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Wuthering Heights — Chapter 30 | Full Audiobook · Chapter by Chapter — The Lost Library

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  Chapter 30. I visited the Heights, but I
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  haven't seen her since she left. When I stopped by to enquire
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  about her, Joseph stood at the door and refused to let me in.
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  He claimed Mrs. Linton was busy and the master was out.
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  Zillah has shared some insights into their lives.
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  Otherwise I'd scarcely know who was alive and who had passed.
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  She finds Catherine proud and doesn't like her.
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  As I can tell from her remarks. My young lady sought some help
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  from her when she first arrived, but Mr. Heathcliff instructed
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  her to mind her own affairs and let his daughter-in-law fend for
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  herself. Zilla, being a narrow minded and
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  selfish woman, readily agreed. Catherine displayed a child's
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  irritation at being overlooked, retaliating with disdain,
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  thereby securing my informant as an enemy just as effectively as
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  if she had committed a grave offence.
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  About six weeks ago, and shortly before your arrival, I had an
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  extended conversation with Zilla when we met on the Moor, and
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  this is what she shared with me. The first thing Missus Linton
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  did upon reaching the heights, she recounted, was to rush
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  upstairs without even offering a good evening to me or Joseph.
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  She locked herself in Linton's room and stayed there until
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  morning. Then, while the master and
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  Earnshaw were having breakfast, she came into the house and
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  trembling, and asked if the doctor could be summoned because
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  her cousin was very ill. We know that, Heathcliff
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  replied. But his life isn't worth a
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  penny, and I won't spend a penny on him.
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  But I don't know what to do, she said.
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  If no one helps me, he'll die. Leave the room, the master
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  shouted. And don't let me hear another
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  word about him. No one here cares what happens
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  to him. If you do, then act as his
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  nurse. If not, lock him up and leave
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  him. Then she started pestering me
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  and I told her I'd had enough trouble with the bothersome
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  thing. See, we each had our duties, and
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  hers was to tend to Linton. Mr. Heathcliff instructed me to
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  leave that task to her. How they managed together I
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  can't quite say. I imagine he was often restless,
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  sighing and lamenting day and night while she got hardly any
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  rest. Her pale face and weary eyes
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  were evidence enough. Sometimes she'd wander into the
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  kitchen looking lost and as if she desperately wanted to ask
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  for help. But I couldn't go against the
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  Master's orders. I never dare defy him, Missus
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  Dean. Even though I felt it was wrong
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  not to call for Kenneth, it wasn't my place to advise or
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  complain, so I always kept my distance.
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  A couple of times after we'd gone to bed, I'd open my door
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  and find her sitting on the stairs, crying.
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  I'd quickly close my door again, afraid that I might be compelled
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  to intervene. I did feel sorry for her, truly,
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  but I didn't want to risk losing my job, you understand?
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  Finally, one night she came straight into my room, startling
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  me out of my senses by saying tell Mister Heathcliff that his
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  son is dying, I'm certain of it. This time, get up immediately
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  and tell him. After delivering this message,
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  she disappeared again. He'd lay there for 15 minutes,
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  listening and trembling. The house was silent.
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  She's mistaken, I told myself. He's moved past it.
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  I didn't need to disturb them, so I started to drift off, but
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  my sleep was interrupted again by the sharp ringing of the
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  bell, the only one we have installed specifically for
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  Linton. The master called out to me,
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  asking what was going on and to let them know he wouldn't
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  tolerate that noise again. I delivered Catherine's message.
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  He muttered curses under his breath, then emerged with a lit
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  candle and headed to their room. I followed.
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  Mrs. Heathcliff was sitting by the bedside, her hands resting
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  on her knees. Her father-in-law approached,
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  held the light to Linton's face, examined him, and touched him.
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  Then he turned to her. Now, Catherine, he said.
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  How do you feel? She remained silent.
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  How do you feel, Catherine? He asked again.
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  He's safe and I'm free, she replied.
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  I should feel well. But she continued, unable to
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  hide her bitterness. You left me to battle death
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  alone for so long that all I feel and see is death.
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  I feel like death. And she looked the part, too.
