Wuthering Bites (25 page)

‘“Miss Catherine, I'm ill grieved,” he began.

‘I gave him a cut with my whip, thinking perhaps he would murder me or hand me off to the vampires that lurked watching us. He let go, thundering one of his horrid curses, and I galloped home more than half out of my senses.

‘I didn't bid you good night that evening, and I didn't go to Wuthering Heights the next night. I wished to, wanting to know how Linton fared, but shuddered at the thought of encountering Hareton.

‘On the third day I found my courage, and stole off once more. I went at five o'clock, and walked, fancying I might manage to creep into the house and up to Linton's room unobserved. However, that little terrier that I cannot decide is friend or foe gave loud notice of my approach. Zillah received me and showed me into a small, tidy, carpeted apartment, where, to my inexpressible joy, I beheld Linton lying on a little sofa, reading one of my books.

‘But he would neither speak to me nor look at me, for a whole hour. Nelly, he has such an unhappy temper. And what quite confounded me was that when he did open his mouth, he declared that I was the one responsible for the uproar that had made him ill, and Hareton was not to blame!

‘Unable to reply, except passionately, I got up and walked from the room. The next day was the second day that I stayed home, determined to visit him no more.

‘But it was so miserable going to bed, and getting up, and never hearing anything about him, that my resolution melted into air before it was properly formed. It
had
appeared wrong to go to Wuthering Heights, at first. Now it seemed wrong to refrain.

‘I arrived on Minny without incident and Zillah came out to greet me.

‘I went in; Hareton was there also, but he left the room the moment he saw me. Linton sat in the great armchair half asleep and I began in a serious tone, partly meaning it to be true, “As you don't like me, Linton, and as you think I come on purpose to hurt you, and pretend that I do so every time, this is our last meeting. Let us say good-bye, and tell Mr. Heathcliff that you have no wish to see me, and that he mustn't invent any more falsehoods on the subject.”

‘ “Sit down and take your hat off, Catherine,” he answered. “Papa talks enough of my defects, and shows enough scorn of me to make it natural I should doubt myself. I doubt I'm as worthless as he calls me, but I feel so cross and bitter, I hate everybody! I
am
worthless, and I have a bad temper, and if you choose, you
may
say good-bye. Only, Catherine, do me this justice: believe that if I might be as sweet, and as kind, and as good as you are, I would be. And believe that your kindness has made me love you deeper than if I deserved your love. I can't help showing my nature to you and shall regret and repent it till I die!”

‘I felt he spoke the truth, and I felt I must forgive him. We were reconciled, but we cried, both of us. I was sorry Linton had that distorted nature. He'll never let his friends be at ease, and he'll never be at ease himself!

‘I have gone to his little parlor since that night because his father returned the day after. About three times, I think, we have been merry and hopeful, as we were the first evening. The rest of my visits were dreary and troubled with his selfishness and spite, and now with his sufferings, but I've learnt to endure.

‘Mr. Heathcliff purposely avoids me; I have hardly seen him at all. Last Sunday, coming earlier than usual, I heard him abusing poor Linton, cruelly, for his conduct of the night before. I can't tell how he knew of it, unless he listened. Linton had certainly behaved provokingly; however, it wasn't his business and I interrupted Mr. Heathcliff's lecture by entering and telling him so.'

‘You didn't!' I exclaimed.

‘I did, Nelly. He burst into a laugh and went away, saying he was glad I took that view of the matter. Since then, I've told Linton he must whisper his bitter things.

‘So, now, Nelly, you have heard all, and I can't be prevented from going to Wuthering Heights.'

‘But what of the danger?' I argued. ‘You could be attacked at any time.'

‘They would not dare.'

Her eyes narrowed, and for a moment, she almost seemed dangerous.

‘You'll not tell Papa, will you, Nelly?' she pressed. ‘It will be very heartless if you do.'

‘I'll make up my mind on that point by tomorrow, Miss Catherine,' I replied. ‘It requires some study, and so I'll leave you to your rest, and go think it over.'

