Wuthering Bites (20 page)

C
athy rose that morning in high glee, eager to join her cousin, and such passionate tears and lamentations followed the news of his departure that Edgar was obliged to soothe her. He was so upset by her weeping that he told her Linton would come back soon. He added, however, ‘if I can get him,' and he and I both knew there were no hopes of that.

This promise poorly pacified her, but time was more potent, and though she still occasionally inquired when Linton would return, before she saw him again, his features had waxed so dim in her memory that she did not recognize him.

When I encountered the housekeeper of Wuthering Heights while in Gimmerton, I would ask how the young master got on. Linton lived almost as secluded as Catherine, and was never seen outside the walls, making me wonder if a bloodsucker had carried Isabella's child off and no one had bothered to inform us at the Grange. For I believed, by now, that Master Heathcliff had no affection for the boy, and had so far descended from the behavior of any decent father as to permit any atrocity by his fiendish acquaintances.

That was not the case, however, and I gathered from the Heights housekeeper that Linton continued in weak health, and was a tiresome inmate. She said, as I suspected, that Mr. Heathcliff seemed to dislike him immensely, though he tried to conceal it. According to the housekeeper, Heathcliff and his son rarely spoke. Linton learnt his lessons and spent his evenings in a small apartment they called the parlor, or else lay in bed all day. He always had a cough, a cold, an ache, or pains of some sort.

She said she once heard her master and Joseph in an argument. She only caught the end, but apparently Joseph had a suggestion as to how the boy's health might be improved. Whatever the remedy, Heathcliff was adamantly opposed and ended the conversation warning Joseph that his head would be on a pike on the road to Gimmerton if he ever so much as spoke of his
elixir
again.

Mr. Edgar encouraged me to gain information from the housekeeper whenever I could, for he thought a great deal about his nephew. I fancy he would have run some risk to see him, and he once told me to ask the housekeeper whether the boy ever came into the village, but she said he did not. Two years after Linton's arrival, that housekeeper left, and another whom I did not know was her successor. She lives there still.

Time wore on at the Grange in its former pleasant way, till Miss Cathy reached sixteen. On the anniversary of her birth, we never celebrated because it was also the anniversary of my late mistress's death. Her father invariably spent that day alone in the library. I think he would have liked to have gone to Gimmerton Kirkyard, but my late mistress's grave still lay as fresh-turned as the day she was buried, so he did not go.

The twentieth of March of that year was a beautiful spring day, and when Miss Cathy's father retired to mourn alone, my young lady came down dressed to go out. She said her papa had given her leave to have a ramble on the edge of the moors with me, if we went only a short distance and were back within the hour.

I considered the safety of going out, just the two of us, but to tell the truth, the bloodsuckers seemed mostly an annoyance by then. Cows and horses were in constant danger of being sucked of their life's force, and hunting dogs often went missing. Worse, a huntsman or a tanner was occasionally attacked, and once or twice a month a child was carried off into the night, but the vampires seemed under control, or at least there seemed some control to their ravaging the countryside. There seemed to be rules such as no killing on Sundays, before All Hallows' Eve, or on full moons just before mid-winter and summer's solstice. And the rules were being enforced—by whom, I could not say, though I had my suspicions. Except for the case of Squire Shoteshaw's young wife, and that may or may not be laid at the feet of beasties, in my opinion.

'Twas a full moon on the night she vanished. An odd one, the squire's lady was a flothery piece who wore scarlet petticoats and swam mother-naked in the goose pond on a warm night. Word had it the jade had been born a butcher's daughter and had only married the squire for what she could get out of him.

“But the vampires,” I reminded Nelly. “You were telling me of their strange rules. Did you mean that you thought it had something to do with Mr. Heathcliff?”

“The squire's lady, you understand, disappeared on the night of a full moon only two days from summer solstice, but…” Here, she paused and nodded firmly.

“And Dame Dumble said the gardener's wife said that a ruby ring, a pearl necklace, and a garnet pin, all that had been handed down in the family since the time of the wicked King Richard, vanished with her, along with twenty-two silver coins and a bottle of the squire's finest. So if the lady was taken by beasties, she was taken with all her gowns and the family heirlooms. Not to mention one of the grooms—and him half a Frenchman.” She waited for me to make some response.

