by Alison Case
‘What did you mean by saying I must work out for myself what I give the stone. How am I to work it out? What sort of thing is it?’
‘Small enough to carry with thee, of course.’
‘But what sort of thing? Can you not give me some idea? Should it be something of value, or food, or some sort of charm?’
She seemed mildly amused. ‘Tha must work it out for thyself. If I gave thee ideas of what other folk have paid, it might gie thy mind the wrong turning. Don’t think about it tonight – use thy time to repeat what I told thee, else it will get lost in thy sleep after. Starting tomorrow, just think on it until the right idea comes to thee. Tha will know when it does.’
‘How will I know?’
‘By the sinking of thy heart.’
She sent me off then, with good wishes for my success, and I made my way home, repeating her instructions all the way.
The three days that followed taxed my ingenuity to a considerable degree: I still needed to walk Hareton to the Dodds’ cottage once a day, whilst also finding time to brew and drink the potion and put Hareton to my breast four or five times a day, all in strictest secrecy. The strange stuff Elspeth had given me to feed Hareton seemed to be good for him – at any rate, he always took it eagerly, and seemed better for it. As for me, between the tea, the salve, and Hareton’s suckling, my body was in a very queer state. I was constantly aware of that part of my anatomy, and felt that things were strangely stirred up inside me.
How to absent myself with the child for a whole night was a puzzle. Hindley would be easy to deceive, provided I did not leave before he took off for his now nightly drinking – even if he noticed my absence on his return, he probably would not remember it in the morning, or could be convinced he was mistaken. But Joseph was another matter. Here a bit of luck came my way, though: Joseph suddenly announced the following evening that he was going away for two days, to the wedding of his nephew in another town. We were all sitting at the table in the house, family and servants both, as we had gone back to doing after the mistress died – all but Hindley, who was out drinking already. We were surprised that Joseph had not mentioned this sooner, as he must have known it for some time, and said so.
‘I see noo sense gi’in yo all more time to plan yor mischief fer whilst I’m gone. I know what sort o’ tricks yo all get into when I’m not here to keep an eye on yo.’
‘Well, if you can tell exactly what we get up to when you’re away, what difference does it make whether you stay or go?’ said Cathy saucily. ‘It is obviously no impediment to your surveillance. Have you a magic mirror, that you can see into, to spy on us?’ Her manners had not much improved since her friendship with the Lintons, but her vocabulary had.
‘I need no truck wi’ magic – that’s the Devil’s business – to guess what’s done when my back’s turned.’
‘So you don’t know,’ said Cathy, always delighted to quibble with authorities, especially this one. ‘I wonder you don’t fear for your soul, Joseph, to be stretching the truth like that. Why, for all you know, you might be bearing false witness against us, and that’s against a Commandment. Number nine, I believe – perhaps you should look it up in your Bible.’
Joseph slammed his fist on the table, his face purple with rage. ‘I know my Commandments a good deal better than yo,’ he sputtered, ‘and yo’d do well to study them for your own good. Especially the fifth, that tells ye not to talk back to your elders.’
‘Honour thy father and mother,’ said Cathy. ‘What, are you my father? I wonder my mother never mentioned it.’ Heathcliff laughed loudly at this, and Cathy soon joined him, as Joseph stormed out of the room in disgust.
‘You ought not to provoke him like that,’ I said reprovingly.
‘Oh come now, Nelly, he deserves it, the old hypocrite. And you know you enjoy it too – I saw how you buried your mouth in your napkin just now, to stifle a laugh.’
‘Well at least I have the sense to stifle it. There’s enough strife in the household already, without you adding to it for your own amusement.’
‘Joseph will be sour and mean-spirited whether I tease him or not. Why shouldn’t I lighten the mood for the rest of us, when I have a chance?’
‘Push him too far, and he’ll decide not to go, just to spite us. Or talk Hindley into staying home to watch us.’
‘And you want him gone too, do you? What, have you a sweetheart you’re planning to meet that night?’
I didn’t contradict her, as I didn’t want her guessing anything closer to the truth, but tried to change the subject.
