Chapter One
Loud shrieks stormed through the cracks and crevices of the old house, disrupting Catherine’s contemplation. Annoyance built and all thoughts of her dilemma were drowned out. What could be the matter now?
With great care not to make a sound—not that it would matter with all the angry words ricocheting off every surface—Catherine opened her bedroom door to listen better.
Wails from little Hareton echoed from down the hall. She began edging into the dark corridor to discover what the commotion was all about and spied Hindley, her brother, at the top of the stairs dangling something over the railing. She slipped further into the shadows, curious as to what Hindley was about, but desperate to stay hidden. It was as clear as the nose on her face that he was drunk again.
She squinted, trying to determine what Hindley was…
Oh no, he’s holding Hareton!
Fear lodged in her throat as panic rioted within, shaking her entire body. Just then she saw her nephew squirm in Hindley’s arms as another scream surged from the little boy’s quivering lips. Nelly rushed to Hindley’s side, but in the blink of an instant, he went from dangling his only son over the banister to releasing him into the darkness below.
Catherine’s heart stopped as Nelly’s chilling scream reverberated down the hall before all went silent.
Long, paralyzing seconds passed before Catherine heard Nelly declare Hareton was safe. “Oh, thank the Lord, Heathcliff caught him.” Nelly’s relief rippled through Catherine as she hurried back to her room, barely able to breathe.
Hot, angry tears streamed down her cheeks as she slumped against the closed door, and then slithered to the floor. How had this happened? How had her life—all their lives—come to exist in such turmoil?
When Father was alive, there was happiness and peace. Oh, how she longed for such contentment again, to be free of her brother, and worry. Hindley was the worst kind of monster—always drunk, yelling, and abusive to all who resided within Wuthering Heights. This house, that had never been a home, had become synonymous with suffocating bleakness.
And then there was her nephew. Poor little Hareton was prone to crying just at the sight of his father. Worse, he was afraid to be alone at night and would only rest if Nelly was holding him. On one occasion Catherine had tried to reason with Hindley, begging him to offer some kindness to his son, but he’d scolded her and locked her in her room for two days. When Hindley discovered that Heathcliff had been sneaking Catherine books, he unleashed his fury, demanding Heathcliff work even longer hours than before, and ordered Nelly not to feed him. After that incident, Catherine kept her mouth shut, and with each passing day, the burden grew heavier, slowly, brutally, extinguishing any happiness that still remained.
A long sigh escaped her lips. She only had one option. But could she really go through with it?
She did not know how much time had passed before she realized her room was cast in the darkest of shadows. She struggled to her feet and rubbed her aching limbs. A coldness had crept into her body that had nothing to do with the violent winds howling across the moors.
What was she to do? She needed to talk to someone.
Opening her door once again, she listened for any sign of her brother. Eerie silence met her ears, indicating Hindley was probably passed out in his room. Still, she would not take any chances. She crept along the corridor and was halfway down the stairs when a soft, gentle hum reached her ears. She followed the sound of the melody to the kitchen. There, she found Nelly rocking little Hareton, who was asleep in her arms. A nauseating sense of despair settled in her heart. Hareton did not deserve this life.
“Are you alone?” she asked quietly so as not to startle the housemaid.
“Yes. Hindley has locked himself away in his room, but not before moaning about his unfortunate lot in life.” Nelly’s reply was laden with sarcasm. They both knew that any misfortune Hindley imagined he had was brought upon by himself.
“And… Heathcliff?” Catherine questioned with some hesitation as she approached the warm hearth and took a worn seat across from the maid and Hareton.
“After your brother dropped…” Nelly quickly clamped her mouth as she glanced down at the sleeping child, then cradled him further into her as if to protect him. “Heathcliff went to the barn.”
Seconds dragged on to minutes, and still Catherine struggled to find her words. If only there was another way to find happiness.
“Nelly, can you keep a secret?”
“Depends on what it is,” Nelly said with a hint of moroseness.
“I must let it out, but you must first promise not to tell anyone. I don’t know what to do and… please, you mustn’t say anything to anyone,” she emphasized again.
Her words must have struck a chord because in the next moment Nelly nodded. It was the only encouragement Catherine needed to reveal everything that weighed heavily in her thoughts. “I don’t know what to do!” Turmoil coursed within as she worried the edge of her sleeve. “Edgar Linton has asked me to marry him, and… I’ve given him my answer.”
Nelly’s eyes widened with shock, but her voice remained calm, which only served to further disrupt Catherine’s nerves. “And what answer did you give?”
“Before I tell you, I want to know what you thought it should have been.”
“How can I possibly know your heart? Although, this much I will say, after your outburst this afternoon. Mr. Linton is either stupid or a fool.”