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  I offered her a little wine. Hareton and Joseph, awakened by
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  the commotion and the sound of footsteps, had overheard our
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  conversation from outside, and now entered the room.
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  Joseph seemed quite pleased about the boy's departure, while
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  Hareton appeared somewhat troubled, though truth be told
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  he was more captivated by Catherine then concerned about
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  Linton. The master instructed him to
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  return to bed as we had no need of his assistance.
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  Later he had Joseph moved the body to his own chamber and
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  directed me to go back to mine, leaving Missus Heathcliff alone.
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  The next morning he sent me to inform her that she needed to
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  come down for breakfast. She had undressed and seemed on
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  the verge of sleep, claiming she felt unwell, which did not
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  surprise me. I relayed this to Mr. Heathcliff
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  who responded. Let her be until after the
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  funeral, check on her occasionally to provide what she
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  needs and inform me as soon as she seems to improve.
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  According to Zilla, Kathy remained upstairs for two weeks.
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  Zilla visited her twice daily and would have shown more
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  warmth, but her attempts at kindness were met with prideful
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  resistance. Heathcliff went up once to
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  present her with Linton's will. Linton had left all his
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  possessions, including what had been hers, to his father.
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  The poor soul had been coerced or persuaded into this during
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  her week's absence when his uncle passed away.
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  As for the lands, being a miner, he had no authority over them.
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  However, Mr. Heathcliff has taken possession of the property
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  through his wife's rights and likely his own as well,
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  presumably in a legal manner. Regardless, Catherine lacking
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  both money and allies, there is no position to challenge his
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  hold. No one said Zilla ever came near
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  her door except for me that one time, and no one inquired about
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  her. The first time she ventured
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  downstairs was on a Sunday afternoon.
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  She had cried out when I brought her meal, saying she couldn't
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  endure the cold any longer, so I informed her that the master was
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  heading to Thrushcross Grange and neither Earnshaw nor I would
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  prevent her from coming down. As soon as she heard
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  Heathcliff's horse trot away, she appeared dressed in black
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  with her yellow curls pulled back behind her ears as plainly
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  as a Quaker's. She couldn't comb them out.
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  Joseph and I usually attend Chapel on Sundays, Missus Dean
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  explained. Since the Kirk has no minister
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  now and they refer to the Methodists or Baptists and place
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  in Gimmerton as a Chapel, I can't recall which Joseph had
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  gone, she continued, But I thought it wise to stay home.
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  Young people benefit from an elder's supervision and
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  Heartened, despite his shyness, isn't exactly a paragon of good
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  manners. Informed him that his cousin
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  might join us, and she was accustomed to seeing the Sabbath
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  observed, so he ought to set aside his guns and indoor
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  projects while she was present. He blushed at the news and
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  glanced at his hands and clothes.
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  The train, oil and gunpowder were quickly hidden from view.
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  I could see he intended to spend time with her and I could tell
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  by his demeanour that he wanted to make a good impression.
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  So with a laugh I wouldn't dare let out in front of the master,
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  I offered to help him if he wanted.
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  Teasing him about his awkwardness.
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  He became sullen and started to curse.
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  Now, Missus Dean. Zilla continued, noticing my
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  disapproval of her tone. You probably think your young
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  lady is too refined for Mr. Hareton, and maybe you're right,
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  but I must admit I'd love to see her brought down a notch.
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  What good will all her education and elegance do her now?
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  She's as poor as you, or I poorer, I'd wager.
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  You're thrifty, and I'm doing my best to get by.
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  Hilton accepted Zilla's help and she managed to coax him into a
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  better mood. So when Catherine arrived, he
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  tried to be pleasant, almost forgetting her past insults.
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  According to the housekeeper. Miss walked in, she recounted,
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  as cold as ice and as proud as a Princess.
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  I stood up here and offered her my seat in the armchair.
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  But no, she turned her nose up at my gesture.
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  Earnshaw got up too, and invited her to sit by the fire,
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  insisting she must be freezing. I've been freezing for a month
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  or more, she replied, emphasizing the words with as
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  much disdain as she could muster.
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  And then she fetched a chair for herself, placing it at a
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  distance from both of us. Once she felt the warmth seep
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  into her bones, she began to survey her surroundings and
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  noticed a collection of books perched on the dresser.
