Wuthering Heights — Chapter 28 | Full Audiobook - Chapter by Chapter

Chapter 28 On the 5th morning, or rather afternoon, I heard a different set of footsteps, lighter and shorter, and this time the person entered the room. It was Zilla, wrapped in a scarlet shawl, a black silk bonnet on her head in a Willow basket hanging from her arm. Oh dear, Mrs. Dean, she exclaimed. Well, there's quite the buzz about you in Gimmerton. I honestly thought you and Missy had vanished into the Black Horse Marsh until the master mentioned you didn't found and was staying here. Did you end up on an island somehow?

How long were you stuck there? Did the master rescue you, Missus Dean? But you don't look so thin. You haven't been too unwell, have you? Your master is a true villain, I replied. But he'll have to face the consequences. He shouldn't have spread that story. The truth will come out. What are you talking about? Asked Zilla. It's not his story. That's what they're saying in the village about you being lost in the marsh. I mentioned it to Earnshaw when I got back. Oh, strange things have happened, Mr. Hareton, since I left.

It's such a shame about that promising young girl Eddie. And poor Nelly Dean, he seemed surprised, so I shared the rumour with him. The master listened, just smiled to himself and said if they were in the marsh, they're oh now Zilla, Nelly Dean is currently settled in your room, you can ask her to leave when you go up. Here's the key. The bog water affected her mind and she nearly ran home in a daze, but I managed to calm her until she regained her senses. You can instruct her to head to the Grange immediately if she's able, and deliver a message from me that her young lady will arrive in time for the Squire's funeral.

Mr. Edgar isn't dead, is he? I gasped. Oh, Zilla, Zilla, no, no, sit down my dear mistress, she replied. You're still quite unwell. He's not dead. Doctor Kenneth believes he might hold on for another day. I met him on the road and asked. Instead of sitting, I grabbed my outdoor things and hurried downstairs as the way was clear. Upon entering the house, I searched for someone to enquire about Catherine. The place was bathed in sunlight and the door was wide open, yet no one was around. As I debated whether to leave immediately or return to find my mistress, A faint cough caught my attention near the hearth.

Linton lay on the settle, the sole occupant sucking on a stick of sugar candy and watching my movements with indifferent eyes. Where is Miss Catherine? I demanded with authority, hoping to intimidate him into revealing information by catching him alone. He continued, sucking on his sweet, looking as innocent as ever. Is she gone? I asked. No, he replied. She's upstairs. She's not leaving. We won't let her. You won't let her, you little fool, I exclaimed. Tell me where her room is, rightness, or I'll make you regret it.

If you try to get there, my father will make you regret it, he shot back. He says I shouldn't be soft with Catherine. She's my wife and it's disgraceful for her to want to leave me. He claims she hates me and wants me dead for my money, but she won't get it and she won't go home. She never will. She can cry and be sick all she wants. He returned to his previous activity, closing his eyes as if he intended to fall asleep. Master Heathcliff, I continued. Have you forgotten all the kindness Catherine showed you last winter?

You said you loved her most when she brought you books, sang to you and braved the wind and snow to visit you. She cried when she missed even 1 evening because she knew you'd be disappointed. You felt then that she was far too good for you. And now you believe the lies your father tells, even though you know he despises both of you and you side with him against her. Had some gratitude. Him, isn't it? Linton's mouth turned down and he removed the candy from his lips. Did she come to Wuthering Heights because she despises you?

I pressed on. Think about it. As for your inheritance, she doesn't even know you have one, and you say she's unwell, yet you leave her alone in that unfamiliar house. You who know what it's like to be neglected. You could feel sorry for your own pain. And she felt sorry for you too. But you won't feel sorry for her. Look, I'm crying. Master Heathcliff, An older woman, just a servant. And you, after claiming such love and having every reason to adore her, save all your tears for yourself and lie there comfortably.

