Читать книгу Wuthering Bites - Sarah Gray - Страница 13

On the morning of a fine June day, my first bonny little nursling, and the last of the Earnshaw stock, was born.

We were busy with the hay in a faraway field when the girl who usually brought our breakfasts came running across the meadow and up the lane, calling me as she ran.

‘Oh, such a grand bairn!’ she panted out. ‘The finest lad that ever breathed! But the doctor says the missus is bad off. He says the vampires have been feeding on her in secret for many months.’

‘Feeding on her!’ I exclaimed. ‘How could that be?’ I thought about Joseph and his many odd behaviors, even odd for him, but did not dare even consider the possibility that he could somehow be involved. ‘How can that be?’ was all I could utter.

‘No one knows,’ the maid declared with excitement. ‘But I heard the doctor tell Mr. Hindley, in her weakened state, she’ll be dead before winter. You must come home directly. You’re to nurse it, Nelly. You must feed it with sugar and milk, and take care of it day and night.’

‘But is she very ill?’ I asked, flinging down my rake and tying my bonnet.

‘I guess she is, yet she talks as if she thought of living to see it grow a man,’ the maid replied. ‘She’s out of her head for joy, it’s such a beauty! If I were her, I’m certain I should not die. I would fight the beasties, I would not let them charm me.’ She peered at me more closely, her eyes wide. ‘They say that is how it is done. The vampire charms you until you know not what you do. Then he can freely seek your blood!’

‘And what did the master say to the doctor?’ I inquired, scowling.

‘I think he swore, but I paid him no attention. I was straining to see the bairn.’

I hurried eagerly home to admire the babe, though I must say I was very sad for Hindley’s sake. I couldn’t conceive how he would bear the loss.

When we got to Wuthering Heights, there he stood at the front door. As I passed, I asked how was the baby.

‘Nearly ready to run about, Nell!’ he replied, putting on a cheerful smile.

‘And the mistress?’ I ventured to inquire. ‘What does the doctor—’

‘Damn the doctor!’ he interrupted, reddening. ‘Frances is quite right; she has encountered no vampires! She’ll be perfectly well by this time next week. Are you going upstairs? Will you tell her that I’ll come, if she’ll promise not to talk? I left her because she would not hold her tongue and the doctor says she must be quiet.’

I delivered this message to Mrs. Earnshaw and she replied merrily—

‘I hardly spoke a word, Nelly, and there he has gone out twice, crying. Well, say I promise I won’t speak, but that does not bind me not to laugh at him!’

Poor soul! Till within a week of her death that gay heart never failed her. Her husband persisted doggedly in affirming her health improved every day. When the doctor warned him that medicines were useless against long-term bloodletting, followed by the weakened condition of giving birth, he retorted—

‘She does not want any more attendance from you! No beastie ever drank of her blood. It was a fever and it is gone; her pulse is as slow as mine now, and her cheek as cool.’

He told his wife the same story, and she seemed to believe him, but one night, while leaning on his shoulder in the act of saying she thought she should be able to get up tomorrow, her face changed, and she was dead. No one ever said if wounds were found on her neck or other body parts; Mr. Earnshaw would not allow anyone to handle her body, save him.

The care of the child Hareton fell wholly into my hands. Mr. Earnshaw saw to his health, but regarded his son no further. Mr. Earnshaw grew desperate. He neither wept nor prayed; he cursed and defied both God and man.

The servants could not bear his tyrannical and evil conduct long, and they were soon gone. Joseph and I were the only two that would stay. I did not have the heart to leave my charge. Joseph said he remained to hector over tenants and laborers, but I wondered if it was something else that held him there.

The master was seen speaking with the cloaked beasties that lurked in the shadows as daylight fell away at Wuthering Heights, for there were some who could appear in all manner and speech as human; it was only their fangs that gave them away. At first, he only talked to them from high above, in a window’s ledge, but later, he grew bolder. I sometimes think he wanted them to take his life. Later, he began to play cards and drink with them, or rather drank alone seated beside them, for they ate or drank nothing but human blood.

The master’s bad ways and bad companions formed a pretty example for Catherine and Heathcliff. His treatment of the latter was enough to make a fiend of a saint. And, truly, it appeared as if the lad were possessed of something diabolical at that period. He delighted to witness Hindley degrading himself past redemption, and became daily more notable for savage sullenness and ferocity.

