“Have you been listening at the door, Edgar?” I asked.

Heathcliff laughed.

Edgar drew himself up to his full height. He was still a head shorter than Heathcliff.

“I’ve tolerated you, sir,” Edgar said, “not because I didn’t know your bad character but because Catherine wished to keep up your friendship. I was foolish to allow it. You are poison and from this day forward you will not be admitted to this house. You will leave now, by force if necessary.”

Heathcliff looked Edgar up and down with a sneer on his face. “Cathy, this lamb of yours roars like a bull,” he said. “It might just split its skull against my knuckles. What a shame it’s not worth knocking down.”

Edgar nodded at Nelly, and she made for the door. I guessed then that there were men somewhere close by, lingering in the passage. I grabbed Nelly’s arm, pulled her back in and locked the door. Edgar was aghast.

“If you have not the courage to fight him,” I told Edgar, “then make an apology. Don’t pretend more courage than you possess.”

Edgar tried to take the key from me, but I threw it into the fire. And then my brave, valiant husband collapsed into a chair and covered his face with his hands. Edgar was whimpering, trembling from head to toe.

“Oh dear! Are you defeated?” I said. “Don’t fret. Heathcliff is as likely to sully his fists with your blood as the king is to march his army against a nest of mice.”

“Cathy, you preferred this slavering, shivering thing to me?” said Heathcliff. “I wish you joy with the coward. Is he weeping? Or is he going to faint with terror?”

Heathcliff walked over to the chair for a look. And Edgar, fearing for his life I suppose, suddenly sprang up and lashed out blindly. By pure chance Edgar managed to punch Heathcliff so hard and fast in the throat that he could not breathe. And then my hero of a husband fled across the kitchen and out through the back door into the courtyard, calling all the while for help.

Bulldogs would be the least of Heathcliff’s problems.

“Get away now,” I told Heathcliff. “Edgar will come back with a dozen men.”

“With that blow burning in my gullet?” Heathcliff said. “Hell, no. I’ll crush his ribs first.”

“No, Heathcliff. They’ll have knives. Guns. They’ll kill you. I could not bear it. Go. For my sake, go.”

And because I had asked him, Heathcliff left, taking my heart and soul with him. And the greater part of my mind.

Chapter 16

I could not bear it.

I could not bear it.

I could not bear it.