I thought it over aloud, in my master's presence. Walking straight from her room to his, I related the whole story with the exception of the vampires, her conversations with her cousin, and any mention of Hareton.

Mr. Linton was alarmed and distressed more than he would acknowledge to me. In the morning, Catherine learnt my betrayal of her confidence, and she learnt also that her secret visits were to end.

In vain she wept and writhed and implored her father to have pity on Linton. All she got to comfort herself was a promise that she could write, and give him leave to come to the Grange when he pleased, but explaining that she could no longer go to see him. Perhaps, had Mr. Linton been aware of his nephew's state of health, and the strange occurrences with the beasties at Wuthering Heights, he would have seen fit to withhold even that slight consolation.

“T
hese things happened last winter, Mr. Lockwood,” said Mrs. Dean. “Hardly more than a year ago. It is hard to believe that twelve months later I would be amusing a stranger with such intimate family details! Yet, who knows how long you'll be a stranger? You're too young to rest contented, living by yourself.” Her eyes twinkled with scheming. “No one could see Catherine Linton and not love her. You smile, but why do you look so lively and interested when I talk about her? And why have you asked me to hang her picture over your fireplace? And why—”

“Stop, my good friend,” I cried. “It may be very possible that
I
should love her, but would she love me? And this matter of her thinking women should be fighting vampires is most distressing. No, I think I should steer clear of such temptation. A lady's place is well defined: the hearth, care and raising of children, fine needlework, sketching. No woman of quality concerns herself with fighting bloodsuckers. The eradication of vampires must be left to men of courage. Not that I lack courage,” I added. “But one must be trained from childhood for such dangerous pursuits. And remember, my home is not here. I'm of the busy world, and to its arms I must return. But go on. Was Catherine obedient to her father's commands?”

“She was,” continued the housekeeper, “for her affection for him was still the chief sentiment in her heart. He said to me, a few days afterward—”

‘I wish my nephew would write, Nelly, or call. Tell me, sincerely, what you think of him. Is he changed for the better, or is there a prospect of improvement, as he grows a man?'

‘He's very delicate, sir,' I replied, choosing my words carefully. ‘And scarce likely to reach manhood. But this I can say, he does not resemble his father much in character, and if Miss Catherine had the misfortune to marry him, he would not be beyond her control.'

Edgar sighed and, walking to the window, looked out toward Gimmerton Kirk. It was a misty afternoon, but the February sun shone dimly, and we could just distinguish the sparely scattered gravestones. We could not see Mrs. Linton's bare grave, but I knew he was thinking of it.

‘I've been very happy with my little Cathy. Through winter nights and summer days she was a living hope at my side. But I've been as happy musing of the day when I might lie beneath the earth beside my lady wife.'

I wanted to ask him if he thought it was safe to be buried beside a grave that looked as if either the dead rose from it periodically, or someone was digging into it, but I kept my mouth shut as I always do, that being my place. It's not for me to advise or gossip about the gentry, and I am ever mindful of my duty.

‘What can I do for Cathy?' my master asked. ‘I'd not care one moment for Linton being Heathcliff's son, nor for his taking her from me, if he could console her for my loss. I'd not care that Heathcliff gained his ends and triumphed in robbing me of my last blessing! But should Linton be unworthy—only a feeble tool to his father—I cannot abandon her to him! And, hard though it be to crush her buoyant spirit, I must persevere in making her sad while I live, and leaving her solitary when I die. These are such frightening times, Nelly, with those creatures forever watching, plotting, taking as they please. I think I'd rather resign her to God, and lay her in the earth before me.'

Spring advanced, and though my master gathered no real strength, he resumed his walks on the grounds with his daughter. To her inexperienced notions, this itself was a sign of convalescence and she felt sure of his recovering.

On her seventeenth birthday, he did not lock himself in his study, as was customary. Instead, he remained in the firelight of the parlor and wrote again to Linton, expressing his great desire to see him.