‘Well, don’t worry about us,’ said Cathy laughingly. ‘Heathcliff and I have been wanting to camp out up on the moor for some time, and if the weather stays this fine, we’ll do it. It’s the new moon night after next, so the stars will be brilliant. We’ll stay up all night, and count them all, won’t we, Heathcliff?’
‘Every one,’ he said.
This took me back a bit. True, it would get those two out of the way of noticing my absence, but it would also leave no one in the house at all when Hindley came home. What if, instead of tumbling straight into bed as he often did, he called out for company? But the alternative would be to take Cathy and Heathcliff into my confidence. I didn’t doubt their goodwill in any scheme to deceive Hindley, but I was far less certain of their discretion – especially Cathy’s. At length I decided that the risk of Hindley noticing the house was empty was less than that of counting on Cathy to keep a secret. I planned to lock my door before I left, hoping that if he tried it, Hindley would conclude the baby and I were asleep. As his drinking had increased, Hindley had ceased to be such an early riser – I might be able to get back before he woke. But in case I didn’t, I would tell Maggie to come early the next day on the grounds that I had to be off at dawn for an errand. That would have her in place to provide breakfast when Hindley awoke, and able to offer an explanation for my absence, without requiring her to lie on my behalf.
You may wonder, sir, that I was not more concerned about letting my young mistress go off for the night with Heathcliff, unchaperoned. But strong as the bond was between those two, I had not as yet detected any sign that there was more to it than the attachment of childhood playmates. And even if I had, Cathy was left to her own devices so much, and I had so much else on my hands already, that chaperoning her times with Heathcliff would not have been possible even if I had wished to do it. Indeed, their affection for each other seemed still so innocent, I thought it best not to put the subject into their heads at all.
Through all my secret plans and preparations, and all the strange stirrings in my bosom, one nagging puzzle remained. With what was I to ‘pay the stone’? I knew that it had to be something small, for the ‘payment’ consisted of burying it nearby – about which Elspeth had given me very precise instructions. And she had told me that I would know when I thought of it, by the ominous sign of a sinking heart. My worried mind ranged over many possible objects, precious, sentimental, or grotesque, but none produced the desired effect. The day before my adventure was to begin, I had still not arrived at a conclusion, and I was just debating whether I could squeeze in a trip to Elspeth to beg for better instructions, when it suddenly came to me. And she was quite right. My heart sank, and I knew.
TWENTY
The morning of my great adventure dawned sunny and fair, with a faint breeze freshening the warm air. I was up before anyone: Hindley was snoring loudly in his room, and without Joseph to knock on their doors and order them up, the children were still asleep also. Maggie would not come for another two hours yet. I tied Hareton into my shawl, stopped in the kitchen and the barn to collect a few things, and then made my way to a certain little hollow not far from the house, where a stone peeking out of the heather would reveal itself, on closer examination, to be the top of a small cairn.
I settled Hareton, who was sleeping soundly, into the dry heather nearby. I spread a cloth beside the cairn to kneel on, so as not to dirty my clothes, gently removed the
stones, and began to dig. The first time I had dug there it had seemed a great ordeal. This time it went much more quickly: I was strong and healthy, I had a trowel to dig with, and there was nothing but soil to get through, all the rocks having been cleared out previously. In a very few minutes, the hole was nearly at the depth I remembered, and the trowel was scraping on the stone at the base of it. I stopped, suddenly overwhelmed, dropped the trowel, and sat back on my heels, feeling sick. I closed my eyes and took several deep breaths, breathing in the bitter sorrow of memory, and exhaling inarticulate prayers to the nameless being I was about to disturb. When I felt calmer, I went on. I dug around the stone, and down the outside of the little ring of stones I knew were underneath it. Then I spread a clean handkerchief atop the heather beside the hole, took another deep breath, and lifted off the top stone. I could not bear to look closely at what was underneath, and my eyes were too full of tears to see clearly anyway – a quick, vague glimpse of a dirty bundle was all I got. I took up the trowel, and scraped it along the stone at the base, to lift it, and then I gently deposited it on the handkerchief. I wrapped it up quickly and tied it with a little bit of ribbon. It formed a neat, clean little parcel, which I tucked deep into my bosom. Then I filled in the hole in the ground, and piled the cairn over it again, though it now marked only the memory of a grave.
