“I’ve thought of you more often than you’ve thought of me, I’ll wager,” Heathcliff replied. “I heard of your marriage not long since, Cathy. I came here only to have one last glimpse of your face. But this welcome has put that idea from my mind. You’ll not drive me off again. You were truly sorry I left, were you? Feared for me, did you? Well, you had good cause to. I’ve lived a hard and bitter life since last I heard your voice. But all those struggles, all those hardships – I suffered them only for you.”

Edgar’s voice sliced between us like a knife, icily polite. “Catherine, unless we are to drink cold tea, please come to the table. Mr Heathcliff will have a long walk to wherever he lodges tonight and I’m thirsty.”

Edgar sounded so sullen, so jealous and childish that I pitied the poor darling. As I was an obedient wife, I did as I was told. The moment Isabella joined us, I poured the tea. But I did not drink a drop and I ate nothing.

Heathcliff was the only nourishment I needed.

Poor Edgar. He was so shocked by the difference in me. He’d rescued me as a drowning kitten and now I’d grown into a tigress overnight. I was whole again, restored, my soul so magnified that it strained against the confines of my body.

Edgar wore himself out with jealousy after Heathcliff left that evening, weeping and sulking. He could not bear for me to be delighted with anyone who was not him. I pitied my husband. He was like a bird with a broken wing: miserable and helpless, not understanding the calamity it has suffered, only wanting the pain to go away. I could no more stand to see Edgar unhappy than I could bear to see a darling child weep.

The following morning, I was so gentle, so tender and affectionate that I restored Edgar to good spirits. I made such a fuss of him that in the afternoon he allowed me to go to Wuthering Heights to call on Heathcliff. To be respectable, Edgar insisted Isabella go along with me.

When we arrived at the Heights, I discovered that Hindley had invited Heathcliff to stay on as his guest. I knew full well that Heathcliff intended to take revenge on my brother, but Hindley was so depraved himself, he could not see the danger he was in.

We did not stay long inside the house. Instead Heathcliff and I walked the old, familiar path to the crags, with Isabella running on ahead, exclaiming about the wonderful view. While she was out of earshot I made one request of Heathcliff. I asked that he do my brother no bodily harm, nothing at any rate that he might be punished for. “You mustn’t hang for him,” I said. “I could not bear to see you dangling at the end of a rope.”