The wedding morning dawned bright and lovely. I'd spent the night in the local hostelry and had a small breakfast before dressing. I'd planned to walk to the church, but on impulse I paid the hostelry's coachman to drive me swiftly back to London. There I made a few hurried arrangements and boarded a steamer for Europe.
Looking back I sometimes wonder what became of her. And I often wonder what dream she'd had, and if it really would have upset me. But mostly I wonder if Satis House remains as formal and beautiful as Miss Havisham will always be.
It wasn't her, it was me.
She loved me, I was sure. Well, as sure as anyone can be, at least. She'd told me she did, all those months ago when I proposed.
"I love you also," she'd said, and I'm pretty certain nothing had changed in the meantime.
I loved her then. I still do, in my own way. She was young and beautiful, if sometimes a little dull. This building, her home, was a stunning old place, traditional yet quite modernised, and she was rich enough that the costs of running it were hardly a burden to her.
Preparations for our wedding were advanced. The church had been organised for months and the celebrations afterwards would be at her home, an imposing building with rooms enough for a massive party. The day before the ceremony she led me to the doors of the main dining room and flung them open with a flourish.
The decoration was beyond compare, the long table set for the wedding breakfast was all glittering silver and glass, dominated by a huge five- tier cake. I shook my head, almost breathless, and as she squeezed my hand all I could say was "That's amazing."
When I knocked and entered her bedroom she was sitting up in bed, her chin resting on her arms which embraced her pulled-up knees. She stared down at the foot of the bed as if there was something fascinating there.
I stood beside her bed and eventually asked "What's wrong?"
She remained silent, as if she didn't know the answer herself.
I touched her shoulder but she shrugged my hand off - she could be so tiresomely correct.
"I've just had a most... unusual... dream," she said slowly.
She shook her head.
"It may upset you," she said.