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  Instantly, she was on her feet, reaching up to grab them, but
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  they were just out of reach. Her cousin, observing her
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  efforts for a moment, finally mustered the courage to assist
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  her. She held out her dress and he
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  filled it with the first books he could grasp.
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  This was a significant step for the boy.
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  She didn't offer any thanks, yet he felt a sense of satisfaction
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  that she accepted his help. Emboldened, he stood behind her
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  as she examined the books, even daring to lean in and point out
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  the illustrations that caught his eye.
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  Her dismissive flick of the page from his finger didn't deter
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  him. Instead, he stepped back
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  slightly, choosing to watch her rather than the book.
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  She continued her search, flipping through pages, absorbed
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  in her quest for something to read.
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  Gradually, his focus shifted entirely to the study of her
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  thick, silky curls. He couldn't see her face and she
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  was oblivious to his gaze, perhaps not fully aware of his
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  actions. Drawn like a moth to a flame, he
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  moved from merely watching to touching.
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  He reached out and gently stroked one of her curls as
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  tenderly as if it were a delicate bird.
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  Her reaction was as if he had plunged a knife into her neck.
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  She spun around, startled and indignant.
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  Get away this instant. How dare you touch me?
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  Why are you stopping there? She exclaimed, her voice
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  dripping with disdain. I can't stand you.
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  I'll head back upstairs if you come Estie closer.
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  Mr. Hareton stepped back, looking as awkward as possible.
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  He settled quietly into the seat while she continued flipping
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  through her books for another half hour.
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  Eventually Earnshaw leaned over and whispered to me.
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  Could you ask her to read to us, Cilla?
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  I'm tired of doing nothing. I really would like I could
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  enjoy hearing her. Don't say it's much idea, just
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  ask on your own. Mr. Hareton would like you to
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  read to us, Mum, I said right away.
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  He'd appreciate it very much. She frowned and looking up,
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  replied Mr. Harton. And all of you should understand
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  that I reject any pretence of kindness you hypocritically
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  offer. I despise you and have nothing
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  to say to any of you. When I would have given my life
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  for a kind word and just to see one of your faces, you all
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  stayed away. But I won't complain to you.
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  I'm down here because of the cold, not to entertain you or
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  enjoy your company. What could I have done?
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  Earnshaw began. How was I at fault?
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  Oh, you're an exception, Missus, Heathcliff replied.
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  I never missed such a nuisance as you.
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  But, and I offered more than once, he said, his temper rising
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  at her sharpness. I asked Mr. Heathcliff to let me
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  stay up for you. Be quiet, I'd rather go outside
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  or anywhere then have your unpleasant voice in my ear, she
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  retorted. Hareton muttered that she could
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  go to hell for all he cared, and slinging his gun over his
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  shoulder, he returned to his usual Sunday activities.
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  He spoke freely now, and she soon decided to retreat to a
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  solitude. But the frost had set in, and
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  despite her pride, she was forced to join our company more
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  and more. However, I made sure he there
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  was no further mockery of my good nature.
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  Ever since, I've been as aloof as she is, and she has no
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  admirer among us, nor does she deserve one.
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  For if anyone says the slightest thing to her, she'll recoil
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  without regard for anyone. She'll snap at the Master
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  himself and practically dares him to strike her, and the more
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  hurt she gets, the more spiteful she becomes.
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  Initially, upon hearing this from Zilla, I resolved to leave
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  my position, find a cottage, and have Catherine come live with
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  me. But Mr. Heathcliff would no more
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  allow that then he would let Hareton have his own house.
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  I see no solution at the moment unless she could remarry, but
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  arranging that is beyond my scope.
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  Thus concluded Missus Dean's tale.
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  Despite the doctor's predictions, I'm quickly
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  regaining my strength. Although it's only the second
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  week of January, I plan to ride out on horseback in a day or
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  two, heading over to Wuthering Heights to inform my landlord
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  that I intend to spend the next six months in London.
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  If he wishes, he can start looking for another tenant to
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  take over after October. I wouldn't endure another winter
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  here of for anything.