“I won’t.” Heathcliff grinned, a wild, wolfish smile. “It’s true enough, I planned to kill Hindley. These three years I’ve imagined it in every detail. I was going to take one last look at you. If I found you’d forgotten me, I’d have come here and done the deed. And after that I’d have done away with myself so the law couldn’t have me. Your welcome put an end to that plan and now I wish to live. But I warn you, Cathy, I will have justice.”

I said nothing more. Hindley had been the cause of Heathcliff’s degradation. Whatever was coming to him, I was sure that my brother deserved it.

Heathcliff was slow to make a return visit to Thrushcross Grange. When he did, he trod very carefully. Heathcliff had always been good at hiding the depth of his feelings and in Edgar’s company he did so perfectly. He was well mannered. Courteous. Constrained. Heathcliff behaved to me like a loving brother. A gentleman. Before very long, Heathcliff was calling so frequently that Edgar stopped remarking on it. He was not exactly a welcome visitor, but he was tolerated.

Weeks passed. Then months. It was as if I walked a tightrope between Edgar and Heathcliff. Every day it was harder to keep my balance. When I told Edgar I was with child, he was overjoyed. But I saw the looks Heathcliff gave my swelling belly. I knew how violently he resented Edgar, the man who’d planted the child there. I know Heathcliff thought of my baby as an unwelcome parasite. I also saw the sideways glances Heathcliff gave Edgar and knew what the sudden twitching of his fingers meant. Heathcliff looked that way at Hindley too. He was longing to do damage to my husband, but for my sake he would not. And so I ignored every dark look. I told myself that I was happy, that we were in a state of peaceful content. But really it was as if the three of us were sitting on a barrel of gunpowder. Sooner or later it had to explode.

Isabella was the spark.

Isabella. My sister in law. Just a year younger than me but still such a child! All her life she’d been so spoiled, so protected, that she knew nothing of the world or its wicked ways. Silly, silly Isabella suddenly developed the most ridiculous passion for Heathcliff. She couldn’t eat nor sleep, so great was her infatuation.

It was totally uninvited and wholly unprovoked. Indeed, it was so unlikely that Edgar and I had not the slightest idea what was troubling Isabella. Heathcliff had given her no reason whatsoever to inspire her passion. He never spoke to Isabella or even looked her way. To him she was of less interest than a bucket, for at least a bucket was useful.

The entire household noticed there was something wrong with Isabella. She was cross and quarrelsome with the servants and so unlike herself I thought she must be sickening for something.