“Seems highly unlikely,” I mused. “My understanding is that it's blood they seek, not jewels or coin.”

“Except for the ones fond of cards,” Nelly reminded me.

“Except for those with a penchant for gambling,” I agreed.

“Exactly, so you can hardly accuse them, for all their dastardly customs, of making off with the squire's wife on a full moon. Mayhap she and her lover used the light of that moon to make their way to France or America or some other heathen place.”

“Pray continue your tale,” I urged. “I'm most interested in Mr. Heathcliff's story. Was it he who set down the rules for bloodsuckers? Was that why it became safe to walk freely about the county again?” I slid forward in my chair. “After he slayed so many after Catherine's death, did he allow those that dared to return to do so, so long as they did not kill everyone in the county?”

Mrs. Dean cut her eyes at me in warning and I slid back, folding my hands, properly contrite. After a moment, she continued her narrative.

I checked to be certain I had my little knife, and that the garlic pomades we wore round our necks were fresh, and out we sallied. She bounded before me, and returned to my side, and was off again like a young greyhound. I found plenty of entertainment in listening to the larks singing far and near, and enjoying the sweet, warm sunshine. She was a delight to watch with her golden ringlets flying loose behind, and her bright cheeks, as soft and pure in its bloom as a wild rose, and her eyes radiant with cloudless pleasure. She was a happy creature, and an angel, in those days. It's a pity she could not be content.

‘We should head back,' I called to Miss Cathy after some time.

‘Oh, a little farther—only a little farther, Nelly,' was her answer, continually. ‘Let's just climb the next hillock, pass the next bank.'

But there were so many hillocks and banks to climb and pass, that, at length, I began to be weary, and told her we must halt and retrace our steps. It still was not wise for the weak or the tired to roam far, for you never knew for certain if there was a ban on bloodletting or not.

I shouted to her as she got out farther in front of me; she either did not hear or did not regard, for she still sprang on, and I was compelled to follow. Finally, she dived into a hollow, and before I came in sight of her again, she was two miles nearer Wuthering Heights than her own home. I could see her, but I could not catch up to her. Then, in the distance, I saw a woman in a dark cloak approaching her. By the time I realized not who it was, but
what
it was, the creature was almost upon my dear Cathy.

I think the bloodsucker intended to lure Cathy close under the guise of being human, but before it reached her, a gust of wind came up and blew her hood back, revealing tentacles of black hair and a deathly white face, black-rimmed eyes, and a cherry mouth. Cathy saw her for the fiend that she was and screamed and threw up both gloved hands to protect herself.

‘Grab your garlic! Grab your garlic!' I shouted, fumbling for my knife as I sprinted toward her.

There was only a hand's width between them when, from nowhere, Mr. Heathcliff appeared. I swear, he must have flown in on a broomstick! One moment it was the two of them, Cathy and the she-bitch, and the next there were three. Mr. Heathcliff lifted the bloodsucker up with one hand with a growl and tossed her like a stick of kindling. She screeched like a fiend as she hurtled through the air, then hit a patch of heath, tucked and rolled, and was gone before I reached my charge.

‘What are you doing here unescorted?' Mr. Heathcliff demanded. He had not even creased his black coat in the exchange between him and the she-beastie.

Cathy was shaking with fear, but my little charge stood up to him. ‘Was that a lady vampire, sir?'

‘It was, and both of you trespass upon my land.'

‘I didn't mean to disturb anything. It's only that my papa told me that the Heights were beautiful in the spring. As for her, I have no idea what she was doing here. We never spoke.'

By then, I had reached them, huffing and puffing, and quite disheveled from my sprint. Hareton had joined the little group as well. There was no sight of the woman bloodsucker. Heathcliff glanced at me with an ill-meaning smile and asked Miss Cathy who ‘papa' was.

