Wuthering Heights 1. Chapter 1

Nelly had been sent all the way to London to fetch her, a new maid for Mistress Frances Earnshaw.

She had found her at the docks, standing head and shoulders below the Africans that waited for sale, with hair like fire and eyes as blue as mermaid scales.

She had looked over several slave women, mostly Africans, beautiful women with curling hair and full lips and then she had come to this glum little drab, the hair had caught her eye…and Miss Cathy would never tolerate a woman prettier than she in the house…

The slaver had smiled broadly and approached

"A fine consideration Ma'am, she would make an excellent ladies maid would she not? Or could even be put to hard labour if that's yer wish. "

"Where did you find her?"

"Ireland ma'am, not much to look at but strong as an ox, gypsy blood I'm warned, but it cannot be much from the look of her, and I'll let you have her for a good price on that account. "

Nelly catches her chin and raises the deathly pale face, examining her.

"Do you speak English gal?"

The creature nods, burning tresses whispering in the sea air, heavy with salt and the stink of the fish markets.

The man strikes her ear and she flinches

"Yes ma'am, you hopeless creature. Yes ma'am."

She drops into a wooden curtsey and parrots his words. Though it is more noise than words, each one distorted.

Nelly sighs and glances along the line once more…Master Hindley would never tolerate a child.

"I will take her."

She barters a very fine price in view of the girl's alleged impurity of parentage and is given a length of rope to lead her with.

Nelly watches her closely all the long ride home, she tries to offer the hand of friendship, telling the girl stories of Master and Mistress, and old Joseph, if she is a good girl and mindful of her manners she shall have a happy home, Mistress Frances is a kindly woman and she shall delight to wait upon her once she comes to know her Nelly is sure.

The girl smiles sweetly, and Nelly begins to doubt she has any tongue at all.

Still a mute will be of no harm so long as her work is done.

The rain falls like tears from heaven as she dismounts from the carriage and takes it in by the servants entrance, Joseph greets it with a bible quote and it smiles on, like an idiot child.

Nelly sighs and hurries to fetch it some porridge for its supper, it would insist on praying over it in some heathen tongue whilst it grows cold, before the creature will set a spoon to it.

Though she fancies Joseph looks on it the kindlier for such.

Nelly takes the chair beside her and hurriedly explains the work she is to be set about, she shall rise with the sun and prepare the fires, help Nelly about the meals, scrub floors, clean stables, bathe as well as dress and undress the Mistress Frances as well as keeping her company should she wish it.

She will keep herself clean and neat and will be bathed after any field work before attending to the mistress and every Sunday before church whether she be used to washin' or no.

She will be allowed time from her duties to attend church on Sunday mornings with the other servants.

And now she may just see to the cleaning of her supper things.

She makes short enough work of it, singing in some strange tongue, Nelly suspects must be Irish from the lilt of it…though at some moments she would swear she hears ghosts of the gibberish Heathcliff babbled as a child.

Perhaps she was given a good price for a reason?

Mayhap the girl will likewise be given to a fearsome temper or worse…to thieving.

No, Nelly shall take her under wing and see to it that she makes a model servant of the lassie.

If she has to flog the skin from her back to do it.

She cannot conceal the maid in the kitchens all the evening, Master Hindley shall want to see for himself what his coin has bought him and be keen to make a show of his present to Mistress.

Ellen takes her by the arm and catching up a rough cloth scrubs her as clean as may be given the state of her, and then taking up her own comb no less, pulls it through the burning strands, it is the best that can be made of her.

She leads her through the servant's hallway to the parlour and bids her wait…and stand up straight.

If she truly has any English she would be wise to make use of it or Master may yet decide to turn her out onto the moors.

Hindley Earnshaw enters with Frances leading her by the hands, her eyes closed like a child on Christmas morn.

He seats her before the fire and quickly runs piggy eyes over the latest acquisition to his house.

He nods to Nelly in grim satisfaction, she will do. Though he had hoped for a pretty one.

"What is your name, girl?"

For a moment she remains silent and Nelly could throw up her hands in anguish, and then a voice, soft as the tolling of chapel bells issues

"Keela. Master, Mistress" she falls into a curtsey, it seems a little food and warmth has washed away her former woodenness, though she is too powerful of body, ever to be graceful or delicate, but bonny she is, in the fire's glow.

Frances gleams like a fresh-minted coin and claps her hands

"Oh darling Hindley! I adore her!"

She speaks as if the creature before her were a bluebird in a gilded cage and not a young lass of twelve…or mayhap thirteen.

The mistress holds out pale hands and the girl moves to take them as Frances draws her near with a gentle smile

"I shall be kind to you. We will be the greatest of friends I know it."

The servant smiles "I thank you mistress, for your goodness."

How queer and old fashioned she sounds…still Mistress seems well pleased and has taken the little lassie to heart. She glances up at Nelly with guileless eyes

"What is the matter with her voice Ellen dear? Is she simple? I care not, truly. But would have you answer honestly."

Hindley smiles on Frances's charity…she has such a good heart, his little wife. Kind to all and sundry even the most undeserving.

Ellen cannot help but laugh, "She is Irish ma'am. That is all, I daresay it shall go away in time if you do not like it, or if Master will allow, we might send for the curate to correct her speech."

She watches his eyes narrow and regrets speaking so freely.

"She will do, Ellen. You have done well. Go on then. Bring her to help my wife this evening…and don't let Cathy see her. She will only be put out of humour."

Nelly curtsies "Yes, Sir."

Lord save them if Miss Catherine should come across the little drab, she will tease her mercilessly she is quite sure, and if there is even a touch of the gypsy in her then the whole house shall be put in an uproar lest the lassie should heave her fist against her tormentor.

They must be kept apart, for little mistresses' wicked ways would test a saint beyond all endurance.

With her pinches and her slaps and her nasty little remarks.

She must be warned against rambling about the house, but keep company only with her own kind…Still she seems a good girl.

Back in the kitchen Joseph is to be found seated at the kitchen table armed with the good book, he would but read a passage to her before she sets about her work and Nelly is forced to listen as he recites Colossians 3:23-24

"Whatever ye do, work heartily, as for the Lord and not for men, knowing that from the Lord ye shall receive the inheritance as your reward. Ye are serving the Lord Christ."

"Amen."

Nelly laughs to watch the smile on the wizened face at such piety.

Perhaps it will do his pharisaical old heart good to have a body in the home that will not mock his speeches and sermons but rather listen with good faith and an honest attention.

The girl's head comes up from the page at the sound of hooves on cobbles and Joseph turns to the door with a smile

"Ye like horses?"

She nods "Aye, Sir."

He beams "Not sir, only Joseph, as is proper fer a brother in Christ."

"Forgive me, Yes, Joseph. I love them."

He gestures to the door, "Be off with ye then, out to the stables, no tarryin mind ye, and beware the devil."

She giggles, "How may the devil lurk in a stable?"

Nelly sighs, "He means Heathcliff."

The girl smiles "What?"

"Not what, he's…the stable boy."

"Why should I mind him? How can I think to find him wicked when you are both so kind?"

This brings forth a tirade from Joseph who can restrain himself no longer, and he spits forth venom on that fahl de'il of a gipsy, an imp o' Satan.

Keela nods and smiles to appease his wrath "Then I shall be most careful, of him. Truly"

Joseph holds out his most precious treasure in all the world, as if it were a shield.

"Guard yeself wi' th' word."

She takes this talisman of truth and righteousness with her out into the bitter night.

"I see you met Joseph."

She turns, raising the book as if it were a weapon.

Heathcliff laughs at the sight of her, hunched with the book, like a goblin over its treasure, gripping it as if it were a sword, she fumbles at her throat and in the darkness he cannot see what she does.

He curses at the water that strikes him in the face. She stands in triumphant silence, and waits,

As though she thought he would burn…so, Hindley has bought himself a superstitious little vixen.

Never in all his days has he yet had holy water thrown over him.

Even by Joseph.

She watches him expectantly and then pouts as though his resultant humanity has disappointed her.

"Joseph said I might see the horses."

Heathcliff smiles "And you expect me to show you after so introducing yourself, do you?"

She straightens up for what little it is worth, saints alive she really is tiny as a fairy.

"I expect nothing from _you_." So saying she marches past him into the candlelight of the stables, leaving him in the dark to stare after her.

In that moment he sees Cathy in the flash of her eyes and the imperious lilt of her voice.

And God help him, he cannot but follow in her footsteps, he finds her admiring the white mare, though it lays back its ears and stamps, he moves closer…should the beast take against her…and yet it does not, she stretches forth a hand, delicate as elven silver in the light and caresses its head, it stills at her touch, at the soft whisperings he cannot discern, in the shadows, and the amber glow that makes hellfire of her hair and sapphires of her eyes.

He turns from her then and pulls off his shirt, soaked as it is with holy water.

Her scream would wake the dead.

She stands, hands clapped to both eyes, shrieking like one possessed.

He cannot help but laugh at her, though it seems cruel. She makes quite the sight, standing and howling so.

In the kitchen Nelly rises at the sound of the gypsies laughter like silver bells.

"Oh dear."

She bustles out and finds poor Keela still standing with her eyes hidden, at least she has stopped yowling like a scalded cat.

Nelly raises an eyebrow

"And what would Miss Cathy have to say of such behavior? Stop tormentin' her, its dreadful ungentlemanly. Put yer damn clothes on. Wicked boy."

The gypsy crosses his arms and stares her down, "Can't, it were her choice to throw holy water all over me. Thank Joseph for the state of her."

Nelly sighs "Fine, bring yer shirt in, we'll dry it out on the fire, but find something, else she'll fall into fits. Don't yer wish you could have such an effect on Miss Catherine."

Heathcliff scowls at her as she leads the girl back to the house for the silly creature refuses on all that is holy to uncover her eyes, it would be a sin.

She's worse than Joseph. What a pair.

Heathcliff drops down before the fire and Nelly resolutely seats Keela facing the opposite wall, and thus Hindley finds her, he eyes his former foster brother with open dislike.

"What is _it_ doing in here?"

Nelly sighs "The girl took it into her head to drench him in holy water."

Keela dares not look round until the master sniggers, a horrible sound like a pig at its feeding.

"Well, it would seem she has the measure of him. Send her up Nelly, my wife would be abed."

"Yes, Sir." She ushers the girl out into the hall and she follows her corpulent master to where his wife reclines before the fire, round as the full moon with the child in her belly.

Keela offers her hand and helps her to rise, she brushes the long flaxen locks, and helping her from her gown and stays washes the pale body, and then dresses her in her rich white nightdress, she resembles nothing quite so much as a Christmas dainty, all soft white cotton and frothing lace.

But she is kind as Christ, and ready to praise Keela's little efforts.

Then the maid must sit with her an hour and read to her from a novel, though her accent makes a mockery of the telling, and then they might pray together before Mistress retires.

Keela falls to her knees and throwing her apron over her head makes the sign of the cross, Frances snatches at her hands, laughing

"Oh no my dear, we are not a papist house! I shall not say a word to Hindley of course, but you must learn to pray to God in the manner that is most pleasing to Him. Come, I will show you how to begin, and then you must go to Joseph and beg his instruction!"

And the mistress clasps her hands and bows her angelic head and prays to the Good Lord in English as if he were a neighboring farmer and she were not on her knees before the King of Kings.

At last Keela is bidden to her bed and descends the stairs in the darkness without so much as a candle to guide her faltering steps.

The warmth of the kitchen welcomes her, she would feel a fool to close her eyes again after the scolding it brought…and so she resumes her seat and taking a breath turns to the gypsy before the fire.

"Forgive me." Her voice is sweet as honey.

He does not even look at her, Nelly sighs

"I had saved cakes fer the both o' ya but you'll neither have 'em if ye won't be friends, and ye've no one to blame but yerself, she might well think ye the devil appearin' outa the dark like that, it's a laughin' matter when its Old Mrs Green or the priest but not when its yer own kind, so ye shan't do it again shall ya?"

He rolls black eyes heavenward and acquiesces

Nelly turns to Keela.

"And you, lass. Lets be havin' no more o' this superstitious nonsense, if he looked like master I could forgive the horrified shrieking."

Joseph chokes on his beer and Heathcliff sparkles like some evil jewel before the flames as the girl averts her eyes and colours pink as the roses in the garden.

Nelly eyes them as they watch each other, wary as cat and mouse, the girl trying and failing to pretend that she does not glance his way whenever she thinks he will not notice.

Miss Cathy would not approve…still they would be well matched…she is of his own station in life…and it would free Miss Cathy to encourage the attentions of Master Linton, a far more sensible choice upon which to bestow her heart.

Hmmm it could do no harm to encourage a little familiarity and dare she say even affection if such could be roused between the gypsy and the Taig.

They will surely be seeing enough of each other…in the evenings at least…and with the girl's love of horses, now if only there were some seemly way to bring mention to her bad blood, where Heathcliff is sure to hear it.

Nelly smiles and hands round the tiny cakes she has baked with the leftovers, the four of them make an odd little domestic scene below stairs, in the great house as their Lords and masters sleep the evening away.

And in that moment Ellen Dean would not trade the simple joy of good food and well-earned rest among friends for her master's weight in diamonds.


	2. Chapter 2

Francis protests come morning, against Hindley sending her maid to the fields with Joseph and Heathcliff but Keela assures her it will be no hardship, she is used to such work having been put to it back in Ireland and that ladies maiding seems no work at all.

And so Nelly hands over her lunch, and waves her off at the kitchen door to haul lime at the quarry's edge with the men folk whilst she might stay indoors and bake.

She must keep Miss Cathy out of the fields today…it has been years since she deemed to join her abandoned sweetheart in slave labour but lest she should take the notion into her head…

Out at work Keela has made a dismal start by deeming to pitch herself into the quarry, not understanding the difference between lime and limestone and is hauled out on a length of rope with hands burned red and blistered, mercifully Joseph carries a balm for such affliction and throws it to the gypsy to administer since he will not lay hands to a lassie. Would be ungodly, and since the lascar is already assuredly damned he may just as well take care of her.

Her hands are most unlike Catherine's, hard across the fingers and worn upon the palms, yet whiter even than the mistress's.

She barely flinches as he caresses the balm into the burned skin, and it crosses his mind that Cathy would have howled the place down at such an injury…and well she might.

She is a curious creature; she seems more man than woman with her broad shoulders, and the muscles that twist her arms from their God ordained feminine shape, and she refused Nelly's old gown insisting on an old shirt and britches of Joseph's in its place, her last master had no place for fine ladies on his plantation and she doubts Master Hindley will have need of one to dig his lime for him now.

She joins Joseph's reedy old voice in his psalms praising the Lord with as good cheer as surely King David ever did.

The lime all dug for the day she follows them to where a wall needs repairing, broken down by the night's storm, Joseph smiles and sits himself upon the grass with his Bible and leaves it to the devil and the lassie, and what a team they make, why at the rate they go between 'em, master might even permit Joseph to return to housebound duties.

He watches them laughing, she is a good girl, godly and not afraid o' work, perhaps she will be the one to the save the soul o' the gypsy laddie if such a thing could be done.

He must take care to begin her instruction this evening at supper, for Mistress took him aside at breakfast and bade him wait on his prayer but a moment, whereon she confessed that the new servant wench was deep in error and would he be so good as to lovingly correct her in faith.

He had beamed broadly and promised upon perdition of his soul that he would do the very best that may be done.

She had kissed the worn old cheek called him "an angel" and fluttered off back to her world of fine gowns and easy days.

Joseph calls a break for eatin' and the gal bows devilish red hair as he prays over the bread and cheese; Heathcliff resolutely refuses and for the first time in months Joseph hold his peace with a strange smile.

Perhaps the sun has run the old git mad.

Joseph sits a little way off in the shade of a tree and adds four honourable hours to his time of private prayer.

Keela cannot but be impressed by the gypsy, he works harder than half the men of the plantations she called her fellows back home, and it is no harm to watch him do it, though she is determined to keep pace as best she is able.

Joseph calls over once regarding the sin of a competitive spirit and returns to his study.

She sinks onto the re built wall, brushing her hair from her eyes where the wind has pushed it, and watches the wild horses that range the moors.

Heathcliff looks across to her, so strange, with a faraway look in those storm blue eyes, more like ice than ocean water.

He catches himself and looks away; Cathy would have words with him to have seen him betray her vanity so.

Keela turns and looks him hard in the eyes "Yes? You was watchin' me, what do yer want ya fahl devil?"

She is trying to mimic their speech…and it seems has taken Joseph for her model.

Heathcliff cannot but smile despite the insult, it sounds stranger than ever rendered with her accent.

"Do not copy Joseph's way o' talkin'. Most of us can barely understand him, at least follow Nelly."

The girl flushes at being caught out in her attempt at fitting in, "I don' like Nelly's way, she shouts and scolds too much. And Mistress Frances simpers"

She goes off into such a mangled if accurate impersonation of the mistress whilst throwing herself at him and calling him her dear that Heathcliff falls from the wall with laughter, scarce able to draw breath, as Keela flounces about the field as though wearing a fine gown, one hand thrown to her forehead and complaining of how hard it is to go through life when one looks so very like an overlarge snowflake.

Joseph conceals his smile behind his bible, mistress is not o' the blood and so there can be no harm in makin' a little fun.

Now if she does the same o' Master he shall have to whip the whelp.

She cannot drive sheep to save her life and the geese chase her halfway down the farm, with her howlin in fright, the sheepdog took against her fair and proper and she is left sitting in a tree where he cannot get to her, whilst Joseph and Heathcliff see that the beasts are locked in for the night.

It's a good thing Master Hindley has inherited, she could neva 'a been a gentleman's wife, why she's fit only for the fields or the stables.

Master's doin' her a great kindness allowing her to wait on Mistress.

The old servant conceals his laughter as a cough at the memory of her face as the gander gave chase at the head of the feathery horde.

He were glad on her behalf she refused a long gown thi' mornin' else he might 'a caught up to 'er.

The tale grows in the telling at supper until it sounds as though every creature that she met were intent on her destruction, Joseph is called upon to make evident the hatred of the gander and with a put upon sigh to the amazement of all, leaps to his feet and gives chase about the table, to raucous laugher.

Nelly smiles and bids Heathcliff take Keela to see the horses to lift her spirits and to have an eye for Miss Catherine should she come a callin'.

And Joseph is to be seated and give a thought to both his station and his aged heart.

Out in the stables Keela is once more taken with the white mare, she has a good eye for the beasts.

Bidding Heathcliff to bring her out and then looking her all over, like a trader at a faire, she turns to him, eyes sparkling

"May I ride her?"

He turns still as stone "Cathy would not like it."

She clambers the haystack and drops onto the creature's back

"She will never know; if you don't tell her. Come on. I am heartily sick of four walls and workin', show me the stones I saw from the wall."

He shakes his head, "No. I'll not take a floggin' for your wantin to go rambling abroad."

She digs her heels in and smiles back at him "Then I'll go alone, though if I should get lost on the moors and never be heard from more, I lay it on your conscience."

"Who's been tellin' lies about my havin' one?"

But he pulls himself up onto the black horse all the same and she twinkles out of the candlelight at him, glowing in her little victory.

"Nelly. She says you had a good heart a'fore Master took against ya." She gives him a sly smile "I blame Miss Cathy, for ya won't stop harpin on about her. What did she do to turn ya so wicked?"

Damn Ellen Dean. Damn her to hell with her loose tongue.

"I'll not listen to a word against her, Keela."

"I weren't sayin' one, only if I got to serve 'er I shan't do so half as well, for her unkindness to you."

He scowls down at her, in the half-light.

"You'll be as good to her as to Frances or I'll see to it they flog you."

"Is that a threat?"

He watches in silence, most women would cower at his temper; she sits there with a mocking smile as though daring him to frighten her.

He rides coldly out and she follows in his wake, clattering alongside him,

"Now do not be cross with me, I shall be good to her, if it pleases you."

Heathcliff finds himself disarmed by the change in her, from a fighting spirit to contrite in a heartbeat.

Cathy would have rung a storm over his head for presuming to take such a manner with her.

And yet the wicked sprite is only sorry to have put him out of humour, his anger smoulders away, like fire before rain at the realisation.

She twists the truth regarding Cathy out of him by the time they reach the crags, with her lilting sympathy and her enchanting eyes, and he has the truth of her parents from her, she's half as gypsy as he, thrown out onto the roadside when she was torn from between her mother's thighs and found to be white as snow with hair red as the devil's backside.

She was impure and ill luck on her tribe.

An old priest had taken her in and had thoughts to send her to the convent, but a childless couple had begged that they might show Christian charity and take little Nuri, and give her the name of Keela and call her their own daughter, a most late blessing from God. As it was for Saint Anne and Joachim.

And thus it was done and so she was raised strong and fair in the true faith, in the land her people abandoned her to call her home.

And never knew a hard day, until dear Pa died and Mam was left in penury and she was once more sent to the roadside to beg her bread where she may, and so it was that she came to be taken up by the slavers and sold to the MacNally family to be worked as hard as any man, on their plantations.

But young master took a wicked deed into his head and for her refusal made plain with her fists, she was thrashed to within an inch of her life and sold on without reference or kind words, and so she came to be hidden in the stinking hold of a ship, promised freedom in England and then sold like cattle into Nelly's hands at the London Docks.

And thus it would seem that they understand one another.

Master is not so understanding when they ride in three hours later and Mistress has been kept up after hours because Keela was roaming the countryside, and so she is bidden to her first flogging and thoroughly unpleasant it is, for the master stinks of ale and the farmhand laughs to see her stripped of Joseph's old shirt, and Nelly dares say nothing to prevent it.

And old Joseph would insist on praying upon his knees that she might be turned from her sinful ways of displeasing her owners loudly enough to be heard above the lash and the screaming.

Keela lies in the straw, trembling with agony and shame, the scent of her own fresh spilled blood turning her stomach.

Finally dragging herself to her feet and clutching the shirt to her chest she tries the door…she is locked in.

And Nelly had promised her lamb.

She permits herself a moment to curse and stamp like a child at the indignity and breaks off at Heathcliff's laughter from above her head, she looks up to the hayloft to watch him sparkling down at her.

"You've no one to blame but yourself. I warned you but would you listen."

She makes a foul gesture.

He slips down the ladder like the serpent in the tree to stand beside her, he holds up Joseph's balm

"And after I came to keep you company."

She snatches the bottle from him and orders him to look away, he watches her struggle hilariously to reach her own back with the stuff and finally she sighs and asks his help.

She clutches Joseph's old shirt about her as if it were armor against sin, as he lays gentle hands to the whip marks and she hisses at every touch.

It seems the horsewhip is a new and terrible experience for her.

Even Joseph was appalled to see it taken to a lassie.

The door opens and a voice soft as birdsong can be heard, as a slender, dark eyed woman enters; she looks about

"Where are you? Frances said Hindley was whippin' the gypsy, it took a while before she'd let me away."

She breaks off and Keela watches the pale face grow quite frightful, behind her Heathcliff smiles as if it were perfectly ordinary for her to intrude upon such things.

"Evenin' Cathy, Keela this is Miss Catherine Earnshaw. Cathy, Keela the gypsy your brother was floggin'"

She stands open mouthed for a moment and then smiles as though all is right with the world,

"Well she seems not so hurt to me, come in now love, Nelly is waitin' for ya. I shall lock it in tonight, to save Joseph any trouble. But we must go now, I have only an hour."

Keela struggles to her feet and Heathcliff takes her arm and helps her, much to the ire of Miss Earnshaw she sees.

"Be off with ya then, I shall see ya come mornin'."

Heathcliff stands looking down at her for a moment, she is dismissing him to Cathy's company without the slightest protest.

Were things the other way about…well it doesn't bear thinkin' on.

She settles herself in the hayloft with a stolen blanket that has been left for her and tries to think of anything but the pain…

By dawn she is regretting her stoicism, she awakes half frozen and weak with hunger.

Joseph opens the servants door and bids her come in and get warm, Nelly kept her lamb for her and since they missed their study o' the word last night, they may just make up for such laxity now 'afore work.

Frances is tender with her that morning, and makes no complaint when it takes her a full hour to dress her mistress properly, she says that had she asked permission to go riding Frances would have given it but Hindley looks less kindly upon laziness in his servants.

By the time she breaks in the fields to eat, her lashes have set to bleeding again, staining her old shirt a bloody crimson at the back, she makes no complaint, keeping to her work with a will of iron.

Nelly finds her weeping softly for pain at the fireside whereupon Joseph falls to quoting from the bible once more

"Beloved, think it not strange concerning the fiery trial which is to try you, as though some strange thing happened unto you: but rejoice, inasmuch as ye are partakers of Christ's sufferings; that, when his glory shall be revealed, ye may be glad also with exceeding joy."

Nelly rolls her eyes heavenward, "Oh pipe down ye old Pharisee. Who was it prayin' while she were the one takin the whippin'?"

Joseph smiles "And long may she remember it, pain'll 'elp 'er remember the lesson eh lassie."

Catherine's melodious voice comes sudden to the girl's ears

"I should think so, we could hear it howlin' all the way up to the house. I don't know why you brought it home Nelly, its weak, it should be turned out, not here two days and already makin' trouble."

Keela struggles to her feet and drops into a low curtsey.

"Evenin' Miss Catherine."

"Get up you foolish creature, where's my love Nelly?"

The old woman's eyes widen at the endearment, "If yer mean Heathcliff he's still out at the fields, you may go out to him if you have the fancy."

The dark eyes take in the evening rain and she turns back to the door,

"Tell him I came to find him Nelly. I will wait in the parlour"

"I will, Miss." Nelly bends to pull the leftover chicken from the oven and throws a leg to Keela, Catherine watches the little savage set to it without recourse to cutlery nor silver, her brother's latest acquisition is a sickening beast.

She has seen better manners from Skulker.

Keela turns as Heathcliff returns and Nelly smiles to watch the way her face lights up at the sight of him, like a stained glass window when the priest lights a candle behind it.

"Miss Earnshaw came lookin' for ya, Nelly told her where ya were but she had not the heart for a little rain. She's a-reading in the parlour if ya want to see her."

"She would not come?"

Joseph snorts "Did ya see her in the fields ya devil? The lassie said, she would not come to yer but that she waits for ya now,"

Heathcliff sits beside Nelly and picks at the chicken as she works and tries to slap his hands away every now and then.

"I'll not go to her then. But sit here all night."

Nelly half suppresses a smile "She'll get up quite the temper, Heathcliff. You'll bring a storm on all our 'eads if ya go on like that."

"Don't care."

Keela sniggers and returns to her dinner, Nelly nods to her "Taken against Keela here, worse than the sheepdog aint she lass?"

The girl shrugs broad shoulders as if such a thing were to be expected, "I taken against 'er just as 'ard."

Nelly rounds on Heathcliff striking him across the back of the head when she finds him at the food again, before she has laid it out and Joseph has not even prayed over it.

"Keep off yer vagabond! Oh my days! Like a fox among hens. Never was such a one for causin' discord in a decent house."

Catherine appears in the doorway, and smiles brightly.

"Heathcliff my love, why have you not come to see me?"

The gypsy pays her no heed, only glances once and turns his sly attentions to the girl at the fire.

"Keela, go and ask Miss Frances if ye may come a riding."

She is on her feet in a moment, wiping the grease from her fingers on her borrowed britches.

Nelly smiles to watch Catherine recoil in disgust. It will do her ill humour good to have a little rivalry.

Perhaps it will bring an end to her pinchin' and complainin o' Nelly.

She can turn her ire on the Paddy instead.

She hurries past Miss Earnshaw without so much as a backward glance and Joseph gathers his books and supper, announcing he shall retire to his garret.

No doubt to wait out the storm that threatens to make hell of Ellen's peaceful kitchen.

Cathy drops into the seat beside her abandoned lover and smiles sweet as honey in summer,

"Now don't tease me my love, you will not refuse an evenin' in my company to go out in the storm with that frightful thing."

It is the wrong choice of words, Ellen wonders for a moment whether she should move between the pair of them on some pretext…lest a lovers quarrel should become physical violence…Miss Cathy strikes mortal hard when she has no fear o' bein' struck back.

The gypsy's eyes glitter malevolently at a shadow in the hallway.

"Perhaps I find Keela easier company. Perhaps she is not light with her intentions. Nor has your family's eye for fortune."

Speak o' the devil and he shall appear, the lassie returns to greet the hateful gaze of the young mistress, startlingly fey in an old green cloak, a worn heavy velvet, a gift from Mistress to keep her warm since she intends to take up the habit of ridin' in the evenings, a most proper pursuit for a young lady, even the master has agreed. Persuaded by his wife that it will encourage any ladylike habits the creature may possess.

If she works hard and causes no further trouble Frances has an old gown that she shall lay aside as a gift at Christmastide, so think on it when she is roused to temper or given to mischief and turn from such for its sake.

A woman should have pretty things and mistress has no need of it any longer.

Nelly smiles, if wars could be won on generosity of spirit and thought Miss Frances should call them all her own victories.

She looks from Catherine to the servant lass and thinks privately that it will take more than a pretty gown to sway this one from causing strife amidst the house.

However innocently.

Nelly shall have to put the thought of inviting Master Edgar into Cathy's pretty head and that shall surely set things to rights.

Poor Ellen gets no further work done, bust must sit and comfort Miss Cathy, who seems like to make herself sick with weepin' and cursin the vagrant whore that Nelly insisted on bringing home.

How difficult would it have been to bring a child or a simpleton why did she have to choose the one gypsy on sale, ugly as it was?

This is all her fault and Cathy shan't love Ellen any more for her betrayal, it was done for spite.

Chapter 3

The troublesome pair are home within the hour, Nelly can hear their laughter carry from the yard, Cathy rises from the table and would head for the doorway but Ellen lays a restraining hand upon her arm, and shakes her head, let them bed down the beasts and come in of their own accord.

Cathy snaps that she will not sit here and wait, she shall retire to her chamber, she cannot be seen loitering amongst servants. It is not dignified.

At that moment they make their appearance, and Nelly gestures Keela over as Heathcliff approaches Cathy.

Keela looks away as they depart the room and takes her place at the table with Joseph's great bible and with help from Nelly studies the Word.

Nelly leaves her to finish the story of creation, looking up from her cleaning of the fire every now and then as she stumbles over the words familiar and strange alike, and tries to ignore the rise and fall of voices through the wall.

Master Linton is somewhat mentioned.

Keela looks up "Nelly, who is this man?"

Nelly smiles "The magistrate's son lass, rich as Midas, handsome too mind. A fine prospect for our Cathy. Miss Earnshaw to you."

"But I thought…"

"A fine prospect." Her tone is firm, no argument will be tolerated.

"But if she is in love wi…"

Nelly pulls herself up "A man o yer station in life can be no match fer 'er. She has to give him up. Master Edgar is by far the more suitable. You will meet him soon and then I am sure you will agree."

"I dislike him already."

Ellen's gaze is sly "Because you dislike 'im on yer own account? How can ye? You do not know 'im? No girl, I think yer dislike is because our Heathcliff despises 'im. Would I be right?"

The girl's cheeks flush red as cherries and she returns to her page.

The servant takes a seat beside her with a conspiratorial smile,

"Now, now, there's no need for blushin'. I thought you'd taken a fancy to 'im. Well yer might….If Miss marries Master Edgar I shall doubtless accompany her over to the Grange, you might stay behind with Master Hindley and the mistress…I am sure there could be no objection then to an affection between servants, you might distract 'im from Cathy so that she sees the sense in accepting Master Linton. Take my meanin'? Leavin' the gypsy heartbroken but freed o' any promises and Lo! There you is. Ready and waitin'."

"Miss Dean! I will not be party to such schemes."

"No schemein' lass, we is 'elpin 'em see? We knows they cannot be together…and would yer not like 'im fer yerself? That blush tells me yer would. It will anger miss Cathy…but you will be 'elpin 'er, to come to the right decision. A 'elp I'm sure master will be keen ter reward."

The eyes gleam sharp as the devil laying an offer.

Keela flinches at the sounds of affection from the next room,

"She's 'urtin 'im lass, ye could stop it."

"It don't sound like she's hurtin him to me."

"She will turn from him again when Master Edgar comes at Christmas. Ye could be the one to make it 'urt less."

The girl will not meet her eyes.

"Will yer 'elp Miss Cathy see sense? T'wd be a kindness if yer do. A kindness I shall be sure reaches the ears o' the master."

The door opens and Heathcliff moves to sit beside Keela, Nelly flinches at the scrape of wood on stone as she moves deliberately away, black eyes catch Nelly's and she shrugs as though confused.

More than 'er life is worth to be the one to tell they overheard such goin's on.

"Now Keela, yer knew the way o' things. Jealousy's a sin, girl or has yer reading taught yer nothin'?" Nelly smiles as the girl turns her face away, redder than the coals.

Heathcliff turns to the old servant, she nods and smiles, jerking her head the door.

He moves a little closer to the girl before the fire, "Keela."

She ignores him.

"Will you not come and help with the horses?"

She spits something Nelly cannot understand, still a curse can be guessed whatever its tongue, she gets to her feet, offers him a vulgar gesture and heads out, saying she will see to the beasts herself and he may just sit and wait for Miss Earnshaw to snap her fingers that he might go runnin' like a dog to her whistle.

Fire and powder this pair.

He looks after her in stunned silence.

The old woman giggles softly, as he turns to her

"Nelly?"

She rolls out her pastry and considers how best to frame things.

"She's jealous o' Miss Catherine. Nothin' more."

His eyes give nothing away.

God is he simple?

"Miss Frances has promised her a gown…. God, it's not over Linton is it?"

Nelly bites her lip to keep from laughing at the fire in his eyes.

"Peace, Heathcliff. How can it be? She has not met the man and has told me in all secrecy…"

"What?"

"That she hates 'im. On yer account no doubt, as I guessed. Ye cannot be slanderin' Master's guests, my pet. So if it's not the fine gowns and it is not Master Edgar what else has Cathy, that a lassie might envy her?"

"Keela is not _so_ ugly."

"Aye, her hair is very fine would you not agree?"

He smiles "Cathy said God had to give her something."

"Miss Cathy is cruel and ye should not allow her to speak so."

"As well as ask the devil to repent, you know how she is Nelly, she's unkind enough to you."

The wrinkled arms ache at the memory of the lily-white fingers and the pain they can inflict when spite is little Miss's master.

"Can you think of nothing else?"

He shakes his head and Nelly sighs and throws a hand to her forehead.

"You, you foolish boy."

He pales at that "Don't be disgusting Nelly. I'd no sooner consider her than I would you! What would Cathy say? God, can you imagine her under you in bed? She'd break you in two. You might as well be a sodomite as lie with that."

Nelly glances up and gives no sign that she saw a flash of fire at the door and a pale face, listening in the shadows.

"That's dreadful unkind of yer, she's a bonny wench when the light's right."

"It'd have to be black as hell."

Nelly sighs; she shall have to be kept to indoor work if his mind is to be changed. But how to persuade the lass that she will get further emulating Miss Cathy than a drunken sailor on shore leave with her gestures and her cursin'?

"I thought ye had no time for fine ladies Heathcliff? You took against Miss Cathy somethin' frightful after her injury, when they brought her home in that cream gown, wi' her hair all up. Looked like a queen she did and such high manners and would you go near her then? No you would not and here's a lassie o' yer own walk o' life, wi' a tongue to make yer's seem courteous and she won't do, neither."

Joseph appears in the hallway "Miss Frances would be abed, Nelly."

Heathcliff stands but Nelly lays ahold of him, "You'll not go near 'er. I shall fetch her in."

She bustles out to the stables as the girl locks the doors and glances up,

"Nelly."

"Mistress wants yer lassie, so come an' get washed."

"Is the cuckoo still in there? I'll not come in if he is."

"Keela! Where did you learn that?"

"Ploughboy told me ter call 'im that. Saw me cryin' and said to try it when next I saw 'im."

"Not unless ye wants both yer eyes blacked yer won't lass. Come now, I'll keep 'im off yer. He didn't know you could hear 'im."

Keela is taken to the parlour for her bath, Nelly dreads it each evening, t'wd be easier to bathe a cat.

That were aflame.

At last she is dried and ready and sent upstairs with strict orders to avoid Miss Catherine, she is to speak only to Mistress or Master and then only when spoken to.

Mistress is quietly contended tonight, Miss Cathy has been happier than she has seen her in days; it brings sunshine to all the house.

The child weighs heavy now, perhaps tomorrow she shall send for the doctor, is Keela quite well after her chastisement?

She is glad to hear it, she must forgive Hindley for his whippings, he only means to help her to remember her place. It is a kindness if only she will see it in its true light.

She has laid aside a simple gown, britches are not suitable for a lady even of the fields, and she will kindly be seen to wear it. Else mistress shall be most hurt.

There is nothing to be done but to take it up and try and show pleasure in it.

She embraces her mistress as she has seen her do when she is most pleased with some thing or other.

Her act is well received and Frances squeezes her hands and promises that she shall help make quite the lady of her, even though she be little better than a slave.

It will bring her joy to do so…like the dolls her father gave her as a girl. Keela will be as one of their number.

They kneel beside the great bed and Frances leads the prayer in her high, sweet voice.

For all her frippery and simplicity of mind it would be a foolish God did not love such a gentle heart.

Miss Frances offers her own candle to light her way back to the kitchens and Nelly smiles to see her enter with a bundle under one arm,

"That's a pretty gown, does mistress need it washin?" she knows well enough the truth.

"She took it into her head to offer it me. And says I shall be seen to wear it lest her feelin's be 'urt. How am I to wear such in the fields? I shall be laughed at."

Ellen takes it from her and examines it; it is a good gown, a thick warm linen, brown as chocolate from the Americas.

"Come here, I shall lend ye my old apron so yer do not ruin it and make the mistress cry."

"Thank you, Nelly."

She crouches, shivering before the fire as she strips her borrowed clothes and permits Nelly to lace her into the dress, she stands wooden and still when it is done, Nelly sits her at the table and runs a brush through the flaming locks, with a smile.

"There now, see what a change is come. Do ye not think yerself quite striking?"

"Perhaps it only need be dark as purgatory now."

The sorrow in her voice pulls at Nelly's heart.