Word got out that the master of the house was entertaining the vampires and nobody decent came near us, unless Edgar Linton’s visits to Miss Cathy might be an exception. At fifteen she was the queen of the countryside. What a haughty, headstrong creature she was! I did not like her, after her infancy was past; she never took an aversion to me, though. She had a wondrous constancy to old attachments; even Heathcliff kept his hold on her affections unalterably.

“That is Edgar Linton’s portrait over the fireplace. It used to hang on one side, and his wife’s on the other, but hers has been removed, or else you might see something of what she was. Can you make that out?” Mrs. Dean raised the candle, and pointed.

I looked closer and discerned a soft-featured face, exceedingly resembling the young lady at the Heights, but more pensive and amiable in expression. It formed a sweet picture. The long light hair curled slightly on the temples, the eyes large and serious; the figure almost too graceful. Looking at him, I did not wonder how Catherine Earnshaw could forget her first friend for such an individual.

“A very agreeable portrait,” I observed to the housekeeper. “Is it accurate?”

“Yes,” she answered. “But he looked better when he was animated; that is his everyday countenance.”

Catherine had kept up her acquaintance with the Lintons, and as she had no temptation to show her rough side in their company, by her ingenious cordiality toward Mr. and Mrs. Linton, she gained the admiration of Isabella, and the heart and soul of her brother. These acquisitions flattered her from the beginning and led her to adopt a double character without exactly intending to deceive anyone.

Here at Thrushcross Grange, Catherine took care not to act like the wild child she could be, but at home she had little inclination to practice politeness and made no attempt to restrain her unruly nature.

Mr. Edgar seldom mustered courage to visit Wuthering Heights openly. He had a terror of Earnshaw’s reputation, and shrank from encountering him, especially once the bloodsuckers became frequent visitors. I think his appearance there was distasteful to Catherine; she was not artful, never played the coquette, and had evidently an objection to Heathcliff and Linton meeting at all. Heathcliff expressed contempt of Linton in his presence, and when Linton spoke of disgust toward Heathcliff, she dared not treat his sentiments with indifference.

I’ve had many a laugh at her perplexities and untold troubles, which she vainly strove to hide from my mockery. That sounds ill-natured, but she was so proud, it became really impossible to pity her distresses. She did bring herself, finally, to confess, and confide in me, though, as there was no other advisor.

Mr. Hindley had gone from home, one afternoon, and Heathcliff presumed to give himself a holiday. He had reached the age of sixteen then, I think, and without having bad features, or being stupid, he gave an impression of inward and outward repulsiveness that his present aspect retains no trace of.

Catherine and he were still often companions when he could get away, but he had ceased to express his fondness for her in words, and recoiled with angry suspicion from her girlish caresses. He was spending more time among the beasties, not always fighting with them, for he did not always come home bloody and covered in their foul black stench, but doing what, I never knew.

On the before-named occasion, Heathcliff came into the house to announce his intention of doing nothing, while I was assisting Miss Cathy dressing. She had assumed Heathcliff would go to the moors to do whatever it was he did with the beasties, and she imagined she would have the whole place to herself. With this thought in mind, she managed, by some means, to inform Mr. Edgar of her brother’s absence, and was preparing to receive him.

‘Cathy, are you busy this afternoon?’ asked Heathcliff. ‘Are you going anywhere?’

‘No, it is raining,’ she answered.

‘Why have you that silk frock on, then?’ he said. ‘Nobody coming here, I hope?’

‘Not that I know of,’ stammered Miss. ‘But you should be in the moors now, Heathcliff.’

‘I’ll not work anymore today. I’ll stay with you.’

So saying, he went to the fire and sat down. Catherine reflected an instant, with knitted brows. ‘Isabella and Edgar Linton talked of calling this afternoon,’ she said, after a minute’s silence. ‘As it rains, I hardly expect them; but they may come, and if they do, you run the risk of being scolded for no good.’

‘Order Nelly to say you are engaged, Cathy,’ he said. ‘Don’t choose to spend the afternoon with those silly friends of yours instead of me! I’m on the point, sometimes, of complaining that they—but I’ll not—’

‘That they what?’ cried Catherine, gazing at him with a troubled countenance. ‘What are you on the point of complaining about, Heathcliff?’

