“I stand between him and his father,” Heathcliff replied. “The boy loves me for it and curses his ‘devil daddy’.”

“And do you love Hareton back?” I asked.

A sneer curled Heathcliff’s lip. He said only, “He is Hindley’s child,” and then he changed the subject.

Much later, as Heathcliff was preparing to leave, he asked, “Isabella … is she her brother’s heir?”

“No,” I said and patted my belly. “Not if this is a boy.”

I gave the silly girl no more thought. But Heathcliff did. I’d planted the idea in his mind and it grew. Even if Isabella did not inherit the house, she would have money when she came of age. Heathcliff knew too well what it was to be poor and powerless. Besides that, how it would pain Edgar if his darling sister married a gipsy ploughboy such as Heathcliff! Isabella was a temptation Heathcliff could not resist.

Chapter 15

It was Nelly that brought matters to a head. Once again, Nelly was the cause of the crisis. How long had she watched? How long had she waited? How much had she yearned to set the whole thing alight?

I came into the kitchen one evening and saw Nelly standing by the window, hunched by the side, staring out slyly as if not wanting to be seen. Nelly was so transfixed by something in the courtyard that she did not hear me come in.

“Judas!” Nelly muttered. “Traitor!”

“Who is, Nelly?” I asked.

She almost leapt out of her skin. But she soon recovered and fluffed up like a chicken with moral fury.

“Your so called friend,” Nelly said primly. “Ah! He sees me looking. He’s coming in. How’s he going to explain himself, I wonder? Sneaking around kissing Miss Isabella when he thought no one was watching.”

Heathcliff entered the kitchen. He had the grace to look a little ashamed.

“What’s this?” I asked him. “Are you tired of being welcomed here? Do you want Edgar bolting the doors against you?”

Bang. The barrel of gunpowder we’d been sitting on these last few months exploded.

“Bolt the doors against me?” Heathcliff replied, his rage unleashed. “I’d like to see him try. Every day I pray for a chance of speeding your husband on his way to Heaven.”

My rage rose to meet his. “You must leave Isabella alone!” I said.

“Can I not kiss her when she begs me to?” Heathcliff asked. “I’m not your husband – you needn’t be jealous.”

“I’m not!” I lied. “If you love Isabella, you shall marry her. But do you? I think you do not. You told me yourself you despise her.”