Sometimes, while reflecting on these matters in solitude, I was seized by a sudden terror. I would put on my hat and head toward Wuthering Heights, intending to warn Hindley about the rumours surrounding his lifestyle. However, remembering his confirmed vices and the hopelessness of helping him, I usually flinched at the last moment, doubting I could bear to enter that dismal house again.
One bright, frosty afternoon, I found myself walking toward Gimmerton. I reached the old guide-post where the road branches off to the moor. It was a rough stone pillar with the initials of the Heights, the Grange, and the village carved into its sides. As the yellow sun shone on its grey surface, a rush of childhood memories overwhelmed me. This had been a favourite spot for Hindley and me twenty years ago. As I stared at the weather-worn stone, I had a momentary, vivid hallucination of my early playmate sitting there, scooping out the earth with a piece of slate.
The vision vanished in an instant, but it left me with an irresistible urge to visit the Heights. A superstitious fear gripped me—what if Hindley were dead, or dying? The closer I got to the house, the more agitated I became. As the gate came into view, I saw a brown-eyed boy with messy hair looking through the bars. It was Hareton—my Hareton—hardly changed in the ten months since I had left him.
"God bless you, darling!" I cried, forgetting my fears. "It’s Nelly, your nurse!"
He retreated and picked up a large, sharp stone. When I tried to speak soothingly, he hurled the missile at me, striking my hat. Then, from his young lips came a string of curses so foul and delivered with such practiced malice that I was more grieved than angry. I offered him an orange to win his favour.
"Who taught you such words, my child?" I asked. "The curate?"
"Damn the curate and you!" he replied. "Give me that!"
"Tell me who your teacher is first," I insisted.
"Devil daddy," was his chilling answer. He explained that his father couldn't stand him because he swore at him, and that Heathcliff was the one who encouraged him to do as he pleased. Heathcliff, it seemed, had even threatened to "dash the curate’s teeth down his throat" if he ever crossed the threshold to teach the boy.
Horrified by this influence, I gave him the orange and asked him to tell his father that Nelly Dean was at the gate. But instead of Hindley, Heathcliff appeared at the door. I turned and ran as fast as I could, feeling as though I had raised a ghost. This encounter only strengthened my resolve to protect Thrushcross Grange from such a poisonous influence.
The next time Heathcliff visited the Grange, Isabella happened to be outside. For three days, she had been silent and sullen, which was a relief to the rest of the house. From the kitchen window, I watched Heathcliff approach her. After a cautious look around to ensure he was unobserved, the scoundrel had the audacity to embrace her.
"Judas! Traitor!" I whispered.
"Who is, Nelly?" Catherine asked, appearing at my elbow.
I pointed to the pair outside. Catherine watched as Isabella broke free and fled into the garden. When Heathcliff entered the kitchen a minute later, Catherine was incensed.
"Heathcliff, what are you doing?" she demanded. "I told you to leave Isabella alone! Do you wish Linton to lock the doors against you?"
"God keep him meek and patient!" Heathcliff sneered. "Every day I grow more tempted to send him to heaven myself."
Catherine closed the door to ensure privacy. "Why have you disregarded my request?"
"What is it to you?" he growled. "I am not your husband; you have no reason to be jealous."
"I am not jealous of you, but for you," Catherine replied. "If you truly liked her, you could marry her. But you don't."
Heathcliff’s expression darkened. "I know how you’ve treated me, Catherine—infernally! If you think I can be consoled by sweet words while you remain Linton’s wife, you’re a fool. I will have my revenge."
"Revenge?" Catherine exclaimed. "How have I treated you badly?"
"You are welcome to torture me for your amusement," he said, his voice dropping to a low, menacing tone. "But allow me to amuse myself in the same style. If I thought you actually wanted me to marry Isabella, I’d cut my throat. But since it would annoy Linton, I find the idea quite appealing."
The argument continued until I left them to find Mr. Linton. I told him everything—the scene in the court and the bitter dispute following it. Edgar Linton could hardly contain his indignation.
"This is disgraceful!" he cried. "I have humoured her enough. She shall no longer force the company of this ruffian upon me."
He summoned two servants to wait in the passage and entered the kitchen. Heathcliff was standing by the window, looking somewhat subdued by Catherine’s continued scolding.
"How is this?" Linton addressed his wife. "What sense of propriety do you have, remaining here with this blackguard?"
Catherine responded with a look of utter contempt, which prompted a sneering laugh from Heathcliff.
"I have been patient with you, sir," Edgar said to Heathcliff, his voice trembling but controlled. "Not because I was ignorant of your character, but because Catherine wished to keep your acquaintance. Your presence is a moral poison. I require your instant departure. If you delay, you will be removed by force."
Heathcliff measured Linton’s slight frame with a mocking eye. "Cathy, your lamb is threatening like a bull! I’m only sorry, Mr. Linton, that you aren't worth knocking down."
Linton signalled for me to fetch the men, but Catherine, anticipating his move, snatched the door key, locked us all in, and threw the key into the fire.
"If you don't have the courage to attack him, apologize!" she shouted at her husband. "I hope he flogs you for thinking such evil thoughts of me!"
The situation was absurd and terrifying. Edgar, overcome by humiliation and physical distress, leaned against a chair and covered his face. He grew deathly pale and began to tremble.
"Look at the 'milk-blooded coward' you preferred to me, Cathy!" Heathcliff laughed, pushing the chair.
But he had underestimated his opponent. Driven by a sudden burst of rage, Linton sprang up and struck Heathcliff a powerful blow to the throat. While Heathcliff gasped for breath, Edgar walked out the back door to recruit the gardeners and the coachman.
"Now you’ve done it," Catherine told Heathcliff. "He’ll return with weapons and help. You must go!"
"Do you think I'll leave after that blow?" Heathcliff thundered. "I'll crush his ribs before I leave!"
I intervened, lying that the servants were already approaching with clubs. Seeing he was outnumbered, Heathcliff smashed the lock on the inner door and escaped just as the men entered the court.
Catherine, in a state of extreme agitation, retreated to her room. "I’m nearly distracted, Nelly!" she cried, throwing herself onto the sofa. "Tell Edgar that I am in danger of becoming seriously ill. I want to frighten him! If he won't let me keep Heathcliff as a friend, I’ll break their hearts by breaking my own."
I remained unimpressed by her theatrics. It seemed to me that a person who could plan a "fit of passion" beforehand was capable of controlling it. When I met Mr. Linton, he was despondent. He went to Catherine and asked, without anger, "Will you give up Heathcliff, or will you give up me? You cannot be a friend to both."
Catherine reacted with a terrifying frenzy, screaming and dashing her head against the arm of the sofa. When Edgar approached her in alarm, she appeared to lose consciousness, her face turning a ghastly, deathly white.
"There is nothing actually wrong," I whispered to the terrified master, though I was secretly worried myself. I mentioned that she had planned this display earlier. Catherine, hearing me, sprang up in a silent, murderous rage and rushed from the room, locking herself in her chamber.
For the next two days, she refused to eat or leave her room. Edgar spent his time in the library, avoiding the conflict. He also had a final, stern conversation with Isabella, warning her that if she continued to encourage Heathcliff’s advances, he would disown her entirely. The peace of Thrushcross Grange had been utterly shattered.