‘Nothing—only look at the almanac on that wall.’ He pointed to a framed sheet hanging near the window, and continued. ‘The crosses are for the evenings you have spent with the Lintons, the dots for those spent with me. Do you see? I’ve marked every day.’

Catherine took on a peevish tone. ‘And where is the sense of that?’

‘To show that I do take notice,’ said Heathcliff.

‘And should I always be sitting with you?’ she demanded, growing more irritated. ‘What good do I get? What do you talk about? Nothing but the vampires and how you will control them and how you will reign over them one day and other such nonsense. You might be dumb, or a baby, for anything you say to amuse me, or for anything you do, either!’

‘You never told me before that you disliked my company, Cathy!’ exclaimed Heathcliff with agitation.

‘It’s no company at all, when people know nothing and say nothing but for boring talk of vampires,’ she muttered.

Her companion rose, but he hadn’t time to express his feelings further, for a horse’s feet were heard on the flag-stones, and having knocked gently, young Linton entered, his face brilliant with delight at the unexpected summons he had received.

Doubtless Catherine marked the difference between her friends as one came in and the other went out. The contrast resembled what you see in exchanging a bleak, hilly, coal country for a beautiful, fertile valley, and his voice and greeting were as opposite as his aspect.

‘I’m not come too soon, am I?’ he said, looking at me. I had begun to wipe the plate and tidy some drawers in the dresser at the far end, for Mr. Hindley had given me instructions that she and Linton were not to be left alone.

‘No,’ answered Catherine. ‘What are you doing there, Nelly?’

‘My work, miss,’ I replied.

She stepped behind me and whispered crossly, ‘When company are in the house, servants don’t commence cleaning in the room where they are!’

‘It’s a good opportunity, now that the master is away,’ I answered aloud. ‘I’m sure Mr. Edgar will excuse me.’

‘I hate you to be fidgeting in my presence,’ exclaimed the young lady.

‘I’m sorry for it, Miss Catherine,’ was my response, and I proceeded with my occupation.

She, supposing Edgar could not see her, snatched the cloth from my hand, and pinched me, with a prolonged wrench, very spitefully on the arm.

I’ve said I did not love her and besides, she hurt me, so I screamed out.

‘Oh, miss, that’s a nasty trick! You have no right to nip me.’

‘I didn’t touch you, you lying creature!’ she cried, her fingers tingling to repeat the act, her ears red with rage. She never had power to conceal her passion; it always set her whole complexion in a blaze.

‘What’s that, then?’ I retorted, showing a decided purple welt on my arm.

She stamped her foot, wavered a moment, and then slapped me on the cheek, a stinging blow that filled both my eyes with water.

‘Catherine, love! Catherine!’ interposed Linton, greatly shocked at the violence that his idol had committed.

‘Leave the room, Nelly!’ she repeated, trembling all over.

Little Hareton, who followed me everywhere, and was sitting near me on the floor, commenced crying himself, and sobbed out complaints against ‘wicked Aunt Cathy,’ which drew her fury. She seized his shoulders and shook him, and when Linton reached out to interrupt, she boxed him in the ear.

He drew back in consternation. I lifted Hareton in my arms and walked off to the kitchen with him, but still watched through the doorway.

Linton moved to the spot where he had laid his hat.

‘Where are you going?’ demanded Catherine, advancing to the door.

He swerved aside and attempted to pass.

‘You must not go!’

‘I must and shall!’ he replied in a subdued voice.

‘No,” she persisted. ‘Not yet, Edgar Linton!’

‘How can I stay after you have struck me?’ asked Linton. ‘Next thing I know, you’ll be setting your companion beasties after me.’

Catherine was mute.

‘You’ve made me afraid and ashamed of you,’ he continued. ‘I’ll not come here again!’

Her eyes began to glisten. ‘Well, go, if you please—get away! And now I’ll cry—I’ll cry myself sick!’ She dropped down on her knees by a chair, and set to weeping in serious earnest.

Edgar persevered in his resolution as far as the court; there he lingered. But then, still hearing her weeping, he turned abruptly, hastened into the house again, and shut the door behind him.

When I went in a while after to inform them that Earnshaw had come home rabid drunk with several acquaintances in black cloaks bearing fangs, I saw the quarrel had merely instigated a closer intimacy. Linton had broken the outworks of youthful timidity, and that enabled them to forsake the disguise of friendship, and confess themselves lovers.