"Well yer go and clean out the parlour fire, and then yer may abed. Joseph would say ter forgive, what's in Bible about suns and anger?"

"I'll not do it. It might just be added to my list o' sins."

Nelly shakes her head as the obstinate creature leaves and listens to the angry scrapings in the parlour as if a thousand rats were scurryin' in the hearth.

Fire and powder…how long until the two might kiss and consume all about them in their blaze?

Heathcliff comes to steal the food she readies, and Nelly turns and snaps at him to leave it be, she meets the cold black eyes with a fire of her own that is startling.

The screech of metal on stone echoes like the screams of the damned.

"What is that?" the lascar looks about.

"Keela, she's torturin' the fireplace, in punishment for yer unkindness."

He sinks onto her abandoned stool before the flames and watches Nelly with less guile than she has ever seen him show in his life.

"I did nothing to her."

"She overheard yer remarks."

"Which?"

"Abou' 'er bein' ugly."

"I said she wasn't _that_ ugly!" he seems genuinely mystified as to the cause of offense.

"Well ye shall go and beg pardon afore she goes abed. I think ye shall have cause to recant o' yer cruelty."

"Did she transform into Cathy while I were gone?"

Nelly narrows her eyes at him, and gestures threateningly with her rolling pin.

"Fine…I'll go."

She listens with her ear to the wall, nosy as any Billingsgate fishwife.

She hears him make his entrance, for a moment all is silent, and then a cry goes up in a language she cannot understand, the girl has decided to answer what must be further insult with her fists…

She shall not go in…

"Joseph!"

She runs up the stairs two at a time at the sound of brawling within the room and the old man is dragged from his evening prayers to find a way between the two of 'em.

They sit consigned to separate kitchen corners, one nursing a black eye and the other bloody knuckles, Heathcliff had added to her insult in some manner regarding the dress, she had lain a cruel word against Miss Cathy in return and been bloodied at his hand for so doin', only rather than howl like a girl and retreat from his temper as he had expected she had taken it into her head to strike him back, measure for measure.

Nelly eyes the motley pair like a hawk, she slaps Heathcliff across the back of the head for presuming to strike a lady, he snaps that the Taig fights like a man as well as lookin' like one.

For thanks Keela aims for his head with the bread knife and misses by a hair's breadth through her tears.

Nelly stamps in anger, and threatens to fetch Hindley if they do not desist in such foul behaviour, a sound whippin' will soon put their fire out.

Keela is entitled to her opinion of Miss Earnshaw but given Heathliff's regard for her, she shall keep such opinions to herself in his presence. Whatever provocation she is offered.

Lest she wishes to return to the plantations.

And if Heathcliff ever lays hands to a woman again Nelly shall see him sent away. And shall not hesitate to make the reason known to Miss Cathy.

The two vagrants should be turned out, causin' such a stir, it were a miracle they did not wake their betters, brawlin' like drunkards.

They should be ashamed.

No shame is forthcoming; they sit staring at each other with a dislike so visceral it almost frightens Nelly.

Damned Gypsies.

And with Christmas only a day away.

No spirit o' the season to be found in this kitchen.

Fine.

Joseph is given orders to flog the pair o' them.

By Nelly no less.

Half an hour and twenty lashes later they hang stripped to the waist, by their wrists from the stable beams, black eyes burn into blue.

"Stop lookin' at me."

Heathcliff sneers down at her "Why? It's the only bit of you worth looking at."

Keela writhes against her ropes; he thinks she's trying to get close enough to bite him.

Again.

Teeth like a ship's rat that one.

Three hours later and they almost regret their behaviour, the bitter wind howls through the stables like a curse.

She's shaking so hard she can barely keep her feet, biting her lips to ribbons to keep her teeth from rattling.

Merry bloody Christmas.

She awakes on the morning of her Saviour's birth in worse agony than she has ever felt, her wrists are raw and bleeding, her legs so cold it hurts to stand, she turns her head to eye the lascar beside her.

Well he's either sleeping or dead of the cold.

The door opens and she groans as the wind whispers in like an ill wish.

Joseph unties them and leaves them to nurse their cuts though he has no balm for wounded pride.

Since neither can reach all of their lashes unaided, an uneasy truce is called, and rueful apologies offered not long after.

Nelly smiles over to Joseph at the echo of laughter from the yard.

They make their return, dripping blood on Nelly's freshly washed floor, much to her chagrin.

She should lecture further…she knows it, and yet in light of the day she cannot, she must go to Catherine and help her prepare for her visitors.

Being Christmas day they may just amuse themselves, seeing as how their feelings seem mended in regard to each other.

Miss Frances must be bathed and dressed first; she eyes her servant, showing signs of a fair beating and enquires delicately whether she is well.

She confesses half the truth, that she and Heathcliff fought over some silliness but all is well now.

Frances giggles and examines the shadow about the blue of her eye and fusses tenderly if it hurts.

It will hurt for a month, though Keela would sooner die than admit such.

She laces the silvery gown about her mistress whilst assuring her that Nelly saw them well punished.

Frances approves the action and as the maid turns to go, slips her a shilling to give to Nelly for a Christmas gift as the late Mr Earnshaw was in the habit of doing.

And as to Keela, she has not forgotten the pretty gown…and she made only a little trouble and none of it enough to disturb anyone.

She cannot blame her striking the gypsy boy. He is the devil incarnate.

If Keela will go to the armoire she will find it tied with a lavender ribbon, Mistress reads aloud the slip of parchment.

Merry Christmas, Love Mrs Frances Earnshaw.

God it is beautiful! She opens it up and the yellow cotton shimmers in the morning, she holds it up to herself before the glass and cannot contain her pleasure, bestowing kisses three upon her good hearted mistress.

Nelly shall doubtless help her repair it fit to be seen.

Mistress sits quite still as Keela struggles with the bottles and cakes of her cosmetics, as odd to her as a foreign land, so that at each moment Frances must say

"No dear, that is for the cheeks." Or some such.

She would insist upon painting up poor Keela, despite the girl's protests.

Nelly is sent for in great secrecy to lace the lass into her new gown and the old maid is forced to kneel half an hour in repairing the torn skirt and falling hem, and then to catch up the flaming curls whilst Francis powders the pale face herself.

And declares her a doll. As fine as any her father bought.

And now she must be spared work for the day but be allowed to sit about and Nelly might teach her to sew or else she may read from the Bible, on no account is she to consider riding in that gown.

They are sent away in a cloud of powder and the scent of roses so strong it is almost sickening.

It is a wonder any woman with child can stand it.

Nelly gleams all the way down the stairs. She should have guessed Mistress might take such a thought into her head.

Lord knows poor Cathy suffered through many such hours when first Hindley brought his wife home to the Heights.

The elder hurries to open the kitchen door as if Keela were lady of the house herself, at the sight of her Joseph mutters something unintelligible but the name of the mistress can be discerned.

They cannot decipher whether he approves or not, one may as well read the walls of the pyramids.

She takes her seat beside him and he orders a shawl to be draped about her shoulders, the neckline is sinful and must be raised as soon as may be.

Their devotions begin without further interruption.

Nelly puts the finishing touches to the lunch and bids Keela to go see to the horses, lest their water be turned to ice.

She eyes the mustard coloured cloth that swirls about her like the clouds of heaven.

"In this?"

Nelly flaps at her whilst trying to keep the cranberries even.

"Yer gettin' as bad as Cathy. Go on. One fine dress and yer suddenly too high to be about yer work."

She hitches up her skirts at that and runs for the doorway, Nelly laughing in her wake.

She shatters the water in the trough, which true to Nelly's word glitters in the dull stable light, and pitches hay over into the stalls.

Cathy almost laughs as she enters, what a sight the girl makes, arms strong as a farmhand's swathed in cotton bright as sunbeams, hair twisted up and face powdered but with her work boots visible from beneath her skirts.

If only Heathcliff could see her now he'd never dream to look sideways at her again.

She catches Nelly watching her from the kitchen door, and steps further in out of sight; Keela is hanging off a rope from the beams balancing on the stall door to reach the hay bale which has been hung too high for her to reach….

White hands reach out of their own sinful accord and the girl falls with a dreadful shriek, Cathy smiles and hurries out before she finds her feet, quite sure that the beast will think she simply overreached.

She shall find that she keeps having little accidents if she does not learn her place.

Nelly watches her closely when she re enters as though measuring her involvement in whatever the damage is now.

The stall door opens and Heathcliff looks down at the girl sobbing in the corner, blood spilling from her lip where she fell, and thanks God Joseph is timely in cleaning the stalls else he should not dare to go near her.

He pulls her to her feet, and she wipes at her eyes smearing black up her sleeve.

She looks so helplessly tragic that he almost wants to hold her….

She stamps angrily "Don't you stare at me so! Frances made me dress up like this! And it were nice until that bi….I thought you should see me lookin' like a lady too and change yer mind about my bein' ugly! Now you'll only laugh with her about it!"

He catches her hands "I won't, truly. What the hell were you doing on the floor? Are you hiding from Nelly?"

"No! I were gettin' hay! And then…I weren't."

He eyes the swinging rack above, "You fell?"

"Yes, right after that…Right after I were mysteriously pushed!"

"Who pushed you? There is no one here."

"Miss Earnshaw, I heard her."

His eyes narrow, "Why should Cathy do such a thing?"

She stamps again "Cos she don't know how horrible you are to me! She don't know you hate me! And wants you to like no one but 'er!"

He catches her arms and gently pulls her from the stall to sit on the low bench beside the window, "Why would I hate you?"

He wipes the blood from her lip, and she gazes up at him with wide blue eyes glittering with tears.

"Cos I hit yer."

He laughs, "I should not have mocked you, and it were an impressive blow."

She smiles weakly at that. "Aye, I don't deny it. I can't 'elp hatin' her, she teases me as you would a dog and says I'm a beast and a savage."

"How do you know she says such things?" he is genuinely shocked that Cathy should be quite so cruel.

"Joseph tells me, says it'd be sinnin' to hide it from me, and whatever I've done to anger 'er I must repent o' it and do it no more. For its not right for a servant to distress their betters."

He pulls her to her feet, "Come on, she'll let you alone if I tell her to."

She pales "No! It will make it all worse! She…She thinks I have some affection for you and she will not stand for it!"

He sighs and lifts her clean off her feet, carrying her back to the house, with her black boots kicking all the way, protest becomes laughter, Nelly raises an eyebrow, from blows to this…how swift the vixen moves.

Catherine enters the kitchen in search of Nelly, needing her help with changing her gown,

"Edgar will be here soon Nelly, leave that mess and help me!"

She lights up as Heathcliff stands and crosses the room to her, Nelly watches the servant girl carefully turn her attention to the meal left half ready upon the table, her mouth twists as she takes up the rolling pin and strikes the dough with far more force than is seemly, still if she can be kept from an open display of jealousy then all will be well.

Nelly follows Miss Cathy up to her chamber where she helps her into her finest white dress and prepares her hair, pinning up the rich curls.

Surely such beauty will move Master Linton to consider pressing his suit for her hand.

Chapter 4


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

The troublesome pair are home within the hour, Nelly can hear their laughter carry from the yard, Cathy rises from the table and would head for the doorway but Ellen lays a restraining hand upon her arm and shakes her head, let them bed down the beasts and come in of their own accord.

Cathy snaps that she will not sit here and wait, she shall retire to her chamber, she cannot be seen loitering amongst servants. It is not dignified.

At that moment they make their appearance, and Nelly gestures Keela over as Heathcliff approaches Cathy.

Keela looks away as they depart the room and takes her place at the table with Joseph's great bible and with help from Nelly studies the Word.

Nelly leaves her to finish the story of creation, looking up from her cleaning of the fire every now and then as she stumbles over the words familiar and strange alike, and tries to ignore the rise and fall of voices through the wall.

Master Linton is somewhat mentioned.

Keela looks up "Nelly, who is this man?"

Nelly smiles "The magistrate's son lass, rich as Midas, handsome too mind. A fine prospect for our Cathy. Miss Earnshaw to you."

"But I thought…"

"A fine prospect." Her tone is firm; no argument will be tolerated.

"But if she is in love wi…"

Nelly pulls herself up "A man o yer station in life can be no match fer 'er. She has to give him up. Master Edgar is by far the more suitable. You will meet him soon and then I am sure you will agree."

"I dislike him already."

Ellen's gaze is sly "Because you dislike 'im on yer own account? How can ye? You do not know 'im? No girl, I think yer dislike is because our Heathcliff despises 'im. Would I be right?"

The girl's cheeks flush red as cherries and she returns to her page.

The servant takes a seat beside her with a conspiratorial smile,

"Now, now, there's no need for blushin'. I thought you'd taken a fancy to 'im. Well yer might….If Miss marries Master Edgar I shall doubtless accompany her over to the Grange, you might stay behind with Master Hindley and the mistress…I am sure there could be no objection then to an affection between servants, you might distract 'im from Cathy so that she sees the sense in accepting Master Linton. Take my meanin'? Leavin' the gypsy heartbroken but freed o' any promises and Lo! There you is. Ready and waitin'."

"Miss Dean! I will not be party to such schemes."

"No schemein' lass, we is 'elpin 'em see? We knows they cannot be together…and would yer not like 'im fer yerself? That blush tells me yer would. It will anger miss Cathy…but you will be 'elpin 'er, to come to the right decision. A 'elp I'm sure master will be keen ter reward."

The eyes gleam sharp as the devil laying an offer.

Keela flinches at the sounds of affection from the next room,

"She's 'urtin 'im lass, ye could stop it."

"It don't sound like she's hurtin him to me."

"She will turn from him again when Master Edgar comes at Christmas. Ye could be the one to make it 'urt less."

The girl will not meet her eyes.

"Will yer 'elp Miss Cathy see sense? T'wd be a kindness if yer do. A kindness I shall be sure reaches the ears o' the master."

The door opens and Heathcliff moves to sit beside Keela, Nelly flinches at the scrape of wood on stone as she moves deliberately away, black eyes catch Nelly's and she shrugs as though confused.

More than 'er life is worth to be the one to tell they overheard such goin's on.

"Now Keela, yer knew the way o' things. Jealousy's a sin, girl or has yer reading taught yer nothin'?" Nelly smiles as the girl turns her face away, redder than the coals.

Heathcliff turns to the old servant, she nods and smiles, jerking her head the door.

He moves a little closer to the girl before the fire, "Keela."

She ignores him.

"Will you not come and help with the horses?"

She spits something Nelly cannot understand, still a curse can be guessed whatever its tongue, she gets to her feet, offers him a vulgar gesture and heads out, saying she will see to the beasts herself and he may just sit and wait for Miss Earnshaw to snap her fingers that he might go runnin' like a dog to her whistle.

Fire and powder this pair.

He looks after her in stunned silence.

The old woman giggles softly, as he turns to her

"Nelly?"

She rolls out her pastry and considers how best to frame things.

"She's jealous o' Miss Catherine. Nothin' more."

His eyes give nothing away.

God is he simple?

"Miss Frances has promised her a gown…. God, it's not over Linton is it?"

Nelly bites her lip to keep from laughing at the fire in his eyes.

"Peace, Heathcliff. How can it be, she has not met the man and has told me in all secrecy…"

"What?"

"That she hates 'im. On yer account no doubt, as I guessed. Ye cannot be slanderin' Master's guests, my pet. So if it's not the fine gowns and it is not Master Edgar what else has Cathy, that a lassie might envy her?"

"Keela is not _so_ ugly."

"Aye, her hair is very fine would you not agree?"

He smiles "Cathy said God had to give her something."

"Miss Cathy is cruel and ye should not allow her to speak so."

"As well as ask the devil to repent, you know how she is Nelly, she's unkind enough to you."

The wrinkled arms ache at the memory of the lily-white fingers and the pain they can inflict when spite is little Miss's master.

"Can you think of nothing else?"

He shakes his head and Nelly sighs and throws a hand to her forehead.

"You, you foolish boy."

He pales at that "Don't be disgusting Nelly. I'd no sooner consider her than I would you! What would Cathy say? God, can you imagine her under you in bed? She'd break you in two. You might as well be a sodomite as lie with that."

Nelly glances up and gives no sign that she saw a flash of fire at the door and a pale face, listening in the shadows.

"That's dreadful unkind of yer, she's a bonny wench when the light's right."

"It'd have to be black as hell."

Nelly sighs; she shall have to be kept to indoor work if his mind is to be changed. But how to persuade the lass that she will get further emulating Miss Cathy than a drunken sailor on shore leave with her gestures and her cursin'?

"I thought ye had no time for fine ladies Heathcliff? You took against Miss Cathy somethin' frightful after her injury, when they brought her home in that cream gown, wi' her hair all up. Looked like a queen she did and such high manners and would you go near her then? No you would not and here's a lassie o' yer own walk o' life, wi' a tongue to make yer's seem courteous and she won't do, neither."

Joseph appears in the hallway "Miss Frances would be abed, Nelly."

Heathcliff stands but Nelly lays ahold of him, "You'll not go near 'er. I shall fetch her in."

She bustles out to the stables as the girl locks the doors and glances up,

"Nelly."

"Mistress wants yer lassie, so come an' get washed."

"Is the cuckoo still in there? I'll not come in if he is."

"Keela! Where did you learn that?"

"Ploughboy told me ter call 'im that. Saw me cryin' and said to try it when next I saw 'im."

"Not unless ye wants both yer eyes blacked yer won't lass. Come now, I'll keep 'im off yer. He didn't know you could hear 'im."

Keela is taken to the parlour for her bath, Nelly dreads it each evening, t'wd be easier to bathe a cat.

That were aflame.

At last she is dried and ready and sent upstairs with strict orders to avoid Miss Catherine, she is to speak only to Mistress or Master and then only when spoken to.

Mistress is quietly contended tonight, Miss Cathy has been happier than she has seen her in days; it brings sunshine to all the house.

The child weighs heavy now, perhaps tomorrow she shall send for the doctor, is Keela quite well after her little fall?

She is glad to hear it, she must forgive Hindley for his whippings, he only means to help her to remember her place. It is a kindness if only she will see it in its true light.

She has laid aside a simple gown, britches are not suitable for a lady even of the fields, and she will kindly be seen to wear it. Else mistress shall be most hurt.

There is nothing to be done but to take it up and try and show pleasure in it.

She embraces her mistress as she has seen her do when she is most pleased with some thing or other.

Her act is well received and Frances squeezes her hands and promises that she shall help make quite the lady of her, even though she be little better than a slave.

It will bring her joy to do so…like the dolls her father gave her as a girl. Keela will be as one of their number.

They kneel beside the great bed and Frances leads the prayer in her high, sweet voice.

For all her frippery and simplicity of mind it would be a foolish God did not love such a gentle heart.

Miss Frances offers her own candle to light her way back to the kitchens and Nelly smiles to see her enter with a bundle under one arm,

"That's a pretty gown, does mistress need it washin?" she knows well enough the truth.

"She took it into her head to offer it me. And says I shall be seen to wear it lest her feelin's be 'urt. How am I to wear such in the fields? I shall be laughed at."

Ellen takes it from her and examines it; it is a good gown, a thick warm linen, brown as chocolate from the Americas.

"Come here, I shall lend ye my old apron so yer do not ruin it and make the mistress cry."

"Thank you, Nelly."

She crouches, shivering before the fire as she strips her borrowed clothes and permits Nelly to lace her into the dress, she stands wooden and still when it is done, Nelly sits her at the table and runs a brush through the flaming locks, with a smile.

"There now, see what a change is come. Do ye not think yerself quite striking?"

"Perhaps it only need be dark as purgatory now."

The sorrow in her voice pulls at Nelly's heart.

"Well yer go and clean out the parlour fire, and then yer may abed. Joseph would say ter forgive, what's in Bible about suns and anger?"

"I'll not do it. It might just be added to my list o' sins."

Nelly shakes her head as the obstinate creature leaves and listens to the angry scrapings in the parlour as if a thousand rats were scurryin' in the hearth.

Fire and powder…how long until the two might kiss and consume all about them in their blaze?

Heathcliff comes to steal the food she readies, and Nelly turns and snaps at him to leave it be, she meets the cold black eyes with a fire of her own that is startling.

The screech of metal on stone echoes like the screams of the damned.

"What is that?" the lascar looks about.

"Keela, she's torturin' the fireplace, in punishment for yer unkindness."

He sinks onto her abandoned stool before the flames and watches Nelly with less guile than she has ever seen him show in his life.

"I did nothing to her."

"She overheard yer remarks."

"Which?"

"Abou' 'er bein' ugly."

"I said she wasn't _that_ ugly!" he seems genuinely mystified as to the cause of offense.

"Well ye shall go and beg pardon afore she goes abed. I think ye shall have cause to recant o' yer cruelty."

"Did she transform into Cathy while I were gone?"

Nelly narrows her eyes at him, and gestures threateningly with her rolling pin.

"Fine…I'll go."

She listens with her ear to the wall, nosy as any Billingsgate fishwife.

She hears him make his entrance, for a moment all is silent, and then a cry goes up in a language she cannot understand, the girl has decided to answer what must be further insult with her fists…

She shall not go in…

"Joseph!"

She runs up the stairs two at a time at the sound of brawling within the room and the old man is dragged from his evening prayers to find a way between the two of 'em.

They sit consigned to separate kitchen corners, one nursing a black eye and the other bloody knuckles, Heathcliff had added to her insult in some manner regarding the dress, she had lain a cruel word against Miss Cathy in return and been bloodied at his hand for so doin', only rather than howl like a girl and retreat from his temper as he had expected she had taken it into her head to strike him back, measure for measure.

Nelly eyes the motley pair like a hawk, she slaps Heathcliff across the back of the head for presuming to strike a lady, he snaps that the Taig fights like a man as well as lookin' like one.

For thanks Keela aims for his head with the bread knife and misses by a hair's breadth through her tears.

Nelly stamps in anger, and threatens to fetch Hindley if they do not desist in such foul behaviour, a sound whippin' will soon put their fire out.

Keela is entitled to her opinion of Miss Earnshaw but given Heathliff's regard for her, she shall keep such opinions to herself in his presence. Whatever provocation she is offered.

Lest she wishes to return to the plantations.

And if Heathcliff ever lays hands to a woman again Nelly shall see him sent away. And shall not hesitate to make the reason known to Miss Cathy.

The two vagrants should be turned out, causin' such a stir, it were a miracle they did not wake their betters, brawlin' like drunkards.

They should be ashamed.

No shame is forthcoming; they sit staring at each other with a dislike so visceral it almost frightens Nelly.

Damned Gypsies.

And with Christmas only a day away.

No spirit o' the season to be found in this kitchen.

Fine.

Joseph is given orders to flog the pair o' them.

By Nelly no less.

Half an hour and twenty lashes later they hang stripped to the waist, by their wrists from the stable beams, black eyes burn into blue.

"Stop lookin' at me."

Heathcliff sneers down at her "Why? It's the only bit of you worth looking at."

Keela writhes against her ropes; he thinks she's trying to get close enough to bite him.

Again.

Teeth like a ship's rat that one.

Three hours later and they almost regret their behaviour, the bitter wind howls through the stables like a curse.

She's shaking so hard she can barely keep her feet, biting her lips to ribbons to keep her teeth from rattling.

Merry bloody Christmas.

She awakes on the morning of her Saviour's birth in worse agony than she has ever felt, her wrists are raw and bleeding, her legs so cold it hurts to stand, she turns her head to eye the lascar beside her.

Well he's either sleeping or dead of the cold.

The door opens and she groans as the wind whispers in like an ill wish.

Joseph unties them and leaves them to nurse their cuts though he has no balm for wounded pride.

Since neither can reach all of their lashes unaided, an uneasy truce is called, and rueful apologies offered not long after.

Nelly smiles over to Joseph at the echo of laughter from the yard.

They make their return, dripping blood on Nelly's freshly washed floor, much to her chagrin.

She should lecture further…she knows it, and yet in light of the day she cannot, she must go to Catherine and help her prepare for her visitors.

Being Christmas day they may just amuse themselves, seeing as how their feelings seem mended in regard to each other.

Miss Frances must be bathed and dressed first; she eyes her servant, showing signs of a fair beating and enquires delicately whether she is well.

She confesses half the truth, that she and Heathcliff fought over some silliness but all is well now.

Frances giggles and examines the shadow about the blue of her eye and fusses tenderly if it hurts.

It will hurt for a month, though Keela would sooner die than admit such.

She laces the silvery gown about her mistress whilst assuring her that Nelly saw them well punished.

Frances approves the action and as the maid turns to go, slips her a shilling to give to Nelly for a Christmas gift as the late Mr Earnshaw was in the habit of doing.

And as to Keela, she has not forgotten the pretty gown…and she made only a little trouble and none of it enough to disturb anyone.

She cannot blame her striking the gypsy boy. He is the devil incarnate.

If Keela will go to the armoire she will find it tied with a lavender ribbon, Mistress reads aloud the slip of parchment.

Merry Christmas, Love Mrs Frances Earnshaw.

God it is beautiful! She opens it up and the yellow cotton shimmers in the morning, she holds it up to herself before the glass and cannot contain her pleasure, bestowing kisses three upon her good hearted mistress.

Nelly shall doubtless help her repair it fit to be seen.

Mistress sits quite still as Keela struggles with the bottles and cakes of her cosmetics, as odd to her as a foreign land, so that at each moment Frances must say

"No dear, that is for the cheeks." Or some such.

She would insist upon painting up poor Keela, despite the girl's protests.

Nelly is sent for in great secrecy to lace the lass into her new gown and the old maid is forced to kneel half an hour in repairing the torn skirt and falling hem, and then to catch up the flaming curls whilst Francis powders the pale face herself.

And declares her a doll. As fine as any her father bought.

And now she must be spared work for the day but be allowed to sit about and Nelly might teach her to sew or else she may read from the Bible, on no account is she to consider riding in that gown.

They are sent away in a cloud of powder and the scent of roses so strong it is almost sickening.

It is a wonder any woman with child can stand it.

Nelly gleams all the way down the stairs. She should have guessed Mistress might take such a thought into her head.

Lord knows poor Cathy suffered through many such hours when first Hindley brought his wife home to the Heights.

The elder hurries to open the kitchen door as if Keela were lady of the house herself, at the sight of her Joseph mutters something unintelligible but the name of the mistress can be discerned.

They cannot decipher whether he approves or not, one may as well read the walls of the pyramids.

She takes her seat beside him and he orders a shawl to be draped about her shoulders, the neckline is sinful and must be raised as soon as may be.

Their devotions begin without further interruption.

Nelly puts the finishing touches to the lunch and bids Keela to go see to the horses, lest their water be turned to ice.

She eyes the mustard coloured cloth that swirls about her like the clouds of heaven.

"In this?"

Nelly flaps at her whilst trying to keep the cranberries even.

"Yer gettin' as bad as Cathy. Go on. One fine dress and yer suddenly too high to be about yer work."

She hitches up her skirts at that and runs for the doorway, Nelly laughing in her wake.

She shatters the water in the trough, which true to Nelly's word glitters in the dull stable light, and pitches hay over into the stalls.

Cathy almost laughs as she enters, what a sight the girl makes, arms strong as a farmhand's swathed in cotton bright as sunbeams, hair twisted up and face powdered but with her work boots visible from beneath her skirts.

If only Heathcliff could see her now he'd never dream to look sideways at her again.

She catches Nelly watching her from the kitchen door, and steps further in out of sight; Keela is hanging off a rope from the beams balancing on the stall door to reach the hay bale which has been hung too high for her to reach….

White hands reach out of their own sinful accord and the girl falls with a dreadful shriek, Cathy smiles and hurries out before she finds her feet, quite sure that the beast will think she simply overreached.

She shall find that she keeps having little accidents if she does not learn her place.

Nelly watches her closely when she re enters as though measuring her involvement in whatever the damage is now.

The stall door opens and Heathcliff looks down at the girl sobbing in the corner, blood spilling from her lip where she fell, and thanks God Joseph is timely in cleaning the stalls else he should not dare to go near her.

He pulls her to her feet, and she wipes at her eyes smearing black up her sleeve.

She looks so helplessly tragic that he almost wants to hold her….

She stamps angrily "Don't you stare at me so! Frances made me dress up like this! And it were nice until that bi….I thought you should see me lookin' like a lady too and change yer mind about my bein' ugly! Now you'll only laugh with her about it!"

He catches her hands "I won't, truly. What the hell were you doing on the floor? Are you hiding from Nelly?"

"No! I were gettin' hay! And then…I weren't."

He eyes the swinging rack above, "You fell?"

"Yes, right after that…Right after I were mysteriously pushed!"

"Who pushed you? There is no one here."

"Miss Earnshaw, I heard her."

His eyes narrow, "Why should Cathy do such a thing?"

She stamps again "Cos she don't know how horrible you are to me! She don't know you hate me! And wants you to like no one but 'er!"

He catches her arms and gently pulls her from the stall to sit on the low bench beside the window, "Why would I hate you?"

He wipes the blood from her lip, and she gazes up at him with wide blue eyes glittering with tears.

"Cos I hit yer."

He laughs, "I should not have mocked you, and it were an impressive blow."

She smiles weakly at that. "Aye, I don't deny it. I can't 'elp hatin' her, she teases me as you would a dog and says I'm a beast and a savage."

"How do you know she says such things?" he is genuinely shocked that Cathy should be quite so cruel.

"Joseph tells me, says it'd be sinnin' to hide it from me, and whatever I've done to anger 'er I must repent o' it and do it no more. For its not right for a servant to distress their betters."

He pulls her to her feet, "Come on, she'll let you alone if I tell her to."

She pales "No! It will make it all worse! She…She thinks I have some affection for you and she will not stand for it!"

He sighs and lifts her clean off her feet, carrying her back to the house, with her black boots kicking all the way, protest becomes laughter, Nelly raises an eyebrow, from blows to this…how swift the vixen moves.

Catherine enters the kitchen in search of Nelly, needing her help with changing her gown,

"Edgar will be here soon Nelly, leave that mess and help me!"

She lights up as Heathcliff stands and crosses the room to her, Nelly watches the servant girl carefully turn her attention to the meal left half ready upon the table, her mouth twists as she takes up the rolling pin and strikes the dough with far more force than is seemly, still if she can be kept from an open display of jealousy then all will be well.

Nelly follows Miss Cathy up to her chamber where she helps her into her finest white dress and prepares her hair, pinning up the rich curls.

Surely such beauty will move Master Linton to consider pressing his suit for her hand.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

Edgar's long awaited visit with his sister, Isabella has put all the house in an uproar, It has taken Mistress two hours of dressing and changing her mind, to be made ready to receive her guests, at long last the sound of carriage wheels draws Frances's attention, and she bids Keela help her to stand, she drapes a shawl about her shoulders and descends the stairs to wait beside her husband, Cathy passes her on the landing without a glance.

"There now Hindley, did I not tell you my old dress would look beautiful on Cathy!"

"I think I hear them arriving!"

Miss Earnshaw rushes out to the door, with her brother calling after her not to run, Frances leans in and says that she is a spirited girl and it would be a shame to tame her completely.

Keela watches hidden on the landing as the famed Mr Linton enters with his sister, led by Master into the drawing room, he is handsome enough though too slight with no strength of form nor feature to recommend him, the perfect English gentleman, nothing about him to provoke opinion one way or another.

He is polite and considerate at every turn, holding the drawing room door so that Mistress may precede him and offering her the chair beside the fireplace, as it is the best, in view if her condition.

How will such a man survive the temper of Miss Cathy?

Perhaps he has hidden reserves of character…

She stands, shivering waiting to be summoned and at last the door opens and as Edgar leaves to arrange for the coachman to return later, Frances calls to her to join them, she hurries in and stands stock still, Heathcliff has been done up as a gentleman, she has never seen anyone look so elegant and so uncomfortable in the same moment, she flushes at his eyes on her. It is as though they have changed places.

Now she is the savage in the room.

She glances down, all to aware that her bare feet are stained with the dirt of the hallway; she had no time to change her clothes, and nothing to change them for besides, she looks every inch the filthy slave girl, Cathy is biting her lip to keep from laughing and appearing rude.

Edgar returns, careful to step around her, as though dirt were contagious.

He holds out his hat to Heathcliff and Keela flinches in sympathy.

"I am not your servant."

Oh dear.

"Don't look at me like I am."

She watches him advance on Edgar who seems torn between fear and shock at being so addressed.

Master is scarlet with anger and orders Heathcliff away, complaining that he shall steal the food and bidding Joseph to send him to the garret and keep him there until dark.

Nelly protested at this, and said that he would touch nothing and it were unfair to keep him out.

Master is on his feet, his rage such that Nelly drew back from him.

'He shall have his share of my hand, if I catch him downstairs till dark," he cried. "Begone, you vagabond! What! You are attempting the coxcomb, are you? Wait till I get hold of those elegant locks—see if I won't pull them a bit longer!'

Keela flinched and even Nelly looked discomfited at the threat.

'They are long enough already,' observed Master Linton, peeping from the doorway; 'I wonder they don't make his head ache. It's like a colt's mane over his eyes!'

In that moment Nelly is sure that he intended no genuine offense…but intentions be dammed, the room stills as like lightening Heathcliff catches up the tureen of burning apple sauce and strikes his tormenter full in the face, it rings like the tolling of chapel bells and how the young man howls, Keela is on her feet and shouting something that could be understood by no one, but sounded to Nelly worryingly like encouragement for the assault.

Heathcliff is dragged unceremoniously from the room between Master Hindley and Joseph, poor miss Isabella sets up a most dreadful weeping, pleading to go home.

Nelly catches up a cloth and began rather viciously to scrub at Master Linton, as he tries to extricate himself from her ministrations and stem the blood that runs from his nose.

Miss Cathy sits in stunned silence, her eyes filled with tears. "You should not have spoken to him! He was in a bad temper, now your visit is spoiled! Now he shall be flogged! I hate it when they flog him! Why did you speak to him!"

Poor master Linton pales at finding that he must shoulder the blame for the unfortunate turn of events.

"I did not!"

Keela feels her stomach revolt at the sight of the sobbing man; she flinches at the lash that shatters the air, Frances lays a hand to her stomach as the whip falls again, she reaches out to Nelly and begs most prettily to be excused as she is unwell and must abed.

Keela is not sent for, and so slips from the room and out to the kitchens, Joseph has formed the habit of leaving his salve in the cabinet where it might be easily found.

She takes it up, and sits at the table her hands over her ears to block out the lash, half of her longs to run out to the stables and strike Master Hindley back to hell for his cruelty.

She clenches her fists and kicks at the table legs in impotent rage; she gets to her feet as Master re enters with Joseph, the corpulent beast looks down at her, she drops into a neat curtsey.

Hindly turns back to her as he reaches the far door "What did you say to the bastard? I could not catch it?"

"I…I told him not to strike Master Linton." She prays that he will not guess that she is lying.

He runs piggy eyes over her face, "Did you indeed?"

"Yes, sir."

"So you did not approve of such savagery?" his tone is softer than usual, as though it is an honest question…is he trying to trick her into confessing?

"Or was it rather than you would have struck my honoured guest by your own hand?"

"If he had said such to me, I would not have chosen the apple sauce for my instrument. If that's what you mean, Sir."

For a moment he almost laughs at her impertinence, she shrugs

"I think it were the first thing he could lay hold to. You were cruel to him Sir, ye can flog me fer sayin' it, but say it I will. I don't much care."

He moves back into the room "Would you care after…shall we say one hundred lashes?"

"I shall run away, you lay a hundred lashes on me, Sir."

His smile is horrible, "Then you will be hanged, this is not Ireland, or wherever Ellen bought you from, we have English laws here. And after my wife has shown you such kindness, why she would break her heart weeping to hear you had threatened such. I know what you are, girl and I could have handed you over to be executed, I have not as my wife has a liking for you, but you forget your place. And to think you had to miss a proper introduction to Master Linton on his account, could you not have used the opportunity to spell Edgar into marrying you? Is that not what your kind do? Bewitch good English men?"

He is suddenly far too close; she can smell the stink of beer on him, he has her by the arms, she can feel the press of his flabby flesh through the cotton of her shirt.

She is reminded of the son of her last owner…she cannot strike her master…

He seems to lose interest as suddenly as he took it up and departs the room.

Leaving her shuddering, she snatches up Joseph's bottle and makes her way to the stables, finds the doors locked and uses the rope to climb to the hayloft window and slips in at it, she hurries down the ladder and unties Heathcliff as swiftly as she is able, eyeing the welts at his wrists, the sign of his brother's hate.

She pulls his shirt up and washes away the blood that mars his skin, and gently caresses the stinging balm into the lash marks, her stomach turning at the brush of broken skin against her fingertips.

"Is Cathy coming?"

Her hands still, she pulls away "I do not know…she seemed much taken with Master Linton. I can find out for you."

"She hates you, your presence will only make her say no."

She gets to her feet, brushing down her britches. "God! And to think I took your part to Master!"

She turns on her heel and he is left to watch her scurry away up the ladder and he hears her feet strike the dirt as she drops from the rope and abandons him to his agony.

Nelly finds her in the kitchens engaged in a pitched battle with what she suspects used to be the hind leg of a pig and a carving knife, she hurries to take the blade away,

"God girl! I said to carve it, it is quite dead already!"

She eyes the tears in the icy eyes and catches her shoulders, laying the knife down

"Whatever is the matter?"

She seems beside herself

"I only went to be kind! I needn't have gone at all! Cathy, Cathy dammed, bloody Cathy!"

Without warning Keela takes up the knife, and drives it almost to the hilt into the wooden tabletop.

Nelly shudders at the sight, at the promise of the strength in those arms…perhaps Heathcliff were right when he said she could snap you in half.

She holds her by the shoulders…now is not the moment for anger…

"Sit you down, you are quite out of sorts. What's brought this on? Ye can tell me whilst I…fetch me a new knife girl, I cannot get this one free." She laughs nervously, trying to make light of it.

One is handed over and Ellen sets to work carving, all afternoon the girl sits before the flames, rising every so often to help Nelly about her work, it seems it is to be a dark Christmas day, her first in this household.

Nelly tries to distract her from whatever it is that plagues her, with talk of her home, she asks about Keela's own family but learns precious little for her troubles.

