying this, but, that woman will be the death of you". So saying he walked away to a group of young women who stood huddled together, in the absence of any male attention. I turned my gaze back to Estella, who even if she had seen me, gave me no indication that she even knew of my existence.
An hour passed then two as I stood watching Estella dance with one man then another. On my part I tried unsuccessfully to converse with other people at the party. But Estella's presence had sent all my senses into overdrive and I found myself unable to articulate a single coherent sentence and was reduced to answering in monosyllables. It was after yet another failed conversation that Estella glided towards me with a glass in her hand. Without her having to say anything I offered her my hand and guided her to the nearest empty table. As she sat looking at the other dancers on the floor I sat enjoying the feel of her hands in mine.
"You look beautiful" the words escaped my mouth like a prayer. She gave a short laugh and then looking at me for the first time that evening she said in her silken voice, "You don't look so bad yourself Pip, not bad at all for a common country boy" and she condescended to smile at me. Overlooking the reinforcement of the unbridgeable gap between us I continued to gaze at her in awe as she sat sipping her wine.
All too soon she was standing up and pulling me to my feet along with her. "Won't you escort me to my carriage Pip?" she asked, and it still came out sounding like a command to a slave. Even though I was disappointed at not having had a chance to dance with her I happily agreed to the opportunity of spending a few more minutes with her. We walked in silent leisure to her carriage, her body pressed closer to me against the cold December air. As she got into her carriage she said to me "I see you've still not taken my advice Pip"
"About what Estella?"
"Why do you still love me Pip?" There was a never-heard before tenderness in her voice.
I honestly didn't know an answer to that. Why did I love her even though she made me miserable? After a moment's thought I answered, "Estella, why is a moth drawn to a flame?"
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