‘Mr. Linton of Thrushcross Grange,' she replied. ‘I thought you did not know me, or you wouldn't have spoken in that tone to me.'

‘You suppose your papa is highly esteemed and respected, then?' he said, sarcastically.

‘And what are you, besides one who can chase off vampires?' inquired Catherine, gazing curiously on the speaker. ‘That man I've seen before. Is he your son?' She pointed to Hareton, who had gained nothing but increased bulk and strength by the addition of two years to his age. He seemed as awkward and rough as ever.

‘Miss Cathy,' I interrupted, trying to put myself between them. ‘It will be three hours instead of one that we are out. We really must go back. What if that bloodsucker is lurking in wait for us?' I still clutched my knife in preparation, should I need to defend my person or hers.

‘No, that man is not my son,' stated Heathcliff, pushing me aside. ‘But I have one, and you have seen him before, too. I see your nurse is in a hurry to return, but I think she would be the better for a little rest. Look at her; she's breathing so hard she looks about to collapse. Why not walk to my house and let her rest? You'll receive a kind welcome, I assure you.'

I whispered to Catherine that she mustn't, on any account, agree to go.

‘Why not?' she asked aloud. ‘You're out of breath, Nelly, from fright and your run. You need to rest, and the ground is dewy. You certainly can't sit here. Besides, he says I have seen his son. He's mistaken, I think, but I can guess where he lives, at the farmhouse I visited in coming from Penistone Crags. Don't you?'

‘I do,' Heathcliff answered. ‘Come, Nelly, hold your tongue—it will be a treat for her to look in on us. Hareton, get forward with the lass. You shall walk with me, Nelly.'

‘No, she's not going to any such place,' I cried, struggling to release my arm, which he had seized, but she was almost at the door-stones already, scampering round the brow at full speed. Hareton did not pretend to escort her; he shied off by the roadside, and vanished.

‘Mr. Heathcliff, it's very wrong,' I continued, pushing aside the near attack from my mind to see to the next crisis at hand. ‘You know you mean no good. She'll see Linton, and all will be told as soon as we return, and I shall be blamed.'

‘I want her to see Linton,' he answered. ‘He's looking better these few days. It's not often he's fit to be seen. And we'll soon persuade her to keep the visit secret. Where is the harm of it?'

The harm,
I wanted to say, is in any contact with you and yours.
The harm
is in that while we all know your reputation for being the famous
gypsy vampire slayer,
none of us really know who you are or who or what you came from. I said none of those things, but instead, ‘
The harm
of it is that her father would hate me if he found I allowed her to enter your house, and I am convinced you have a bad design in encouraging her to do so.'

‘My design is that the two cousins may fall in love and get married. I'm acting generously to your master. His young chit has no inheritance, and should she second my wishes, she'll be provided for at once as joining successor with Linton.'

‘If Linton died,' I answered, ‘and his life is quite uncertain, Catherine would be the heir.'

‘No, she would not,' he said. ‘There is no clause in the will to secure it so. His property would go to me, but, to prevent disputes, I desire their union, and am resolved to bring it about.'

‘And I'm resolved she shall never approach your house with me again,' I returned, as we reached the gate where Miss Cathy waited.

Heathcliff bid me be quiet, and brushed past me to open the door. My young lady gave him several looks, as if she could not exactly make up her mind what to think of him, but Heathcliff, he was clever. He smiled when he met her eye, and softened his voice in addressing her, and I was foolish enough to imagine the memory of her mother might disarm him from desiring her injury.

Linton stood on the hearth. He had been out, walking in the fields, for his cap was on and he was calling to Joseph to bring him dry shoes.

He had grown tall of his age, still wanting some months of sixteen. His features were pretty; his complexion brighter than I remembered them, though perhaps that was just a temporary luster brought on by the wholesome air and genial sun.

‘Now, who is that?' asked Mr. Heathcliff, turning to Cathy. ‘Can you tell?'

‘Your son?' she said.

‘Yes, yes,' answered he. ‘But is this the only time you have beheld him? Think! Do you have such a short memory? Linton, don't you recall your cousin, that you used to tease us so with wishing to see?'