I gathered up Hareton, and was back in time to brew the day’s herbal tea and nurse him at my breast, and with the sugar-water after, before Maggie arrived. Elspeth had said I was not to go to the Dodds’ today, which left my day a little more free than it had been of late. When Maggie arrived, and asked as usual if she could take Hareton for an hour or two, I readily agreed, but instead of heading out to the dairy to catch up on chores there, I told her I was taking a nap.
‘Hareton kept me up all night,’ I said, which was true enough, though not of the previous night in particular.
‘Oh the poor bairn!’ cried Maggie, giving the baby an extra bounce, as if to make up for his discomforts the night before. ‘Of course, you go and catch up on your sleep a bit. I’ll manage things here well enough.’ I left her with strict instructions to wake me in an hour, or as soon as she heard Hindley stirring, whichever came first, and retired to my room. I had meant this only as an excuse to begin preparing the bundle I was to take with me later in the afternoon, but when I got to my room, I suddenly felt my knees weak with tiredness. The truth was that I had been driving myself with frantic energy for weeks now, with neither adequate rest at night, nor a sympathetic ear in daytime, to ease the constant strain of mind and body both. I lay down on the bed, thinking to take just a few minutes of waking rest, and fell into a deep sleep.
I woke of my own accord, and a glance at the sun streaming through the window told me that the morning was far advanced. I leaped out of bed and rushed downstairs. Maggie was shelling fresh peas in the kitchen, with Hareton sleeping soundly in his cradle next to her.
‘Why didn’t you wake me up?’ I cried. ‘There is so much to do! And where is Mr Earnshaw?’
‘Don’t worry,’ said Maggie happily, ‘I’ve taken care of everything, to let you sleep a bit more. The master came down not long after you’d gone to your room – I couldn’t have gone to get you first, for he surprised me in the kitchen before I knew he was up – but he didn’t ask after you anyway, just took a big slice of bread and butter and said he was going to the high pasture, and not to expect him back until late afternoon. Then I thought that as there was little enough to do at home with him and Joseph both gone, and Hareton was sleeping nicely for once, I would just let you sleep a bit more. You looked as if you needed it badly!’
I sat down, my heart knocking and my brain racing. ‘But the dairy,’ I exclaimed, ‘there’s still the milk to be skimmed, and the butter to be churned!’
‘It’s nearly all done!’ said Maggie, almost bouncing with excitement. ‘I skimmed the milk myself, and scoured and scalded the churn just as you taught me, and then did it all over again, just to be sure. I tried to do the churning too, but it is too heavy for me, so I had to leave that for you, but that’s two or three hours’ work taken care of already. Now you sit right there and I’ll bring you some breakfast. You’ve earned a rest.’
At another time, it would have amused me to hear such maternal tones of concern coming from that childish mouth, and combining themselves with her childish glee at accomplishing grown-up tasks all by herself, but I was still flustered at her disruption of my careful planning, and it was all I could do to show any sort of appreciation for her well-intentioned efforts. But that I must do, I knew. Accordingly, I forced myself to sit still and let her bring me a mug of tea and a plate of porridge, and to express all the surprised gratitude I ought to feel for her efforts, whether I felt it or not. And in truth the rest had done me considerable good.
While I ate, Heathcliff and Cathy came into the kitchen for some food, having just returned from a long morning’s ramble on the moors. Joseph’s absence had freed Heathcliff temporarily from his unpaid labour, provided he kept well out of sight, for Hindley would only assign tasks for him if he was reminded of his existence by chancing to see him. Normally I would not interfere with his impromptu holiday, thinking it well earned, but today the sight of him gave me an idea for something that would both please Maggie and give me an hour’s privacy to nurse Hareton again and make my preparations.