The sun is long down when Joseph enters the kitchens as though the devil himself were chasing him, demands to know where Heathcliff is, he has looked everywhere, he has escaped the barn and Miss Cathy cannot be found neither.

Mistress has begun with her pains and the doctor must be brought.

Keela sighs and after promising on perdition of her immortal soul that she did not free the fahl devil is bid to comfort her mistress.

She hitches up her skirts and hurries up the stairs, she spies Master pacing the drawing room, a brandy in hand, as a cry of pain tears the air.

She pushes open the door, Miss Frances lies in her bed, her face pale and sweating but she smiles to see Keela.

"Good evening my dear."

The girl moves to kneel beside the bed and takes her mistresses' hand bidding her cling as tight as she should need when her pains come, she prays softly as the agony in her hand grows stronger, at last she hears Master's roar, and then soon after the rhythm of hoof beats in the yard, she smiles up to Frances

"Doctor Kenneth will be here soon."

Frances tries to smile through her tears, she seems so tired already and her tribulations have barely begun, Keela fetches her a little heated wine and lies the warming pan at her feet, she is half asleep though she wakes to cry out in agony every so often.

Keela's stomach twists, and she begs God that the doctor might come soon.

They have not long to wait, he bustles in and sends the servant for hot water and cloths, she brings them as swift as ever she can, the doctor stands over Mistress Frances his face pale and grave, fear descends upon the house like a mist, mistress is so tired…

Keela is sent out to wait in the hall; she shivers at the cries that echo through the wall, Doctor sends for Master, she tries not to listen to what is being said, then at last she is sent for, the baby lies in a crib, a beautiful little boy with dark hair and his father's eyes, the room is like a scene from hell and mistress lies so still and pale, Master watches from the corner chair, the doctor fusses about, he appears so grey and haggard.

Keela kneels once more and Frances smiles weakly reaching out, "Keela…the doctor says…I am like to die…we know that's silly, don't we dearest?"

All the colour drains from the young servant's face and she clings tighter to her mistress as though she might hold her life inside.

What is the best way? She should agree, perhaps mistress shall will herself well once more.

"Of course, mistress. You have a bonny bairn to care for."

"Quite so, do you hear doctor? I shall be well again, I have a fortune teller's prediction!"

Keela has not the heart to contradict her, her head spins, the room is heavy with the scent of blood and beneath it moorland flowers and woodsmoke…perhaps they are burning…

She opens her eyes and gazes at her mistress. it is like looking through a spirit in the kirkyard…as though she is fading away before her very eyes, Keela crosses herself and turns to Hindley

"Master! Send for the priest I beg of you!"

"She will not die…foolish girl…"

How is she to explain her fears?

"Master, mistress's sudden ill health seems…unnatural."

She reaches up and taking the vial from her throat dabs the precious holy water upon her mistresses' burning forehead, she draws a cross upon the golden brow and prays as she never has.

For half an hour the mistress rallies…Keela tries not to hear the tread of boots upon the stairway that seem to steal away her lady's strength with every step they draw nearer.

Keela is sobbing as Mistress's hand weakens its grasp, she draws a rattling breath…God the scent of the moors is sickening, as if they had thrown wide every window to the eye of the tempest that howls like a curse, as though they burned heather in place of wood….

Kenneth watches her and offers a sad smile.

He moves to stand over the bed, and reaches down; Keela throws herself upon Frances Earnshaw, as though by keeping the doctor away the dreadful truth might be warded off.

Like an ill wish.

Mistress is dead; the only prayers of any worth now are those that may be said for her soul.

Hindley is beside himself, the doctor tries to reason with him, he should never have chosen such a weak and sickly lass.

He is banished from the house into the snow and the storm without payment.

Keela makes her way to the door, glancing back at the sad figure that lies with the bloodied sheet for a shroud and lit from behind with the candles glow, she can still see the sweet smile through the white cloth….

She pushes her way blindly out into the icy hallway, a figure moves…Heathcliff peers over her shoulder at the sight of his hated brother sobbing fit to break the coldest heart over the body of his beloved…. One would think he were looking upon the face of God.

His smile makes her blood run cold…she slaps her hands against his chest

"Get away! God, don't stand there lookin' so! She's dead!"

The tears run down her cheeks anew, he does not move. Indeed he gives no sign that he has even noticed her, he simply stands, hypnotised by the sight of his brother's loss.

And the scent of the moors burns in her head…she strikes out at him again then…

"You! What did you do? You fiend! You devil!"

Hindley does not even look up at the commotion at his door.

Keela lays hold of Heathcliff about the waist and drags him from the doorway with a strength borne of necessity.

She slams him into the wall, striking worthlessly at him, tearing at him with her nails like one possessed.

"It were you! I know it! What did you do? Why? Why her? She never hurt no one!"

He still has the same horrible smile on his face, and his voice is unlike she has ever heard it,

"It were him…I cursed him…and look, he's lost the only person who ever loved him."

He glances down at her, with a secretive smile and then pulls her into his arms, and spins her about with him, laughing as though it were a joyous evening, she stills at his fingers against her throat…he twists the pendant from her almost choking her on it.

"Do not cross me again, Keela. It were worse because of you, she should have died quick…but no, you had to make it hard…so you just think on that…she would never have suffered so if it weren't for you. So I'll thank you for yer help with me curse…we killed her together you and I."

He laughs at the sound of Hindley's agonised scream, a high sound to chill blood and bone alike, and in that moment Keela would swear Joseph sees more than confessed, and that the devil truly walks this house.

She trembles and only Heathcliff's arms about her keep her standing.

She looks up into the burning blackness of his eyes that glitter with a hellish light.

He releases her and moves to push the door open a little, Hindley is still curled over his dead wife and she watches the lascar drink in his agony as though it were communion wine.

As though he might be transformed by this vengeance, as if it will somehow heal all that he has suffered.

She can look at him no longer, Nelly pushes past her and lifts the bairn from the cradle and bids Keela close the door, that master might grieve in solitude.

She orders her to prepare warm sugar weakened with water, which is fed to the baby upon Nelly's knee, she tries not to listen to Heathcliff talking with Cathy in the drawing room, she hears her young mistresses' voice, cold as ice.

"I sometimes think your true passion is hate rather than love."

For the first time it seems Keela and Miss Earnshaw agree on something.

She takes the baby from Nelly as Heathcliff comes back in, as though she can protect the child, lest his shadow should fall upon it.

She cradles him as close as if he were her own, and breaks her heart with weeping to think that she will never be summoned more to her mistress's side.

Perhaps she will be sent away now?

She serves no purpose any longer…she were only brought to the Heights to be a maid to Mrs Earnshaw.

Perhaps she must give up the lessons with Joseph and baking with Nelly, God, would she even miss being picked at by Miss Cathy?

And until tonight she thought she would miss…

When she thinks on all that he has suffered…No! She cannot allow pity into her soul…He has killed Miss Frances as surely as if he had poisoned her with his own hands….and told her that she helped him do it.

She should have died quickly…she shivers so fiercely that Nelly takes the babe from her for fear she shall drop him to the hearthstone.

She bids her go with Heathcliff and lock up the horses…if she wishes to ride to clear her head after her hours in the birthing chamber then the old servant is quite sure that Master will not care one way or another.

Keela stands in the fire's glow and can think of no way to refuse.

In that moment she would rather cut her own throat than go anywhere near Heathcliff.

But go she must and so she follows him out into the darkness where the snow falls like angels feathers, out in the icy stables she pitches hay into the stalls and is careful not to look at him.

"You are displeased with me?"

She rounds on him, pitchfork in hand as though she would run him through

"I could kill you! She never deserved it! She were a good woman! Why not Hindley? It's 'im what torments and degrades you!"

He gives he a half smile "I don't want him to die first, I will make him suffer for what he's done to me."

She matches his cruel smile and in the candlelight he almost fears the look she gives him

"And one day I will repay you for this. Even if they send me back to the plantation, I will make you suffer Heathcliff."

"I thought you of all people would understand Keela, But no, your as bad as Cathy."

Her grip tightens on the shaft of the fork and for a moment he thinks she may yet stab him with it.

"Cursing Hindley I would have understood, God I would have helped yer do it! But this? For this there is nothing ye can say that will make me hate yer any less. Cathy were right to spurn ya, yer nothin' but a monster! Edgar Linton must seem an angel when she thinks o' the pair o' ya."

Her words cut deeper than if she had impaled him on the metal in her fist, as though she has shot him to the heart.

And he is human enough that it hurts, he sees the truth of Cathy's rejection in the girl's eyes, to think that little Keela should say such things to him.

And for a moment he almost questions the torment he has thrown down upon the household.

What would his father say to have seen him do it? To watch his best loved son whom he rescued from the gutter, curse a defenceless woman to her grave and whilst she were labouring over the babe that would have been his grandson at that…

His father would never have allowed Hindley to do what he has done and so if Father had lived this need never have happened…it is not his fault.

Hindley has brought this on himself.

They finish their work in silence, she is careful to avoid drawing too close to him, as though he carries the plague.

She storms back to the kitchens leaving him to follow in her wake and stands washing blueberries and singing a haunting tune that Nelly knows not, she smiles

"What's that about then?"

Keela's eyes come to rest on Heathcliff

"Cuckoo in the nest is killing the other birds…I am wondering who will be next?"

Nelly shrugs "Strange sort o' song, sing something cheery can't ye? It's a sad enough night without songs abou' killin' birds."

Keela is the only one that notices Heathcliff slip away into the darkness, even after all this something burns deep within to watch him leave.

She must pray for forgiveness and remember always what he has done.

"It were him…I cursed him."

It were meant for Hindley…so why did such a spell take Frances?

"I don't want him to die before me."

Why?

So that he will live alone and suffer in pain and anguish.

She sees it clear as day, laid out plain before her and it makes a twisted sense even to her, a most poetic justice…but Frances is still dead.

And now thanks to him Keela may very well be sent back to the plantations or sold on.

Nelly is watching her closely "What of our talk girl? You will never distract anyone from anything wi' a face like thunder, can ye not show him an amiable humour?"

"No."

Nelly sighs and slams down the leaves she is washing, "Well with Mistress gone it is I who decides the comin's and goin's o' this place now, do ye understand me? Do ye want to go back to yer old plantation?"

Keela shakes her head violently.

"Then you'd best go on bein' a good lass and doin' as yer told hadn't ye? So if I tells yer to be a distraction from Miss Cathy so that she might be freed from Heathcliff's attentions you'd best do it, hadn't ye?"

Keela is horrified

"I must steal Heathcliff's affections from Miss Cathy or you'll send me away?"

The old maid smiles

"I never said anythin' o' the sort, what strange ideas ye've got. Still master will listen to me now, and since I tell ye what ye shall and shan't do ye'd best do anything yer ordered lest I decide yer not worth keepin' ye was only bought to serve Mistress, ye can serve Miss Cathy now, encourage her to see Master Edgar's suit is a good one and keep the gypsy from her…by whatever means ye have to. You win this way, ye get to stay and if ye play yer part right we shall see a weddin' ova' the broomstick a'fore the years out."

"You seem to have it all decided." Keela's voice is hollow. "You cannot offer me marriage to a man I despise, and who is promised elsewhere."

Nelly shrugs "Make him break any promise he has given, you are not without charm, and Miss Cathy has too keen an eye to her reputation to risk…well ye takes me meanin' girl. Get to him afore she does, she'll never want him if ye had him first."

Her eyes dance wickedly at the young girl's flush.

"Aye, ye see my meanin', spell 'im if ye have to. But Miss Cathy must accept Master Edgar and you must help her see the sense in such a choice, admire him when ye dress her, praise his gentleness when ye reads with her, say how handsome he is when ye serves 'er at supper."

Keela'a face is white as the snow beyond the window.

"He is not handsome! He is blanched as a snake's underbelly! I swear if ye cut 'im he'd bleed white! He is dull beyond all tellin'! He is weak and sickly! He is but half a man!"

Nelly rolls her eyes heavenward

"Ye don't have to mean it! Just say it as if ye do, she'll decide twice as quick in his favour if she thinks ye had an eye to 'im. Its 'er vanity, she can see no one want anythin' but she must 'av it first, it were always 'er way."

Keela pulls the berries from the heat and lays the pot upon the table, her hands trembling, she can see no way to twist free of the net the old servant has cast…she cannot be turned out.

Nelly smiles as she watches her face, the turmoil behind her eyes,

"Go find Heathcliff, I will have supper ready soon, I will call Joseph. Whatever it is between you, forgive him it…it cannot be so wicked, that is an order, you be sweet as honey to 'im do ye hear me? If yer not, ye shall 'av the back 'o my hand."

Keela nods silently though her eyes blaze like star fire, the old servant chuckles

"That's a good look on' ye to be sure, keep yer anger, it'll draw 'im like a moth. You might look to how Cathy manages 'im, ye must be as much like 'er as ye are able."

"So I must treat 'im like a whipped dog to obey my every wish? Treat all about me like worms for the crushin'? Must I pinch ye too, Nelly?"

"Get gon' ye vixen, touch me and you'll feel the whip, I'll not stand yer tongue, go on with ye…though ye raise a good point, perhaps if ye show him what Cathy is not? Be the honey to her vinegar, try it to begin with. A little sweetness may yet be a relief after her bile."

Keela takes up Ellen's comb and moves to the mirror.

Nelly laughs

"Leave it be gal, wild hair makes a man think on what he should not."

She winks and Keela swiftly pulls the comb through her tresses until they are as neat as can be with locks so thick, she throws down the comb like a gauntlet between her and Ellen and taking up her black shawl from the doorway she leaves the old servant to her cooking and her machinations.

Whatever it takes…spell 'im if you 'av too.

She reappears "Nelly, does Joseph grow herbs?"

The maid nods "Though I've got what's needed."

"Where are they?"

"Out in the garden by the gate, he'll 'av yer 'ead ye go diggin 'em up."

But she speaks too late the girl is gone, she returns with a handful of dark roots, Nelly eyes her as she cuts it carefully and crushes it with one end of Nelly's rolling pin, with a stern warning to wash it at once she is done.

"Have you got that wine you were goin' to give us?"

Ellen hands it over and the girl fills two glasses and sprinkles in a touch of her powder to each.

"What are ye about now?"

Keela eyes the storm and smiles

"Witchin', it will get you what ye want Nelly. And keep me 'ere."

She raises a goblet and sips with a sinful smile and then with cheeks glowing she goes to the door and out into the snow.

She makes her way to the stables goblets in hand, steady as a mountain goat on the ice that covers the ground like a carpet of diamonds.

Heathcliff looks up as she enters, and then looks away, she makes her way to sit beside him and when he stands and moves away she follows like a shadow.

"Maybe I spoke a bit hasty earlier…I been thinkin', I am still angry for Frances but you said it weren't meant for her."

He does not look at her, "What does that matter. I though you were swearin' bloody vengeance?"

She swallows hard and forces herself to lie

"What I mean is…I understand…I should not a' spoken as I did…were it me I might well a' done the same."

She holds up her goblet

"So say you forgive me my temper, and…I told Nelly I thought Edgar Linton were a blanched snake and ugly as sin, however rich he may be. He's a Nigit and no mistake and it did me heart good to see ye knock 'im down, master accused me o' wantin' to do it meself."

He smiles then "And did ye deny it?"

She blushes then "Nay, how could I? He's repulsive, simperin' and fawnin' like a lassie."

Heathcliff takes the goblet she offers and she smiles, raising her own

"To 'avin a bit o' bloody dignity. And the memory o' the mistress."

He laughs at that and she watches him drink the spelled wine with a strange smile, which vanishes as swift as he spies it.

In the candle's glow she could be mistaken for a beauty…the half light has improved her in every way…

He lays aside the goblet and sinks onto the low bench, she moves to sit beside him, pressed far too close, he can feel the heat of her through his shirt.

"Don't bring me any more o' that, did you steal it?"

She glowers at him in mock offense "No! Nelly gave it me."

"It is far too strong."

She laughs "No it aint."

"It must be."

"Why?" her eyes sparkle brighter than he remembers…

"Because your startin' to look pretty."

She slaps at him, playful and sweet, he catches her hands to stop the assault…they still feel so strange, not at all like…she closes her fingers on his…Cathy would not stand for such behaviour… and then all of a sudden the servant girl pulls away and makes her way to the door, she turns back

"You comin' abed?"

It is the same question she always asks…why does it suddenly sound as though it ought to be the subject of a morality tale?

He tries not to glance at her over supper, though Nelly smiles and laughs at it and Joseph scolds and hurts their ears with scripture verses until Nelly threatens to feed his beloved bible to the pigs.

Keela makes no show of shyness, meeting his gaze with frank honesty in her icy eyes, her cheeks pink as quartz crystals in the golden night, they mock Edgar Linton and his simpering sister until Nelly turns her ire on them and threatens to send Keela to attend on Miss Cathy without her share of Joseph's berries if she does not stop encouraging such wicked manners, it is unladylike.

Keela rejoins that she has no time for bein' a fine lady, whatever Miss Catherine's aspirations, she were born to nothin' and shall be quite content with whatever the good Lord should provide, she is no greedy, grasping Eve, to look upon temptation when offered and think it better than the beauty that is there already simply for its unfamiliarity. She would not throw away paradise for an apple however _rich_…its promise.

Nelly has no answer to that, it were a pretty way of sayin' that she will gladly accept that which Miss Catherine thinks to cast aside.

She nods to the girl when Heathcliff and Joseph are arguing over obedience to ones master as ordained by God, and makes sure to give her the sweetest berries for her cooperation, a trick not missed by Joseph who loudly praises the Lord for the goodness of his crop, now if only the cantankerous old maid would share it fairly as He intended.

Keela is sent to attend to Catherine at her bedtime and bids Joseph goodnight as he follows the lass out onto the stairway and goes on past her, high up into the reaches of the house.

Ellen smiles to the gypsy before the fire "Not so hard on the eye now is she?"

He will not look at her.

"She's not Cathy."

Nelly laughs "Nay and thank God for it, she's kinder to you in ten minutes than that lass has been these last ten years!"

"Cathy don't like her."

"Of course she don't, Miss Cathy don't like 'er cos she likes you. Well it must be your choice my pet, but I'd say your longing for Catherine is like taking poison and expectin' Edgar Linton to die. Seems a waste o good time."

"She only cares for him because he's rich…and pale."

"Well that's as may be…Keela told me…Nah I cannot repeat it."

She has his interest then.

"What? What did she tell ya?"

The old woman giggles

"That he's a blanched snake. She don't like 'im on account o' his paleness nor his wealth. Says he's weak and sickly and Miss Cathy's taken leave of her senses to look twice at him when…but I have said too much. I must be abed, get on with yer, out of my kitchen."

"I thought to see…"

"Cathy's abed."

"Keela."

The wizened smile grows at that "Do ya now, and what would Cathy say to such an idea? Sending fer servant girls after hours?"

"She would be angry. Serves her right, fawning over that bastard."

The old woman giggles "I quite agree, I shall tell her ye wish to see her afore she retires."

Half an hour later a worn and dishevelled Keela makes her miserable way back down to Nelly's side, her broad arms bearing cruel dark bruises.

"She said me hairs the colour o' crushed carrots. Christ alive, she pinches. If she weren't suddenly mistress I swear I'd knock her down as soon as look at 'er. But I did all ye said regardin' Master Linton, praised 'is miserable hide to the rafters, she will invite him again next week."

"That's good lassie, that's helpful you've been and no mistake. And I can make it worth yer while, there's someone wants to see ya."

Keela sighs "Only on account o' my witchin' 'im."

"Will ye say no?"

The girl shakes her head and then smiles "But he can come to me, I will not go runnin' out in that seekin' 'is attentions."

Nelly nods "That's fair, only ready yerself first, and wash yer feet fer the love o' God ye look like a beggar!"

The girl vanishes behind the curtain that serves for a bedroom, with rushes on the cold stone floor and a blanket thrown over them, Nelly thinks on it and is glad that as the most senior servants she and Joseph are allowed proper beds, still the lassie has never once complained of her treatment.

She calls Heathcliff in to sleep in the kitchen on account of the snow and then leaves them be, retiring to her own chamber.


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

Keela looks out from behind her curtain with a wicked smile.

"That's pretty skin ye've got, like plantation sugar."

"Christ! What are you doing back there?"

She giggles "I sleep here, ye fool."

He has never stopped to ask where she sleeps, he sees her in the fields, for meals and when she is strung up beside him, beneath the lash, it is most strange to see her sitting there in her shift

And she has not given a thought to how her candle lights her up like a church window at Christmas.

He averts his eyes and recommends that she move the flame, and comments that he hopes she does not sit about so before Joseph, the old fool's heart would attack him.

Her hurried compliance and crimson cheeks leave them both laughing.

Her skin is the colour of snow…she is broader than Cathy, heavier in the chest too…her thighs curve like a marble statue…She resembles the portrait of Venus that used to hang in Father's study.

She is softer than he thought to find her; he thought to see more muscle, harder lines…yet she is beautiful.

Her face has none of the haughtiness that lends Catherine her bearing; there is no guile in those oceanic eyes, the blue twisted all about with silver.

He is all too aware that she is looking at him, with far more intensity than can be proper, he remembers when Cathy used to watch him so…now she fawns over the milk whiteness of Edgar Linton, as though such a weakling could ever offer pleasure to a woman.

"Its like ice out there, are ye comin' in?"

God but she is brazen.

"Cathy would not like it."

She laughs with a sound like silver bells, "What is that to you or I? Do you like that she courts another? Nay, then come in with me and call it revenge."

He crosses the room and slips in beside her, knowing even as he does that he should have refused.

And yet she does not grab at him as Cathy does, she does not try to lay hands to him, she simply throws her worn blanket over them both and lies gazing up at him.

"May kali i muri may gugli avela"

"What does it mean?"

She turns her back on him and curls up on herself; her voice is soft with sleep

"The darker the berry the sweeter it is."

He lies in the dark, listening to the whisper of her breathing in the shadow; she turns and presses against him, laying her fiery head upon his chest, her hair feels nothing like Cathy's, the tresses so much heavier, coarser, and she smells of berries and sweat and snow and fire.

And Keela lies beside him, where Cathy sat laughing with Edgar as Hindley flogged him until he bled, anger and lust and hate burn in his veins like fire to powder, she twists as he pulls her into his arms, for a moment he thinks she is trying to push him from her…as Cathy does now…but no, she catches his shirt and pulls him closer pressing her lips against his throat in the darkness, and then she pulls back, pushing him away with all her strength.

"Jesus, she is all over ye! Get out! Yer disgustin'!" God! ye was with 'er and then you come crawlin' in wi' me?"

"You invited me."

Her eyes burn in the starlight "How were I to know ye was unclean?"

She makes him feel like a leper.

Heathcliff rises from the tangle of blankets and returns to the kitchen leaving her to her revulsion.

He tries to pretend he does not hear her weeping softly in the watches of the night.

Nelly wakes her with the dawn and eyes the figure sleeping before the fire.

"Yer spell not work lass?"

The girl's eyes are red and she is pale enough that Nelly fears she might have taken a chill.

"It worked…but I'll not accept an apple when it is half eaten."

Nelly colours at that, she sinks onto a stool

"No…when?"

"How should I know? Christmas would be my wager."

"Too soon to know if she might be…" the old woman dare not voice her fears.

"If she is, you can bloody send me back home, I will not dandle the babe o' that bitch on my knee and watch him marry her. I would sooner be hanged."

Nelly waves her hands to quiet her; the girl turns to glare up into Heathcliff's eyes.

"Keela? Do you have nothin' better to do than gossip about what's not yer business?"

"You made it me business, if she's carryin' yer child I'll bloody poison 'er!"

Nelly throws herself between them as he grabs for her, Keela leaps back putting the table between them.

Nelly covers her face with her hands; she is too old to be worrying about such larks.

But Keela is far from finished,

"She should know! Master will not be pleased to hear of it, he wants her to marry Master Linton how can she, if she's been ruttin' with the likes o' you? You deserve each other! She's a filthy lubbani!"

Ellen can guess well enough the meaning of the word from the way Heathcliff throws himself across the table and lays hold of her by the throat, shaking her as a wolf is want to do with its prey, she chokes, her cheeks colouring…

Nelly waits.

Keela bring her knee up and he drops groaning to the floor, she sneers down at him and Ellen closes her eyes as Keela puts her boot into him as though he were a disobedient dog.

Ellen Dean can bear no more, she grabs them both by the backs of their collars and throws them out into the snow, three of the sheep have gone missing, they may just resolve their differences whilst finding them, she is not cleaning blood out of the floor again.

They may go to the moors and beat each other to death for all she cares.

She slams the door on them and pretends not hear the sound of fists striking flesh, and the girl's yelp of pain as she goes down on the cobbles, Joseph puts his head out of an upper window to witness Heathcliff straddling the girl and striking her a blow that would kill a lesser woman, she repays it with her teeth in his shoulder until she spits blood.

"Ye canno' hit a lassie!" Joseph's voice is reedy with horror

The devil looks up to him, voice tight with pain "I'm hittin' Keela, it aint the same."

They resume in good earnest; Lord knows what is to become of the sheep.

Even Hindley is pulled from his drunken stupor by the racket, he staggers to the main door and stands watching, and laughs to see Keela strike his hated foster brother with such strength that he falls to the ground, his words are slurred and one would think he were enjoying quite the sport to hear the way he calls for his servant girl to beat the man he hates above all others.

There will be no punishment if she should happen to kill him.

Nelly pushed beyond all sense goes running for Miss Catherine, who flies down the stairs and out into the courtyard, she lays hands to the girl as Heathcliff struggles to break her jaw in order that she might desist in biting his arm, she hangs from him like a limp rag in summer, but neither her teeth nor her cruel fingers can be prised free, her nails have left cruel scarlet lines upon his cheek, and her face is a mass of blood and blackness, it will be a miracle if she is not left deformed.

Heathcliff has been left with one eye blacked courtesy of a vicious blow wherein her head struck his face.

She releases his arm at the tap on her shoulder, leaving a crescent of crimson behind her and suspecting Nelly, turns face first into the slap that meets her ruined cheek like lightening.

Miss is howling a stream of words that Keela cannot understand beyond the ringing in her ears and the way the world dances about as though she were a drunkard.

She will not faint like a woman for such a beating.

Keela tries to keep her feet, planting black boots firmly against the stone as though it might hold her up and so maintain her pride.

Cathy steps forward and lays a hand upon her lover's shoulder though he flinches with pain at her caress, and Nelly is too far from her side to pull her clear as the gypsy lass lands a blow to her belly that leaves all present sick from the sight of it.

Trembling she spits disdainfully upon the prone figure in its snowy gown as though she were a worm, time stills and for a moment no one moves.

Even Keela seems momentarily stunned by her own display of such violence.

Hindley cannot understand why Cathy fainted so sudden, is it the sight if all that blood? Why did no one catch her?

Joseph hurries him inside and goes for Doctor Kenneth to attend to Miss though he suspects she is only sorely winded as Nelly helps her to rise and leads her back into the house, scolding her for offering such provocation and swearing hellish punishment on her two wayward underlings who shall now go and find those sheep regardless of the severity of their wounds, they are utterly self inflicted and she has not one drop of sympathy for either of them.

She will make no mention of Keela's striking Miss to Master Hindley, but if she ever thinks to do such a thing again she will be strung up by her ankles and scorched with red-hot irons.

Keela staggers away with her threat ringing in her ears, Heathcliff follows in her steps, blood marring the snow where they pass by, Keela shivers and forces herself to keep walking, she has never been turned out into the snow in her shift before, thank the Lord she sleeps in her boots.

It is a good three miles to the sheep fold, her bare legs are blue with cold by the time they reach it, tears of pain frozen to drops of ice upon her cheeks.

She can no longer feel her left arm and wonders idly if it may be broken…her fingers ache…not broken but they shall have to be set back in place.

Two vitally important fingers on her right hand are twisted at a dreadful angle, where the bastard pulled them free of his hair, she limps along behind him, her pace steadily growing slower and slower.

"Slow down. Wait for me."

Her voice is almost lost in the howling wind.

Heathcliff turns back to her.

"You struck Cathy, I ought to murder you and bury you out here."

She stands shivering in the snow in her torn shift; covered in blood and bruised almost beyond recognition and to his horror she bursts into tears.

Keela stands and sobs for the entire world like a little girl that has been bullied beyond endurance.

She is no longer the infuriating, foul mouthed, violent creature of half an hour before, she is small and broken and he is reminded of Cathy's dolls and of how she would throw them when she were in a temper and then be surprised when they shattered all to pieces.

She can keep her feet no longer and collapses to the snow; he recalls the swan he once saw that glided out across the lake and then the haunting of its song in the air….

For only a moment he considers turning for home and leaving her to the tender mercies of the moorland…

Heathcliff pulls his coat from his shoulders and enfolds her in it, he gathers her up in his arms, her lips are tinged blue…it is miles back to the Heights…her eyelashes sparkle with snowflakes and tears like diamonds, her heartbeat is slow as funeral drums beneath his hands.

Hindley's dammed sheep will have to find their own way home, though he is sure they are already in the belly of the wolves.

He will have to carry her back; there is no way to make a fire in this weather.

Will he be sent for the sexton when they reach home? Will he be forced now to stand there and watch as they lay Keela's frozen body in the earth of a land she hates as her enemy?

She was brought here a prisoner, in chains, half starved and far from home.

He tries not to remember the night Father found him, are they truly so different?

He is always so sure that no one can understand what he suffers…does she? Has his temper killed the one person who might have pitied him?

He has been as selfish as Catherine to drag her so far, in snow so deep, he wanted to punish her for hurting his love, to see her suffer.

He should have pulled Catherine away…and yet some dark part of him longed to see her struck by someone since he cannot do it himself.

Had she married him he could have beaten her halfway to hell for lookin' sideways at another man, for even considering to look on that bastard as she has…

Perhaps Hindley has been right all along…there must be some evil deep within his soul.

"Help me, Nelly. I'm going to be good."

How simple a request it had seemed at the time.

If she lives, perhaps it will not be too late to keep it now.


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

Nelly refuses to open the door to them and only relents when Heathcliff threatens to break it down, the doctor is brought down having finished attending to Miss Catherine, she were bleeding but it has ceased, she will be well again in a couple of days and must be kept in her bed until then.

He examines Keela lying cold and unresponsive on her blankets, Joseph is sent to ask the master if she might be moved to a proper bed and when the master is found to be too insensible to reply Nelly refuses sayin' it shall teach the little fool to go runnin' about the moors in her shift and getting' into fist fights, the doctor may take himself off home, she will be quite well looked after under Nelly's care.

She lies quite still all the day and by supper the sorrowful figure has not moved, Joseph asks if he should not at least fetch a blanket with which to cover the lassie, he falls silent beneath the maid's steely gaze, the Taig struck Miss Cathy and must be punished.

Joseph nods in uncomfortable agreement though he is quite sure he hears the spirit of his Lord moving him to disagree.

By dawn her skin is soaked with sweat and her breath rattles in her chest like dry leaves, her lips are still blue, Ellen looks over every few hours and even Joseph offers a silent prayer.

Nelly sends Heathcliff away telling him that Keela blames him for her

illness and will not see him.

The woman who comes to deliver the eggs argues with Nelly at the door over the price and spying the pitiable creature asks if the doctor has not been sent for?

Nelly bids her to be on her way, Kenneth has said that she is in the hands of God.

Perhaps her illness is providential punishment.

Kenneth returns to check on Miss Cathy's progress and stops in horror when Nelly cannot draw the curtain swiftly enough to hide the girl from view, he drops beside her and she groans as he lays an icy hand to her brow, he looks up his eyes questioning, probing Nelly Dean's

"You said ye would take care of her. I shall see Miss Cathy and then I will come back directly, I will be havin' words with Mr Earnshaw, mark my words Miss Dean."

He leaves the old hag to sweat as he sweeps grandly from the room and Ellen kneels beside Keela,

"Keela dear, it is time to wake up."

She shakes at her shoulders "The doctor is here, you must try to be well, girl….Keela"

She slaps at the cheeks flushed scarlet with fever.

"Keela! Stop this now! You are not so weak! Get up!"

illness and will not see him.

The woman who comes to deliver the eggs argues with Nelly at the door over the price and spying the pitiable creature asks if the doctor has not been sent for?

Nelly bids her to be on her way, Kenneth has said that she is in the hands of God.

Perhaps her illness is providential punishment.

Kenneth returns to check on Miss Cathy's progress and stops in horror when Nelly cannot draw the curtain swiftly enough to hide the girl from view, he drops beside her and she groans as he lays an icy hand to her brow, he looks up his eyes questioning, probing Nelly Dean's

"You said ye would take care of her. I shall see Miss Cathy and then I will come back directly, I will be havin' words with Mr Earnshaw, mark my words Miss Dean."

He leaves the old hag to sweat as he sweeps grandly from the room and Ellen kneels beside Keela,

"Keela dear, it is time to wake up."

She shakes at her shoulders "The doctor is here, you must try to be well, girl….Keela"

She slaps at the cheeks flushed scarlet with fever.

"Keela! Stop this now! You are not so weak! Get up!"

The eyes flash open, the blue too dark like the depths of the ocean, she mumbles something Nelly cannot understand and tries to turn away, she is too ill to go to church today Mama.

Nelly's heart beats a little faster, if master should learn of what she has done…if his slave dies and it is laid on her shoulders…

She is moaning over and over…Nelly leans down.

"Heathcliff."

She drops her back to the rushes and runs to the stables as swift as she can go,

"Keela wants yer."

"You said she would not see me."

"Forget what I said! Come with me now!" she grabs his arm and drags him after her, she feels tears burn in her throat as she pulls back the curtain to reveal the little creature sobbing his name and staring unseeing with eyes that burn in delirium.

She has never seen the gypsy so pale as he pulls her into his arms, her flaming head falls against his shoulder and she grows quiet as he whispers to her in a tongue that he only half remembers, she clutches at his hand with wasted fingers, the fingers he remembers so strong as they tore at him, her full lips swollen and bleeding, the bruises he gave her showing ghoulishly beneath the lightness of her shift, she looks like a corpse, as though she were half in the grave already.

He tries to offer her water, but it spills from her broken lips, he cannot tell if she even knows that he is really there, she is calmer for some moments and then begins sobbing in pain, pleading over and over for her mother…

Nelly sits in stony silence upon the stool before the fire, and waits for the doctor's return as though it were her own execution.

He enters like a plague wind, and asks how long it has been since the girl has taken sustenance?

Not since his last visit, it is a miracle she is alive at all.

He finds a needle from within the depths of his bag and drawing it full of water orders Heathcliff to hold it beneath her tongue and feed it to her as you would an orphaned lamb, not too hastily lest she choke on it.

Kenneth injects her with a milky green liquid; she whimpers as the silver pierces her scorching skin, it will break the fever.

He hopes.

If she awakes she must be persuaded to take some nourishment, if there is any broth it would be best.

Ellen readies it with trembling hands, as the doctor leaves Keela to Heathcliff and comes to her side.

His eyes scald her; his voice is soft so that only she can hear him

"If the lass cannot be saved, it will be on you. I have left a note fer the master tellin' o' yer part in this, Joseph is sworn on his dammed bible to see it delivered and understood if she dies."

He catches up his hat and departs, he will pray for her and if the gypsy has any magic…now would be the hour.

Nelly is not to take Heathcliff from her, she calms when he is near, let him hold her and perhaps bid Joseph to read aloud, encouraging words.

He cannot say when she will be well enough to work again; if she lives she may be ruined, an idiot or a cripple, like a fine horse driven too hard, until there is no kindness in all the world but to shoot it.

Purgatory descends upon the peace of Ellen's kitchens, Hindley is too far from himself and too deep in the bottle to care what goes on beneath his stairs, Heathcliff can be driven to do no work and no threats from Nelly will move him, Joseph prays as soon as he rises and the moment he returns from the fields over Keela's still form, and the doctor comes and goes, growing graver by the day, the little water that is given is enough to keep her alive but she knows no one, even old Joseph when he sits at the table and reads aloud from his great Bible.

When Heathcliff leaves her she no longer moans for his loss; she simply lies on her side as still as a statue.

The doctor says it is either pneumonia or exposure.

He brings his frightful emerald injections to ward the fever from returning, he offers to leech her and Heathcliff threatens him off, she is mortal afraid of the creatures, she hated going into the fens for stone, lest they should be lyin' in wait.

He almost laughs at the memory, she was quite sure that they were waiting in the murky depths to swarm and bleed her dry and it took a week to show her that they were not there.

Then she must be bled, for he has tried everything else, he has no more elixirs, no more potions which might help, either she will grow strong again or she will simply fade away.

Perhaps she will find her strength when the summer comes, still it seems dreadful sad to be feedin' her broth from a needle three times a day.

Though Nelly has done very well at her nursin', he shall ask Joseph for the return of his letter to Hindley.

He orders Heathcliff to hold the girl still though he doubts she could resist in her state, and drawing a bowl and a small knife he cuts the pale arm and sits watching her life run into the bowl in his hands, after some moments he lays it aside and cleans the wound with a liquid that fills the room with a scent like poison, then bandages her arm tightly.

Nelly feeds her that evening, rocking her gently as though she were a babe in arms, she is groaning again and for a frightful moment she fears the delirium has returned, her nerves are stretched to breaking point, Miss Cathy has pinched and slapped and thrown a fit of temper enough to frighten the old woman for her reason, Master's drinking is worse and she is tired of cleaning vomit from the carpet, and still the girl lies, dying in her arms, oh how she wishes now that she had left her on the docks, poor Ellen is scarce able to keep pace with her own duties between it all.

Joseph has driven Heathcliff to the fields with him, on the point of the whip, and Nelly's solemn promise that she will send for them at once should there be any change.

Cathy is fuming at being ignored, she has sent for Heathcliff half a dozen times and always Nelly offers some paltry excuse, though she comes herself, to sew or to clean something or else to read to her mistress, under doctor's orders to remain in bed, she swears that she will lose her reason if he keeps her locked up, like a bird with its wings broken.

Nelly lays the blame for Heathcliff's absence on jealousy of Master Linton's attentions, and prays he never hears that she has said so.