Had the invalid been presentable, I've no doubt his father would have permitted him to come. As it was, being instructed, he returned an answer, intimating that Mr. Heathcliff objected to his calling at the Grange. His uncle's kind remembrance delighted him, however, and he hoped to meet him, sometimes, in his rambles, and personally to petition that his cousin and he might not remain long so utterly divided.

That part of his letter was simple, and probably his own. Heathcliff knew he could plead eloquently enough for Catherine's company, then—

‘I do not ask,' he said, ‘that she may visit here, but, am I never to see her, because my father forbids me to go to her home, and you forbid her to come to mine? Do, now and then, ride with her toward the Heights and let us exchange a few words, in your presence! We have done nothing to deserve this separation, and you are not angry with me. You have no reason to dislike me, you allow, yourself. Dear Uncle! Send me a kind note tomorrow, and permission to join you anywhere you please, except at Thrushcross Grange. I believe an interview would convince you that my father's character is not mine. He affirms I am more your nephew than his son, despite my dark looks, and though I have faults which render me unworthy of Catherine, she has excused them, and, for her sake, you should also. You inquire after my health—it is better, but I continue to be most delicate with little appetite. I sleep hardly an hour or two each night due to the constant presence of the undead bloodsuckers that infest my father's holdings, clawing at the windows, hanging from the rafters, and nesting in the attics and wine cellar, but I do not complain, for it is not my nature. While I remain cut off from all hope, and doomed to solitude, how can I be cheerful and well?'

Edgar, though he felt badly for the boy, could not consent to grant his request because he could not bring himself to accompany Catherine.

He said, in summer, perhaps, he would consider it. Meantime, he wished him to continue writing at intervals, and engaged to give his nephew what advice and comfort he was able by letter, being well aware of his difficult position in his family.

Linton complied, and had he been unrestrained, would probably have spoiled all by filling his epistles with complaints and lamentations. His father, however, kept a sharp watch over him and insisted on every line that my master sent being shown. So, instead of penning his peculiar personal sufferings and distresses, Linton harped on the cruel obligation of being held asunder from his friend and love, and intimated that Mr. Linton must allow a meeting soon.

That spring, Cathy killed her first vampire. It was entirely by accident, I think, but—

“She killed a vampire?” I interrupted, certain I had misunderstood. I gazed at her sweet portrait on the wall. “Our Cathy killed?”

“It was kill or be killed, sir.” Nelly defended her with annoyance. “Or kill or watch another killed, as was in this case.”

“I'm sorry. Go on, Mrs. Dean. Please.”

She settled back in her chair, darning on her lap, and spoke again.

“I was not there when it happened, but Cathy gave me a full report when she had the groom drag the body to the incineration pile. Had you not been feeling so poorly these months, you might have had an opportunity to see the place on the far side of the property. Whenever a vampire is killed, the carcass is placed on a stack of hot burning oak and set afire. The stench is worse than that of rotting fish stuffed with bad eggs, but it keeps the other beasties from dragging away the bodies.”

“Cathy, Mrs. Dean. You were speaking of how Cathy was forced to kill.”

“Oh, yes.” She smiled congenially. “It was a chilly day, wet. I had no desire to be out of doors and I had a fresh pot of treacle on the stove, so when Cathy said she was walking out to the stable to visit with Minny, I thought nothing of it. This is how Cathy said the event unfolded—”

‘I was headed straight for the barn, just as I said, Nelly, but halfway across the yard, I heard a strange sound. Something akin to a squeak. I had no idea what the sound was, only that I must go to it. I saw several rugs thrown over a line and a rug beater lying in the wet grass. Only then did I remember that you had sent the new maid, Sally, out to air the bedchamber rugs. There was no sign of Sally, only her bonnet. I called to her and heard another squeak. I don't know what made me do it, Nelly, but I picked up the rug beater and wove my way through the walls of rugs. On the far side, leaned against the tool shed, I found the source of the squeaking. It was the maid, Sally, being held against the wall by a bloodsucker who was taking greedily from her neck.

‘He was so short a vampire, and Sally was so tall, that I wasn't entirely sure how he had trapped her, but nonetheless, there he was.