‘Heathcliff,’ I said, ‘could you help Maggie to turn the handle on the churn today? She’s done everything up to that point all by herself, and I should like to see her go through the whole process, but she’s not strong enough to turn the churn alone.’
‘You’ve no right to order him about,’ Cathy interposed, before Heathcliff could respond.
‘Nor am I,’ I said carefully. ‘I am asking him a favour.’
‘And why should he do you a favour?’
‘And why are you taking words out of his mouth?’ I replied. ‘Do you not think he can speak for himself? Heathcliff knows a good deal better than you do whether he owes me any kindness, don’t you, Heathcliff?’
‘I am willing enough,’ said Heathcliff, more to Cathy than to me. ‘Come, it will be fun. You can watch us, or take a turn yourself, if you like.’
‘And when you’re done you may all drink as much of the buttermilk as you like, before giving the rest to the calves, and there’ll be some jam to have with the fresh butter, on oatcakes,’ I added.
The three of them left together – young enough, all three, that they still seemed like a gaggle of children off to play. I nursed Hareton again, as soon as they were gone, drank more of the tea, and applied the salve according to the directions. Elspeth had figured her quantities carefully: I had used up the last of the herbs for the tea this morning, and both of the little pots were coming to the end of their contents. The ointment might see me through another day or two yet, but the bee jelly, as I called it to myself, would run out tonight. Whatever it was, it was good food, and Hareton had done better on it, in combination with the sugar-water and his one daily nursing with Mrs Dodd, than he was doing before. But I had no way of getting any more. If tonight failed – well, I was trying not to think of that.
Once Hareton had drifted off to sleep, I laid him in the cradle and quickly began wrapping up the food I would bring with me that night – a hunk of bread and another of cheese, and a jug of fresh water, all of which I conveyed up to my room and wrapped into my bundle. Then I slipped back downstairs. Hareton was still sleeping soundly, so I left him for a bit to check on the children in the dairy. I found them taking turns, one at a time, to turn the handle, while the other two counted the turns. Evidently they had made it into a game, to see who could turn the longest before collapsing. I stood unnoticed at the door and watched them for a bit. Heathcliff was winning, of course, but, to my surprise, Cathy was running a close second, while poor Maggie struggled to keep up. I had not stood there long before the sloshing of cream in the churn turned to a telltale thumping.
‘That’s
it!’ cried Maggie. ‘That’s the butter – it’s come, I can hear it!’
‘Thank God,’ said Cathy, whose turn it chanced to be. ‘I think my arms would fall off if I had to do another turn. What’s my score, then?’
‘Two hundred and three for you, and two hundred and thirty for Heathcliff,’ said Maggie. ‘I have only one hundred and seventy-eight.’
‘We win then, and Maggie must pay the forfeit,’ said Cathy triumphantly.
‘You mean Heathcliff won,’ I interposed. ‘And Maggie will pay no forfeit, unless it’s to try her hand at making up the butter by herself. Can you do that, Maggie?’
‘I think I can – I should like to try.’
‘Good girl. And when that’s done, you may all come in for your treat, for I’m sure you’ve earned it.’
‘Heathcliff and I will have ours now,’ announced Cathy. ‘We don’t want to stay until the butter is made up. We have other plans.’
‘Oh really, and what are they?’
‘I told you before, we are going to sleep out on the moor tonight. We will want our supper wrapped up for us, to take out there.’
‘Where are you planning to go?’ I asked, struck by a sudden thought.
‘Up towards Pennistone Crag,’ said Heathcliff. ‘The view is best there. Why do you ask?’
I had to think quickly. This could disarrange all my plans. ‘Only so that if you are both eaten by the Gytrash, we’ll know where to search for your bones,’ I said coolly. ‘You know he haunts that area of the moors particularly.’
The Gytrash, Mr Lockwood, is a storied beast of this area, a great black dog with eyes like burning coals, who haunts solitary ways, and preys on the unwary.
‘I am not afraid of the Gytrash,’ said Cathy, though her face belied her. ‘He only attacks lone travellers, and we will be two together.’