Though she praises the magistrate's son in the hearing of Miss Earnshaw, who one day simply stopped asking for her abandoned playmate and turned her thoughts to arranging for the company of Edgar and his sister, though she fears Hindley's condition will put them off.

Ellen says such talk is nonsense and though she is forbidden to rise from her bed, she is sure the doctor would allow that she write a short note of invitation.

She must be about preparing lunch, so Miss may just amuse herself until the good doctor arrives, if he is satisfied, she may take her dinner downstairs with the master.

The harried servant returns to the kitchen, pulling aside the curtain, the girl lies on her side, facing the wall.

Nelly's heart freezes…for a moment she fears the worst.

The girl must be dead and Joseph has turned her away that she might be spared the vision of those haunting eyes, accusing her of her part in the whole sorry story.

She kneels beside her and lays a hand to her shoulder, tears stinging her eyes, dry from lack of sleep.

"Sleep well child. May angels fly thee home."

"Oh stop yer keenin' and 'elp me up."

Nelly fears for a moment that she may faint, she hollers for the scullery maid who comes running at once and is sent into the snow, to the fields and fetch Heathcliff and Joseph, and she is not to stop upon her way.

"Ye cannot be moved lass, we must wait for doctor. God have mercy, I thought you was…"

She turns the creature gently, she is far lighter than she was before, her muscle wasted, eyes sunken and skin dry as dead leaves.

She is frightful to look upon.

Like some poor creature that haunts the kirkyard, when the moon is full in the sky and the wind howls like a curse across the moorlands.

Still perhaps her new weakness will be an end to her fightin' with Heathcliff, he shan't dare strike her after such an illness, how her bruises had frightened him, the bloody welts and marks that he had inflicted in his rage and that had then seemed to him so cruel as she lay in her fever, dyin' as surely as if he killed her himself.

The doctor has not been kind in this regard, telling the gypsy most sternly that he had half killed her, she would never have taken so sick had he not beaten her as he did and to Nelly's shock it seemed he genuinely repented o' havin' struck 'er and treated her so wicked, Joseph raised his hands in prayer at such a miracle takin' place before his own eyes and Nelly told him to give over such silliness lest he return to his old habits out'a spite.

Miss Catherine is freed from her gilded cage of bed and permitted to take her supper with her brother as usual, Nelly is sent in Keela's place to dress her, though Kenneth seems much pleased, she will be weak and must be kept to housebound duties for three weeks at least. But in time he assures them she will make a full recovery, she has had a lucky escape.

Joseph finishes his own supper and stuns them all by leaning Keela up against the dresser and feeding her slowly by his own hand, she is too weak even to lift her spoon, but she accepts his help gratefully and then he drapes her shawl over her head and they pray together for a full quarter of an hour, since he insists they must thank God for his mercy, and as always beg his forgiveness for the sins of the household since they be too mired in sin to do so themselves.

He goes to his bed and leaves her singing softly a song of the Irish Catholic rebellion some fifty years before, Nelly listens and prays Heathcliff will not teach her the one about the Jacobites o' Scotland, for though it were a condemnation he has sung it as though it were a call to arms ever since he were grown enough to find a voice o' the English tongue.

The last thing the house needs is two servants working the fields; with a taste for rebel songs.

What if such ideas were to spread?

Perhaps bringing home an Irish radical was not Ellen's best choice, Heathcliff is dangerous enough without a lassie with a head full o' anti English thoughts to teach him the tales of the insurrections o' the oppressed.

He would take up arms against Master and put him out to the roadside in a week, she shall have to forbid any gatherings o' the farm labourers for a bit.

And perhaps if she can have Miss Cathy express her love o' England, and request that Keela read to her from some books that puts them in a good light, tales o' charity and obedience.

She shall have to speak with Joseph about re reading from the passages on the dutie duties o' a servant and the importance o bein' faithful to ones betters.

It were bad enough when she argued with Keela regardin' the scrap o' tartan cloth that she kept hidden in her shift, her mother were o' the gypsy nation, her father a proud Irishman, it is from him she inherited her fiery hair and skin white as swan down.

It were for 'im she were thrown on the charity o' others.

Nelly never did get that scrap from her, she had best see that it goes a missin' lest after her next whippin' the Taig should fly it from the upper reaches o' the house as a sign to arise and cast off their bonds of servitude.

Master Hindley has sixty men upon his farm and if they should rebel all will be lost.

She is too weak to pose any threat and the doctor has said she must not be kept apart from Heathcliff…Nelly must not let them alone but sit beside them and listen close to each word they say.

Heathcliff comes running to her swifter than Nelly has seen lest it were for Miss Catherine, and how the wasted face alights to see him, he pulls her to his breast and kisses the red hair as she clings to him with fingers so weak they will barely close on his, he carries her to the hearthside and lays her head in his lap and sits stroking her rich tresses as she sings on softly.

Nelly is compelled to sit through endless renditions of the song against the Jacobites until Keela has learned it quite by heart and declared it her very favourite, they sound well enough together though she hushes them lest they wake all the household with their singin' and they laugh together and in her weak, shaking voice Keela keeps him enchanted until the clock calls the witchin' hour with tales o' bloody war and famine.

She describes her motherland as though it were a magical world, of emerald and snow, where fairy dances light the marshes and when the English are driven out every man shall live free, and one day she will go home across the great water to take possession of the castle that were once her forefathers, for they lied o' what they were and took it by arms, and drew a crest upon themselves and called themselves Lord o' all they saw, from the mountains to the mighty forest, and how she will live free and suffer no slave to be kept upon her land.

And she shall find a worthy man to call her own and share in such freedom with her, nevermore to call any Master but God Almighty.

She shall be able to return to her true faith, the holy mother church that Christ himself gifted to the sons of Adam.

To Nelly's surprise Heathcliff makes no fearsome oaths against God as he is want to do with Joseph, perhaps he fears puttin' her in a passion lest she weary herself.

She watches them drift into sleep together, her head lying upon his chest, his arms about her in a way that would surely set Miss Cathy a shriekin', Nelly takes the blanket from Keela's bed and throws it over them as she goes up to her own rest.

Keela is strong enough to hold a knife come the next afternoon and Nelly sets her to cut bread, she is too weak to walk without help but it does the old maid's heart good to see her awake, she speaks little and Nelly seeks to fill the silence with an account of Heathcliff's discovery and upbringing, she hopes such knowledge will wash away any bitterness that may linger on account o' his savage whelping o' the lass.

Though she gave almost as good as she took and no mistake.

Heathcliff comes into her at supper and brandishes a stick as though it were a sword and he a knight o' some long lost tale, come bearin' arms for his lady.

She giggles and thanks him, turning it over and about between her fingers, it is as tall as she and cut all about with the swirling patterns o' her home, it will hold her steady as she walks, when he cannot, until she regains her strength.

Nelly can only dream o' the care it must o' taken, it is very fine and she can see how the lassie treasures it, though she says it will do for a fightin' staff lest he think to strike her again.

She loves that simple tool more than had he written a novel in praise o' her, Miss Cathy mocks him for his lack o' book learnin' but it seems a little affection and kind words from the Taig bring out the finest in him, though Nelly is all too aware that the devil hides still behind those eyes, that burn with black fire, waitin' in the quiet until he sees a chance o' strikin' down those he despises once more.

With the staff's help she is moving about the kitchen slow as a snail in the garden by the time Joseph comes in from his day's duties, he eyes her new acquisition and remarks that if Heathcliff took such care in all his labours he should be worthy o' servin' 'is brother.

Nelly bids Keela strike him with her staff for bein' so cruel, and when she will not, the old maid does so herself and forbids him his dessert.

Heathcliff is finally showin' signs o' a better nature and he shall not despoil it with his pharisaic tongue.

He works twice as hard as Joseph and if the old fool thinks everyone do not know it he be dense as old Hunter.

It is overlooked on account o' his great age.

Joseph complains that he should neva 'av been set to labouring, he be a gentleman's man not a slave and a darkie at that.

Keela is summoned to Miss Catherine to help her prepare for her guests, Edgar Linton is to visit, this time his sister shall not accompany him.

It is all most strange.

Keela catches up her staff and makes her way to the stairs, she eyes them as though they were a mountain she must climb, she lays one wasted hand to the banister and begins her agonising ascent, to her surprise Miss Cathy is in a state of nervous excitement, and cannot be bothered even to mock her servant's weakness nor that she cannot walk without aid, she even encourages her to be seated a moment as she twists up Miss's hair, then complains it is not done to her satisfaction, she may go, she shall send Nelly to the drawing room and Cathy will meet her there.

Keela returns her weary way back to the kitchens, and makes mention of Miss Catherine's descent, Joseph orders Heathcliff to take Keela to the fens for stone and to remain there until dark, she is wrapped in shawls and blankets and carried out to the horse where Heathcliff pulls her up before him and holds her in place as they ride out, the hours pass slow, Keela watching from her place at the foot of a nearby tree, the stone is dragged home behind the beast and Joseph seems well pleased, Keela is left before the fire and Heathcliff goes in search of Cathy.

Ellen slinks into the kitchens, her whole body singing with tension, Joseph eyes her suspiciously,

"What ye be about woman?"

She can contain herself no longer

"Master Linton has asked Miss Cathy's hand."

Her face is alight.

Joseph simply nods as though she has told him something he expected to hear.

"How did she answer him?"

Nelly smiles "She came to the right choice."

Keela sighs "She refused, that is good."

The old woman looks at her as though she has run mad

"Nay, ye foolish girl, she has accepted. She herself said it would degrade her to marry Heathcliff."

The girl throws out an arm "Joseph, help me up."

He pulls her to her feet and sets her cane in her hand, she struggles to the door, Nelly tells her to keep well away, for her own sake.

The lass pays no heed and stumbles out to the stables, she runs her eyes over the black horse, saddled and bridled, with provisions thrown over its neck, that greets her, her stomach turns.

"Heathcliff?"

He appears with a pistol in his hands,

"God! She's not worth that!" she struggles to step forward and he gives her a sad smile.

"It's not for that ye fool, I found it among yer things, I…I thought ye might forgive its theft."

He looks so broken she cannot find it in herself to be angry.

"It were me Fathers, from the state o' things one might suspect ye o' runnin' like a coward."

He slips the flintlock inside his coat, and swings himself up onto the horse; she looks up at him, and knows that nothing she can say will deter him.

"I will make her regret her decision…I shall be richer even than he when I return."

She smiles "I am sure of it, but…where will ye go?"

He shrugs as though it could be to hell for all he cares.


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7

Keela reaches up in the dancing light and plucks the crucifix from her throat, it is forged of silver, truth be told Heathcliff knows not why she was permitted to keep it, it must surely be worth many a drink to Hindley, she glances at the crucified Lord in her palm and then pushes the treasure into his hand.

"That be real silver, it will get ye off shore at least…yer not goin' to ask me to come with ye, are ye?"

He shakes his head, and she tries to pretend she has not noticed the tears that scar his cheeks,

"Then ye'd best get goin, afore they decides to come a lookin'. I never seen ya go and I don't knows where ya are….Write to me, when ye learn how, and makes sure ye puts me name on the front else Nelly'll av it and I shall never get it."

He simply looks down at her for a moment and then in a whirl of black and the ring of metal and hooves he is gone, she watches him as far as the end of the road and then he is out onto the moors and the mists hide him from sight.

She turns back to the lights of the kitchen, she does not set the stables to rights, it would rouse suspicion.

Nelly turns to her, half expecting to spy bruising "Well?"

"I…I could not find him."

Nelly nods, "Aye, it's a bitter blow, still he will be aright soon, once he sees how happy she is."

Keela has never felt so alone. Not even in the weeks spent in the ship's hold, with only the rats for company.

Joseph is sent to the stables to see the horses abed and Keela tries not to react when he cries that one has gotten loose and the gate has been left open, Cathy sends him out again into the storm as soon as he returns, to find Heathcliff, the old man goes mutterin' it would be more worth his time to find the horse.

There is no trace of him, but the horse has broken down the corn in the field yonder.

Cathy flies out into the rain and calls for her lost love, silence answers her pleas.

Nelly cannot persuade her in, and so there she stands in the rain until the dawn breaks.

Three days pass and he does not return.

Miss Cathy is beside herself, she sits sobbing and the house fears for her reason, the doctor is sent for and once more orders her to bed, for she has made herself sick with sorrow.

A week later the lad who delivers the milk passes them to Keela at the door and then whispers that he has somethin' for the Paddy, she answers to the insult and he hands her a scrap of paper, she opens it, it bears the mark of the English army, and is written in a neat flowing hand.

_He is surprised how little it costs to send a few words, he is in good health and thanks her for her little gift of faith and silver, he traded the horse for a fine price and layin' that up with her farewell it has bought him his commission and so he may enter his majesties service an officer. He will not sell the gun, but has put it to good use to slay a soldier who gave offense regardin' his colour and now lies six feet beneath, may it always bring him such luck. Though it rather took the shine from the meal when he drew it and shot the bastard in the chest. _

_He can hear her laughing as she reads, and hopes it finds her well. He is to be sent away soon, and has employed the services of the parson that travels with their brigade to make him a man o' letters so that one day he might write to her himself and not have to waste his gold on the camp's letter writer, until then he shall send her a word when he may and trust in God to keep her safe and well. _

She is ashamed at the rush of tears that fill her eyes, the boy smiles

"Glad it made yer 'appy miss, a letter from home?"

She nods and slips it into her pocket.

"I were ordered to give it only to you, the boatman brought it, and I will bring every one wi' yer name on it. Now what's I get fer me trouble?"

She laughs and takes the Christmas shilling Joseph gave her when he thought she would not see him take it from Nelly and told her it were from Miss Cathy fer a late Christmas gift.

He and Nelly had one each…Master is too drunk to notice should Nelly take a coin here and there.

"But that is to bring me each and every one."

The boy's eyes gleam at the sight of the silver.

"Thankin' yer Missus, oh I gotta give ye somethin' else but I don't wish to…"

She smiles "And what is that young master?"

The boy is scarlet, then leans in and kisses her cheek and stammers

"He never kissed ya goodbye, so I must do it fer 'im and tell the parson's wife how ye takes it."

She blushes and raises a hand to her cheek, eyes shining like diamonds "I return it, though ye do not 'av to be layin kisses on' the parson's wife."

The boy laughs, "Thank God, I shall se yer next week missus."

She waves him off and crushes the note into her apron pocket as Nelly calls to her to hurry with the milk, breakfast is about, what business has she to tarry so long about her duties?

The days drag by, days become weeks, weeks become months, months become years, Master is not himself these days, he is rarely seen outside of his chamber and when he is, he is so drunk that he knows no one, his words trip one over the other and he merely sits idly about with a tankard in one hand.

Miss Cathy entertains Master Edgar and his sister almost every week.

She even warms to Keela as the time goes by, and they sit together and read, she even teaches her a few words for herself, and then begs her brother that she might be taught to write that she may copy down that which Miss Cathy would like, a poem here or else an Irish tale that Keela has told her and that scour as they might they can find in no book within the library.

Joseph watches disapprovingly as she slowly learns her letters for herself, her hand ill formed and ugly and then slowly so pretty that Cathy bids that she might write out the invitations to her wedding, and decorate each with the patterns that adorn her staff, for they should look well and be a point of conversation amongst the guests.

Where in Ireland did she find such a staff?

Keela assures her that she cannot remember, it be somethin' she always possessed.

The boy brings another note the following month, it bears no mark and the hand is different.

_He hopes it finds her well, such a life is hell on earth and it must be a madman who would choose it, for in the years since last they spoke he has seen such things as no man should ever see, every form of misery and deprivation, he has watched men die in blood and agony, has not slept in three days for the roar of the cannons and what little food there is can barely be kept down it is so bad. It is cold as ice in this Godforsaken hell, and to think that people called him a savage, when he has watched men strung upon the gibbet for desertion or shot at close quarters for cowardice. _

_He will not tell her where he is, only ask that she pray for him, in the watches of the night when he is sleepless and starving and longs for her company, God help him he even misses old Joseph. _

_The pay is not what he thought it would be, and he shudders to think how long he shall have to live such a half life to make enough to win his beloved, does she remember him still? _

_A kiss for his Taig and may the God she loves so well keep her safe from harm. _

The tailor comes to begin Miss Catherine's wedding gown, her husband to be will spare no expense to win her pleasure and good temper.

Keela must admit she has never seen a woman more beautiful, Nelly swears that she looks like an angel, and bids Keela to sing the song o' the battle o' Bannockburn that she loves so well, it pleases Miss Cathy much in the manner o' a good ghost tale to hear such stories o' bloody war and strife.

It be only a month until Miss Cathy's wedding at long last and Keela has had no more letters since her last, she prays each night that Heathcliff is still living and that he might one day come back, though in truth she doubts ever to see him again.

And then for the first time she sends a note by the milk boy, it must be delivered as soon as may be.

"_Cathy is to be married in a month, to Master Edgar Linton in Gimmerton Church, come home at once if ye would prevent it._

_Kisses from yer Taig and may God protect you."_

"_P.S This be me own hand, Cathy has set me to writing." _

She has a note in the next week,

"_Do anything you can think of, to prevent such an occasion, I will be home the very moment the wind changes." _

She hides his note along with the others, and hurries in to Cathy who wishes that they might go walking to the churchyard to lay flowers upon her Father's grave.

The house is in an uproar of preparation, Keela will be happy never to look upon another fancy again, and is sick o' the sight o' pie.

Each morning she rises and confounds Nelly by flying her tartan from the window, the day it flies different she goes about all the day with a most peculiar smile and Nelly cannot twist the truth of why from her by any means, she is merely happy about Misses' wedding she claims.

It be a good omen.

Days go by and her temper changes, she seems anxious, and starts at every arrival to the house though it only be the baker or the priest.

She goes in great secrecy that night to Joseph's herb garden and under cover of darkness steals berries of nightshade.

She prepares strongly spiced wine the night before Catherine's wedding and offers it with an old blessing in her own tongue.

By dawn Catherine is sick as a dog and the wedding must be put off, the doctor cannot understand it, he thought it were nerves but she can keep nothin' down and sweats as though she carried the plague, could she have accidently eaten somethin' which might have given her poisoning?

He gives her a foul liquid to induce vomiting and she is lain abed for two weeks, Master Linton comes every day and Keela flutters about in nervous distraction, she burned through Ellen's best pan whilst the doctor were with young Miss so great was her agitation.

And then she is discovered.

For Nelly noted a mark in her apron pocket most peculiar, and therein her plot were discovered, three tiny berries as black as the devil's eyes.

She swore they were blueberries but the truth were forced from her by whipping, why she did it she would not tell, though Joseph flogged her all the afternoon.

Miss broke her heart a'weepin' when Nelly brought the truth to her, she had thought the Paddy her friend, she thought their old enmity were dead and buried.

She must be sent away.

Hindley orders her sent back to Ireland in chains. She should thank God she is not facing the noose, it is only in light of her years of loyal service and the memory of his wife's affection for her that she is being left her life.

And so Keela is driven to the docks with her staff to help her walk in her fear, and her last wage given to pay for her banishment.

And then she is home, the old priest welcomes back his charge that he gave away so many years ago, and when she begs his charity once more, he permits her to stay on as his house keeper, she caught the eye of the young Lord of Kilkenny when he came to make a Bishop of her dear master and a great stir were raised when he married the lass, against the wishes o' his father, who upon learning for himself o' the lasses' piety and commitment to her homeland decided in her favour and came to love his daughter in law, though she bore no heir.

And now Keela dresses in silks and velvets and fur come wintertime, and dines on meat at every meal, though she brought her husband to distress by freein' each and every one of his slaves, though in his kindness he forgave her, she has a good heart and he adores her.

Though she insisted it be a celibate marriage on account o' her God given gift o' healin' which she would surely lose were she ever to surrender her maidenhead.

The young Lord makes no objection, it is good that a man should have a spiritual wife and she makes no complaints of his dalliances.

And so it was that they got along together well enough, until come the summer she went out to the market in search of a new gown, she will never be used to the Sassenach soldiers that cow her homeland to their will, she stands half an hour at the merchant's stand and finally selects linen for a new shift and a length of deep blue velvet for a gown.

She pauses to give alms to a beggar and turns towards the church…

It cannot be…

She approaches the crimson clad figure and reaches up to touch his shoulder, he turns about, hand moving for his sword and then eases when he spies the tiny woman.

"Can I help you my lady?"

"Heathcliff…do you not recognise me? What have they done to you? Your hair…"

He looks into her eyes, "Forgive me Mistress, should I know your face?"

"It is Keela! Heathcliff, its yer Taig!"

He pales until he is almost white, and then catches her about the waist and pulls her into his arms,

"Keela! I heard in Gimmerton they sent you back, you tried to murder Cathy, what did she do to so provoke you?"

"You told me to stop the wedding!"

"I were held in port, I was too late. Though I thank you for your note,"

She stamps "No! She is married to Linton?"

He nods and she would lay a hand to his but already they have drawn too much attention, a known loyalist in the embrace of a red coat soldier, she can hear the hisses like the rush of the ocean.

"What are you doing here? No, come home with me and tell me when we get there. You must meet my husband."

He pauses

"You are wed too?"

She nods "Aye and he be a bore but he has a good heart and his wealth keeps the flame of rebellion alive."

"Wealthy is he?"

She smiles up at him and he is reminded of the rough, cursin' farmhand that sweated at his side on his brother's farm so long ago though to look at her you would never know her for the same lass.

She stands taller, her carriage improved, her hair swept up and laid with pearls, her gown rich and deep, her throat and wrists ringed by gold and jewels.

She looks every inch the Irish noblewoman, her speech is improved, her voice softer to the ear, though when she spoke to him he heard traces of the girl that had been strung beside him for the whippin'.

She gleams as he follows alongside her

"Look at ye, I should not have known ye, but yer me gypsy laddie still."

He laughs at that, "Always. And you. I see the world has gone well for you."

She nods gracefully "Aye, I am Lady Keela o' Kilkenny now."

"Lady?"

Her imperious expression twisted with the impish gleam in the eye he recalls so well set him laughing again, he bows low and she giggles, slipping her hand through his arm, leaving her maid to follow on behind.

"How has his majesties' service treated you? Last I read you were starvin' and miserable."

She watches something flash behind his eyes, "Much the same…I have only three days before we march on."

Her grip tightens "And what of yer fortune?"

"I await it still."

She sighs "Well ye shall never have it, killin' my countrymen. You shall leave this very hour and shall not be so rude as to refuse an offer o' hospitality from the Lord O' Kilkenny will ye?"

"They will shoot me for desertion, it is not so easy to…"

She has left his side and he spies her stalking across the square to the red coats who sneer at the Taig in their midst though the general treats her with courtesy on account of her high station.

Gold flashes between white fingers and the man at the small desk hands her a sheet of parchment.

"You're never cuttin' yer locks off an' comin' with me?"

She shakes her head "Though I would, had ye asked me before."

In that moment he does not doubt her.

"Its yer honourable discharge."

He stares at the paper in his hand, three years of hell, finally over in the flash of a quill.

He can find no words as she takes his arm once more and leads him on, she tells him a little of her Lordly husband, she will tell him that Heathcliff is an old friend and a deserter of the English army with thoughts of fighting for the rebellion, she brings him so many would be martyrs that he will think nothing of one more man.

Oh and by the way…her husband has a famous weakness for gambling.

He has almost cost them their fortune a dozen times over already in the short time they have been married.

It is his great weakness; if you turn one eye from the whores and yer other from the drinkin'.

Her dear, foolish Aed expresses surprise at her guest, he greets him with all the manners befitting a deserter and seems to take an instant dislike to him.

She cannot recall him disliking anyone.

He comes down to the evening meal, which is fed to their guest from pewter and he is compelled to sit some way down the great table until the Lord's wife rises in a temper and takes the seat beside him, and apologies for her husband's petty jealousy.

He clearly fears himself unmanned by such company.

Heathcliff laughs at her offhand cruelty, the fellow puts him in mind of Edgar Linton and so he delights in Keela's unkindness on his behalf.

The man looks quite the fool, he is barely taller than Keela and yet he paraded down the stairs in costly furs, a mighty crest hewn from gold upon his weak chest.

He asks endless questions, how does his beloved wife know the likes of an English deserter?

Can he truly be English? He has the look of a fortune teller about him…..

Keela suggests they play a hand of cards to ease the encounter, Aed knows how much he loves a good game and he will find in his guest a man of skill quite equal to his own.

He glows between the wine and what he mistakes for praise and so an evening of vice begins, Heathcliff is careful to lose the first hand, win the second and then lose the two following to put the boor at his ease, his Lordship sends for yet more wine, his round cheeks glowing above his brown beard, his green eyes twinkling at his wife as she sits before the fire, a string of beads between her fingers and bids her pray that he might win.

The man can play, Heathcliff must admit, he has had much practice as Keela had warned, though he is too drunk to notice that he is winning and then losing his own gold.

Finally he has no coins left to wager and anxious not be beaten by a lascar traitor he lays down his rings heavy with rubies and emeralds, they are taken from him one by one and spurred on in anger and drink he persists in his folly, one rich treasure after another he lays before Heathcliff's dark gaze, until at last when he can barely keep two words together his beleaguered wife remonstrates and snaps that he may as well wager his birthright!

A fine thought! Castle and all.

What about the lady?

Aed laughs and slaps the gypsy upon the shoulder; for all that he is a coward he can make a better man laugh, why not?

Title, land and lady.

Best of three?

A new game? From Trinidad? Then they most assuredly must play!

Keela sighs and shakes her head at the foolishness of powerful men.

She leaves them to their vice and orders her maid to ready her for bed, it is hours before she hears them on the stairway, from her husbands laughter she cannot tell who has won, though it seems Aed has warmed to her would be rebel, she listens to their discussion of the state of the land and Heathcliff offers the Irish Lord a word here and there regarding the movements of his majesties' army.

By the breaking of day he has convinced of his loyalty to the cause and Aed says it would serve him well to have a turn coat in his employ, at present he has no one who can move among the English as it is his wish to send them, and since they are in the manner of being honest with one another he would have the truth of his relations with his wife from him.

Let it be a question of honour.

He could not welcome a former lover of Keela into his house, no matter how noble the cause for which he purports to be there.

He is sure this will be understood and Keela is glad to hear the gypsy swear that he has never known the Lord's wife in any manner but a shared servitude.

What is that? Keela made no mention of such a circumstance.

She were a slave on English shores? When? How long for? How did she happen to escape?

She did not escape? Banished, you say?

In chains? On what charge?

Murder? Witchcraft?

She hears Aed's familiar booming laugh, that rolls like thunder through the halls, a traitor and a fine story teller, were he not English Aed would have welcomed him to his hall as a bard.

Witchcraft! Keela! There never were such a woman fer prayin'.

Now despite his Lordship's loss do not go thinkin' ter claim yer prize, a jest between two gentlemen even if one be a coward should not be taken so truly as might give Aed cause to regret his hospitality, it would be a mortal shame to have to murder his guest over breakfast on account o' his winning his wife in a card game.

What jest? Were such a wager not laid in honour?

Again the same rolling laugh, though now she hears the note beneath it that tells Keela his temper is rising; he is trying to disguise ill humour.

Now they must be abed lest Heathcliff says something so dreadful that Aed will be forced to shoot him where he stands.

The lascar watches with interest that the Lord retires not to the chamber of his lady but to the door beside hers, a strange arrangement for a husband and his wife.


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter 8

Heathcliff waits until the fool is snoring and then slips to Keela's door, she opens it to him, her hair a cloud of fire about her shoulders, a smile upon her lips

"Ye may not come in, if ye wish to talk we must do so here, or I shall dress and we may return to the hall."

He laughs "And it seems this is what ye tell yer husband, also."

"That is not your concern, I…we…"

His black eyes sparkle "It is only half a marriage! Before God! Keela, ye do not love him!"

Her cheeks are scarlet "Hush please! Nay, and he knows it in truth, he does not love me any more than can be said for Abigail or Lucy or Bess from the tavern, it is not a love match, his family pressed him to find a bride and so he chose me, we have…an understanding. He loves me in his own way."

"He pays yer rebellion."

She nods.

"And you?"

"I praise him to his fellow Lords and ladies, I win him support, I please his family, though they grow tired of waiting for heirs…"

"Heirs? You do not permit him to share yer chamber!" he is laughing.

"I…I told him I had a holy gift of healing…Stop laughing! And I will lose such a gift if I ever…"

"It is as fine an excuse as ever I heard, ye don't want 'im, do ye?"

She shakes her head "He is kind…when sober…sometimes he is angry that I am not a proper wife…"

"I am quite sure he is. He has never?...Tell me he has hurt you Keela, and I swear I will kill him where he sleeps."

She raises her hands

"Never! He is a good man…only a little sinful. He has no need o' me, he has many others who will do fer 'im what I will not. I heard 'im say ye won?"

He nods, black tresses whispering in the candlelight, she lowers her gaze to her bare feet,

"Of course it is all in jest."

"I have no memory of jests being part of our wager, title, land and lady. Such was our bargain."

She steps back, her laughter like silver bells in his ears, "If he thought for one moment ye intended…he would kill ye."

"We will know come mornin', will we not?"

She pales and reaches out to him, "Do not say such…I cannot watch him hurt ye."

"I will not wait on the hospitality o' yer husband, he treats me like a traitor and a…He will keep his wager Keela, and leave _my_ house."

"And what is to become of me? In light of this? Am I to be thrown to the roadside once more? Will ye go back to England and bring Miss Cathy to be yer Lady? Surely she would divorce Master Linton in yer favour, since ye are now so high?"

His smile is sinful "I am quite sure she would, but no, let her see what she might have had, had she followed her heart and not her greed."

"And I?" her voice trembles.

He considers taunting her, offering her a place in his stables…but he is reminded of the girl who sobbed in the snows, her blood upon her and her tears like diamonds.

"Marry me."

Her eyes widen "What?"

"Ye heard me."

"Nay! I am married…I cannot remarry until Aed dies. May it be a long time yet, please God."

"Why do ye refuse me Keela? Do ye think I do not see the truth of why ye keep him from ye? Ye love me, I know ye do. Ye always did."

He has hold of her then, pulled close to him, she pushes the gypsy from her, with a violence that reminds him of the Taig that struck him down, upon the stones of the Heights.

She has not worked in years, her muscle softened, she has the body of a lady, curved and rich, fed on milk and honey.

"And ye love Miss Cathy. Ye only ask me out of revenge against her, and I say Nay!"

He stands quite still, framed in the doorway, lit by the candles golden glow, she keeps her eyes lowered, and he almost laughs, she does not even trust herself to look at him.

"As ye wish, my lady." He bows low and turns from her, leaving her standing, looking after him, he closes the door to his own chamber and hears her whisper his name in the darkness…and in that moment he feels something almost like peace, she loves him still, as she always did…whatever Catherine does, whatever he does…this cannot change.

There never was any thought of wealth nor power nor the will of men between them, it was he and her, as simple and pure as ever a love could be.

She would have loved him had he been a beggar at her gate or had he been a king.

He is horrified at such a realisation, he spends a sleepless night in the shadow, he loves Catherine…and yet…with Keela life was always so simple, there was no pretence, no shyness nor false affection, they could scream and strike one the other and yet always find their way back to each other, she has seen the very worst of him, his hate and his rage and his jealousy for another woman, and she one Keela loathed.

Yet still she loves him.

She did not even deny it…

He tries to think on Cathy and yet his heart fills with memories or skin like fresh cream striped with blood and hair like fire, the silvery laugh that always put him in mind of a sprite about some mischief, the fierce strength in her arms as she slaved at his side, without air nor grace, he loves Cathy he cannot change it, he may as soon try to cut out his own soul.

And yet for Keela , he cannot name such a feeling, it is not the heavenly delight of Cathy, it is not the worshipful state he experiences when in her presence.

It is a steady and surer thing by far, the glimmer of lights when lost in the moorland mists, the song of fire on a bitter winters night, she is to him all laughter and delight, the very best of himself he sees like a mirror when she looks into his eyes.

Everything in him that could be called good, is only alive when she is at his side, she is his comfort and his distraction, the candlelight that keeps the darkness from his soul, the laughter to wash away tears, the closest to belonging he has ever felt was when he held her in his arms, and she looked up at him and wanted no one and nothing more than his company, her very spirit promising that she would never look down upon him, nor find him wanting he saw it again in the square.

When he was only a poor soldier and she saw him and knew him across the years and came to him, a fine lady, as though they were equals still, her soft hands took his and she promised him freedom and gave it without thought of thanks, when she stood against her husband's debasement of him, moving to sit at his side, and he sees her loyalty, even to a drunken fool like her husband.

And she gave him the keys to wealth and power…so that he might win Cathy and so be happy.

For his happiness she would sacrifice her home, her name and her wealth, she would be a servant in his stables, bow her head to Cathy once more and call her Ladyship, all for love of the gypsy foundling.


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter 9

Heathcliff can bear not one more moment of such torment, he rises and crosses to her chamber, hammering on the door, she opens it to him,

"Tell me you do not love me."

She is silent; the hope in his chest burns brighter.

'Say it, and you need never see me again."

Her cheeks are pink as rose quartz crystals, her hair a tangle of amber waves, her oceanic eyes soft with sleep, still she does not send him away.

He catches her to him and when he presses his lips to hers, she does not push him from her, Keela locks her fingers into his hair, black as a starless night, and returns his kiss with a fire unlike any before, as though she might show him three years of longing and love by that one simple act.

As though with the flames of her desire she might burn away all the suffering and pain and leave him pure and whole.

And neither Cathy nor Hindley nor Aed will ever matter again.

And yet even as he tastes her love upon her lips, sweet as heaven's lights, he is still chained, the ghosts of the past whisper like an ill wish, the memory of Cathy's rejection, of Hindley's mocking cruelty, of the sting of the lash upon his skin…a thousand kisses cannot wash away what has been done.

And yet for this moment, this consolation, this delight, will do.

Here he is safe, here he need fear nothing, when Keela is in his arms, it as though she has thrown down the world, in this time, this fairy hour that could be a moment or an eternity, neither God nor man can reach them.

At last she pulls away from him, her eyes glittering like sapphires in the light, she looks up, a sweet smile upon her face.

"I love you…I always have."

In the shadow of his doorway, Aed listens, unseen and tries to tell himself that the pain in his breast is not the breaking of his own heart.

It is true that they have an understanding but…. Oh, how he had hoped.

Now to discover that she will spurn her own wedded husband and then play the beloved with a _gypsy_ in his own hall, he wishes he could think her bewitched, and yet there was something in the manner in which she brought Heathcliff before her husband, that told him the truth of the matter, so the fiend thinks to see the wager kept does he?

So be it.

Aed of Kilkenny may be many things, but he is no coward, and he will fight for what is his, by law and by right.

He turns and returns to his own chamber, changes his nightshirt for his finest shirt and britches, hangs the great crest of his Lordship about his throat and smiles at himself in the glass, his rich brown hair glimmers in the candlelight and his eyes flash green as will o the wisps over the lochs, he is not an ugly man, he has his sins but what man does not?

If his wife has preferred another, then it is her sin…and he will forgive her.

The very moment the gypsy is dead.

He will forgive her as Christ forgave, and they will go on to make a true marriage, he will have a score of sons, to be Lord when he is gone, he understands her little lie regarding her healing gift, perhaps she fears the act, she is only a young maid, he will be kind to her, and she shall learn to love him.

They have the rest of their lives to know each other and build the life they should have shared.

The Lord opens his trunk and draws his finest swords, he is an honourable man, he will give the black eyed Judas every chance, he only wishes there were some way to let him live, without the cost of his own good name.

But sometimes pride must be bought back in blood.


	10. Chapter 10

Blood…yes that would be the way, he is quite sure Keela will never forgive him if he slays the traitor, let it be a duel to first blood then.

Honour will be satisfied without the need for him to expend any true effort, the fool can leave and return to trading horses and telling fortunes, far, far away from her Ladyship.

Aed takes his weapons and makes his way to the door, he slips down to the great hall and bids his servant boy to wake his fellows, the day must begin early, and then he must fetch her Ladyship and their guest and bring them down at once.

He is a good hearted little lad, and hurries to comply with his master's wishes.

The hall is warm and all the servants waiting when Keela descends with Heathcliff following in her steps like a shadow of ill luck.

Aed stands, his face grave, he has laid the instruments upon the table and waves his hand to them, Keela's eyes widen and in a moment she understands.

"You should have shown more caution my friend, I know all that passed between you both that I need, anything more I wish not to know, choose gypsy and then name your second. I presume ye know how this is…"

Heathcliff takes up a sword, turning it in his hands and smiles, it is beautifully made, he catches up a flintlock and turns tossing it to Keela as if his life did not depend on it,

"I shall 'av these, and for my second…your wife."

Aed glances to her, she is displeased with him…

"To first blood. Thomas you will second me..if anything should go amiss."

Keela visibly relaxes.

"You have brought shame upon my house gypsy, and for that…" he dodges as the creature strikes for him, and he stumbles, only a little.

No honour among thieves it seems.

Very well, and so it begins, steel that flashes like lightening in the dawning, as the sun rises to soak the hall a bloody scarlet, the servants turn this way and that to follow each strike and parry, it be as good a duel as they have seen in many years, in a heartbeat they have divided into two camps, one along one wall and one along the other, Aed is sad to see that the servant girls are wagering on the gypsy.

For a time it seems Aed has the upper hand, a servant ahead of them hurries and throws open the doorway to the courtyard and follows them as the fight spills out onto the stones, the household rushes out in their wake, calling wagers and encouragement or pleas to end the violence.

Someone is going to be killed.

They are matched too well, they cannot continue all the day and into the night.

The Lord has the greater skill but the lascar is the stronger…who will prevail?

The Lord may have said it would be first blood but by the colouring of his cheeks they are betting on a death within two minutes.

His pride is diminished with each moment that passes and he yet fails to claim the victory.

The crowd gasps as Aed pressing his advantage succeeds in keeping Heathcliff up against the far wall, neither able to go forward nor back, for an instant it seems his Lordship will win the day, but Heathcliff catches a rope at his side and cutting through it, is carried up to the castle wall, where he stands, laughing down at the older man and taunting him to follow.