Catherine stomped her foot. “My outburst, as you so kindly put it, was for a good reason—”
“If you say so,” Nelly remarked, her tone snide.
“I do say so! And if you continue to speak to me like this, I won’t tell you that I accepted.” Humiliation flooded Catherine’s cheeks at what she had just revealed.
Wide, shocked eyes stared back at her. “You accepted him?”
“Do you not think I should have done so?” Catherine struggled to hide her building irritation.
“Do you love him?” Nelly prodded.
“Of course, I do.” Didn’t she? It was the same dilemma she’d been contemplating ever since Edgar proposed. “What a ridiculous question! Why would I have accepted if I didn’t?”
Nelly challenged her words. “Why do you love him?”
Catherine rambled through the justifications she’d come up with. “Because he is handsome and has a pleasant disposition. He is young and hail.”
“And those are the only reasons?”
Nelly’s question settled at the pit of Catherine’s stomach. No, they weren’t the only reasons. Catherine’s mother was at the root of her problem.
Images of her mama as she laid dying flashed through her mind, dragging her back to the distant past and an uncompromising promise.
Father had pressed a gentle hand to Catherine’s back, coaxing her toward Mother’s bed. The stale stench of sickness surrounded her, threatened to choke her. She’d been just a child and had not wanted to see her mother in such pain and withered away to sagging skin on frail bones.
“I want a moment alone with my precious girl,” Mother’s weak voice commanded from the shadows.
Once Father left the room and closed the door, Mother’s ghostly white hand summoned Catherine to her bedside.
“There’s something I must tell you,” she wheezed. “I have suffered most greatly being married to your father. He has no status, no wealth. I married beneath my station for what I thought was love.”
Perhaps Catherine should have been shocked by her mother’s revelation, but she wasn’t. For as long as she could remember, her parents had barely tolerated each other. Theirs was a house filled with arguments over money and lack of luxuries.
“Love is fleeting.” Mother’s cold, boney hand reached out and grabbed Catherine’s, sending a shiver down her spine. “Promise me you will marry well.” Her tired, dull eyes pierced Catherine’s soul, holding her prisoner. “Promise me you will aspire to be a great lady, one of wealth and status.”
Catherine remembered nodding her head, not fully comprehending the promise she was making. Those words, that promise, had haunted her for years.
That was why she could never reveal the truth and say what was truly in her heart.
It was why she must suffer in silence and never reveal that she was in love with Heathcliff and always had been. He was her life, her confidant, her sharer of dreams and fantasies. As children, they’d spent hours talking about far-off places they would one day travel to together. As they grew, so did her feelings for him. But those dreams crumbled under the heavy weight of reality and a deathbed promise.
“Well?”
Annoyance built within at what could never be, erupting in loud, angry words that rolled off Catherine’s tongue to appease that damn deathbed vow. “Fine! He will be rich one day and I will be the greatest woman in the neighborhood. Is that what you wanted to hear? Are you satisfied?”
“Are you?” Nelly’s gaze held her in place. “You claim to love him for all those reasons, and yet, if he were a pauper, would you still?” She shook her head. “I doubt it.” The words left her mouth on a murmur.
“You think me so vain so—”
“Yes. I think you are young and foolish, and unhappy.”
“I don’t need your permission to marry. I shall marry Edgar and then you will see—”
“See what? That you are rich, or a great lady, or even happy?” Nelly took in a long breath as she adjusted the sleeping child in her arms. “Your brother will certainly not object, nor will any of the Lintons’. There appear to be no obstacles.” She shrugged her shoulders. “Do what you will.”
Catherine shot to her feet and circled about the room. “No obstacles? What of my mind and heart!”
“I don’t understand—”
“Don’t interrupt me and I will tell you!” Catherine yelled as the frustration within boiled toward the surface. She sat down across from Nelly and let out a long sigh. “There is no happiness for me. If I marry Edgar, I will have all the things my mother instilled in me that are important, but my heart would suffer. However, if I don’t marry Edgar, I fail my mother’s dying wish.” She buried her face in her hands. “What am I to do? The one man who is truly like me— and I am like him—who I truly love, I cannot…”
A soft cry escaped little Hareton’s lips. Nelly stood and gently rocked the child back and forth until he once again settled into a quiet slumber, then handed the bundle to Catherine. “Here, I need to ready the supper.”
The moment she took her nephew in her arms, the decision Catherine knew she must make became clearer. It wasn’t just about what she wanted. She had to do right by her nephew.
Nelly went about her preparations as Catherine continued to cradle Hareton. His features were so sweet and innocent. He deserved more than this miserable existence, in this miserable house. She tried to convince herself that she could do so much good for those she cared about if she married Edgar.