‘ “Sally!” I cried, lifting my skirts from the mud and running toward her, waving the rug beater. “Get off her!” I ordered the vampire. “Get off her this moment. This girl is our maid and she has duties to attend to.”

‘The vampire turned to look at me and broke into a grin, Sally's blood dripping from his fangs. “You're next,” he warned.

‘ “Let her go,” I warned. “Else you'll surely be sorry.”

‘ “Will I?” he asked in a perfect Yorkshire accent. Then he laughed, and Nelly, he had the nerve to take another drink from her.

‘I vow, she was as pale as plaster.'

‘So what did you do, my dear?' I asked of my charge as I set a cup of tea before her in the parlor.

‘What was I to do? Those rugs needed to be returned to the house before the dampness of the evening set in, and if he killed Sally, I knew it would take days to replace her, as her mother was so difficult to convince sending her after the first four of her daughters were murdered in service here. So I waved the rug beater at that bloodsucker and when he continued to drain the life's blood from her, I struck him squarely on the back of the head!'

‘And that killed him?' I asked, wondering if the vampires were changing. If it was easier to kill them than it once had been.

‘It barely stunned him,' Cathy remarked, adding several lumps of sugar to her tea. ‘By then, I was so annoyed that I broke the rug beater over my knee and ran full at him, thrusting the jagged end like a spear. I hit him dead on through his back, piercing his heart, apparently, and only pinned Sally's apron to the shed. The vampire screamed. Sally screamed. I had to get a groom to remove the vampire from the shed wall in order to set the silly wench free. She was most grateful, after we revived her from a dead faint. What I don't understand,' said my entirely too practical charge, ‘is why she fainted
after
I killed the vampire. Had she forgotten the importance of getting the last of the dust from the rugs and carrying them in before moisture ruined them entirely?'

‘And she will live?' I asked.

‘So I suspect.' Cathy sipped her tea. ‘I insisted she finish up with the rugs first, then said you would see she had a boiled pigeon egg and a poultice for her neck.'

“Mrs. Dean,” I interrupted, unable to remain quiet any longer. “This…Sally. Does she work here still?”

“Yes, of course. The pretty child who acts as chamber-maid.” Nelly smiled. “She's a good worker, though as skinny as a rake handle. Skinny Sally, we call her, and the loss of so much blood has done nothing for her color, but what's to be done? As Miss Cathy said, it is not easy to find a maid, especially those over the age of ten.” She sighed. “Of course, we had to buy a new rug beater the next time we went to Gimmerton, but it was a minor loss compared to that of a good chamber-maid. There are more sisters, I understand. Her mother seems to bear nothing but puny girls, but the next in line is but nine or ten years old. Sally had a twin but she didn't live long enough for us to hire her.”

“What happened to her?”

“Bitten on her way home from the tanner's. Sucked dry as a cornhusk and blown away. They found the remains at Gobbin's Mill, in the pond, floating like a tiny boat. Poor thing. Luckily there are eight more sisters at home, but three still unweaned and they would be of little use to us here in the hall. Not for some space of time. A pity, for Sally and her sisters don't eat much, not like the kitchen girl, who can devour an entire tub of turnips in an afternoon. But back to that spring.
After
Cathy killed the vampire.”

The young miss was a powerful ally at home and eventually persuaded my master, who was still declining, to permit her and Linton to have a ride or a walk together, about once a week, under my guardianship, on the moors nearest the Grange. My master had no idea that the boy's health was declining as quickly as his own.

I, for my part, began to fancy my forebodings were false, and that Linton must be actually rallying, when he mentioned riding and walking on the moors, and seemed so earnest in pursuing his object. He even tolerated my charge's constant chatter of the school in Paris they would attend and the world sights they would see when his constitution improved.

“I could not picture a father treating a dying child as tyrannically and wickedly as I afterward learned Heathcliff had treated him, but I will come to that soon enough, Mr. Lockwood.” She rose from her chair. “Tea, sir? I can call Sally.”