An aged serving man howls that such a move is cheating and a dishonourable trick, the dairy lad argues that is should stand, it were nothin' more than quick thinkin'.

The gypsy sits atop the wall and makes a display of waiting for Aed to struggle up the stone steps to reach him, by now the crowd below are jeering.

Keela stands below and sighs, it is too high, if one falls he will break his neck on the stones below and there shall be an end to it.

She fears for her husband as he moves to stand upon the wall, his weight must surely be too great, she watches his unsteady progress as he chases the gypsy back a step at a time,

"Come down!" Keela's voice echoes.

They both glance at her, an accord is called for a moment as they descend and then begin once more, the song of the swords echoes in the rising dawn as the heavens spread above them purple as amethyst stones.

Aed once more has the advantage he throws himself forward, sword striking for Heathcliff's heart.

The rising sunlight turns the world to gold as it spills in through the high windows, capturing the dreadful scene like an insect in amber, struggling for its life in the molten fire.

Keela's scream tears the shadows asunder, her husband pauses for one fatal moment as the gypsy draws something from beneath his coat and the crowd cries out to witness their Lord shot through the chest and his blood spill like crimson blossoms to the cold stone.

Keela is screaming for a physician, as she kneels beside her fallen husband, hands pressed to the wound, his blood runs black in the light, Heathcliff shot him through the heart.

He moves to stand beside Keela, looking down at his fallen enemy, and turns to the crowd.

"I'd call that first blood."

An icy silence answers him.

"Ye…ye killed him…"

He looks down at her "Don't think he weren't meanin' to do the same, if ye hadn't screamed as ye did, it would be my corpse ye was cryin' over now."

He drops the fatal weapon into her emerald skirts…her own father's pistol.


	11. Chapter 11

Chapter 11

Aed is born up on the shoulders of his servants and the dairy lad is bidden to fetch the Bishop, a funeral must be prepared as swiftly as may be.

He never even received the last rites.

Keela kneels beside her late husband's body in the small chapel; she has lit candles and prayed for an hour for forgiveness, this is all her fault…and yet it were he in his foolishness who called for a duel, to mend his wounded pride.

He would have killed Heathcliff; ye could see it in his emerald eyes.

She is haunted by the echo of the shot and the heady scent of fire and powder.

He did not even cry out…

He simply faded away, like a summer's night dream.

"Do not tell me ye will fall in love with 'im now that 'e's dead?"

She turns at Heathcliff's voice as he steals silently into the chapel, to stand at her side.

"No…but I am sorry that ye killed 'im"

"It were 'im or me."

She glances up, her cheeks stained with tears, like shards of broken crystal.

"I know. I…I never thought he would…he were a gentle man…really he were…"

He nods, accepting her word.

She gets to her feet, brushing down her emerald skirts, and then in a moment she falls against him, sobbing, her grief more than she can stand, more than she knows how to ask God to bear for her, and Heathcliff holds her to his chest as she screams and curses at fate, she did not love Aed, and yet she mourns his passing.

She will miss him, his laughter and his twinkling eyes, the way he would ask her to read to him from the Bible and then fall asleep before the fire, and how she would read on regardless, for he only asked to please her.

And now what is to become of her?

The Bishop comes and offers her solace, Aed will have gone to his eternal peace he is sure, and listens to her confession, he absolves her in the name of God, and assures her that what took place today was not truly her fault, though she must make penance for her sin with the gypsy, and so he sets her a list of prayers that will take until next Christmastide.

He offers his kindness to Heathcliff who eyes him warily from the back of the church, he understands why he took the life of the young Lord, it was Aed who called for the duel, all present have attested to that much, as well as to the fact that he is now master of all that Aed possessed by virtue of Lady Luck's favour.

He will return tomorrow with the sexton to intern the body.

Keela follows him to the doorway and glances back at the scent of smoke and incense to watch Heathcliff strike a candle at the feet of the Madonna.

He follows silently in her footsteps as she makes her way back up to the castle, and she summons her servants to her and declares a time of mourning for Aed, Lord of Kilkenny.

The windows are shrouded in black, and candles light their way within the endless halls, Heathcliff shivers in the eerie light, it is as though the spirit of the place has died with him, as though in her mourning Keela has buried them alive, he half expects to see the spectre of Aed around each corner, and fears footsteps on the stones in his wake, his belief in ghosts is stronger than all but her Ladyship, surely such a man will not rest in peace when the one who killed him walks his house in the shadows and dreams to usurp him before his body has grown cold in the church.

He does not sleep that night but rather sits awake before the fire's glow in the hall, they will bury his Lordship come morning, and then…fortune and favour shall be his at last.

Keela finds Heathcliff still sitting there when she rises, the black velvet of her gown makes a blazing fire of her tresses, and her skin glows in the light, paler even than he remembers…she is hauntingly beautiful in her sorrow.

A ghostly queen, still as stone, defying the burning light that caresses his skin with her every breath, a kiss of shadow in a burning world.

She has paid the fine to bury Aed in velvet and with gold, and to line his coffin with the finest of silks.

His family have been informed but cannot reach them in time, they send their loving condolences and share in her grief, they trust her to do what must be done with dignity and grace, and shall discuss her widows jointure at a later date, her father in law understands the nature of his son's passing, if the creature that took his life does not take every care for her comfort as a result of his actions, he shall personally return to the castle and slay him by his own hand.

May God protect her and comfort her in her mourning.

The cry of pipes echoes across the land, Heathcliff watches her lip tremble, only a little as she moves to his side, he stands and takes her hand, she looks up at him "Do not let me weep. I have no right to be keenin' at his grave."

He nods and takes her cold little hand in his, "Let us get it done then."

He moves to open the door to her, and she steps out into the light, like a heretic to her burning.

A hundred faces turn, drinking her in, a hundred serving men who must take a new master come nightfall because of her sin, and a lord who lies dead for a love he knew nothing of.

She moves to the graveside and kneels beside Aed's still form, the lips tinged blue, the hands crossed upon his sword, never to release it, he goes to his last battle… She reaches into her bosom and takes the scrap of tartan that her father had given her as a babe, the Bishop said that he had found it with her, she tears it in two and lays one piece upon the purple velvet of his jacket, above his heart, she bends to kiss the icy lips for the first and final time and then steps away.

Heathcliff tries to hide his revulsion; to touch the dead is to become unclean, he supposes it were her penance and her apology.

He watches with relief as the priest presses holy water to her lips, and only then makes the sign of the cross upon her, he turns and anoints the body, Heathcliff glances about and spying roses in the hands of a servant girl, plucks one from her and tearing the petals free, touches Keela's arm, she turns and he presses several into her palm, takes her hand and together they step forward and allow them to whisper down upon Aed as he is lowered into the cold earth.

Now the traditions of church and his wife's hidden people are satisfied, and he may go in peace to his eternal reward.

The pipes howl their sorrow as she raises her face to keep the tears from falling; Heathcliff takes her hand and presses his fingers to hers,

"You promised ye would not weep fer 'im."

"I know…" he can hear the tears in her voice.

As they cascade the first dust over the grave she pushes her fist into her mouth to keep from crying out in an agony of guilt and sorrow.

Heathcliff pulls her to him and she clings to his shirt like a drowning woman, her face buried against his shoulder, her teeth all but breaking the skin…he thinks she is screaming in silence, and her tears fall like summer rain upon his breast for the husband she never loved as he deserved, because her sweet heart was always, and forever…his.


	12. Chapter 12

Chapter 12

Keela laid aside her jewels that night, before the mirror hung with black cloth, like a doorway to the otherworld, she set aside her rings and pendants, even the great cross set with a scarlet stone is unclasped from her throat and concealed in the box along with its fellows, she rests on the gold of her wedding band, hesitates for but a moment and draws it from her delicate finger, she turns to her maid and bids her deliver it to the Bishop, she wishes it to be given to those who have nothing.

The maid curtsies and leaves her to her sorrow.

She turns at a disturbance in the shadow, a shimmer of a vision in a witches' mirror.

"May I come in?"

Heathcliff stands in the doorway, she sighs, a mournful promise of a sound, like ghostly song across his skin.

"Ye may as well. He is dead…It cannot 'urt 'im now."

He moves to sit upon her bed, spread with rich furs and velvet, the pillows sewn with seed pearls and threads of gold.

She stands then and moves to the chest at the bed's foot, throwing it open she casts aside gowns that were worth more than her life on the slave's dais, and pulls out a worn shirt and britches.

Heathcliff laughs despite himself "Ye never kept 'em!"

He thinks he spies the shadow of a smile about her rosebud lips

"I did…I am not his wife any longer….I am no longer Lady here. All that he possessed is yours…and so…"

She pulls at the laces of her gown and slips it from her lily white body, hidden from his dark eyes only by the whisper of her shift and pulls on Joseph's old clothes once more, she turns in the candlelight before him, her bare feet cold upon the stone.

"I shall be Keela once again, as I were before."

He smiles and rising moves to the door, he turns back to her, "Then will ye not come and help with the horses?"

Her pale face lights up in the beautiful way he recalls so well and she follows him. Running ahead of him, leaving him to pursue her through the darkened hallways, following the soft laughter like fairy bells in the night.

"This way."

He spies her at the end of the far hall, flaming hair flying out behind her, and swift as an echo she is away again, down into the depths of her castle Heathcliff follows in her footprints, and then out into the courtyard…

She sits upon a bale of hay waiting for him, cheeks flushed and eyes sparkling, he gazes about him in wonder, the stables of her castle are finer than Hindley's and yet they look all but the same…

She twinkles up at him, "Do ye like 'em? I had Aed order 'em built just as I wished."

Heathcliff laughs "They look like home"

"They do now." She rises and gestures to him to follow, she shows him the horses in their stalls, black, white, grey, beautiful as any from a legend, he reaches out to a great black creature that takes to him well enough.

"May I ride him?"

"Aed would not like it."

"It were 'is?"

She nods and for a moment the smile fades.

"He will never know if ye don't tell 'im. He is gone Keela, let 'im go. Besides if I should get lost in the glens and never be heard from more I lay it on yer conscience"

She giggles at the memory and vanishing into the stall brings the creature out, he is beautiful, heavier than the hunters and farm horses of his foster brother's stable, he looks to Keela as she readies him.

"What were 'e bred fer?"

Keela's eyes glitter as she tosses Heathcliff the rein "War."

He waits as she readies her own horse, white as snow, and then she mounts and leads him out in her wake, the stars glitter in the blackness like a thousand diamonds, the air is different here, clear and fresh as stream water on a winter's day, with the promise of snow in the scent of it, she turns back to him framed in the archway of the wall, the drawbridge stretched out before her, the glens and forests hidden in the silver fog.

"Marry me." The words seem pulled from his lips "Not because of Cathy, nor Hindley nor because yer husband is dead…marry me because I cannot live without ye, Keela."

Her smile would break the coldest heart and he watches the devilish sparkle dance in her eyes.

"Catch me and I am yours."

And in a twist of snow and fire she is away, thundering across the drawbridge and into the mists.


	13. Chapter 13

The tales she told him appear true enough in that moment as he follows the hoof prints in the moonlight; he watches her shadow in the darkness ahead of him, close enough now he could almost reach out and touch her…

And then she is gone, she turns from the grass and vanishes between the ancient trees, leaving him to go after the sound of her laughter in the silver mist, he turns about, the note is all about him, echoing in the shadow and the emerald scent of the forest.

She is hidden from sight…

He calls to her and the sweetness of her voice is carried to him on the night wind.

"This way." He turns again and she giggles.

"No…over here."

The gypsy begins to think that such a game is weighted in her favour. She knows this land the better…she could be hiding anywhere.

He sets off in the direction he thought he heard her; the whisper of a river calls eerily in the vastness, the beast shifts at the riverbank beneath its hooves, it will not go on.

Fine.

Heathcliff slips down and follows the water's song, he recalls how she loved myths and fairytales…he smiles at the tiny lights that glimmer all abut like emerald stars…Keela would promise him that they were fairies.

"Keela."

He stands in the shadow and closes his dark eyes…he can hear the thunder of water as it cascades over rocks of silver in the moon's shimmer…and then the gentle laughter…how may it echo so?

He can hear her singing…she is waiting for him.

"Oh but ye are slow, come find me…lest I disappear. Ye have only this one chance…if ye do not find me by sun up I shall never be yours."

She always loved to play such games…

He smiles then and turning back to the riverbank catches the horses' bridle, he leads it into the sapphire waters…the horse will seek its mistress…

It stands as though turned to stone before the place where the water spills down in a rush of raven tears and seething spray white as pearls…

He calls once more…she makes no reply.

So be it.

He closes his eyes against the rage of water and stumbles on, praying not to be drowned…his searching fingers find air like ice…and then soft hands take his and pull him through the fairy door…of course, she believes water is a gateway to the Otherworld.

In the darkness he can see nothing…

"This were me favorite place when I were a lassie."

The words echo against the stone…still he cannot see Keela.

"Where are we?"

"Ye had a fairy cave at home."

The moon spills through the water behind him lighting the way, gems hidden in the rocks glitter like diamonds in the walls.

"Never one such as this…"

"They are worthless…quartz crystals…and I would never let ye take 'em, this is my treasure."

Heathcliff laughs at that, even in the pale light he can see no sign of her.

She hides well…Better even than Cathy.

"Heathcliff."

He turns about as a shadow passes before him; he reaches out…and feels the wind whisper where she stood.

She is like a wili, dancing about him in the forest, and so he must follow in her steps even unto death.

He follows the whisper of his name in the blackness, for only a moment the roar of the water slows…she has passed back through the falls…

He whirls about once more and rushes back the way he came on, the ghostly moonlight burns brighter, he finds his way into the rush of water and reaches out…his hands brush skin soft as grave silks, caress the rosebud lips, the water shimmers in her tresses like diamonds cast into fire, she smiles up at him, sweet as honey.

"I must confess meself captured."

He takes her hand and pulls her from the waters; she trembles against him in the starlight of the glade, he shakes his head at her foolishness.

"Now ye will die o' cold afore I can make ye me bride."

She giggles as he helps her back into the saddle and sparkles down at him, bright as any diamond in her delight.

"Not I, I be made stronger than that….but yer bride I consent to be."

He returns to his own horse and draws alongside her as she leads him back through the trees, the wisps lightning the path before them.

"And think ye to be half a wife to me?"

Her cheeks burn in the night and she glances down, "I leave it to ye….if I am not…ye could not put me aside should Cathy realise her foolishness."

"She is wed Keela…she has made her choice…let me make mine."

In the marsh light she reaches out and pulls him to her, pressing her lips to his, and how she burns in his arms, the jewel of all his desires, and for but a moment he would die tonight rather than let her slip away ever again.


	14. Chapter 14

Chapter 14

He watches her as they bed down the horses, across all the years, all that she has suffered…at the hands of his brother…watching him love Catherine and then shoot her husband…when Hindley sent her home…a slave in chains…and yet she is still his little Keela, the fire headed Taig Nelly first brought home while the storm raged upon the moors, with fists like lightning and a tongue to put a sailor to shame.

For all her velvets and gold she cast them aside the moment he claimed them with the Lord's death…and now she is promised to be his.

He allows himself to wonder a moment, how they shall fare together?

He is wealthy as Midas now…what is he to do?

Shall he stay here and live out his years among the snow and mountains with his fairy woman?

Nay…he shall wed her as soon as may be…and then they must return home.

He has a score to settle.

He sends a servant to learn when a ship sails for England and he comes running with the message that a vessel sails in two days.

He finds her in her chamber, drying her clothes before the fire wrapped in a length of fur from the bed, he smiles at that…she looks so…savage.

"Ye can keep yer gowns, Keela."

She turns, her face lighting to spy him at her door.

No one was ever happy to see him…

She gestures him in, and sits before the flames of her fire clutching her blanket about her, he moves to sit beside her and reaching out slips an arm about her, for a moment she stills beneath his hand, then moves closer and lays her head upon his shoulder.

It is unearthly…so tender a gesture, so trusting.

"Keela"

"Mmmm." Her voice is dreamy in the golden light.

He knows not how to confess now his intention…

"Keela…I know ye thought ye would stay always here…"

She lifts her head and meets his gaze "Ye must return?"

He nods.

She sighs "Ye are Lord now, and must do as ye will."

He takes her hand "Marry me tomorrow and come back with me. As me wife."

She makes no move and he fears that she will refuse him, she sighs again and gets to her feet, moves to her chest and pulls her shift from within slipping it on by one hand in silence, and only then lowering the silvery fur to the floor.

"As ye wish. Shall I send a maid fer the Bishop?"

He nods, it is so strange…he has only to speak and it shall be done.

She takes her cloak from the bed and drawing it about her shoulders makes her way out into the hallway, she returns in a moment and stretches out before the fire once more, her beautiful face haunted.

He reaches out to her and she takes his hand in hers, so soft and pale.

She starts like a frightened deer at a knock upon the door; it is only the maid to say that the Bishop shall come with the morning.

Keela smiles and nods bidding the girl to her own bed.

They are left in silence; her cheeks blush pink as roses in the firelight, her hair shimmering crimson in the evening.

Heathcliff reaches for her then pulling her to him and kissing her with a desire that half frightens her, she lays a hand to his chest and he feels the ghost of the strength of a slave.

White fingers pressing silver into his burning skin, she has a most enchanting mouth…her hands and feet, delicate as though wrought by the fairy folk for a poor gypsies' delight; that promise lost memories and forbidden dreams beneath a veil of linen, rich as the sky before a storm and white as the summer's clouds.

It is so unlike all that he has known…there is muscle beneath her skin, Heathcliff can feel the kiss of scars upon her back where the whip tore her flesh and her blood ran scarlet in the light, even the scent of her is as he remembers it, wild flowers, berries, and rain in the darkness.

She pulls away then, and gets to her feet he watches her move to the door, she throws it open and smiles "Get on with ye, there'll not be any sinnin' tonight, so ye may as well be abed."

He almost laughs at her easy dismissal, but does as she asks remembering the nights she ordered him out of the kitchens so that she might ready herself for sleep in the same voice, as though she were the Heights little mistress.

She curls up in her great bed, pulling the crimson blankets and furs about her, and sleeps in the mournful cry of the storm, knowing that he is near once again, as it always was before.

She has not slept so well in three years, when she was sent away and spent days in the hold of a ship once more, and broke her heart a weeping, knowing that even if a note should come for her she would never read it.

She had not even been able to tell him what was becoming of her, that for love of him she had been banished from his side forever, sent home decried as a witch and a murderess, but none of it matters now, though she holds some fear of what Master Hindley shall have to say upon her return.

And what of Miss Cathy?

She dares not hope that she will not see her; she lies for hours her mind twisted by fear and the emerald kiss of jealousy.

Her door opens and she smiles as Heathcliff enters and moves to lie beside her, as if they had done so all their lives,

"It's a wonder any can sleep, when ye will not put yer light out."

"I am sorry. I did not mean to disturb ye."

He shakes his head and she cannot help but be enchanted by the sway of his raven locks in the candlelight, "What wakes ye?"

She blushes then; she has no wish to extol her sins "Ye still love Miss Cathy."

It is not a question.

He takes her hands "Aye, neither God nor Satan can change it, but I love ye also."

"Not as ye love 'er."

"Nay, my love fer her, is as the love ye bear fer God, it is me very soul, my love fer ye is more as ye love yer home, and were ye offered heaven ye would be sorry to leave it. Anythin' good in me is only because o' ye…without Cathy I might as well be dead, lost in the abyss. Without ye Keela I would be in hell. Without ye I know not how to survive the loss of 'er. Ye make the pain stop, I cannot hurt when I am with ye, even as I know I should be in torment."

She smiles at that and draws him into her arms; he lays his head upon her breast and she pulls the blanket over them, and for a moment the world falls away, as though they dream and could never wake.

As he drifts into sleep he hears her soft voice against his ear

"Betray me and I shall teach ye the meanin' o' torment."

They fall to dreaming together in laughter, and a sweeter peace was never known. Safe in the knowledge that though Kings may fall and God's wrath may turn all about them to fire, together they will never change.


	15. Chapter 15

Chapter 15

She awoke on her wedding morning to golden light and the cry of the birds beyond her window, she glanced across to the sleeping gypsy and slipped from the bed as softly as she could, she crept to the fire and pulled her borrowed clothes on, flinching at the icy leather of her boots as she puts them on over her bare legs as she always does.

She recalls how Miss Cathy had teased regardin' it, and Nelly had snapped it were hard enough to persuade her to wear 'em at all, she returns to her bed and kisses her love awake, he rises brushing black hair from his eyes.

"Yer never weddin' in that?"

"What else should I prefer? Ye be weddin' me, an' I shall look like meself."

Heathcliff laughs; it is as fine a reason as could be offered.

The Bishop sighs at the sight of her but leads them to the chapel; he intones the service, his voice deep and rich as the bell that calls the occasion, he binds their hands one to the other as they kneel before the altar, soaked in the light that pours through the windows in a dream of a thousand colours.

The statue of the Madonna smiles down upon the union.

It is most strange, as though Heathcliff were watching another at his own marriage.

The priest pronounces them man and wife, Keela draws a length of black cloth from within her gown and binds it across her hair.

The Bishop sighs and shakes his head when she calls for a broomstick and pulls Heathcliff over it at her side, the poor clergyman is left muttering against such pagan practice though he seems not surprised.

And in a moment it is over, she is his by law and right, until it should please God to call her to the grave.

They emerge into the sunlight and he watches a hundred men bow before him, and a cry goes up, the castle has a new master and this day is blessed by God.

Keela takes him into the great hall and stands before him as she introduces Heathcliff to each and every miserable one of 'em.

The boy from the dairy who he sent running to the docks is brought before them in an almighty state, he heard tell that an English ship had docked, so he went to discover the truth of the matter and it sails in the morning.

He bows his golden head; he had thought it would please his new master if he brought such news at once.

The hall falls deathly silent, all eyes on the Lady, she reaches into her skirts and draws out a few coins, pressing them into the small hand and bidding him arrange passage for her husband and herself.

Only Heathcliff sees how her pale fingers tremble.

She turns a glowing smile that never falters to her servants and announces that she could not eat, but she understands that the cooks have outdone themselves and so they are all excused their work and may be about the wedding feast.

Her new husband follows in her steps as she flees the hall; she leans against the stones of the wall, her cheeks flushed and her eyes sparkling with tears yet to fall.

"It is only half done…ye can tell 'em I refused ye….I would let ya go."

He grabs hold of her then, "Why? Why would ye say such things? Are ye afraid?"

She laughs, a half mad sound. "Not that! We're leavin' tomorrow, she shall regret her choice as soon as she sees ya. Ye can bring her back with ye. Leave me behind, perhaps yer brother would give me, me place back."

He cannot hide his horror, "Ye would never go back to Hindley?"

She is sobbing in his arms, as though he has betrayed her already. "I cannot see ye with 'er, I am sorry. I thought I were strong enough, I want ye to be happy even if it is not with me. I would rather go back to bein' a slave! I would rather go back to bein' flogged the rest o' me days, than watch ya marry 'er."

He almost shakes her then, "Keela! Listen to yerself, yer my wife. Or were it some other foul mouthed Taig I just married?"

The insult reaches her in her panic, the blue eyes flash like lightening and he catches her fist as she makes to strike him, for a moment they stand in horrified silence and then her smile lights up her face as she laughs, he pulls her into his arms and she holds him as though she will never release him alive.

He kisses her, tender at first and then more fiercely; she pulls away

"I…I must pray."

He eyes her "Keela, it's a three hour mass."

She kisses him once "I will be worth waitin' fer." She winks and turns on her heel.

She does not even get three steps, Heathcliff catches her hand and draws her back to him, "God can wait, I will not."

For a moment he thinks she will argue with him, she looks up with something like terror behind her storm blue eyes, he remembers her standing in the snow, bruised and bloodied, a flaysome devil of a gypsy, standing on her pride and looking up at him with less fear than she shows now.

Cathy weren't afraid.

He had not been prepared for this, she fears nothin' not the ghosts in the kirkyard, not the whip, not even Cathy's temper, nothin' but God above and hell below.

How to go on with a lass such as she?

Before it were simple enough, Cathy led him a dance of sweat and fire as though it were natural as the earth upon which they lay, but as Keela stands, her eyes promise nothing but a pure and holy terror of what must follow.

She could raise desire in a dead man, yet she waits like a nun, cold and sacred, like some holy statue, an invitation to fasting and repentance before the pleasures of the flesh.

God be dammed, he lifts her clean off her feet and carries her to her chamber door, black boots kicking all the way, and she is laughing at the memory of the Christmas, Cathy pushed her from the stable door and he did the same, of how enraged protest became larks enough to set Nelly laughin'.

He pushes the door open and when he goes on, she follows.

Inside, the bright morning light burns like an accusation, she pulls the drapes against its luster, leaving them in shadow and the scent of wood smoke, she sits on the edge of the bed, pulling at her boots, feet white as pearls, laid bare to the ember's glow, red as blood on Calvary.

God she is a laughable sight, a tiny woman, bare to the knees, in nothing but borrowed raiment and they a man's, she pulls back the rich blankets and slips between them.

He moves to lie beside her; she will not look at him, her cheeks pink as the roses in Joseph's garden come summer, he kisses her then, pressing her back into the pillows.

Seed pearls glimmer against the crimson of her hair, her skin pale as cream in the half light, white as snowdrops against the whisper of sheets, red as communion wine.

In the darkness his fingers find the buttons of her britches, she freezes like a river in winter, but catches his half smile as he looks down at her.

"This feels dammed unnatural."

She giggles "How long did it take ye te get Miss Earnshaw out o' that fancy frock?"

She raises an eyebrow at his silence with a superior smirk "Well then, stop yer complainin'."

He falls against her laughing, and returns to the press of silver beneath his fingers, she pulls her old shirt down as he slips her legs free of the black cloth, and tries to pretend he has not seen the shadow of amber through the linen.

She slips her hands inside his shirt and pulls it from him, casting it to the floor; he kisses her smiling lips.

"Coward."

Keela sniggers at his accusation in the darkness; she has not the nerves to begin this with such shamelessness.

"Insult me."

He laughs "What?"

"Make me want ter hit ya."

He lies back, arms folded behind his head, "Fine. Yer borin' me."

He can feel the anger rise in her as she kneels beside him, she locks her fingers into his hair so fiercely it all but hurts, and kisses him hot and deep, raking her nails down his chest as though she possessed the claws of a cat, he would swear she has drawn blood.

Heathcliff rises and catches the fiery locks, pulling her down into the scarlet depths with him, shivering as she cries out, straddling her beneath him, flinching at her teeth in his shoulder…she runs her tongue across his skin, a soft and enchanting press of lips and the promise of so much more, so violent and savage and familiar.


	16. Chapter 16

Chapter 16

He holds her down and tries not to remember how it felt as she writhed beneath him, the sadistic pleasure of striking her and hearing her cry out for him, the burning scarlet of her blood on his skin, caught in an endless rush of rage and pain and satisfaction, he could never have lain with her but it were close as they could go, dancing close to the fire, in a twisted play of passion wearing the mask of hate, striking her his only way to tell himself it were within his rights to lay hands to her at all.

The only way Cathy would not object to.

They could find each other in the heat of anger and the song of the whip against their flesh, he tries not to remember how she looked to him, helpless in her bondage, strung from the stable beams and stripped half naked before his black gaze, a fire crowned Venus, her back striped like a slave, the scent of her sweat in the air, heady as the perfume of heaven, and her howl in the darkness, that calls to something deep and dark within his soul.

And oh but he should have taken her then, in a moment of torture and agony, with the sting of the lash still on them, burning with rage and shame, in a dream of torment that could bury itself within them and spark the fire to burn out the pain that twisted about their hearts like a crown of thorns.

The memory of her hands on him when it was all over, and how in his own confused lusts he had asked for Cathy, why? How could such a heavenly creature ever offer the satisfaction he longs for? It would be a sin to want it of her; she is to him all light and love, his reason to draw one more agonizing breath.

And then at his side, faithful as his own shadow was the little gypsy, the hanging rope about his soul, that ties him to his own sanity, and some hours he hates her for it.

He cannot dream of Catherine when Keela is with him, the sorrow that has been his faithful friend is driven out at the song of her laughter, at but a kind word from her lips, and the very devil of lust welcomed in, the moment she brushes those white fingers against him.

He holds her wrists down and kisses her lily-white throat, her head falls back, and he is lost in a forest of flame, white teeth brush skin soft as roses, she waits, still as death beneath him, and he trembles against her in the thought that he could tear her throat out as she lies, that in this moment she would let him, he could kill her and she would not wish to retaliate.

And thus he would do anything to protect her, this wild savage that would leave her life in his hands, she could kill him as soon as look at him, and yet she lies still, a burnt offering on the altar of his desire, and then her hands move, soft and slow, she runs her fingers down his back, nails sharp as a sword, the muscle in her twisting beneath his hands as she writhes at his caress.

And in the silence she strikes him, her hand finds his cheek like lightning and pain rushes through him, her eyes gleam up at him.

"I'm not Cathy, don't ye look at me like I am."

His fingers close on her throat, she smiles at that, he remembers the last time he held her so, when she had called Cathy a lubbani, a whore.

And he caught her and shook her til she all but choked in his hands, and then the blinding pain as she drove her knee into him, and he lay gasping at her feet, the way she stood over him and then kicked him as though he were nothing but a dog that had displeased her.

Through the veil of memory he can feel her moving under him, hands catch his waist and she throws him down with all the strength of a woman who had once worn shackles and chains, she straddles his aching body and kisses him, her tongue burning in his mouth like a brand until Heathcliff would swear that he will die from the heat, her thief's fingers slipping lower with each breath, white finds silver and in a heartbeat she has him stripped beneath her, he pulls her close, and for a moment she simply lies still, learning the touch of his skin on hers, the song of his heart beneath her hands, a moment for her to find her courage for what is to follow.

She puts him in mind of Cathy's mare, white as snow, unbroken and wild, approach too swift and she will bolt or else see threat where none was meant.

He turns her about until she lies beneath him, shivering at the brush of his skin, her breath comes too shallow, Heathcliff waits.

"Will it 'urt?"

Her voice is a thin thread in the darkness.

"Only for a moment."

She nods, he can feel the brush of her tresses against his shoulder, the wild, emerald scent of her enchants him, he reaches down in the shadow and finds his way to her, and then she cries out and the air is heavy with the scent of copper and fire, he can feel her tears against his chest, her nails cut into his back deep enough to draw blood.

She is his. Forever.

His wife.

Heathcliff presses into her and she whimpers beneath him, he gasps against her ear, lost in the hellish heat of her, and feels her tremble in his arms at the sound, Keela's whimpers become moans as they find each other, she is so gentle, so soft and sweet against him, and in the darkness she holds him close, and whispers in the ruby light, of temptations and promises for only him to know.

The touch of her is almost more than he can stand, the kiss of her sweat upon his skin, the way she writhes in his arms, her sweet cry of delight, he groans and Keela holds him closer, her whisper he cannot understand beyond the fire in his skin, glowing brighter with every moment, as she twists him to her every desire, her eyes like blue diamonds in the night, enchanting as will o the wisps, leading him on in the darkness, he can barely breathe, burning and aching and as she kisses him, Heathcliff shatters like glass in her embrace.

Old Brigid knocks hours later, to ask mistress if they would wish to take their dinner in her chamber, she calls back that such would be agreeable and they are left to struggle back into their clothes before the servant returns, Keela cannot meet his eye as she rekindles the fire, she brings in the meal the maid leaves beyond the door, and they sit before the fire and eat it as they though they were slaves still, she pushes her platter away and grabbing a sack from beneath the bed, begins throwing in clothing, blankets, and sends to the kitchens for food, then pushes that in on top, he watches her gather up gold and jewels and fill a series of small linen bags and then laughs to see her sit before the flames and waste an hour sewing them inside her spare shift.

By the dawn all is prepared, she leaves her man servant in command of the castle in their absence, leaves him the means to get a letter to the Heights and slips up behind Heathcliff on his horse, her arms tight about his waist as they ride down to the docks, the ship has come in and the captain is seeing that his cargo is in order, he does not usually take souls aside from his crew, he stops Keela as she moves to pass him.

"I remember you. We carried you once before! The red haired slave, I would recognize you anywhere! What ever are you coming back for?"

She looks to Heathcliff and leaves him to make the best explanation that he can, though he fears she will throw a howling fit to put Cathy to shame when they are bid to the ship's hold for the voyage.

She sits in bitter silence as the ropes are cast off, and spends half the night out on deck, hanging over the ship's starboard side.

He is starting to regret his decision to bring her back, she is white as death, and swears that if the Good Lord had meant her to cross the sea he would have given her gills or perhaps wings.

Heathcliff laughs and holds her as she sleeps fitfully; she sighs with relief come dawn when the cry for land goes up, stumbling with her bag of treasure and food like a disgruntled pirate.

She is charming in her weakness, Heathcliff sweeps her up and carries her over his shoulder from the ship as she shakes a fist at the captain and curses him with words enough to put roses in the cheeks of his men.

He waves jovially, well used to her nature and secretly taking amusement in her ill manners.

She sleeps in the carriage; slumped against him like drunkard, waking every so often to take a swig from the bottle offered by the coachman, he swears bitters will cure what ails her.

Women are the most delicate of God's creatures and not meant for seafaring, even if only for a night.

Heathcliff tries not to laugh and is glad she is too exhausted to be striking the fool for such a remark, but holds her still to be sure.

Sunlight welcomes them back to the Heights, with skies blue as sapphires.

The driver is paid well for his trouble and she watches him rattle from the grounds.

He catches her as she falls, overcome with exhaustion and cold and glances to the house…he has no wish to wake Joseph, it would not do for Hindley to know he has returned.

Not yet.

He carries her to the stables and pulling back the blankets lays her in his old bed, he sits a moment and delights in the sight of her, back in the place she loved so well, that is more her home than any other.

He might hate to see Joseph but he knows the sight of the wizened old Pharisee will bring his wife great joy.

He leaves a note beside her sleeping head saying that he has gone to attend to a matter that she need not concern herself with, and will return soon, leaves the bag of food where she is sure to find it, and slips out into the morning light.

He returns come evening with a drunken Hindley, drags him from the carriage and drops him to the stone of the floor.

Joseph stands staring "The devil's sent thee back to us has he?"

"Still alive, Joseph?" Heathcliff sneers down at the pious old fool.

"Aye, still strong too."

"Perhaps God is keeping you on earth because he would find your company so irksome in heaven?"

Joseph pulls himself up, fuelled by righteous wrath ""Your blasphemy don't touch me, it yer soul yer damming!"

The gypsy's black eyes burn into his "My soul is already dammed, Joseph you can count on that."

He sweeps past him up the stairway, Joseph is left to attend his master as best he is able, he lifts Hindley, and sets him in a chair, praying silently to the Lord for patience…and a little help.

"Joseph."

He turns at the familiar, lilting voice.

"Lassie! The good Lord sent thee back to us."

"I did not try and murder Miss Cathy, Joseph. Honest to God I didn't."

He crosses the room to her then and embraces her, his reedy old arms about her shoulders, a prayer of forgiveness on his withered lips.

"I had to beat yer, master's orders. But you'll forgive me won't ya?"

She smiles "Of course, dear Joseph, I have missed you so. I prayed fer ya every day."

"And I ye, its God's providence ye should come home same day as that flaysome devil!"

She smiles "I came with 'im, Joseph."

"What ye do that fer?"

"E's me 'usband."

The old man servant grows pale, "Poor lassie, still better ye than any other I suppose. He'll nowt listen a me, save 'im if ye can. Least if he calls yer wife, 'e might keep off Mistress Cathy."

"How is she?"

He shrugs "I know nowt, aint seen 'er." He leans in and lowers his reedy voice, "ye watch 'im lass, watch 'im close. Tell 'im from me, e' 'urts ye I'll beat him good and proper. No orders needed"

She sighs "Joseph, thank ye fer the thought, but I love 'im, so you'll say no more such things, fer my sake won't yer?"

He pats her hand, "Aye lass, ye diina see 'im go did yer?"

She shakes her head and a cold chill falls into her stomach, as though she swallowed ice.

" 'E went down by Grange, I'd wager my soul on it."

Keela sighs, " ' e must do as he wills, it be only natural 'e should wish to see 'er. I'll not be jealous, 'elp me Joseph, will ye read wi' me? As we used to do…I cannot go up o 'im, just this moment."

Joseph leads her to the kitchen and they sit once more before his great bible, she fetches her black shawl, heavy with dust like silver snow, from where it were left beside the door and shaking it out drapes it over her hair, they clasp hands and beg for the Lord's guidance, strength and mercy and Joseph prays loudly enough that she is sure he intends to be overheard all the way to Gimmerton, to keep her safe and well and that her husband might remember the Lord's commands as concerns lovin' the wife of one's youth and not puttin' 'er aside, and also of the sin of adultery he shouts First Corinthians verses ten to thirteen towards the door with such fervor that Keela half expects Nelly to enter and shout at him, as she used to do when he became overzealous and woke the Master with his ranting.

Hindley can be heard bellowing from the next room Joseph sighs and gets to his feet, Keela follows, the master looks blearily up at her from his chair, ugly face contorting, Heathcliff and he have come to an accord, he shall pay good rent to stay at the Heights, Keela may earn her keep as she did before, a slave on his lands.

She were a good servant and God knows they're hard to find. She can have a place with his family until the end of her natural life, same as promised Joseph, he takes a breath, considers and offers a sickly, inebriated smile, and so can any gypsy bastard that she might bear.


	17. Chapter 17

Chapter 17

She smiles and bows low.

"Thank ye, master."

He waves a dismissive hand, "Joseph said what happened with Cathy was a misunderstanding, and since she is no longer here, I see no harm in taking you back. Get out then, go and see to the horses."

She slips from the room with a smile, and Heathcliff finds her pitching hay into the stalls as though she never left.

"What are you about?"

"My work."

He raises an eyebrow and looks about, "You're my wife now, you don't have to waste your time pandering to Hindley."

"He offered me position back to me and I be grateful for it."