Marrying him would honor the promise she’d made to her mother, improve her nephew’s lot, and protect Heathcliff. What other match would be available to her? She lived a life of relative seclusion, far from polite society. She had no connections, save a distant great-aunt that she’d never met.
Who was she trying to fool?
Yes, she could provide for her loved ones, but she would also be attaining wealth and position—things she had desired her whole life. Still…
“Having doubts, miss?”
“I do care for Edgar, and if I marry him, everyone’s lot would improve.” Including your own. She shook that selfish thought from her mind.
“And what of Heathcliff?”
Heathcliff. Her wild, beautiful Heathcliff. A stab of guilt lay buried in her breast.
“I could never marry him. To marry him would be to accept a life of begging and depravity. But when I marry Edgar, I can help Heathcliff. I can take him away from my brother’s cruelty. Don’t you see? I could offer him employment in my own house. He would be treated kindly and—”
A noise from outside halted her words. Both women listened for a moment before Nelly spoke. “It’s just Joseph. He will be coming in soon, and Heathcliff is sure to follow.”
Catherine detested the peculiar old servant with his sharp and assessing eyes. “Finish readying supper,” she ordered as she carried the sleeping child to the chair in the corner. She continued to fester over the decision she had to make. If only there weren’t so many obstacles.
A brief time later, Joseph walked into the kitchen, dirty from work and in a foul mood, but there was no sign of Heathcliff. What was she going to tell him? For the past half hour, her mind had been toying with what to do and say.
Confess your feelings. Run away from here with the man you love. She shook those thoughts from her mind. She had to think of Hareton.
“Where’s Heathcliff?” she questioned. Joseph gave her an odd look, then went about his business in silence elsewhere in the house.
“He’s probably still in the barn. I’ll fetch him,” Nelly said as she walked to the door, leaving Catherine utterly alone.
Catherine waited in fear. She was dreading telling Heathcliff about the proposal, and worse, that she had accepted Edgar Linton’s offer. The minutes ticked by. She hadn’t realized how tight she was holding Hareton until he let out a little cry.
“Oh, I’m sorry,” she cooed.
“The weather has certainly turned,” Nelly announced as she returned to the kitchen with a gust of wind on her heels, then grabbed the nearest dish towel and patted her face.
“Well?” The single word echoed off the kitchen walls.
“I called to him, but there was no answer. I went farther into the barn, and called again, but there was only the howling wind pushing through the cracks in the boards. He must be—”
“Wh…where is he?” Dread consumed Catherine’s body. She passed the child to Nelly, then ran outside into the cold, brutal night. “Heathcliff!” Rain pelted her face as she raced through the garden gate toward the moors. “Heathcliff!”
***
The icy wind ripped through Heathcliff. He looked forward to warming himself by the fire and conversing with Catherine. Enough time should have passed for that bastard Hindley to retreat to his quarters and drink himself into a stupor. He would endure Hindley’s abuse for the rest of his life, if only to be near Catherine. Not an hour passed when he didn’t think about her, plan for a life with her. One day soon, he would reveal his plans, his love.
Ever since they were children, Heathcliff had known that, one day, they would be together, and as more than just friends. How could they not? The love he felt for her went beyond explanation or reason. It was as if their souls were intertwined.
He remembered the day as if it were yesterday when he first realized he loved Catherine as more than just a childhood playmate. They had been running across the moors, chasing the ever-changing clouds, the wind pushing them farther and farther from the unhappiness of Wuthering Heights. They were free and at peace.
Suddenly, Catherine stopped. She’d reached out her petite hand, and said, “Dance with me.”
The wind whistled across the moors as the scent of heather encircled them in a dreamy cocoon where anything was possible.
He’d held her hand many times before, but something had changed. He’d seen it in her eyes, and felt it in his heart. That day, he’d begun to make plans for them.
“And what of Heathcliff?”
The mention of his name disrupted his musings. He halted just outside the kitchen.
“I could never marry him. To marry him would be to accept a life of begging and depravity. But when I marry Edgar, I can help Heathcliff. I can take him away from my brother’s cruelty. Don’t you see? I could offer him employment in my own house. He would be treated kindly and—”
Begging?
Depravity?
The breath was knocked from him as he slumped against the wall. Were his feelings only one-sided? A surge of rage and betrayal—and fear—thundered through his body as a piece of his soul was ripped from him. Is that what she thought of him, as nothing more than an urchin forced upon them by their father?
Anger boiled in his blood. He’d thought they were friends. No. He thought they were more than friends, that one day they would—
Marry! She said she was going to marry Edgar Linton.
Anger and hurt coiled and twisted around his heart. He turned around and stormed back to the barn. He would not live where so little was thought of him. He would not watch her marry another, love another. He would prove to them all just how much he could achieve, and when he did, he would make them suffer.
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