You're a heartless, selfish boy. I can't stay with her, he replied irritably. I won't stay alone. She cries so much I can't stand it, and she won't stop even when I say I'll call my father. I did call him once, and he threatened to strangle her if she didn't quiet down. But she started again the moment he left, moaning and lamenting all night while I screamed in frustration because I couldn't sleep. Is Mr. Heathcliff out? I asked, sensing that the miserable creature lacked any ability to empathize with his cousin's mental anguish.

He's in the courtyard, he answered, talking to Doctor Kenneth, who says Uncle is truly dying at last. I'm glad because I'll be the master of the Grange after him. Catherine always called it her house. It's not hers, it's mine. Papa says everything she has belongs to me. All her lovely books are mine. She even offered them to me along with her pretty birds and her pony Mini if I would get the key to our room and let her out. But I told her she had nothing to give. They were all mine. Then she cried and took a little picture from around her neck, saying I could have that.

Two pictures in a gold case, one side her mother, the other uncle when they were young. That was yesterday. I said those were mine too, and tried to take them from her. The spiteful thing wouldn't have let me. She pushed me away and hurt me. I screamed. That scares her. She heard Papa coming and she broke the hinges and split the case, giving me her mother's portrait. She tried to hide the other, but Papa asked what was going on and I explained. He took the one I had and ordered her to give hers to me.

She refused and he he struck her down, tore it from the chain and crushed it under foot. And did it please you to see her struck? I asked, with my own motives for encouraging his talk. I winked. He replied. I do it when I see my father hit a dog or a horse because he hits them so hard. At first I was glad she deserved it for pushing me, but after Dad left, she called me to the window and showed me the inside of her cheek cut against her teeth, her mouth filling with blood. Then she picked up the pieces of the picture and sat with her face to the wall.

She hasn't spoken to me since. Sometimes I think she can't speak because of the pain. I don't like to think that, but she's always crying and she looks so pale and wild that I'm scared of her. And you can get the key if you want to? I asked. Yes, when I'm upstairs, he said. But I can't walk upstairs now. Which room is it it? I inquired. Oh, he exclaimed. I'm not telling you where it is. It's our secret. Neither Hareton nor Zilla can know. There, you've worn me out. Go away, go away. He turned his face into his arm and closed his eyes again.

I decided it was best to leave without confronting Mr. Heathcliff and instead bring help for the young lady from the Grange. Upon my arrival, the servants were both astonished and overjoyed to see me. When they learned that their young mistress was safe, a few of them were ready to rush and announce the news at Mr. Edgar's door. However, I insisted on delivering the message myself. How altered he was. Even in those few days, he lay there, a picture of sorrow and resignation awaiting his end. He appeared so youthful.

Though he was 39, one might have guessed him to be at least 10 years younger. His thoughts were with Catherine. He murmured her name. I touched his hand and spoke softly. Catherine is coming, dear Master, I whispered. She's alive and well, and I hope she will be here tonight. I trembled at his initial reaction to this news. He half rose, looked eagerly around the room, then collapsed back in a faint. Once he regained consciousness. I recounted a forced visit and attention at the heights I claimed Heathcliff had compelled me to enter, which wasn't entirely true.

I spoke as little as possible against Linton, nor did I detail his father's cruel behaviour. My aim was to avoid adding any more bitterness to his already overflowing burden. He realized that one of his adversaries goals was to secure both the personal property and the estate for his son, or rather for himself. Yet it baffled my master why he didn't simply wait until his death, unaware of how closely he and his nephew would leave this world together. Nevertheless, he decided it was wise to amend his will.

Instead of allowing Catherine full control over her fortune, he resolved to place it in the hands of trustees for her benefit during her lifetime and for her children if she had any thereafter. This way it wouldn't fall into Mr. Heathcliff's hands if Linton were to die. Following his instructions, I sent a man to fetch the lawyer and dispatched four others armed and ready to demand the release of my young lady from her captor. Both groups were significantly delayed. The lone servant returned first, reporting that Mister Green, the attorney, was not home when he arrived and he had to wait two hours for his return.