He cannot hide his horror, "Why would you be willing to…By God I'll make him repent…"

"Ye'll do nothin'. So that when ye put me aside I have honest work and a means by which to keep meself and any bastard."

He sinks onto the bed and sighs "Keela, when will ye stop with all this about puttin' you aside?"

Her eyes flash "When ye stops payin' visits to Miss Cathy an thinkin' I'll not get to hear o' it, my love."

He curses Joseph then and she rounds on him, pitchfork in hand

"Don't ye think to blame 'im, I'm not so very cross with ye, I had to heed too many passages 'bout forgivness to stay angry but ye shall tell me if yer goin' not sneakin' away like some thief."

He can think of no answer.

"I cannot divorce yer and I shall love ye til me last breath. That don't mean I 'av to like yer."

God in heaven what has he done? He has been home all of a day and already she is angry with him again.

God this place brings out the worst in him.

How can he make her understand? He had to see her…

"Come inside now my love."

"I will not. Some of us 'av work to be doin', I am not here at the grace of Master Hindley I am kept as a slave still. So ye may amuse yerself and I shall come in when my work is done and not a moment before. Why not go and haunt Miss Cathy, I'm sure she will welcome ye with open arms…or thighs."

"Keela!" he is appalled.

She turns and spits on the straw before him, "Get out of my sight, how am I to look at ye? Leave me be ye treacherous Sassenach!"

He walks away from her then, and something perilously close to guilt twists itself about his soul.

Sassenach.

From her there can be no worse insult.

So, she has called him, her enemy.

It is hours before she comes in, and Heathcliff can find no way to face her, he longs to go to her side, whimper to be forgiven and yet the memory of the way she spat the word as though it were a curse stays him, they have always found a way back to each other…Haven't they?

He slips out into the hall and descends the twisting stairway…he can hear her laughter…good God she is sitting on the rug at Hindley's feet, playing with the pups as they tumble about her knees.

He listens to Hindley curse him and when she calls him a disloyal Sassenach, his foster brother laughs fit to choke.

She were a fool to marry Heathcliff, Hindley assures her, she should have looked for one who could take care of her…who has no other woman he loves better, perhaps a man with a wife already departed.

Someone who's manner she knew well.

She withdraws at that, turning all her attention to the whelps, and as he watches his foster brother run his filthy eyes over Keela, it takes all he has not to go in and murder him where he sits.

"Keela."

She glances up, as the grey pup bites playfully at her hand, teeth like ivory needles.

She sees him standing in the doorway, but no smile lights her face.

"It's time for bed, love."

Hindley raises his tankard. "No, she shall stay. I want her company."

"She's my wife ye drunken bastard and she'll go where I bid her."

"Oh will she?" Hindley turns glassy eyes to her, "Go if you wish, if ye would prefer the company of a…lecherous….disloyal…my sister… " his head slums forward and he sets up the most dreadful snoring.

Keela shakes her fiery locks and moves to turn his head.

"Let him choke."

"No, he's kinder to me than ye have been."

He grabs her arms "Keela, do not say such things, even when yer angry, even when ye'd say anythin' to hurt me."

"Then say yer sorry fer seekin' 'er out, and ye'll do no such thing again."

Heaven help him he cannot, though he longs to do so, to swear his devotion to her, the memory of his love holds him silent.

"Keela."

"Ye are false, though ye held me and swore ye loved me, ye came to me with lies in yer mouth and I'll listen to ye no more."

And she turns and walks away from him, leaving him to follow her like a shadow, she goes to his room and he waits, if she locks him out he is within his rights to break down the door and beat her.

She does not, there is no need.

She lies beside him cold as though carved of ice, when he lies upon her she turns her face from him and when he kisses her he tastes only her tears.

She rises with the dawn, scalding her skin with burning water to wash the touch of him from her and leaves him to his regrets.

Joseph accuses him with angry silence, his every look a lesson in judgment, Hindley seems happier than usual, and permits Keela extra meat for her supper and to sit beside him at table that evening, he even pours her a glass of wine by his own hand.

By bedtime Heathcliff can bear no more, it is worse than when Cathy were angry with him, she would rage and scream and strike him, that would be better than this howling silence, than the way she turns her gaze from him, as God looks from sinners, she seems not like his Keela, when he had held her and sworn his love to her in the night she had made no answer, only lay beneath him and soaked his skin with her silent tears.

She had made no refusal, had neither struck nor threatened, only lay there in the dark and the quiet, and though he lay lost within her body, he had never felt her further from him than in that moment.

He finds her out at the quarry, she had managed to continue her work til gone dinner, and it took threatening the ploughboy before he could learn where she was, he stands at some distance and watches her, she is still strong as an ox, keeping to her task with a will of iron, the black cloth about her hair keeping the cruel sun from her, how could he betray such a woman?

Still he is sure he has found a way to make amends.

"Keela."

She looks up, and crosses the field to him.

"Will you not come riding?"

She runs her eyes over the beast he holds the rope of, and even at this far off he can see her smile.

He pulls her to him, as she reaches his side and kisses her hair, "I am sorry, I would not hurt you for the world, so say that you forgive me."

She returns his embrace then and rises on her toes to kiss him, and turns to the horse.

"She is yours."

"Thank you." Her smile is like sunlight to his soul.

"Now if I go anywhere, you have the means to follow."

She nods, and the forgiveness in her eyes is sweeter than every kiss Cathy ever offered.

"And you'll not work for Hindley another moment, I will not allow it."

She nods and pulls herself up onto the beast's back, its coat glimmers in the afternoon sun, bright as her hair.

She races about the field, swift as the swallows that wheel and turn in the sapphire skies above her, and comes back to his side, she smiles down at him,

"Come on then, pheasants up Grange won't poach 'emselves."

He laughs as she dismounts and takes Joseph's gun from the long grass where she had been working, and climbs up behind him.

They pause to make life miserable for Farmer Giles, who true to form sets his dogs after the flaysome pair, she is fleeter of foot than Cathy, and outstrips the snapping monster with ease, her pockets full of plums from his wife's finest tree.

Mistress Brown's Parisian diamonds vanish most mysteriously and a rag and bone man swore to the officer that he saw a gypsy lassie wearin' 'em and men's clothing and all.

One by one many a family in the village and nearby farms lost something, one brewer, apples, the merchant some gold, the baker lost a loaf here and there, though none dared venture to the Heights to reclaim what was stolen.

And each night a lecture from Joseph when they returned laden down with that which was not given to them by God.

He did not take well to Heathcliff's easy assertion that God helped those who helped themselves.


	18. Chapter 18

Chapter 18

He pretends he does not hear the hoof beats behind him when he goes to Thrushcross Grange and she follows in his wake like an ill wish, he sits with Cathy and Isabella and does not hear the baying of dogs as they set them to hunt down the poacher in their woods, who comes armed and returns as soon they think the interloper chased off, she returns in the evening with pheasants or once a deer, its throat cut in a most brutal manner, a vicious angry gash done without mercy and he came home to find it strung up by its back legs before the fireplace, more like a warning than an offer of food.

He could scarce believe she had slain a beast in such a manner, as though she had her rival beneath the blade.

He was none too pleased the night the constable returned her blind drunk, found skulking out by the magistrates house, too inebriated to run and brought down by the dogs, which she then shot at close range with a firearm worthy of the Independence war.

The constable warns Heathcliff to keep a firmer control of such a savage excuse for a maid.

She is slung to the floor in a heap of mud and fire, bleeding where the dogs savaged her, the constable leaves muttering reproaches and Heathcliff returns to her side, he lifts her gently and sits her before the fire, he brushes the crimson strands from her face, "Keela, what are ye about?"

She looks utterly miserable, "I don't know, I follows ye, ye know. Ye are always with 'er. Why? Why with another man's wife and not yer own? I know ye been courtin' Miss Isabella."

There. It has been said.

The words hang between them like smoke in the air.

"That is true…"

"Ye told Cathy if ye truly though she wished ye to marry 'er, ye'd cut yer own throat…she does not know 'bout me does she?"

He shakes his head and her eyes are full of sorrowful reproach.

"And ye wonder why I been touchin' the drink."

"Why did you not tell me ye knew?"

She shrugs "What be there to say? If ye think to marry 'er I cannot stop ye, there is no proof yer mine, only back home and I'm not so foolish as to think ye'd allow me to fetch it."

"I love you, Keela."

She watches him in silence for some moments and then gets to her feet and stumbles for the stairway; she looks back at him.

"Not enough."

She stopped following him after that night, she sits at home with Joseph or else waited upon Hindley, she took to the work of the farm again, despite Heathcliff's protests, he was so often with Miss Cathy, or else Miss Linton, she must find some Godly use of her time, and the Lord smiles upon hard work and an honest heart.

He married Isabella in great secrecy come the February snows.

How Keela got to hear of it he knows not.

When he returned a month later, he found that Keela had moved all she owned into the stables, he found her wedding ring crushed to pieces upon the forge.

And when he sought her out, she bowed before him and addressed him as though he were her Master and she but a slave.

She pulled back from his embrace, refused to come in from the storm and bid him go in to his wife.

She would surely not appreciate his wasting his time with a servant lassie.

Hindley emerging from his drunken stupor, remembered to order Joseph to see that she had her keep paid to her each month.

A good servant is hard to find.

She may have the care of Hareton if it pleases her, so long as she keeps him from his father.

Nelly paid them a visit some weeks later, due in part to a note secreted out, written by Isabella, her brother sent his love but not the offer of forgiveness for which she had so desperately hoped.

Joseph was sent to fetch the stable girl; Nelly will wish to see her no doubt.

Keela entered, filthy and worn, but Nelly knew her at once, the flaming locks and mermaid eyes that she recalled from the slave sale still bright as ever they were.

" 'ello Nelly."

She is thinner than Ellen recalls, older, with a new hardness about those rosebud lips and a coldness in the eyes, as though she bore ice within her very soul.

Joseph yet again explains that she had no intention to murder Miss Cathy, Nelly looks from Heathcliff, to Isabella, bruised about the eyes and trembling….She reaches out to the Taig and cradles her to her bosom as she sinks to her knees, tears like rain upon her cheeks.

And yet for all her sobbing, she does not betray him.

She makes no mention of any marriage between them, though she could see him imprisoned for bigamy at but a word.

Could it be that she loves him still? Even after all that he has done?

Joseph had in weeks past seen Heathcliff off angrily, telling him if he ever held any regard for the lassie he would let her alone.

He had made her a lady and thrown her down from such high estate to live as a slave in his stables.

The pious old servant had looked him hard in the eyes and asked him if he could think of no one that reminded him of.

No one at all…? Think on it laddie.

Nelly sits with her some time, Keela tells her that she caught a ship home after the death of her husband.

He was an Irish rebel…he died at the hands of the English.

Master Hindley was so kind as to offer her place back to her.

Ellen notes that she seems not happy…Master Edgar has need of a horse breaker and a stable hand, she could make mention of her.

Nelly has considerable influence now…

If Keela should wish to improve her estate, Mistress Dean will speak with her master.

Keela turns, looks once at Heathcliff and says that she would be most grateful if she will do so.

Nelly assures her that all will be arranged as soon as may be, Miss Cathy will not like it, but Master will be glad of a good servant and Nelly shall offer her personal recommendation.

She leaves in a bustle of shawl and bonnet and Keela stands to return to the stable, he has a note by the next evening, and Joseph at last stands aside when Heathcliff hands it over and the old servant has cast beady eyes over its contents, Heathcliff finds her bedding down the horses and waits for her to return the pitchfork to its place before speaking, she turns,

"What do ye want?" in the sharp address he hears the fiery creature he loves so well.

"Will ye not come ridin?"

She folds her arms, "I think mistress would not like it. Besides, some of us 'av work in the mornin'."

"Fine, yer comin' whether ye wish to or not."

"As ye wish." Her voice chills him to the bone, as he watches her ready the horses and pull herself up.

She turns back as she rides out ahead of him, "I'll not take a beatin' fer this."

He nods and follows her in silence.

At the cross roads she turns him, her pale face deathly in the moonlight, "Where are we goin'?"

"Not much further."

She follows, loyal as his own shadow, her grip tightens on the rein at the sight of the Grange lights.

"I'm not comin' Cathy watchin' with ye. Birds, I'm at least permitted to shoot."

He laughs, despite himself, they leave the beasts tied to a tree just beyond the park, and he helps her over the high wall, she brushes the touch of him from her and follows him through the darkened grounds, "What are we doin' 'ere? Ye get us caught, ye'll be shot and I'm fer the gallows."

"How shall they catch us? Ye blasted their guard dog back to hell."

He thinks he caught the glimmer of a smile.

"They buried 'im out 'ere. Maybe 'is ghost 'll seek it's revenge."

"Keela. They only buried 'is collar! After ye shot 'im at two feet with a hunting rifle, there were nothing left to toss in the grave!"

The smile becomes a giggle.

"How ye managed it drunk I'll never know. Ye should've cut yer locks off an' come with me, ye'd be a general by now."

"Ye were too foolish to ask me, yer lucky it were the dog an' not you! The way ye've betrayed me is..." she falls silent and returns her attention to picking her way through the snow.

"What are we doin' 'ere?"

"Nelly sent word, she got you a place. You're starting work tomorrow, I thought I'd bring you."

He watches a shadow pass behind her eyes.

"Thank you."

"Hindley'll hold your place for you, if you get yourself dismissed, you could always come back."

"I think not. They send me away, I shall go home."

He catches her arm then, she pulls away. "Stop that. Yer married and I'll not take the punishment fer adultery."

"With your own husband?"

"Ye deny it every day. Ye chose Miss Linton fer yer bride, I have no proof yer mine, I release ye from yer promise to me."

"Keela."

She keeps her eyes on her boots, "Take me to where I belong and let me be."

"Is this you leavin' me?" his voice is soft.

"Ye left me first, ye wanted revenge more than me. It were yer choice."

He is silent, accepting the reproof.

"Ye know where t' find me."

He stands in the snow and the howling wind and watches her walk away, ridiculous in boots and britches, her worn old shirt hanging beyond her knees, her hair wild and kissed by snowflakes like white diamonds.

She turns back to him and if Heathcliff felt that he had any heart left, the smile she offers would surely break it.

Full of love and regret, and the same sweet forgiveness.

In that moment he watches her understand, as she always has…

He allows himself to wonder idly why it is always snowing at such moments?

He wants to go to her, to swear his undying love and never let her go again as long as he lives…

Heathcliff holds himself still, until she goes to his enemy's door, looks behind to be sure that Edgar will not see him, and knocks, Nelly opens it to her with a smile and a warm embrace.

They should never, never have returned.

He drags himself home, feeling as though his soul has flown…like a bird whose prison is once opened.

She has flown far from him.

Nelly only sent her to Edgar for spite, he is sure of it.

Now that bastard has every woman he has ever loved.

One for his wife and the other for his servant.

Isabella rails against his going so often to her old home, she can guess well enough where he has been, he must not think to deceive her.

He strikes her then, and she howls and sobs at his feet, weak and repulsive.

And yet still she crawls back to him, whispering how she loves him.

The creature has no pride, she's just a weeping, fawning, loathsome, abject thing.

The sight of her sickens him.

She is nothing to him, but her brother's proxy in suffering.

He watches Cathy often, he learned from Ellen, when he caught her on the road that she has been gravely ill.

She will never be like she was, but at least her life is spared.

She will not help him to see her…he must not think of it, lest she tell her master and he shall take measures to secure his house.

Secure his house.

And for a moment, the torment draws back, as a shadow must flee when the sun falls upon it.

Nelly will not help him…

If the Taig runs him through for daring to ask, he tries to persuade himself that he will understand.

He leaves his horse tied just beyond the park once more, and slips over the high wall that surrounds the garden.

He slips like a shadow through the dark grounds; the lights burn in the stables.

It has been months since he has seen her…

He tries to remember that he is here to see Cathy…his true love…but then what is Keela? Can he truly swear that he loves his Taig any less?

No, if anything he loves her more, for she is all that is good in him…without her he is a monster…she would be ashamed of him, if she knew what he did to Isabella…how he torments her to ease his own agony, if she saw the way he beats her.

Even as he does it, he tries not to let his guilt summon the ghost of Keela's memory, standing before him, arms crossed, with those eyes that tell him he is shaming himself, he knows she would drag him off the little bitch, with violence if need be, and as she beat him back to his senses she would tell him, he is a better man than this.

That surely there is no pleasure in bullying those that cannot or will not fight back.

He would do better to take her out to the yard, and then to try beating her in the same manner.

And then like a vision from God, she is there, emerging from the hayloft.

He has forgotten what it is like to see her smile.

She glances up…and for a moment only the smile remains…then it whispers and fades, as he feared it would.

"What do ye want?"

He stands silent, God, he does not deserve even to look at her.

"Keela…"

"Yer here fer Miss Cathy…Aren't ye?"

He nods, "Nelly refused to…"

"So ye thought o' good old Keela, she'll risk her livelihood an' reputation fer ya."

Is she refusing him?

She reaches into her britches pocket and holds out a glimmer of silver.

A tiny key.

His heart leaps, without thought he pulls her into his arms, she lays her flaming head against his shoulder for only a moment, and then steps away.

"Come on ye faithless bastard, I thought ye'd be 'ere tonight, after Nelly let slip she ran into yer, I thought I'd best be takin' this fer ye."

"Keela, I love you." It just slipped out.

The words weigh heavy in the air between them.

"Ye know I love yer. It don't change nothin', ye still married another. I forgive ye fer what it's worth."

"Come home. Come back to me."

Her eyes shimmer with tears.

"Ask me again when ye come back out."

She catches his hand and leads him out through the stables, to the kitchen window, she opens it to him and sees him safely through, she will wait here, if something should go amiss, set Miss Cathy's candle in her window, Keela will find some way to be a distraction until he can get safely away.

He disappears into the darkness, it reminds her of their nights down in the kirkyard when they would stand among the graves and dare one another to summon the spirits.

No light glimmers above her head, she is drawn from her thoughts by the raising of voices.

She raises the window, and almost screams when he suddenly appears before her, and pulls himself back through.

"Did ye reach 'er?"

He shakes his head, "Nelly was with her."

She sighs, "Come again tomorrow. I shall find some way to get her out of the house…Master will be away in town, come at three."

He nods, she starts at the baying of dogs and pushes him, hard "Go! If he catches ye…."

"Keela…will you…"

"Ask me tomorrow."

He flees then, with the dogs hunting him down, like a hare to ground.

They do not catch him…they never do.


	19. Chapter 19

Chapter 19

The wind rages all that evening, he can settle to nothing, but rather sits at the window, looking out into the ebony tempest…he could swear Cathy is close at hand…

He stops long enough to find a lantern and rushes out into the storm, the rain cuts like a whip, even with the candle's guttering flame he can see nothing…she is near…he is sure of it….

He starts at the shadow that rears out of the moorland darkness, a dog follows on the heels of a mighty white horse, he raises the light.

"Keela."

"Cathy's gone, she slipped out…she's lost, in this."

"Why do you have her horse?"

"I thought it would find her…ye couldn't find yer way to hell in this."

"Why are you helping her?"

"I'm not. I'm 'elpin' you."

She leaps down and pulls a scrap of cloth from her pocket, she holds it out to the beast at her knee and it tears off into the shadows, she looks at him for a moment and gestures to the horse.

The dog howls somewhere off in the night.

Her eyes light up "He' s found 'er! Good boy! Get up then, she ain't lookin' fer me. Go save 'er."

He leaps up, and she stands in the maelstrom watching him disappear in a hale of black and silver.

He found her, fainted up on the Crags, and then Edgar discovered them, he came down the road with his servants, lanterns glowing, howling her name.

He had no choice but to hand her back.

Though he thought for a moment it might kill him, to do so.

He waited until Edgar left and went to her door, Ellen opened it and lay her full weight against it when she spied him.

"Will you let me see her or must I fight my way in?"

"She's weak…she's dyin'."

"Then you know she would wish to see me, obey her dying wishes even if you no longer take heed of mine."

She stood back at that and allowed him to pass.

Down in the gardens Keela smiled, and returned to grooming the Master's horse.

Edgar caught him, he was cast out into the gardens, she watched him make his way to the larch trees beneath Miss's window and wait for Nelly to summon him, as she had promised faithfully she would.

Keela finishes her work, and approaches slowly; he starts at the sound of boots on the pathway…the hope in his eyes fades at the sight of her.

"Keela…she's dying."

"I know. Nelly'll be back soon, ye'll see 'er. If I 'av to break yer in meself. Moment master leaves the 'ouse."

"One hour."

She eyes the sun in his dance across the grey sky "Long hour."

At the mistress's cries of pain, he sinks to the ground and she moves to sit beside him, the doctor can be heard shouting from somewhere in the depths of the house.

She pulls him to her breast and holds him close, as though she will never release him, and he clings to her, as a drowning man to the reeds of the river, and breaks his heart, weeping.

She rocks him gently, as though she can protect him from the agony, the day wastes away, the sky fades from blue to scarlet.

Rain beats down, as though all the world were crying with them.

Crimson twists to purple and finally to black, the stars come out to watch with them, like a thousand diamonds cast by the hand of God.

She pulls him to his feet, and they lean against the tree, it reminds her of when they would escape the old barn, having been locked up for some misdeed, and would slip away to have a ramble at liberty only to find the doors barred against them upon their return.

They have spent many such hours together.

She shivers at the icy wind, her rosebud lips growing blue with cold.

Still she does not leave his side, even for a moment…

And then they hear the sound they dread, Edgar's desperate scream, a sound to break the heart, a great sobbing arises in the house, as though the day of judgment has come.

Keela crosses herself, and mutters something…he cannot understand, past the breaking of his own heart….She is gone….Cathy…is…dead.

His fingers dig into the bark beneath his hands, in a moment of rage he dashes his head against the tree, over and over, he feels the warmth of blood upon his skin, like molten rubies.

Keela makes no move to prevent him, she kneels in the sodden grass and whispers her worthless prayers for Cathy's soul, over and over like the cursed papist she is.

"Stop yer infernal muttering! Like some dammed fortuneteller! Stop behaving as though she's…."

He breaks off.

She catches him as he collapses and lies his head upon her knees, running soft fingers through his rain soaked hair, she presses the hem of her worn shirt to the wound on his head, and sits in silence with him lying in her lap.

He clings to her hand, scarce able to breath, longing in that moment for the bitter wind to carry off his soul.

He cannot tell whether the ice that kisses his cheek is the rain or her tears as they fall.

The sky fades from black to the colour of broken amethyst stones and then to scarlet, red as the blood of his broken heart.

The morning dawns like the waking of hell, he turns in her lap, trying to hide from the light…if the night never ends then he will not have to wake up to the day that she is not there.

A door opens and Keels starts, and slips from beneath him, she allows him a moment to find some semblance of strength, as Nelly makes her way towards him.

Keela returns to her stable and leaves them to their grief.

She accepts the lengths of black cloth the scullery maid brings her and hangs the stables with it, she gathers heather and lays it about here and there.

She asks for a candle and one is given, she tries not to look at Heathcliff and Nelly as she passes.

She sets the candle upon the empty box beside her bed and lights it, murmuring in the tongue she barely remembers.

Heathcliff is too lost in suffering, so she shall keep the tradition of the gypsies, a single candle lit to guide Miss Cathy's soul to her eternal rest.

Slowly she gathers her belongings and fills a sack with them, she moves into the stall and brings out the white horse, her eyes filled with tears, she whispers to it, stroking the pretty head as she draws the knife from beneath her pillow.

It takes only a moment…blood soaks her boots and she catches up a blanket and lays it over the remains.

She took all Miss Cathy's brasses and threw them into the heat of the forge, watching the metal pool in the heart of the fire.

She has done her part.

She has sent her on as though she were one their own, as though she were truly his wife.

Let Master Linton make of it what he will, it is time for her to be going.

She finds Heathcliff still beneath the trees; he glances up at her, tears like diamonds on his skin, in the golden light, she holds out a pale hand and he allows her to pull him up.

"C'mon love, its time I were comin' home." Her voice is gentle.

She slips strong arms about his waist and half drags him to the wall, pulls him over and gets up behind him on his horse, he leans against her as they ride home, she is all that keeps him from falling.

Past flowers drowned in the rain and trees thrown down, as though nature itself, rages against the loss of Catherine Earnshaw.

She pulls him down and lays him in her stable bed, whilst she takes care of the horse, she keeps Joseph off him, and even sends little Hareton away, there will be no games tonight, tell Saul, whoever he is to…her exact words were a cause of great distress to Joseph's ears when relayed by the small boy within his hearing.

She discovers the bloodstained fireplace, and comes back out to him, her britches soaked in blood where she tried to scrub it clean.

"Heathcliff, me love, did Hindley….go away?"

He nods.

"Did ye make 'im go away?"

He nods again, he cannot speak, if he dares, he will start screaming and never stop until it kills him.

"I'll ask Joseph fer a shovel. I'll bury 'im up by lime pits. Ye comin'?"

He shakes his head.

"Mistress is missin' too I see, did ye make 'er go away?"

He shakes his head, "She left me. I fought with Hindley…he had a gun…"

"It's alright pet, Keela's 'ere now. Don't ye worry 'bout a thing. I'll look after ya. Same as always."

He smiles a little at that, this is what women are for, cooking, cleaning and burying bodies.

At least that's what his Keela's for.

Joseph follows in her wake with a lantern, between them they carry Master Hindley out into the night, and with solemn prayer bury and throw the cold earth down over him.

She cooks a hearty meal in thanks for Joseph's help, and his silence regarding the true manner of his death when the constable came asking once again what happened, Isabella had said all that Heathcliff ordered when it happened and Joseph agrees in stilted tones that his master died of drink.

Keela swears that it sounds just like master, she were not there when it happened.

They leave, satisfied that his death was self-inflicted.

Heathcliff can be persuaded to eat nothing and so Keela takes him out to the stables once more and sits vigil beside him as he tries to sleep.

She cares for little Hareton, who finds her speech amusing and mimics her, mocks her wearing of men's dress and follows her about like a faithful puppy, she feeds him and plays with him and when he curses in her hearing, she tells him to stop bloody swearing and sets the bairn laughing fit to burst.

Only for the lark to be quelled by Joseph's 'dirty look number three hundred and twenty five'.

Heathcliff wanders the house like a ghost, Keela lets him be, tending to the work of the farm with the strength of two men, she sits beside him every night as he lies in the dark, when sleep will not come, or else wakes him when the nightmares haunt him, when he wakes Joseph with his frightful keening she kneels beside him and hushes him gently, she is here, it will be alright.

She has word from Nelly that Miss Cathy is to be buried in the morning, she would be welcome to attend and pay her final respects.

She writes back that since doubtless Heathcliff will be turned away she will not be coming.

But she keeps the invitation and takes it to him, refusing to reveal what it says unless he will eat something.

Goaded, she persuades him to eat a little of the pheasant stew she made and promises him that it will doubtless taste better on account of the bird being stolen, from Edgar Linton no less.

She borrows a black shirt from Joseph, and under cover of darkness she and Heathcliff make their way to the kirkyard. Joseph offered the broken hearted gypsy the very finest of his roses for the grave, in the first act of kindness Keela can recall between them.

She stood at his side beside the fresh turned earth, the grave gleaming in the moonlight, he kneels before it, running his fingers across the words carved into the stone.

Whispering his lost love's name as though it were a prayer.

In that moment Keela would take her own life if it would bring Miss Cathy back to him.

Though she would burn for all eternity for the sin.

She sits in the low branches of the yew tree, as she has so many nights before and waits for him, at last he leaves the flowers upon the earth and turns to her, she takes his hand in hers and they walk home together, the moon turning the pebbles on the path before them to fairy silver.


	20. Chapter 20

Chapter 20

She sits beside him again that night, he even ate what she lay before him, Joseph prayed for Cathy and raised an eyebrow when the gypsy crossed himself, a papist habit doubtless learned from Keela.

Still it be a start.

They sleep in the stables once more, though the wind still howls through like a curse, and she wakes each morning white with snow as though the mother o' God has dusted her with sugar.

He woke her, screaming in the night. Cathy haunts him, he sees her everywhere, he stood at the window calling for her and frightened the poor Taig half to death.

She rose from her place beside the bed and held him close, asking how Miss Cathy could be at the window when she must surely be with God in heaven, and would be waiting for him there?

Until then, Keela will look after him.

As Miss would have wished.

In truth she fears for his reason, some days he seems not to know her, others he will not eat, she wonders how long he can go on so without becoming dangerously ill.

He fears shadows in the darkness and she takes to keeping the candle burning, he will no longer walk with her up by the quarry where they used to work together for fear Hindley's ghost will rise forth seeking its revenge.

In truth, all the world seems full of spirits and torments to him.

He shivers, though the sun burns bright, eyes dark with misery though all about the moorland blossoms and the birds sing their sweet songs from branch to branch.

Finally she leaves Joseph to watch him and rides to the docks, she buys passage to Ireland on the next ship that may come in, a week?

It will have to do.

She returns to the Heights, Master Linton comes riding by on the Gimmerton road, and starts at the sight of her, as though unsure what to make of such a creature as a woman in man's raiment with a musket slung across her back, and fearing he may be robbed.

She greets him politely and after a moment he recalls her, he has had little sleep, the babe is oft awake, he begs her forgiveness for not recognizing his own former servant.

She asks after his health, he has been unwell, the child is healthy and happy, Miss Dean has never been better, it is kind of her to remember them.

There is one matter he would speak to her upon…his late wife's horse.

She confesses the slaughter, explaining it is a tradition of her nation, it were to honor Miss Cathy's memory. So that she might go on to her eternal reward and not be bound to the earth in torment.

Her words seem to unnerve him; already pale he turns white as the snowdrops at the roadside, but thanks her for her…respects.

And one more thing, if she will but spare one more moment of her time, he understands that she is acquainted with Mr Heathcliff…she assures him that she is.

If the vagabond sets one foot upon his land, he will be hanged.

As will anyone found to be helping him in his trespass.

Good Day.

He rides away, leaving her staring after him; she mutters a curse at his retreating back and turns for home.

She finds Heathcliff sleeping before the fire, half hidden by Juno, who when he ceased moving and lay whimpering in his sleep, took it into her head to lie across him, like a bitch is want to do with her bairns.

The pups soon followed, for a moment Keela worries they will do him some harm, she approaches and Juno bares her teeth, a snarl low in her throat.

The Taig steps away and leaves him to the beast's care.

She goes in search of Hareton and lures him in from the yard with the promise of food; he no longer asks where Father is.

He asked her if she was his mother, she said she was not, but perhaps she could be a sort of aunt, he said that Joseph told him aunt's were supposed to set a good and godly example, he might copy Keela in her reading of scripture but that if he copied her use of what the old man called "language" it would be the whip for him.

She giggles and taking his small hand led him inside, he stood at her side and she had him rolling pastry for a pie, there is still some buck, left salted in the larder, she fetches the hunk of meat and washes it clean in icy water, Hareton is fascinated, Heathcliff told him a fairy brought the food.

She smiles, and finishes readying the pie, sets it in the heat to cook, washes her hands quite clean and bids the child do likewise.

If he wants to make himself useful he can go and ask Joseph to let them have some of his potatoes.

She watches him scamper away; for all his coarseness, he has a good little spirit.

And his aunt's eyes.

She is oddly fond of the bairn, he follows her about and is not afraid to work in his own small way, he begged her to take him "hunting" when she went out with Joseph's old gun, Heathcliff looked up from the mass of fur and claws long enough to forbid it in no uncertain terms, and then to be pounced on by the boy, who clung to the gypsy as though he would never let him go.

Keela has to wrestle the pups for the fallen potatos, and the two sit and laugh wickedly at the sight of her, as she rises triumphantly with a potato in each hand, and a puppy biting her sleeve.

Hareton catches them and sets them back on the stone, and then divides his time between watching Keela cook and keeping the grey puppy from biting Heathcliff in a jealous rage, when the little boy cannot move Juno.

Keela leaves the meal and comes to sit beside them; Hareton looks up at them together, and reaches out a tiny hand for Keela's hair.

"Ye don't look like a gypsy to me."

"I'm half, me father were Irish."

"Is that why yer skin's like mine?"

She nods, "They didn't want me."

He snuggles into her lap, and settles his unruly head against her.

"Can ye do something gypsy?"

She laughs, "What, young master, ye wants yer palm read?"

He giggles, she catches his wrist and makes a show of examining the lines on the filthy little hand, "Well, I forsees a beatin' from Joseph if yer not washed by lunchtime."

He pulls his hand away and pouts, breaking into a smile bright as the summer sun.

"Alright, Keela. Heathcliff says I must do as ye tell me, Joseph says if I don't ye might curse me. Like Heathcliff cursed father."

The room falls deadly silent.

"I would never do that, lad. I swear it."

He cuddles closer, "I'm nowt 'fraid 'o ye, Joseph says ye're closest thing to a mother I got."

She holds him tight, stroking his soft dark curls, "Then, maybe Joseph's like yer grandfather."

" 'e says I must not copy yer prayin', yer a pa…pay…"

"A papist?" Heathcliff cuts in.

The boy nods, "Joseph says I'll go to 'ell if I do."

"Do ye know what a papist is lad?"

The small face shakes.

Heathcliff sighs, "Keela, since yer now his Ma, I'll leave his religious instruction to you, I'm sure ye and Joseph can rip his soul in half between the pair of ye."

The child's eyes widen and Keela hushes him and says it's only a turn of phrase.

"See God, gave man a church. Joseph says it were 'is, I says it's mine, and Heathcliff says we may all go to the devil an' be dammed."

Hareton laughs, a note to warm the heart, and scurries to Heathcliff and curls up with him despite Juno's growls.

She settles as the boy pets her great head, and then at a word hurries off to wash and avoid Keela's dire prediction.

And so she and Heathcliff sit alone before the fire, but for the beasts that cavort about the cold stone beneath them.

"Isabella is with child." His voice breaks the silence.

Heathcliff watches the pain that passes like a shadow behind her gaze, watches her hand thoughtlessly slip to her pocket, where he knows all too well her pater noste lies hidden.

He watches her draw on a strength greater than she, as she smiles softly, "I see, and will she be returning? With the bairn?"

He shakes his raven black head, "I..I had to tell you. You had to know."

She shrugs "If she does not intend to return then what be it to you and I? Ye shall provide fer it o' course,"

He starts, clearly such a thought had not occurred to him.

Her eyes flash, "Ye shall not hide from yer sins my pet, ye may give the money t' me and I shall pass it to her brother, but ye have sinned wickedly against the lass and ye shall not abandon 'er to shame and penury. I cannot allow that."

She watches his dark gaze slip from hers; he cannot look her in the eye.

"I am not sorry she is gone. But…I heard ye were most cruel to 'er, she were only a bairn o' a lassie, and weak as Eve. Ye took 'er fer yer bride and ye owed her kindness, whatever yer true reasons for so doin'."

He sighs, "Very well. Though only to please you, and for no other cause."

She smiles and the sorrow fades a little.

"Then I be 'appy."

He reaches out to take her hand, "Does that mean you'll stop sleeping on the windowsill?"

She widens her eyes; her tone is mocking. "Would ye prefer I slept on a stone floor?"

He frees himself from the dogs and pulls her to him; she lays her head against his chest, and slips her arms about him.

The pain falls away, like a demon driven back to hell. Burned away in the flames of her hair, in the wild, green scent of her.

The scent of heather and woodsmoke and streams of crystal in its promise, her muscle so hard beneath his hands, like the roots of a mighty oak, eternal, immovable.

She has none of the rose pink softness of Isabella, sweet and white as summer clouds and the feathers of angels nor the sharpness of his lost Catherine, like berries in high summer, purple as the robes of kings and yet they struck the tongue, sharp as thorns the moment you bit into them, with elixirs bitter as poison.

Keela is the emerald of the forest, the deep mysteries of the river that whispers in the night, the kiss of the air when the heavens promise snow, and the candle that burns to light the path home.

She has none of Isabella's learning, nor Catherine's heavenly grace, she is a creature of the earth, forged by stone and fire to save his worthless soul.

Without her, Heathcliff is but a ghost, as cold as his love who lies beneath the kirkyard, a monster from a fairytale, he would swear he died that night, when she smiled so sadly in the snow, lit by the candles of Edgar's door, like an angel at the gates of heaven.

And then she was gone.

And the last spark of light within his soul flickered out, and he gave himself over to the darkness, and became more devil than man for the loss of her.


	21. Chapter 21

Chapter 21

Keela lies in his arms for hours, Hareton having washed, ran off in search of Joseph, she left Heathcliff's side to fetch the meal and brought it in, they make an odd family, the small boy and the elder, and the two gypsies about the great table, Joseph tries to hold his tongue, it is far less formal than a meal should be, still with no maid and few servants left, he supposes there is little to be done.

Still, how the young master is to be raised a proud Earnshaw whilst the closest he has for parents is that dammed flaysome, pair of vagabonds…well he cannot puzzle it out.

Already he rides more than can be natural, and will no longer let Joseph ready and then set away his pony when he is finished with it.

The poor old man remonstrated with the boy, it is improper, he must allow Joseph to serve him.

This is God's way and will.

To say otherwise is to overturn the natural order.

He cannot go tearing about the moors like a…Miss Keela must not consider taking him with her when she goes out to….No! bring him back!...

She returned an hour later with Hareton, scarce recognizable for mud and brandishing a pheasant.

He shot it himself! Up by the big house! They had to run for their lives!

There were dogs and men with guns!

What a lark!

Heathcliff sighs and pushes the filthy locks from the child's face, the lass had thrown the boy over her shoulder and made it clean away, the groundskeepers cursing and raging mere seconds behind them.

God what a chase!

And enough pheasant for a week!

Joseph went quietly to her that evening and begged most courtseously that she never take him again.

She is the closest thing this house has to a mistress, think of Miss Frances, God rest her soul.

She would not want Hareton raised as Keela would raise her own son, he is to be master of a great estate, he cannot be taught to poach and thieve, it is a great sin.

He admires Heathcliff and Keela, both. They cannot set such an example.

He does not listen to Joseph's wisdom as he should, having learned from Heathcliff's insolence of the old man.

And so he comes to her.

