A maid came and gently – so gently! – washed my feet in warm water. She cleaned my wounds and bandaged my ankle. Then she dried my hair and combed it, taking time to ease out the tangles, not tugging and raking it like Nelly did.

Edgar stood staring at me all the while, his eyes as big and bright as a puppy’s. When the maid was done, he edged nearer and asked, “Does it hurt much?”

“Yes,” I said. “It hurts like hell.”

“But you didn’t cry out,” Edgar said. “Not once.”

“What would be the point of that?” I replied.

Edgar’s eyes got bigger and brighter. The expression in them was unfamiliar to me. I couldn’t work out what was going on in his head at all.

Isabella came tiptoeing across the room then, carrying a plate of dainty cakes. I assumed she’d hog them to herself, that she’d stand there eating in front of me, teasing, watching my mouth water. Instead she put the whole plate in my lap and said, “Can you manage to eat something?”

Isabella had the same puppy dog look on her face as her brother. Suddenly I pictured myself patting them both on the head. Would they roll over and show me their bellies? I smiled at the thought of it, catching Edgar’s eye as I looked up. Colour flooded across his face, turning his milk white cheeks scarlet.

I was an intruder, yet they were behaving as if I was an invited guest. It was almost as if those two children liked me. Admired me, even. Me – who’d mocked them and banged on the windows to frighten them half to death. Could such a thing be possible?

Mr Linton ordered a sofa to be pulled over to the fire. I assumed he and his wife would take their places on it, sucking up all the heat, leaving me in the corner to shiver like I did at home. But no. Wonder of wonders! Mr Linton himself picked me up, carried me over to the sofa and laid me down gently on the crimson cushions as if I were a princess he’d rescued from pirates.

The little dog Isabella and Edgar had been fighting over jumped up and settled down beside me. I smoothed its ears and it wagged its tail and licked my face. I held the dog to my chest, feeling its downy softness. I was so used to hunger and cold and cruelty and noise that I could hardly believe this quiet gentleness. It was so strange to me to be the focus of such attention, I didn’t know how to behave. It was like moving from the darkest of winters into dazzling spring sunshine in the blink of an eye. Without Heathcliff to shield me, I was blinded by the glare.

I was at Thrushcross Grange for five weeks. It might as well have been five years for the difference the Lintons made to me. In those five weeks I was transformed from urchin to lady. When I returned to Wuthering Heights, I was dressed in finery, primped and preened, my hair curled and dressed to within an inch of its life.