Once back, Mr. Green mentioned he had some business in the village to attend to, but assured he would be at Thrush Cross Grange before morning. The four men also returned empty handed. They reported that Catherine was too I'll to leave her room and Heathcliff refused to let them see her. I reprimanded the foolish men for believing such a story, deciding to gather a larger group at dawn to storm the heights if necessary. Unless the prisoner was peacefully handed over to us, I swore to myself that her father would see her, even if it meant confronting that devil on his own doorstep to make it happen.

Fortunately, I was spared the journey and the trouble. Around 3:00 in the morning, I went downstairs to fetch a jug of water. As I was crossing the hall, a sudden knock at the front door startled me. Oh, it's just green, I thought, calming myself. Only green. I intended to have someone else answer it, but the knock came again, persistent yet not loud. I set the jug on the banister and hurried to open the door myself. The harvest moon illuminated the night outside. It wasn't the attorney. My dear little mistress flung herself into my arms, sobbing.

Ellen. Ellen, is Papa alive? Yes, I exclaimed. Yes, my Angel, he is. Thank God you're safe with us again. She was eager to rush upstairs to Mr. Linton's room, breathless as she was, but I insisted she sit down first. I made her drink some water and washed her pale face, rubbing it gently with my apron until a faint colour returned. Then I told her I must go ahead and announce her arrival, urging her to say she was happy with young Heathcliff. She looked at me in surprise, but quickly understood why.

I advised her to lie and promised she wouldn't complain. I couldn't bear to be present at their meeting. I lingered outside the chamber door for 15 minutes, barely daring to approach the bed. Even then, everything was serene. Catherine's despair was a silent as her father's joy. She appeared calm as she supported him while he gazed at her with eyes wide in ecstasy. He passed away peacefully, Mr. Lockwood. He died in bliss. As he kissed her cheek, he murmured. I am going to her, and you, my dear child, will join us.

He never moved or spoke again, maintaining that enraptured, radiant gaze until his pulse, imperceptible, ceased and his soul departed. No one could pinpoint the exact moment of his death. It was utterly without struggle. Whether Catherine had exhausted her tears or the grief was too heavy to allow them. She sat there, dry eyed until dawn. She remained until noon and would have continued to brood over the deathbed if I hadn't insisted she take some rest. It was fortunate I managed to move her, for by dinner the lawyer arrived, having stopped at Wuthering Heights to receive instructions on how to proceed.

He had sold himself to Mr. Heathcliff, which explained his delay in responding to my master's summons. Thankfully, no thoughts of worldly matters disturbed him. After his daughter arrived, Mr. Green took it upon himself to command everyone and everything around the estate. He dismissed all the servants except for me. He even attempted to use his delegated power to prevent Edgar Linton from being buried next to his wife, insisting instead on Interment in the family Chapel. However, the will stood in his way, and I loudly protested against any violation of its terms.

The funeral was rushed through. Catherine, now Missus Linton Heathcliff, was allowed to remain at the Grange until her father's body had been removed. She confided in me that her distress had finally driven Linton to risk freeing her. She overheard the men I sent arguing at the door and caught the essence of Heathcliff's response. It pushed her to desperation. Linton, who had been taken to the small parlour shortly after I left, was so frightened that he fetched the key before his father returned.

He cleverly unlocked and relocked the door without closing it. And when it was time for bed, he pleaded to sleep with Hatton, a request that was granted just this once. Catherine slipped out before dawn. She dared not attempt the doors for fear the dogs would sound an alarm. Instead, she explored the vacant rooms and inspected their windows. Fortunately, she found her mother's window and managed to climb out through its lattice, reaching the ground with the help of the nearby fir tree. Her accomplice paid the price for his timid scheming despite his careful efforts.

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