She must not allow Heathcliff free reign with the boy, he should be made to pay attention to his education, in the first instance the curate must be allowed to cross the threshold without threat to his sainted person! Or how else is Master Hindley's son to end up any better than the stable boy his father degraded so?

The blue eyes flash and the smile she offers is cold as the snow beyond the window.

She tells him coldly that she thinks he will find that Heathcliff is master here now, he would do well to remember it, Hareton shall be raised as he sees fit, Joseph of course shall be listened to but if it is her husband's opnion that the boy has no need of formal learning then who is she, who has never been a day in such drudgery to stand aganst him?

Hareton seems far happier helping around the farm or else walking the moors with the dogs and shooting pheasants than when forced to study from books.

Joseph sighs, well perhaps she could read them to him? Or tell him what he must know. Make a story of it.

They have an accord. This she will do. Perhaps he may try doing likewise, she is sure little master will heed Joseph's lessons more if they are not so very…dull.

The boy is sent to read with the old man for an hour and joseph sets aside the great bible and wastes half an hour cutting two armies from the loaf, Goliath can be this cheese piece…and this 'ere plum can be the stone what killed 'im.

If he can recite the tale back, he can eat the characters.

He chases Keela for Goliath's head, Joseph says he will make an extra nail forged from a carrot for the crucifixion tomorrow night and she can teach him that heretical story about the gypsies and the fourth nail.

She returns the decaptitated cheese head to the child, and drifts off whistling.

She hears Hareton say that he is happy aunt ma Keela don't drink no more. She brought home dead things and it gave him nightmares.

Joseph hushes him and says all will be well now, aunt…ma…. servant. The taig, married Heathcliff some time ago and that is why aunt Isabella ran away…well yes and the beating…she smiles to hear the child say he likes her better, aunt Bella would never have let him shoot things!

Will Heathcliff beat Keela too?

Joseph roars with laughter and says may the good lord help him if he tries.

The boy says Joseph must stop him if he tries, he likes Keela, he don't want her to cry like Bella did.

The old man puts an arm round him and says its more than his life's worth to try, best to stand back, let nature take its course and hide anything that can be used as a thrown weapon…like the knives.

Can they gamble on the result?

Very well, but its extra bible lessons if Miss Keela wins.

The child agrees happily, he likes it much better now he can eat the people.

Joseph calls him a cannibal and they pray together before Hareton is sent to his bed.

Keela finds Heathcliff in Cathy's old room, she stands in the doorway watching the sorrowful figure as it looks about, she steps in and his head comes up, alert as a wolf when its territory is invaded.

"Get out."

Keela sighs "No."

"She wouldn't like you being in here."

She crosses the room to the bed and sits down, "Well she's dead an' I never much cared what she liked or didn't." she pulls her feet up and he watches in horror as she springs up towords the ceiling, he grabbed for her but she flies up out of reach, twisting to avoid his capture.

"Keela, are you not too old for such….foolishness? At least take your damn boots off!"

Her eyes gleam and she jumps again, he flinches at the groaning of the springs, like souls in torment.

"Get down! You'll break something…possibly yourself."

Her giggle is the same silver bells twinkle he remembers so well, the sound of it seems to fill the room, like perfume and incense, driving back the ghosts of misery and torment.

She hangs from the top of the bed, black boots gleaming in the candlelight, kicking like a criminal in the noose.

God forbid but he thinks she's dancing, some strange Irish jig, it looks more like she's being hanged.

He can feel a smile twisting his mouth despite himself, she drops without warning, hits the bed and rolls into an unceremonious heap to the floor, before he can stop her she is poking about the room, she finds Cathy's name carved into the sill, Catherine Earnshaw, Catherine Heathcliff, Catherine Linton.

Golden light flashes on the blade of Keela's bootknife, he makes to grab her hand "Keela, no."

"I'm not scratchin' it out, see." He flinches as she cuts into the wood, the cruel scrape of the steel echoes in the room; finally she stands back.

Keela Heathcliff.

Carved into the wood, immovable, eternal.

She hands him the dagger, daring him with her eyes, she leans beside him and watches him carve his own name beside hers, she takes it from him and spends half an hour adding a beautiful knot above the two, a symbol for love, marriage.

He cannot believe what he has permitted her to do…well less permitted, one may as well try to stop Keela as hold back the storm.

She is nosy as the old village gossips, she discovers Cathy's old exercise books and sits reading, half way through she tosses it away as though it were a snake and looks at him with mischeviously accusing eyes "That's disgustin'!"

She never would tell him what it was she read.

Over dinner she looks up and easily announces that they're going back to Ireland in three days, she turns to Heathcliff

"You seem like to die o' misery if ye stay. I thought it best."

He sits in silence for a moment and then nods, she smiles and looks to Hareton "Are ye comin' laddie?"

His dark eyes widen above his plate, "Ye mean we're goin' away?"

"Aye, we're goin' to me home fer a bit. Would ye like that? Or ye may stay here wi' Joseph, he'd go to hell body an' soul afore 'e leaves his hearthstone, eh Joseph?"

The old man nods vigerously, the boy leaps up leaving his meal half finished and calls Joseph to come and help him make ready for the journey, the old servant raises his eyes to heaven and sets down his silver, rising to follow the command of his little master.

Keela steals his potatoes the moment he is gone from the room.

She gleams up at Heathcliff and he looks away from the sight of her trying to stuff the thing, entire, into her mouth.

It took Isabella two hours to eat breakfast, used to formal dinners and balls, even Cathy could put on a good show, Keela could make no pretence of table manners if her life depended on it, he remembers her skulking around the stables with stolen food, she stole pie from Nelly once and was surprised to find her pockets full of gravy where she sat on the damn thing.

And ate it anyway.

He wonders how she fared with her late husband; her way of things is not fit for a bawdy house never mind anything better.

The worst public house in London would throw her out of doors, she catches him looking at her as she stabs a bacon rasher and pulls at it, caught between her teeth and fork trying to pull it free of the rind.

It is more than he can bear.

"Keela."

She glances up "Wha'?"

He drops his head into his hands, his voice tight "At least swallow it before speaking."

"Why should I? Ye never used t' complain."

She swallows and he fears for a moment she will choke.

"Did anyone ever tell ye your disgusting?"

She sniggers, "Ye never used t' mind."

"If I said I mind now, would it change anything?"

She shrugs "Why should it?"

"If yer going to be my wife you cannot go on in this manner, it's horrific to witness."

He can tell he's getting nowhere.

"Well don't ya sound fancy, ye'll be wantin' to turn me into Isabella Linton by week's end, ye'll never be more than what ye were, whatever finery ye wear now, and neither will I. So let me be an' stop tryin' t' make me better than I were born, I got no need fer false airs an' graces. I thought neither did ye."

He sits quietly then, whilst she finishes everything left on the table without shame, drains the last of the wine and settles back in her chair with her boots up beside her empty plate.

"You seem to delight in being as savage as can be managed at any chosen moment."

She arches an eyebrow, "So did ye as I recall, and I never reproached ye fer it."

He sighs, "We were different then."

"Nay, we're the same as ever we were. Only difference is now yer rich enough not to care what society thinks of ye, or ye should be. Ye only became a gentleman fer Cathy, I prefered someone who looked like ye, someone ye no longer seem to be."

She drops her boots to the floor with a sound like a gunshot and rises from her chair, turning her back on him he watches her leave and listens to the sound of her tread on the floor above.

Is he really behaving to Keela as Cathy did to him?

Christ, next he'll be telling her that it's no company at all when people know nothing and say nothing….

Cathy is gone….All that he has left is upstairs and angry with him.

Again.

But why would she have no wish to improve herself? It seems unnatural; does he want her to be different? Is he asking her to become like the Lintons? He hated them so; even thinking on their name turns his blood to fire.

She is everything in him that he tried to wash away, all in him that Cathy spurned, had he been then as he is now she would never have refused him.

He cannot look at Keela's savagery without hating himself.

And yet she loved him despite it, perhaps because of it, like two sides of the same coin, for her he would never have had to change himself, never be better than he was born all she wanted was him, exactly as he was.

She would have married the penniless gypsy boy in a moment, had he asked her to run away with him that night in the church as he asked Cathy, rather than looking down on him from a window two days later as she had done, after telling him she would not risk her reputation, Keela would not have been able to spell reputation and would have laughed if she knew the meaning of it.

He wishes now that he could have loved her then, what a pair they made.

Two sides of the same coin, fire matched with fire; whatever souls are made of his are Keela's are the same.


	22. Chapter 22

Chapter 22

He finds her in Cathy's old room, he could swear she does it to anger him, or perhaps she simply does not care, this room holds no meaning to her, it is simply one of many in a house that she now thinks of as hers, he flinches at the sight of her filthy feet on the snowy covers of Catherine's bed, she glances over her shoulder.

"What? Ye said to at least take me damn boots off."

He leans in the doorway, how to go on with one such as she?

"Keela, would you get off the bed? Please. It's a little like watching you dance on her grave."

She slips from it at once and catches up her boots as she passes him, "O' course, perhaps ye'd like me t' leave 'er ouse also? And perhaps 'er country? Why am I married t' ye at all? Yer married t' 'er ghost not me."

He catches her shoulder, "I know, I'm sorry. I love you, I do…"

"But I'm not her."

"Its not that…I knew you for a little time and we almost killed each other and then…I was gone and you married Aed…I do not know what you expect of me."

"I expect nothin' of you, I think this be the difficulty. I dont like what she made ye into, ye were no more a gentleman than I were fit to be a lady. Ye belonged wi' me, pet. But now…I don't know ye."

Cathy's voice echoes in his memory…why are you refusing to see me?

Because I don't know you.

That was how he had answered her all those years ago; does he now think himself too fine for the stable girl?

In that moment he is disgusted with himself, if he could have loved her then in Cathy's place, without pretence nor thoughts of the will of society, she was the one meant for him.

Beautiful in her savagery, unyielding in her ignorance, she could not write her own name and had no care to, she had wanted nothing but what it pleased the Lord to provide, whatever Heathcliff could have offered her would have been enough, she would have loved him without thought, without malice nor aspiration.

She would never, never have looked upon another with lust in her heart.

She would have disdained the very thought and beaten the one that implied such in her hearing.

He kisses her then, and she does not pull back from him, her lips soft as rose petals, it is a strange realisation, that with her there is no fear of discovery, no wondering if she is thinking of a better man, no gleam of gold in her eyes when she looks away from him to another, no man she would prefer for any reason God nor Satan could conjure.

He can be with her as long as it pleases him to do so, she is not ashamed to be seen with him, all the world may know how she adores him, and she would proudly confess it.

She would not have laughed when Edgar derided him, she would have struck the coward back to Hell in a hail of blood and broken teeth.

She sighs and throws wide her arms. "Oh very well, ye may improve me if it pleases ye. I had to pretend t' be a lady once before and if I'd do it fer 'im I'll do it twice as willing fer ye."

He smiles at that, her eyes gleam.

"Ye wants to show Master Linton yer not a savage no more….Don't ye?"

He nods, unable to hold her eyes it sounds petty when she says it so.

"Then let me alone half an hour."

She appears downstairs shortly before ten, she is cleaner than he has seen her since they found each other again in the market in Ireland, though she swears that were 'cos Aed says she could not be a lady when she were filthy as a beggar and no talk o' honest dirt would sway his mind.

What in the name of God…the crown of fire is gone…

"What have ye done?" his voice is hollow.

It is strange to see her out of britches; she almost looks like someone else entire, fair as a princess from a storybook, she blushes, twisting at her skirts with pale fingers.

"It were supposed to…I wanted dark hair fer ya. Like what she had. I let the berries sit on it too long, I think. It were meant t' be brown."

Where once the flaming locks cascaded down her back, now they glimmer black as night, as dark as his own, her cheeks pale as starlight, whiter even than before against the shadow of her hair, her eyes burn brighter than ever he has seen them.

All to look like his lost lover.

She turns in the light, and the woman before him shimmers…as though she has summoned Catherine from the grave, the crimson cotton spills about her delicate feet, Cathy was taller than she…. Keela moves to sit beside him, and reaches out for his hand.

Her skin is softer…she has rubbed away the hardness of her slavery, even her expression is changed, softer, sweeter…

And when she speaks it is with the softness of the Yorkshire hills behind the words…she is not Cathy…yet it is like the shade of the girl she once was sits before him…

There is something mortal wicked in such thoughts…and yet to have her returned to him…even like this…if only for a moment…

In the half-light he could almost believe…

As though she were beside him…her ghost in the body of another.

It is enough.


	23. Chapter 23

Chapter 23

"Keela…it is good of ye…ye don't look like you, will ye hate me if I say I do not like it?"

She keeps her eyes on her boots,"I cannot get it out."

"Then cut it off."

She pales "I shall look like a witch fer the burnin'!"

He pulls her to him and holds her close, then pushes her away "Are ye wearing her perfume?"

She nods, brushing an ebony curl behind her ear.

"Do ye still have yer boot knife?"

She vanishes and comes back with it in her hand.

"The dress looks dreadful, the colour don't suit you. Get yer own clothes and stop stealin' hers, now…" he holds out the blade.

"Ye want me to cut it off?" she runs her fingers through the curls.

He nods and waits.

She snatches the blade and lit by the fire's glow he watches the silver cut through the raven strands with a whisper like torn grave silks.

Her tears whisper down the white cheeks like diamonds as she eyes her beauty, fallen and cast aside for love of him.

Is there anything she will not do?

"God will not approve, I will wear a scarf in its place."

He resumes his seat and nods at her decision, it would mark her a criminal to run about shorn, he watches her gather up the black strands and with a flourish she casts them into the flames.

She glances back, her eyes wider than they seemed before, her lips fuller, her beauty laid bare with nought to hide it.

She turns and he listens to her bare feet on the floor above, and the curse as she doubtless trips on her stolen skirts.

She dances back down the stairs, her worn shirt down about her knees, her boots ringing like musket shot on the stone, he laughs at the sight of her, she has stolen the brightest scarf she could find as if the purple and the ringing gold coins that adorn it can make up for the loss of her flaming crown.

"Ye look like a pirate."

She scowls which turns into a snigger "Is it better?"

"In every way. Is Hareton sleeping?"

She twinkles down at him in the light "I think so. Joseph's prayin' in kitchen."

"Good, come on, I'll get yer a drink to make up for the loss of your hair."

Joseph almost chokes on his wine at the sight of her, and then remanstrates that such a scarf could hardly be called modest.

Why it rings like church bells, she shall find herself tellin' fortunes from 'ere t' tavern.

He smiles when she is gone from the room after the flaysome devil.

It be good to see 'er 'appy.

She is stopped only once on the way, by a small girl in a carriage who wants her future told, and Keela takes a time about it, just long enough for Heathcliff to liberate her father's gold in fact.

Down in the tavern, he gets her a drink and returns to find her at cards with a group of sailors, she is floundering and seems half drunk already, she giggles and the men flirt and flutter like bees about the flowers in high summer.

She wins all they have, it be a clever trick she turns, they fall into her charms like lovers to sheets of silk.

Leering at her and toying with the coins of her scarf.

She smiles over at him, he knows the moment any of them thinks to take liberties she shall beat him to within an inch of his life.

He takes the place beside her and the temperature of the encounter falls when she turns and kisses him, the barkeep calls something and she shouts back that there can be no sin when it be her own husband.

The room cheers and they find a free drink of it, she made no mention of a weddin' the sly vixen, there'll be many a broken heart in 'ere tonight.

He watches her tell fortunes for drinks for half an hour, and struggles not to laugh at the tales she weaves, farmer Giles will meet a beautiful female with hair like clouds…. sounds like old Flossie and they all know what be goin' on there.

Dammed unnatural.

Mistress Brown bids her dowse for her lost diamonds…the room erupts in laughter and no one will tell her why.

At last Mrs Green sits before her, her eyes red…her daughter was brought to bed of a boy…he be mortal sick…the priest will not come cos e' were born…in sin.

Will she come? Half the village swear they has magic, and for the life of her grandchild she would go to the devil himself.

Will they not come with her now? He cannot be long for this world.

She turns to Heathcliff, he sighs and throws coins to the table.

"Lead on, Mrs Green."

He follows them out into the night. so this is what his little wife has been up to.

Healing and huckstering the village and now they have need of witchcraft, these good Christian people who sneered at him in church and swore he were born out of the fires of hell itself.

See how swift they turn when they have need of a little devilry.


	24. Chapter 24

Chapter 24

She hurries them by alleyway and shadow like thieves in the night; it would not do for her neighbors to see what she has been so reduced to.

She opens her door to them, though her husband swears she may as well invite Satan himself as the pair o' them.

Whatever borrowed finery they wear, he remembers them well enough; his poor old leg remembers that wolfhound they had followin' em like some damned familiar.

His wife Liza hushes him and offers them a seat, it takes her a good time to persuade her daughter to come out from behind the curtain with the child in her arms, she crosses the bairn at the sight of them.

Keela holds out her arms and at length Liza takes the child from his mother's arms and hands him to the Taig, she rocks the crying infant with a tenderness that surprises Heathcliff, perhaps it be a changeling.

To grow so sick as swift as it did.

She tells him not to say such things, and to all the rooms astonishment he falls quiet, and watches her examine the babe, listening to its weak cry in the dank misery of the little cottage.

She hands him to Heathcliff who almost drops the creature in horror, he wants nothing to do with such a thing.

Were it born in camp it would have been left to the mercies of the forest.

Mrs Green looks down at him, her eyes full of tears, her voice a broken sob.

Please…please…"

What does she want of him?

Oh very well.

He bids the mistress find ginger and black pepper, boil it into warm water and feed that to the babe, the sickness is in its lungs, if Keela will go and seek Mullein herbs by moonlight and make a potion of it, feed it to the boy each six hours.

He turns to Keela as she leaves and without a word she reaches to her throat and draws the silver coin that hangs there, covered in symbols that he cannot decipher.

He tells them it be an amulet, keep it with the boy until he grows strong again.

He returns the thing to its grateful mother and follows Keela, he finds her in the fields out behind the cottage tearing the herb from the earth, she pushes them into his hands and fills her pockets with more, in the guttering light she instructs Mrs Green to ready the potion herself, as her daughter crosses herself and the old man crosses thumb and finger in the sign against witchcraft.

She offers them a handful of coins for their trouble, but Heathcliff pushes her arm away, and taking Keela's hand leads her out into the darkness, they wander home across the moorland, remembering how the farmer used to shoot at them, and when they went down into the village the people would cross themselves or else spit upon their shadows or turn aside and hide their eyes from them.

The light in the windows of the Heights welcomes them home, Keela feels she will never be used to finding herself not locked out upon returning so late.

Heathcliff smiles down at her as they make their way to the living room, the dogs sprawled across the stone, the fire a clutch of rubies in the hearth.

When he climbs the stairway she follows, he watches her gather her belongings and push them back into the sack she brought them in, and he recalls that they leave come morning.

He looks about and wonders for a moment if it would be better never to return, to withdraw every penny to his name and escape this wretched place.

To begin anew, out there, in her kingdom of snow and emeralds, that she lulled him to sleep with tales of so long ago, of fairies and goblins and the memory of her in his arms beneath the thundering waters as she promised faithfully to be his own bride.

And then to think on how he has betrayed her…she never asked what took place between he and Cathy in her final days…she must know how she kissed him and clung to him and swore her undying love…and that he did likewise…and yet he has had not one word of reproach…she simply walked away.

And waited for him to return, as they both knew he must.

Without her he would fade away like summer mist.

He thought Cathy his reason to go on and yet when she…was no more, who was it that lifted him from the cold earth and carried him through the vally of the shadow of death, who else but his Keela.

He watches her in silence as she battles with the tangle of linen in her chest…everything she has that Lordly bastard gave her…Christ he has not even given her a new shift…nor a new ring…she hunts her own damn food, he has been a poor husband to her indeed.

She cares for the farm and Hareton and even old Joseph and himself and what has he given her for thanks? Pain and misery, he has ignored her and preferred others, he gave her rights to him over to Isabella Linton…He cared for her only to keep her alive in order that she might suffer, he allowed Keela to walk away and he forgot her in his own way until he needed her again.

Like Catherine…as she forgot him. In favour of Edgar.

Was that how Keela saw his marriage to Isabella? She did not even fight for him…she simply stepped aside, graceful as a dancer in a masque, as though it were her part and then danced back to his side the moment she saw he had need of her.

No more, in that moment he vows to himself that he will repay every tear, every dark night when she lay in the stabes and knew that he betrayed her even as he disgusted himself by the act, for driving her to such agony that she smashed her band of gold upon iron and fire with a strength born of despair.

He recalls her hair, darkened and the gown of his lost love that pinched at her body, the light in her eyes when he told her he disliked it.

How to tell her…he wants her…only.

How can he ever make amends?

He stands and catches her arm, she starts, he pulls her down to sit beside him, she does not meet his eyes.

He recalls how she laughed and smiled with the denizens of the tavern, how she ran at once to heal a sick babe in arms and asked no payment, how she proudly called him her husband…

"Keela…forgive me. For Cathy and Isabella…for everything."

In the darkness she reaches over and takes his hand in hers, her pale fingers tighten on his.

"Tell me how I can make it right." In that moment he would pitch himself into the fires of hell for her forgivness.

"Take me home." Her voice is gentle, but beneath it he hears the trembling note, her very soul is begging for the kiss of Irish rain and sunlight between the trees, she has suffered all she can bear.

He pulls her into his arms and she rests her head upon his chest, slow as a frightened deer, his heart aches at the familiar gesture, she opens her heart to him one last time, as Christ threw wide his arms at Calvary and paid loves greatest price.

"Aye, we'll go home love, we'll leave at dawn, and if ye wish it we shall never come back."

She smiles up at him, "Not for a while at least. I wish to have ye all to meself, and to see how Hareton fares without the shackle o' Joseph. I love 'im dear, but the boy needs a little freedom."

Heathcliff laughs softly at that, he could not agree more.

She pulls away and sets her scarf right with a smile at the ringing of gold coins, she laughs at his expression.

"It will grow right back, don't fear. Grows swift as a weed my hair does."

He pulls the scarf away and eyes the crimson stubble, like embers on the pale skin.

"Ye really do look like a heretic."

She pouts "I only did fer ye."

He runs his fingers across the faint brush of fire, "I know, promise me ye'll never change it again. I love ye, I want ye just as ye are. Though yer coarse and ye never were fit to be called a lady. I…I missed ye so much."

She embraces him then, and he breathes in the heady scent of her, of berries and fire and healing herbs.

"Is Hareton ready to leave?" her voice is soft as falling snow.

"I daresay, he were orderin' old Joseph about fit to shame 'is father, I shan't be surprised to find he's brought half the 'ouse with him."

She giggles "And ye?"

She leaves him to pack his clothes in with hers and she brings up food to wrap in cloth and put in beside them, she hunts down her spare shift and he watches her retrieve her gold and precious jewels, she leaves a handful with Joseph to pay for his food and the needs of the farm, and at last comes up to bed, she draws back the blankets and slips in beside him for the first time since she walked away from him at Edgar's door, it is a strange sensation, the warmth of her skin against him in the dark, the echo of her breathing in the moonlight, Heathcliff falls into sleep in the assurance of her arms, her cheek pressed into his shoulder, the whisper of her hair against his skin, he wakes as the first crimson light brightens the chamber, and smiles down at her, she looks so peaceful in that moment that he wishes he did not have to wake her.


	25. Chapter 25

Chapter 25

But wake her he must, her eyes flutter open at his kisses and her smile is brighter even than the morning sun, she leaps joyously from her place, pulls her clothes on over her shift and catches up the sack of her belongings, he has not even struggled into his shirt before she is out the door and calling for Hareton to get his arse up and out of bed afore they miss the tide.

He dresses and hurries after her, almost falling to his death over Hareton on the stairway as the little boy pushes past in his bid to be ready for the day's adventure, they find Joseph in the kitchen reeling after being told by Miss that there were no time for prayers today, though he might say one for their safe journey, never has he seen any one body in such a rush about anything, still she be out with the horses, he gives Hareton a hunk of bread and cheese for his breakfast on the road and they find Keela with two horses ready before he is halfway through it, Heathcliff pulls the boy up before him and they make their way down to the dock, it is further than he remembers and it took a little time to persuade Hareton that Joseph was not accompanying them, for the child stood in the yard and stamped and hollered at his perceived abandonment by his faithful servant.

Finally, being put more in mind of Hindley than was comfortable, he simply snatched the child up by the back of his collar and rode away with him, beating at his chest and calling the poor old servant all manner of foul names.

Keela assures him that Joseph will be quite well, he has plenty of coin, and he has his Bible, what more could he need?

Besides, Hareton shall have servants by the hundred when they reach Ireland, his father was only the son of a hill farmer, in Ireland they have a castle, and servants and land as far as the eye can see.

Is it hers?

She glances back and shakes her head and tells him it was hers but now it is Heathcliff's, the boy pulls at him and demands to know why he was not told any of this? Why did they not go at once?

Heathcliff sighs, they are going now and that will have to do.

The lad sits open mouthed as the sea appears above the hills, blue as a sapphire, it seems to stretch on forever.

The captain welcomes them jovially, passes Keela a bottle of bitters to ease her inevitable suffering and welcomes the little lad as if he were a favoured nephew, showing him all there is to see about the ship, even taking him up the rigging and instructing him to spy for land.

He would not come down even for his supper, though the sky was black as pitch and a storm was rolling in with the promise of thunder, he paid no attention to Keela, hanging over the ship's side, though she were sick as a dog.

The captain patted her shoulder companionably each time he passed by and reassured her it would pass soon, Heathcliff brought her a blanket and threw it about her trembling shoulders as the storm broke, he stands beside her careful to look away and so preserve some semblance of her dignity, as the cry for land goes up in Hareton's childish timbre she washes her mouth clean and spits keenly over the side, Heathcliff flinches at the gesture and then catches her as she slumps sideways, he leans her against the side as they make port and gathers up their belongings, a carriage cannot be found to take them all the way and so they ride as long as they may in comfort, and then borrow horses from the inn at which they stop to eat, Keela pulls Hareton up before her and he looks about in wonder at the fierce, strange new land in which he finds himself, all about flowers shimmer in the fields and hedgerows, snow glitters on the mountaintops and birds circle and fill the air with their colour and song.

As though all of nature welcomes Keela home, and they with her.

Hareton refuses to get down from the beast's back when they reach the heart of the city, he gazes in awe at the mighty cathedral, arching high as the reaches of heaven, the windows sparkle like rainbows in the summer light, Hareton cannot believe it,

The windows are made of pictures!

Keela roars with laughter and they take the horses to the inn and pay a pretty penny to have them returned from whence they were borrowed.

She pauses in the square and smiles back at Heathcliff, he watches her remember how she found him here, after all those years, she takes his hand in hers, the other clung to by Hareton who eyes the mighty doors of the church, he glances up, his voice thin with nervous excitement, can they go in?

Not yet, Keela must go home, she cannot enter the house of God in men's raiment.

Why not? She did at home.

And does he remember the beating she got for so doing?

Yes.

They will come later, besides then it will be time for Evensong, it's a service, it will be all the more beautiful if he is patient, the air will be full of candlelight and incense.

So long as Heathcliff has no objection?

He sighs and shakes his head, let the boy go if it pleases him, he has no doubt he will prefer it to the staid Protestantism of Joseph.

Speaking of joseph, he must never find out.

It would upset the old man deeply, Hareton may go to the church as often as he wishes but only on the solemn oath to make no mention of it should they ever return to England.

At last the towers of home can be seen, the green cloth above flying emerald against the sapphire sky.

Hareton pauses at the gateway, too nervous to go on, what if nobody likes him? He cannot speak Irish, what if he has no friends?

Heathcliff lifts him into his arms and carries him through, the servants stop and stare, then they bow low of one accord and rush forward, they should have sent word, nothing is ready, who is the child?

Keela turns sapphire eyes to Heathcliff, who tells them that the boy is his nephew and that they will treat him as they would their master's son.

Old Brigid comes forward gently, Keela explains that she is a little like Nelly, she looks after them, she is very kind, there is no need to be afraid,

The old woman bundles him up in her shawl and carries him off clucking gently in her own tongue, Hareton understands not a word but her voice is soft and she holds gentle, not like father did.

"Where are they taking him?" Heathcliff watches them dissapear into the depths of the castle.

Keela lays a hand to his arm, "Peace, only to wash him I daresay, and find him some better clothes."

"What's wrong with his clothes?"

She shakes her head, the brush of fire glimmering the morning sun, he silently thanks God that her hair is growing back. He misses it; it was her great beauty.

"They are worn through, we are not on the moors anymore my pet, he is not fit to be seen. Especially as he is now so grand."

Heathcliff shifts uncomfortably beside her, "I don't like grand people, not like…"

"I know." She cuts him off, her voice gentle "But this will be different, let him have a taste of what it means to be wealthy, 'is father gave him nothing but misery and fear."

His eyes are suddenly hard "Ye won't shut him up in some tower with books and learnin'? Ye won't send him away."

Her beautiful face is horrified "Never, how can you say such things to me?"

"Father sent Hindley away."

"That were different, he did t' save yer his torments, he shall have no learnin' e' don't want. We shall give 'im all that we can, but 'e shall be free as a bird I promise. I'll not raise 'im as…Aed would 'av chosen."

"Good." His eyes soften then, she smiles up at him and taking his hand in hers once more pulls him up the steps and into her home, they have been gone so long he could not find her chamber without her to lead him, but she knows it well enough and he watches the tension across her back ease, as she throws open the door and crosses the threshold, she drops the sack to the floor and pitches herself onto her old bed, sighing with relief, it is a though summer has returned at last, after a cold dark winter that he thought would never end.

He drops down beside her and she turns and lies her head upon his chest, arms tight about his waist.

"I wish we had never left." Her voice is soft as butterly wings.

He strokes the short fiery waves absently, kisses them gently, "So do I."

She glances up, startled by his confession, "We should a' stayed."

Heathcliff nods, silence stretched between them, and for the first time in months it feels easy, there is nothing left unsaid, she knows all that he has done, and she has forgiven it.

How shall they go on together now?

Shall he die at her side, warm in this bed when their days are done and it pleases God to call them home?

Cathy lies so far from him, will they be together in death? How can they? Now that he sleeps across an ocean, does she wait at his window still? When the storms howl upon the moors like a curse, does she sob his name at the lattice and wonder why he comes not to her?

He glances down into mermaid blue eyes shot through with silver, her smile is like sunlight, washing away the ghosts of memory, she presses her lips to his, her kiss like fire and gold, she puts him in mind of the fairytales Nelly used to read, of fairy beings and magic, in that moment he doubts not that Keela's kiss could be a spell, but could it break a curse?

Cathy Earnshaw, may you not rest…not while I'm living…

If he can love her as she deserves…Would Cathy be free to go to her heaven?

It was his own selfish will that bound her to the earth, his hate and his vengeance.

Lying here with Keela he dares to dream of peace, what would it be to lay it all down, to forget them and all their cruelties

Cathy, Edgar, Hindley…What do any of them matter any longer?


	26. Chapter 26

Chapter 26

Brigid returns Hareton to them a couple of hours later, he is scarce recognizable, he has been washed and Brigid assures them it took three changes of water before she was happy, she has dressed him in buckskin britches and a clean shirt, he has been given a coat of emerald velvet, it belonged to the late master when he were a laddie.

Keela smiles at Heathcliff "There ye see, its not so bad as all that is it?"

Hareton is prancing about happy as a pony, "I look richer than that Linton bastard now, don't I Heathcliff?"

Keela turns accusing eyes "I never taught him that." But she smiles regardless.

Heathcliff pulls him up onto the bed between them, "aye, that ye do but then he were only a petty magistrates son, ye shall inherit all ye can see out that window."

He carries the boy to the narrow arch in the wall and he clings about the gypsie's neck and demands to know if this shall be his, what about that far field? What of the woods beyond? They look beautiful and he should like to go riding there.

Keela warns him to beware the English, he should be a valuable hostage and she's in no mood to storm an army stronghold to get him back, but so long as he takes old Conner with him he may go, be sure to be home by half past four if he wishes to see the church at mass and she shall take him.

He runs from the chamber pulling at the maid's skirts demanding they find the old man at once, they listen to his excited jibbering until he desecends the staircase and his cheerful voice fades away.

"Are ye sure he'll be safe?" Heathcliff looks down from the high window as the boy crosses the courtyard hand in hand with Keela's oldest and arguably most loyal servant.

He turns black eyes to her "I should go with him, that man must be at least a hundred, if anything should happen…"

"He's stronger than ye and more a crack shot that me, ye sit back down and cease yer fussin', if they've not returned by half four I shall route all the castle and village to find 'em I promise."

He sinks back down beside her, "Very well."

She laces her fingers through his, "Ye let him wander off at home."

He shrugs "That were different, I knew the moors better than any, if he lost himself he'd sit and wait fer us to find him, ye remember that."

She giggles, "The hollow tree."

He smiles, half laughing. "Aye, fine let him go. What shall we do with ourselves?"

She sparkles up at him in the sunlight, "Well fer once there be nothin' we must do."

He rises from the bed and smiles back to her "Ridin'?"

She leaps up and follows in his wake. "What else."

Down in the stables the boy dislikes being told his services are not needed, and storms off angrily, Keela sighs

"Ye could've been a little nicer to 'im, e's a good lad."

"Yer lucky the fool 'aint killed yer beasts! Cold water? Ye ought to have him beaten."

She shakes her head, and calling the child back corrects him firmly and sends him for warm water from the kitchens, she will make an allowance on account of his age, if he makes such foolish mistakes again her husband shall have his way and it'll be the whipping post for him.

To her horror the great green eyes fill with tears and he howls in terror, he meant no harm, he should rather be sent home in disgrace than flogged.

She stands hands on hips and rounds on Heathcliff.

"There now ye've scared 'im, are ye 'appy?"

He turns from the horse in disgust "Get him out or I'll beat him myself fer bein' so weak."

She stares him down, "Yer dangerously resemblin' yer brother, ye tell 'im yer not goin' t' urt 'im or…"

She never finishes, the words lost in the blood that fills her mouth as Heathcliff strikes her, she stumbles back and falls flat on her back in the hay, the stable lad has leapt clear and is staring at them in horror, he squares his little shoulders and stands over her, like a wolf protecting its young.

"Ye alright mistress?"

She spits blood onto the stone, and struggles to her feet, she gently pushes the lad aside and faces down the raging gypsy without flinching

"Isabella were too weak fer ya? Come on then ye great bullyinin' bastard! Pick on someone yer own size."

He stares down at her, for a moment blue scalds black and then they are laughing, he reaches out to brush the blood from her mouth, she barely reaches his chest and the ridiculousness of her challange cools their fire, the boy is sent on his way and Keela pulls herself up into the saddle, he follows in her steps, Aed's horse is a fine creature, heavier and stronger than the beasts of Hindley's stable, it is a wonder such a small man were able to handle it, still let it be a point in the dead man's favour.

"I am sorry I struck ye."

She glances back "I am sorry too, I should never 'av compared ye with…"

They ride on in silence for some time, he reaches out and catches her shoulder, she pulls up her horse and he turns her poor shorn head to glance at the bruise that darkens the ghostly skin, he recalls the last time he struck her so…She lay dying after he dragged her for miles through snow and howling storm, and finally Keela broke, she fainted at his feet, blue with cold, with tears of agony like diamonds upon her cheeks, she carried a bruise in just that place…And many others besides…Cuts that wept blood for days and three fingers broken, her left arm twisted so badly the doctor had questioned whether it would be kinder simply to break it and re set it aright.

Nelly had left her as she was for punishment…She had all but taken death's hand…wasted as a corpse, her shift hanging from her like funeral raiment…her form broken, black and bloody.

He had sworn he would never touch her in anger again…

It seems he can make no vow but time must find it broken.

"Ye did not fight back." His voice is almost lost in the mountain winds; home suddenly seems so very far…

Mist whispers about them, a summer storm twists the air, heady with the scent of flowers; it is colder here…

He saw not how far they came…the wind sings so clear, they must be high indeed…he cannot see the ground below from the stone strewn path, he glances about…the land that hours before seemed so welcoming glowers down as though in judgement, the mountain that from the windows looked blue as forget me nots dusted with sugar now juts out, grey and fearsome, a strange and forbidding land this fairy world she promised him, down below a sound thin as a strand of spider's silk carries up…Keela ahead pauses and looks back to him, he struggles at the unease that rises like bile in his stomach, without a word between them, they turn about and traverse the path at a speed that could leave them broken on the cruel mountainside should either beast miss its footing.

Brigid…bloodstained, beaten and bruised, her hair cut down, clutching her shawl about herself, and sobbing, screaming into the empty air above tring to summon them, she falls to her knees when they appear

"Forgive me…We did all we could…there was so many mistress…master…what were I to do…I'm only a poor old woman…"

Keela drops down and lays a hand to the thin shoulder, "Peace Brigid, breathe woman! Tell us sharp what has happened?"

"The Sassnachs miss, dozens of 'em, they have the castle, and all souls within under lock and key." She turns tear filled eyes to Heathcliff

"Yer boy Sir, yer little lad…"

He pales until she fears he will faint "Is he alive?"

"Fer now Sir, ye must come home at once, else they'll murder every body within the walls…one for every hour yer not returned." She doubles over, struggling for breath, God almighty, she has run all this way, and at so great an age, Heathcliff lifts her bodily from the ground and tosses her up before Keela as if she were a mound of blankets and not a loyal servant, remounts and Keela hares off in his wake.

"Can we be back within the hour?"

His mouth is a grim line "Not a chance, old woman who will be first?"

The poor dame is clinging to the pommel with withered hands, her fingers stained red…they have torn her fingernails from her hands.

"Why did they so harm you?" he struggles not to raise his voice.

"I would not tell 'em where ye were, master. Nor yer relation to the little lad, they have him locked in the highest tower and swear they will hang him from the beams if ye will not surrender yerself to 'em…they said yer one o' them, Master, and…that ye left their King's service, untimely. They hunt deserters like dogs. So they said…and o' course they wants to make a show o' mistress, lassie been a thorn in their side fer years."

