“You did it so you could have him all to yourself,” Isabella said. “You’re so greedy. You hog all his attention and will not let me get a look in. Everyone must worship you! But I’m worthy of love too!”

Isabella’s secret came tumbling out then. She declared she loved Heathcliff with a passion far greater than Edgar had for me. She was sure that Heathcliff would love her back if only I didn’t keep getting in her way!

How she ran on! I listened, amazed. Somehow she’d talked herself into believing that Heathcliff’s rough exterior hid a noble mind, a poetic soul and a tender, loving heart. The silly girl had created a perfect fairy tale prince out of a man I knew to be as hard as granite. Heathcliff had good reason to be the way he was – I don’t blame him for it. But I knew he would crush Isabella like a robin’s egg if he ever had her in his power!

So I told Isabella of Heathcliff’s nature. I was honest with her as I never had been with Edgar. She did not believe me. She called me a dog in the manger. A poisonous friend.

I should have left her to it. Her “love” would have faded in time. But Isabella angered me so much I was not thinking straight.

The following day, she and I were sitting in the library, silent, but both of us festering with dreadful bad temper, when Heathcliff came calling.

Isabella’s obsession with him was a thing that had grown in the dark, I thought. I was sure that if it was exposed to the light of day, it would crumble to dust.

I welcomed Heathcliff and told him I’d found someone who doted on him more than I did, intending to be playful. I said Isabella and I had been fighting like cats over him. I told him she was dying of love for a man so physically and morally perfect.

Heathcliff looked at Isabella then for the first time, and his hatred of her Linton blood was clear in every line in his face. He couldn’t have looked more disgusted had she been a slug. Isabella ran from the room in tears.

After she’d left, Heathcliff asked me if I was serious. He laughed long and loud at her silliness. Heathcliff called her all kinds of names and said how much he despised her. I thought that would be the end of it.

With Isabella gone and Edgar away from home, Heathcliff and I could talk freely. I asked after Hindley and Heathcliff told me that gambling had been added to my brother’s list of vices. Hindley was losing money hand over fist to Heathcliff, but he could no more stop himself gaming than he could stop himself drinking.

“And Hareton?” I asked. “How does he manage?”