The ground thunders away beneath them, the sun low in the sky, Heathcliff sighs, he looks across to his beautiful wife, strong face set, rosebud lips a tight line of rage, hair like tongues of flame about her pale skin, she meets his eyes for a moment.

"Jigs up pet, I got no more men."

He curses "What of yer glorious revolution?"

"I await it still." Her voice is heavy with sorrow.

He leans over and slaps her across the back as if she were a man and not his own darling, the turrets can be sighted now…He watches her eyes fill with silent tears at the sight of it.

"Keela, fer the love 'o God, stop lookin' like that, yer standin' on the chance to slay Englishmen."

She giggles at that, "If we can get in, there's three muskets still in Aed's chamber, gunpowder hidden in the wine cellar."

They slow, and abandoning Brigid with orders to hide herself in the stables, they slip down from the beasts' backs.

They stand looking up at the wall, Heathcliff eyes the sheer rock then turns smiling.

"Keela, have ye still got yer pair o' daggers?"

"Why?" she bends and pulls a familiar dagger from her boot, and then its twin from the other.

Sturdy blades, the hilt wrapped in leather.

He takes them from her and drives them deep into the gap between the bricks.

She flinches "That's me castle!"

"Shhh. I'll throw 'em down to ye."

She stands with her eyes covered, unable to watch such foolish risk.

Still, he makes it to the upper window alive, and tosses the blades from it.

Hareton's eyes are round as soverigns at the sight of him.

The gypsy pulls him into his arms "Are ye alright?"

The boy nods and he absently runs a hand over his hair, "Good."

He begins quietly moving things about.

"Ye lookin' fer these, Heathcliff?"

He takes the muskets from the little hands as Keela, grumbling appears above the window ledge, and settles herself on it.

"What now? The wine be in the cellar."

He turns and hands her a musket, she takes it with a smile, it suits her uncommon well.

"Yer husband were fond o' drink, he must 'av somethin' hidden in 'ere."

Between the three of them they strip the chamber bare until a collection of drink, fine enough that Hindley Earnshaw would have sold his soul to get his hands on it, sits in the centre of the floor, Hareton finds a a flint and pyrite in a small box beside the fireplace, and holds them up.

"Can I light 'em? Can !?"

Keela sighs "Nay, but ye may have this."

To Heathcliff's horror she hands the child a musket.

He snatches it away as though she had given him a posisonous snake, the child whines for its return, and then watches the two gypsies hold a near silent and furious argument over the propriety of arming such a little lad.

"We need every hand, god alive ye were in the king's army fer three miserable years, ye know this!"

"We're meant to keep him safe, not get him shot!"

"There's three of us, a hundred men and no more weapons!"

"Then fer the love of Christ admit when yer beaten woman and surrender!"

For a moment it seems she may strike him.

"They'll 'ang ye! I'll never watch it!"

"They'd let ye go, take Hareton and…"

She raises the musket "Perhaps ye'd rather we simply took our own lives? I'd rather shoot meself then die on the end of an English rope."

He brushes the black curls from his eyes and sighs

"Fine, give it back to 'im."

He takes up a bottle, and soaking the rag with whiskey stuffs the neck tight as a gun barrel, the act brings up unwanted memories…

He looks over his shoulder at the two of them, "They'll be on us like wasps. Hold that door, if anything comes through it, it gets shot. If I give ye an order I want it followed."

Keela giggles and sulutes mockingly "Aye, Sir."

He lights the rag and flinching at the heat of the glass throws the bottle from the window…

For a moment there is silence and then the world shatters and the wind roars gold and red.

He listens to the cry of English voices and the sobbing of Irish wails…

And then footsteps: on the twisting stairwell beyond the door.

Heathcliff listens to the song of musket fire against the stone, a ball of lead narrowly misses him, Keela eyes the crimson sea below, she smiles to him

She catches up a bottle and hurls it with all her strength, screams echo from the stones and he smiles to watch the enemy engulfed in fire.

"Good shot!"

He pulls her back in, and she takes up her musket, her cheek smeared black with the kiss of powder…she almost died.

He presses himself against the stone as musket fire pours into the chamber like diamonds.

The far door creaks omiously.

Keela looks across at him, he nods, she raises her musket, Heathcliff spares a glance for the child as his side, he stands tall, back straight as an arrow, musket raised in his small arms…the roar of English voices echoes on the other side…

And then a knock.

Keela starts.

"We are here for the deserter, Heathcliff the Egyptian, murderer of Aed of Kilkenny, return him to our hands and you have my word, no harm will come to you, Ladyship, or the boy."

Keela's voice is firm "I bought his freedom."

"But madam, it was not for sale. And as your beloved husband is a deserter to his King, and a coward..."

Strong hands grab Heathcliff by the arm and hold him in place, "They want you to open that door, we knows its lies."

"I'll kill him." His voice is tight with rage.

She slaps him across the back "Course' ye will, an' we'll take his pack of mangy English bastards with 'im."

"Madam we can hear you." The voice echoes from the other side of the wood.

Keela's voice tremebles only a little. "Then hear this, let him and the lad go and ye shall have somethin' worth far more."

The unseen voice, smiles. "You wish to strike a bargain?"

Silence.

"My lady, what are your terms? Tell me swiftly or I shall break down the door and you will all be hanged. At this moment I am prepared to show mercy."

"Who are ye?" her tone is suspicious.

"My name is Lieutenant Daniel Corder of His Magesties army, you are the rebel Keela."

Heathcliff looks down at her, the smile she gives him must have been the very look Christ offered Judas from Calvary.

She turns her back on him then and moves to the chest at the foot of the bed, she returns with a clutch of scarlet in her arms…the crimson coat of the English army…the one he was wearing the day she found him once more.

"No." his voice almost breaks, she hands it to him and he slips it on.

"Take Hareton and go ahead of me. No one will stop ye, not lookin' like one of 'em, I shall be only a moment behind." Her voice is so soft, so peaceful.

She drags a rope from the chest, as the door groans like a soul in purgatory.

In a moment it will be broken down.

She ties it swift to the bedstead and throws it from the window, every body is inside, there is no one below to see them run.

Heathcliff catches up Hareton and sets him to clamber down the rope as swift as a spider; he reaches the flagstones, Keela smiles

"Hurry my love." And then she calls out "My terms…"

"Yes, you do not have long, speak quickly." The voice is stern.

She watches Heathcliff reach the ground below, he gestures to her to hurry, even from where he stands; he can hear the splintering of wood….

She is at the top of the rope, holding onto the ledge, and in a single moment a man's face appears and strong hands have her by the arm…

If she pulls him from her, they will fall together…The lascar watches her bend swift as a swallow to her boot…cold air meets her clutching fingers…she has no blade with which to cut herself free and trust to him to save her.

He longs to call to her…but no sound escapes his lips.

A soldier holds her fast by the collar of her shirt, he can hear shouting and the cries of triumph all twisted up with the Leutentants rage that two have escaped his clutches…Heathcliff drags Hareton up against the stone wall, the boy is sobbing, he can feel the tears on his throat, warm as honey in summer.

And then her voice, a terrible thread of sound…begging him to run.

To leave her.

Hareton would have cried out but Heathcliff lays a hand across his mouth, harsh and cold and drags him from that hell as swift as ever they may go.

He spares but a single glance behind….As Orpheus must have done…when the scent of fire and powder and smoke burned too strong to pay no heed, to its foul presence on the wind.

The castle is afire…and there, against the wall, lit by the flames, a sorrowful figure, all in white, a spectre from a terror that comes only by night, to steal the peace of dreamers…

His bride: his beloved, kicking for her life in the noose.

He presses his hand to the soft dark hair of the child in his arms, it would seem to comfort him, in truth it is to prevent that little head turning, to watch the closest thing he has to a mother, choke her way to hell, on the end of an English rope.

Broken, cold as ice, he stumbles on, through that strange and forbidding land, across the fields where he had followed in her foosteps, where the wind sang through the flowers in the golden promise of the evening, through streets dark and bitter… and then heaven help him, they make the square.

And for a moment he fears he will fall to the ground, and lie still in the mud, until he breathes no more.

He looks up, into the face of Christ, that watches the sorrowful pair from the glittering window, as they pass the mighty cathedral, it's shadow falling upon them, like an ill wish.

With a curse he catches up a stone from the path and hurls it through the bitter air…the window shatters and a cry goes up from the depths of the Lord's house.

What was it her husband had said of her?

"There, never were such a woman fer prayin'"

Where was her God, when she had need of him? Why did he not send a host of angels to deliver her? His good and faithful servant…

How could he let her…they pass through the square, the child lies still upon his shoulder, Heathcliff thinks he sleeps.

If they had been only a moment swifter…

Down on the docks, the captain eyes the pair, they are returnin' so soon? They have only just arrived…where is…he removes his hat, and as morning breaks over the sea, and little Hareton lies trembeling in his uncle's arms, the Captain raises a glass to the memory of Keela Heathcliff. Nationalist, slave, rebel, Egyptian.

Long may her memory live on.

He sits with them, and tries to persuade them to eat, she died as she woulda' wished, fightin' against the English invaders.

It were a noble end.

He will take no payment for their passage; let it be his gift to her spirit.

A carriage is arranged at the first inn they reach, he buys a little food for the journey and they ride home in silence.

Hareton seems cold with horror, he neither weeps nor rails, they simply sit together, as though to move will bring the agony breaking in upon them, like an ocean storm.

The Heights soars above them, he cannot bear to look out over the moors as they pass, if he looks too long he fears his memory will conjure her ghost to stand before him, laughing like silver bells, hair singing like fire in the bitter winds.

He hammers upon the door, until Joseph opens it, complaining of the hour.

He is surprised to see them, where is…Heathcliff shakes his head, and Hareton clings tighter to his hand, pressing his little face against his coat to hide his tears.

The old man pales, and sinks into a nearby chair, what happened? How could such a thing be?

Before God, the old Pharisee is weepin'.

Heathcliff is so taken aback by the servant's grief that he offers as brief a telling as may be, before he has a thought to do otherwise.

Joseph holds out his arms to little Hareton who runs to him, sobbing and they cling together, Hareton begging the elder to tell him how God could allow it, and Joseph with tears and trembling reapeating over and over that it be the will o' the Almighty and that they must believe it, else how shall they bear her loss.

No one sleeps that night, they sit before the fire, Heathcliff retreating to the coldest, darkest corner of the room, her hair glittered like that once…

Even the dogs keep their distance, and a shadow seems to fall over the house, misery falls upon the gypsys's heart like a crow, a harbinger of despair, when Catherine left this world it felt as though his life has been put out of him, like a candle flame burned too long, until it flickers and dies.

But this…it is as though his soul has been torn from him, as though every breath tears at his heart like a thousnd needles…it hurts to move, to speak, to breathe.

The days pass as though in shadow, in eternal day and eternal night, twisted together, every moment a waking nightmare…days, weeks, months.

Years.


	27. Chapter 27

Chapter 27

She does not haunt him, though he calls to her in the darkness, when the nightmares come, her shade does not appear, no fire in the watches of the night, nor skin pale as starlight to be lit by the moon's kiss.

Only silence and sorrow.

And a thousand memories he would sell his soul to forget.

And then he awakes one morning to a vision, like something from a nightmare, a figure creeping in at the window…just as she used to do when Joseph locked them out for the night…and for a moment he could believe…she turns her sweet, ghostly face toward him, and he screams.

The left side is beautiful as ever with those haunting mermaid eyes…the hair, that cascade of fire he loved so well…and yet the right…scarred deep and crimson, like some terrifying mask, the skin scorched away…the right shoulder juts strangely…the sleeve of her coat hollow and bereft as a beggar's purse…

"Mornin' my love." The voice carries to him, so close and clear, he could almost reach out and touch this hallowed monster that his longings and nightmares together appear have created…

A hand touches his shoulder.

He snatches it up…she feels…

"Keela….but…I watched you hang! Your dead…am I…have ye come to take me to 'ell with ye?"

She laughs then, a memory of silver, like a sprite about some mischief.

She takes his hand and pulls him from the bed, "I'm here pet." She reaches up and he watches her pull down the collar of her shirt…the cruel mark of a rope, deep and dark and over it, like some obscene relic…the shape of the cross….

"I pulled it tight afore they put the noose on. They said I might pray fer me sins…"

He sways and sinks back onto the bed, the room twists as though he were a drunkard, she kneels beside him, looking up at him, "The rope could not close on me throat. I only made it look like I were chokin'." she offers.

"You were away so long." He tightens his hand on hers…

"They cut me down and dumped my corpse to rot in the marsh, I escaped and were in hiding ever since, they're everywhere. They'd know me if they saw me, so I disguised meself as a man and crossed the sea. It were a near thing, the port were crawlin'."

He pulls her to him then, kissing her ruined beauty as though his tears might wash away the evil done to her.

But they do not, and yet she is alive, and he can hold her once more, what could a little burning mean to such a deliverance.

She smiles gently, "Ye are not repulsed?" She pulls back the crimson strands, he reaches out to touch her shoulder…the emerald velvet falls beneath his hand…

"Keela…"

"Aye my love, they took me arm." Her smile falters only a little, "If ye cannot bear the sight o' me now, I will forgive ye."

He grabs her tight, then "No, never say such a thing again, I love you, When Cathy died I thought myself in hell…but it were nothin', nothin' to losing you."

Her smile to him in that moment seems more beautiful than ever.

"Old Joseph cried like a babe when we told 'im ye were dead. Hareton…is not yet, himself. Losing ye wounded him deep. I…Come, we must tell 'em."

She stills "Ye do not wish to put me aside?"

Heathcliff pulls her into his arms and kisses her once more, not caring for the strange ridged flesh that met his lips, like a field, fresh hewn for sewing, when the rain runs through the earth.

"I love you." He whispers against her ear, where the delicate lobe in half cut away, leaving a jagged edge.

She lays her flaming head upon his breast, "I love you too. I missed ye so."

"Come on." He pulls her to her feet and would lead her after him from the chamber, but she stands, stubborn as a mule and will not follow.

"Ye screamed at the sight 'o me."

He feels terrible "Forgive me, I thought it were a nightmare."

She giggles "Well ye might, everywhere I go people point an' mutter, bairns cry at the sight o' me…what will Hareton think?"

He slips an arm about her shoulder and leads her out into the hall "He loves ye. "e won't care fer a little skin, as I don't."

She nods and Heathcliff calls to the pair, disturbing their early morning prayer.

Joseph appears grumbling, followed by his young master.

They stop and stare, the withered servant falls to his knees in thanksgiving, the boy eyes the figure in his uncle's arms warily

"Heathcliff, what is that thing?"

He feels her stiffen beneath his hand.

"What, my young master, ye wants yer palm readin'?" the misshapen face twists into what the boy thinks were a smile…He knows that voice…heard it long ago…

"Keela!" He stands almost as tall as she now. Though in this moment he may as well be a little lad again.

He throws himself upon her as the pups are want to do with Juno.

They hold each other as though neither will release the other alive…only to be joined by Joseph who clutches both to himself whilst offering up psalms.


	28. Chapter 28

Chapter 28

Breakfast may as well not have been prepared, for Jospeh offers a whole hours prayer unto the Lord, before he will permit a spoon to be set to it, and the porridge is grown cold as the stones of the kirkyard.

Hareton watches Keela over the silverware, Heathcliff snaps at him to keep his eyes to his own meal if he cannot but stare.

She pulls her hair forward to cover the right side of her cheek, that he might be spared the sight, Heathcliff reaches over and brushes it away "Do not, my love." He kisses the scarred flesh, gentle, tender, she smiles, the ruined skin twisting obscenely and Hareton struggles to continue breaking his fast.

He is filled with joy to see this woman, though he scarce recalls her after four long years, and such a time seems long to a child of but nine summers, she was a whisper and a memory and a sigh…

A name to be prayed for: a loss never to be spoken of.

Joseph had warned him most sternly, once he had ceased his tears for her, that she was in heaven, please God, and so they must pray for her heretic soul, for she had been a papist in life, steeped in error and deep in sin, but a good and pious woman in her own way, and the world was a darker and more sinful place now that she was gone, and his uncle, doubtless a lost soul without her guiding hand and loving heart.

He must never speak her name, nor recall her memory, but for his whispered prayers.

And yet, here she sits, and a memory rises unbidden, he sat in her lap on this very floor, the air heavy with the promise of food, and the puppies tumbling about, one over the other, the house was a different place then, a place of laughter and sunlight, of days spent, riding free as a bird across the moors, or curled up beneath warm blankets whilst the two gypsies and old Joseph sat or knelt about his bed and soothed him to slumber with songs and stories…and the endless rhythm of…he rises from his place and quits the room before any can bid him be still.

He returns with his hands clasped behind his back, and approachs the table, flinching as she turns to look at him and then flushng scarlet at his own unkindness.

He holds out his hand to her, she offers her own and into the snow-white palm, falls a string of wooden beads and a crucifix of metal…

"Ye, ye left it about the bedpost afore…I found it and Joseph bid me hide it away, said it would upset ye Heathcliff, to 'av seen it. I thought ye might want it returned…I recall…ye always 'ad it, when ye put me to bed, or else when we were prayin…Joseph said it were an error…"

She laughs at that "I wondered how well ye might recall me, four years, a lifetime to a bairn."

He resumes his seat, "A what?"

"A babe, its…"

"Irish." The word seems pulled from his lips, memory flooding through him like the river in winter, "We were there…I were riding…the old man…the soldiers…" he curls over then, sobbing piteously. "People everywhere, herded like animals…they…cut them and shot them all full o' holes…the old woman, her hands…" he holds his own up before his face, trembling like a storm tossed leaf. "She screamed so, they wanted to know…so many questions and then…"

Keela moves to kneel before him, laying a hand to his knee, "Then what? What became o' my 'ouse Hareton?"

"I…I don't…there were a great fire…screaming fer their lives…and ye….A moment behind and then ye weren't. Uncle said ye was dead…"

She pulls him into her embrace and he lies shaking and sobbing, Heathcliff shifts, uncomfortably, he saw men at such a pass…in the king's own army…they were shot for cowardice.

"I had news of that night, my…protector, told me they butchered all inside, men and women…even the stable hand."

Heathcliff pales "He weren't more than ten years old."

She looks up and nods, her eyes full of tears.

Joseph stands then, looking down on them as he might were he to take the pulpit, "No more adventurin', fer any of ye, ye'll stay safe at 'ome, no further afield than yer damn moors do ye hear?"

They look one to the other, like scolded younglings, Hareton's lip quivers and then he is laughing, Keela rises and nods "Sounds fair, Hareton what do ye do with yerself now ye's grown so?"

Joseph resumes his seat with a smile, the Lord has returned her to them, now perhaps the devil o' a gypsy shall find his soul and heart once more, fer 'e left both in 'er keepin'.

And the boy may yet smile again, or so he hopes.

""Ye'll 'elp me, won't ye lad?" he asks.

Hareton's face lights: like the sun emerging from a stormy sky, to chase away the shadows and rain.

"'Course, lambs need birthin' an' there be reapin' t' do."

She gleams up at them, "Joseph might I borrow yer gun?"

He nods.

"Come on Heathcliff, pheasants up Grange won't poach 'emseleves."

He stands in a moment and Joseph laughs, until she would have taken up the gun…they have made a cripple o' the lass…he gave it no heed…only thought her coat sat a little peculiar…she keeps her eyes on her boots…and sighs

"I shoulda' shown ye afore we ate…do ye wish to see?"

They nod, she turns to Heathcliff "Would ya 'elp?"

He takes her jacket and draws it from her back, her old shirt hangs loose at one side…she bids the gypsy unlace it and pull it down at the neck upon the same side, he does so, and all the old servant sees is the tightening of the muscles across his back, what it cost him not to flinch back from that sight he will never know.

The limb was cut away…they took it at the shoulder, so she might never raise arms against his Majesty again.

For her at least, the fight is over.

The shoulder is healed, but scarred deep, the flesh almost silver in some places, a mortal ragged thing. Like a mighty oak, hewn apart by the cruelty of the woodsman's axe.

"Does it hurt?" Hareton's voice is small.

She shakes her fiery head, "Nay, not anymore, though when it were done I longed to die…to give honour to 'em dogs, they took it swift. They did not torture me wi' its loss."

Heathcliff allows himself to wonder what they did torture her with, if making a cripple of a once fine rebel were not it, and resolves to ask her privately, when they are alone.

Though she is still his fearsome Taig he senses something deep within her, some flicker behind those mermaid eyes…she has need of him, now more than ever.

She will need each of them in the coming years. She asks if he would open the door for her, she has left something outside that she would fetch in.

He goes swift, to do her bidding and holds it wide that she might pass through, she returns and he stares at the staff in her hand…cut all about with the twisting knots…it had taken him hours to carve…a token of apology from all those years ago.

"Keela, ye still 'av it." His voice is full of wonder.

Her smile is touched with sorrow "The Leitenant, Corder. He said he were not such a monster as to take a stick from a cripple…I saw no one so maimed…then they caught hold o' me an…well, there'll be no more rebellin' fer me, my sweet."

He brushes the amber locks from her cheek and kisses her, careful to keep to the right side, to show her in his eyes and his caress that she is still his beauty, his own dear heart.

Heathcliff smiles down on her "It don't 'av to be, I shall 'av ye shootin' a pistol with yer left hand afore the years up. Ye see if I don't. Then ye and I shall go back, and we'll hunt that bastard as if he were one of Linton's damn pheasants."

She giggles "An' ye'll 'ang by the ankles above the fireplace will ye?"

"If ye wish it...I would take this wound for ya… if I could..." his voice fades away, what else can he say?

She holds him tight against her, her cheek pressed to his chest, he locks his arms about her, he shall have to grow accustomed to walk on her left side…when she took his hand in hers it were always with her stronger arm.

Joseph had served porridge for breakfast…how is he to help her at meals? What now, will she be reliant on the care of others to be able to do?

He cannot bring himself to ask her in this moment.

How does she intend to poach when she is so despoiled?

Perhaps it is only the memory she longs for.

Heathcliff sweeps her up ino his arms and she holds the musket across her stomach as he carries her out to the stables, and sets her down on the low bench as he readies the horse, she would have helped but he bade her be still and rest herself.

Those oceanic eyes flash at such coddling "I'm missin' an arm, not both legs, or me eyes. Just cos I be a cripple , don't mean ye 'av to treat me like one. I'll not bear it!"

He turns back "Forgive me…I don't know how best to help ye, how am I to pretend yer as ye were when…I need to know what ye can no longer do fer yerself."

She sighs, a sorrowful promise of a sound, and looks about, taking in the golden light that gleams off the hay and glitters on the brasses and steel, she smiles softly, as though at last, she has come home.

"I can't shoot, I needs 'elp to dress meself if I wish to wear more than me shift, an' a shirt, an' even then I cannot lace the neck or the bloody sleeves. Its hell even to put me own damn boots on." Her husband glances away, at the tears that fill her eyes, and she dashes them away angrily with her good hand.

She never were one for weepin' where others might get to know of it,

Not like Cathy…she could beat any child at a fit of crying.

He finished his work, and gathers her into his arms and lifts her up into the saddle, and slips up behind her, she settles herself against him, he need have no fear, she could ride bareback without recourse to a rein…this at least they could not take from her.

"Do ye still have yer father's pistol?" he enquires as they emerge into the sunlit yard, Joseph opens the gate and waves them off, little Hareton at his side.

"Nay, they took it from me and smashed it as though it were a mirror. It could never be remade."

He breathes in the scent of her hair, rich and warm in the summer air, it is as though he had been buried alive and now at last, might call himself free.

"Then ye shall have mine, as ye said I were in the King's own army, a year and ye shall be as fine a shot as ever ye were. Ye'll never fire a musket again, and ye'll not be able to ready the weapon yerself, but if I were to put it in yer hand, ye could kill with it. Ye will, ye'll kill Corder. I promise, an' between us we'll make him pay fer yer arm…"

She smiles up at him, "Joseph said no more adventurin', I only want to live out me days at yer side. Though it's a pleasant thought to 'urt 'im I'll not deny."

He kisses the back of her neck softly and whispers against the ruin of her ear "When yer ready, and not a moment before."

The moors lie purple as amethyst stones and green and deep as emeralds, far off before them grass, gold as topaz glitters in the morning light, the air so still, but for the cry of the lapwings as they soar in the air, high as the reaches of heaven.

The parkland of Thrushcross Grange spreads out below them, and only a little further lie the woods, he leaves the horse tied at the edge of the trees, deep enough that he will not be discovered and taking her hand leads her into the malachite depths.

They have wandered this path a thousand times, down the years, they all but know it as surely as the moors that surround the Heights, he pulls her flush against him behind the nearest trunk at a movement between the trees.

"As ye see Master, the deer have settled well. An' yer boar are plentiful, they forages fer 'emselves ye see."

A clipped voice answers, assuring the gamekeeper that Edgar is well aqquainted with the dietry habits of his own livestock.

Heathcliff lays a hand across Keela's mouth to smother her laughter

"Hush, ye'll get us both hanged."

She presses her lips to his ear and whispers "Well aquainted my arse, he'd feed it on tea and crumpets and 'is sister'd dress the pig up in a party frock an' pearls an' name it Mrs Nesbit!"

He buries his face against her shoulder to hold his silence at the image her words paint before his eyes.

They stand giggling like idiot children as quietly as can be managed, as Edgar passes within a few feet of them, Keela's voice comes to him, like a devil on his shoulder

"Ye know, we could kill 'im right now, an no one need ever know."

A hand comes down on her shoulder "Could ya now? Why not 'av a go? I'll even stand right here and let ye take yer shot."

The gamekeeper holds out his musket…and laughs, a cruel sound.

Even Edgar Linton has the good grace to blush at such manners.

"Since yer a cripple ye can 'av a head start." The burly man offers.

Keela turns eyes blazing, if she had both her arms Heathcliff is in no doubt she would have bent his gun double and tied a bloody bow in it.

Edgar sighs and waves dismissively "Thompson…" he looks down at Keela, and for a moment his eyes soften

"I am truly sorry. You were a good servant…I had hoped you might have come under a more civilising influence." He passes Heathclff, eyes cold and hard, he leans in "Were it not for the presence of a lady." His threat hangs in the air.

Keela turns back to him "Come on, they won't tell twice an' I can't be draggin' yer no more, don't make me embarrass meself by tryin'"

The catch in her voice moves him to take her hand and follow…the bark shatters an inch from his head, he catches her about the waist and they flee headlong through the shadow of the wood, shots ringing seconds behind them, they reach the edge of the trees…the old bastard is still following.

"Put me down." She snaps.

He drops her and in a moment she is up and running at his side, a well placed shot leaves a hole in the emerald cloth…were she not maimed already it would have cost her the hand at least.

She turns back and offers a foul gesture with her good arm.

The crags are in sight…he scrambles up…bullets falling like rain…he looks down…Keela is pressed against the rock, the gun inches from her…he can never get to her in time…she throws herself forward and her teeth find aged flesh, tearing at the gamekeeper as a wolf is wont to do with its prey.

Screams fill the air, she falls back, he glances down and leaps fleet as a deer to land at her side, unable to resist putting a boot into the old git as she clings about his neck and he bears her up the rock face,

"Is he dead?" she laughs against his ear.

"Nay, he'll have scars but he'll live, reckon he'll be slower now."

They lope home as swift as can be, one mile to go an enraged voice can be heard and the roar of the musket in their wake.

He pulls her along behind faster than before.

And then like an avenging angel a shadow appears on the horizon, musket held across its aged chest, it watches and it waits, they fly past the figure and collapse to the ground, gasping for breath.

Thompson flies onward and Joseph levels his weapon and the gun discharges, the air heady with the scent of fire and powder.

The gamekeeper slows his pace, and approaches gun leveled "They was poachin', caught 'em red handed, stand aside ye old Pharisee."

Joseph's finger tightens the trigger.

"This be master's land, get on wi' ye."

The man pales he glances down to the two gypsies collapsed in a laughing heap.

Keela gets unsteadily to her feet "Ye's trespassin'." She looks up at Heathcliff, eyes wide like a child on Christmas morn "I always wanted t' say that! Can we 'ang 'im? Can we?"

He runs a hand through her hair and eyes the corpulent fool, who is sweating at such a threat.

Joseph swells like a bullfrog, his face set carefully in 'pious look number seven hundred and six.' "Now lassie, what do the Lord teach us about mercy?"

She scowls at him "It 'aint Sunday."

Heathcliff laughs and bids Joseph to fetch Master Linton, he can walk up if he wishes his gamekeeper returned alive.

Bid him hurry lest Keela grow too tired of waiting.

He leads her into the house and they sprawl before the fireplace, Juno pads across the stone to lay her head in Keela's lap, she pets her with her good hand and sighs, meeting his gaze without flinching

"Go on, I know yer goin' t' ask."

He takes her hand, Juno growls and he pushes her away gently,

"Keela, ye said they did not torture you with the loss of yer arm."

"And now ye wants to know what they did?" her voice is soft.

He nods.

She raises her eyebrows as high as they will go.

And waits.

The black eyes widen and he pulls her into his arms, kissing the flaming locks "Keela…oh my darling…."

"What more fitting punishment fer a Taig, eh? To be so defiled by Protestant Sassanachs."

He rocks her gently, without thought. "Would ye know them? If they crossed yer way again?"

He feels her nod.

"Good." His voice is colder than she has ever heard it, with a snarling tone that almost frightens her.

She pulls away a little and looks up into his blazing eyes, "Well now ye know that part at least, me arm ye can see fer yerself. It were punishment fer years o' rebellion and fer twistin' the heart o' a loyal nobleman to me cause. "

He flinches then "Aed."

She nods, scarlet tresses whispering, "Aye, it's a mercy ye killed 'im, else he should 'av faced a traitors death."

"He would have borne it well I'm sure." The fool is dead it cannot hurt him to show a little kindness.

Keela nods "Aye, I've no doubt of it. But they did all they could think of..."

He pales at that, "Corder ordered it?"

She nods again.

Joseph bustles in, he has locked Master Linton's groundsman in the barn, and it took some doing.

Keela laughs and say she will be about lunch then, Heathcliff gets to his feet and takes her hand, pulling her up, Joseph bids him sit and wait for Edgar Linton, he has no heart to deal with the fool, he shall see that the mistress has the help she will be needin' given her new…affliction.

They make their way into the kitchens and Joseph is as good as his word, he reaches this and that down for her and sets himself to cracking eggs, they hear the door open and Joseph helps her hang the pot over the fire and follows in her wake as she returns to the living room, Edgar Linton stands patiently upon the doorstones, twisting his hat between long slender fingers, Heathcliff is sporting with the dogs, ignoring him.

Keela sighs "Master Linton, will ye not come in?"

Heathcliff turns back, eyes full of fire "Ye stay where ye are, damn ye woman, that bastard is not welcome here, cross that threshold Linton and I'll knock ye down as soon as look at ye,"

Keela sighs and Joseph rolls his eyes heavenward.

The poor man handles his dismissal gracefully enough; he turns to Keela, forcing his pale face into a kindly smile, and almost chokes on the address

"Mrs Heathcliff, I understand there has been some dispute with my gamekeeper?"

She smiles " Lady Heathcliff, Magistrate Linton. He were trespassin' on our land."

Edgar pales still further, for a moment Keela wishes she might offer the poor man a chair, "Your…your land." His mouth twists obscenely and she thinks he is trying not to laugh.

"I shall fetch ye the papers if ye'd like Sir, to satisfy yer magisterial heart that it were indeed an act of trespass."

His eyes harden, so the damned vagabonds have been buying up land betwixt themselves and now doubtless think they merit some standing in the village.

How best to proceed?

"Where is Thompson?" he strives to keep his tone civil.

Joseph rises from his chair "In the barn, Sir." He takes the keys and they go to release the unfortunate felon, who cravenly begs his master's pardon, he were only trying to do his job. Chasing those dammed gypsies from his woods, hours and hours he's been in here! No food not even a sup o' water fer 'is pains, still at least the savages have not eaten him!

Edgar laughs and assures him that he appreciates his service and clapping him upon the shoulder leads him out into the yard.

A snarl erupts behind them; Keela's face twists into a horrible approximation of a smile.

"Ye can even 'av a 'eadstart."

The ill fated pair turn to the sight of Juno and her offspring gathered in the doorway, advancing on velvet paws, hackles raised, teeth bared like daggers of pearl in the aftermoon sunlight, the two exchange a single look of horror before Keela is treated to the sight of the long hated magistrate running for his hide, persued by the howling dogs and Joseph waving his musket and shouting threats that she cannot discern amidst the fray.

She turns to Heathcliff, laughing at the spectacle and moves to wrap her arm about his waist, smiling up at him.

The sun is long down, as a lone figure struggles through the howling wind to the Heights, bonnet all but blown from her head, Ellen Dean marches into the living room without so much as a knock upon the door, she stands and stares, she stops and gapes, and then her voice, creaking like a door that stands shut far too long as last issues at the sight of the pair on the floor

"It never is…Keela my love, is that you?"

The woman stands, her hair a wild tangle of fire, her shirt stained to the elbows with blood and worse, a day of bringing lambs to birth was no easy task, still they bore twenty and lost only three, the poor little mites.

"'Ello Ellen, aye, it's me."

The servant gestures mutely, running her hand absently over her own face and then she pitches forward and clutches at the girl, rocking her tight "Oh ye poor lass, does it 'urt very bad?"

Keela disentangles herself and smiles "Nay, not now. It looks a fair sight though." She watches the maid's eyes travel to the hollow sleeve of her shirt and her shoulder, for a moment they fear she may faint, Heathcliff fetches her a chair and they bid her sit, Keela brings her a shot of brandy for the shock and she swallows it without complaint, staring all the while, at length she recovers her tongue.

"It's been years, lassie. What…How?…"

"The English." Is the curt reply.

The old woman nods, as though not so very surprised.

She eyes Keela closer, "Show me yer arm, whatever ye got left."

Keela pulls down the shirt sleeve, eyes flashing, and yet rather than flinch the old woman smiles, "Heathcliff, fetch the doctor, quick as ye can."

"Why?"

Ellen turns the same strange smile on her lips, "We's got a hangin' in two weeks, a murderess fer the gallows…she were from round these parts, so they's doin' it 'ere…Kenneth 'as a friend in London, 'es workin' on a way to put parts o' the body back when' they's been taken. 'E might be willin' to 'elp if you'll suffer a bit fer the chance."

The colour drains from the Taig's cheeks, Heathcliff is at her side in a moment and Nelly stands as he eases her into the vacant seat, he rounds on her black eyes flashing

"Yer not lyin'? How's it done? Will it kill 'er?"

She raises her hands "It mostly an idea but they's done fingers an' even some lad's scalp and it worked well, praise God. No reason he might not try an arm. But E'd need one to reattach…one what's fresh, can't put a dead arm back on see."

He takes his wife's shoulders and looks into her hazy eyes "Keela, look at me, shall I bring Kenneth?"

She nods, the old maid smiles "Its done with leeches an' a bit o' sewin', I don' think he can…" she draws her hand across her face and Keela smiles

'I'll settle fer shootin' again Nell."

The maid laughs and waves Heathcliff off dismissivly "Ye go lad, I'll sit with 'er."

She draws up a chair beside the lass and Heathcliff is gone in a moment.

Half an hour later the Doctor strides in, smiling for the first time that Keela can recall, he greets her warmly, and for an hour the possibility is discussed and argued and at length Kenneth agrees to write to his friend and arrange for him to visit if he is able, he might at least take a look at the patient and he may then tell all concered if it would be worth the chance of trying such a lunatic idea.

The next two weeks pass in an agony of waiting, no one dares give voice to their hope nor their fear.

At last the good doctor makes his arrival, and Joseph makes his way to usher him in, Kenneth precedes the elderly gentleman, portly with a great white mustache and small golden glasses perched on the end of his nose, he peers at the pack of misfits before him, and the great white mustache twitches in what Keela thinks is a smile.

He crooks a wrinkled finger and she stands "May I examine you my dear?"

She nods and pulls down the sleeve of her shirt without shame, and stands with her head held high, Heathcliff smiles, normally she flushs and flinches, pulling at the herm of her shirt if her wound is spied, she sends him out when she must dress or undress.

He must sleep and walk at her left hand, they have not been together in years…she will not allow him near her in such a manner.

The doctor turns as the kitchen door opens in the depths of the house and Ellen Dean appears, disheveled with her bonnet askew, she beams at Joseph "I got yer note, I cannot stay long, Master will be missin' me afore the hour but I could not keep away…"

Heathcliff gesures to her to sit, the aged doctor turns to her "You said there is to be an execution?"

She nods, he turns to Kenneth and bids him make his own examination whilst he consults with Mrs Dean.

"The…intended is roughly the same size?"

She nods once more.

"The skin tone is similar? The muscle tone? Execellent, well the limb was taken cleanly, not so well as I might have, but with great care all the same, I believe we might at least make the attempt."

Keela's fiery head comes up, "Ye mean it could work?"

Kenneth smiles broadly, his face kind "Aye, 'e says we can try it."

The bespectacled figure turns back a grave expression twisting his gentle face "Ye know the risks?"

She shakes her pretty head.

"It could fail, the limb could blacken and die if we do not repair it correctly or if it has been too long between the taking and the sewing up, if the limb is not kept correctly in ice. If yer body rejects the part, and I must warn ye, it will hurt more to be returned it than it did to lose it at the first. Yer a strong woman, I see that for you survived it's taking in the first place."

He turns to Heathcliff "This woman is your wife?"

The gypsy nods "Aye."

"Then I leave the decision to you. You could lose her, might it not be better to have her alive and well, maimed though she is? Not to make mention of the cost this will incur…it will be a fortune."

"I have several, I would give them all to see her smile again, she is not herself without it. Do what you can. I will hold nothing against you if it should fail."

The doctor nods "Very well, there is no hospital here…but we cannot take the body to London, I see no choice but to perform the work here…is there anywhere…cleaner? With a better quality of light? I must have full sight."

Ellen coughs genteely, drawing all eyes "I shall speak with my master, the house has excellent light, and the kitchen is large and spotless."

The doctor nods "I will give you some liquid with which all surfaces within must be washed, if you would be so kind?"

"Of course, sir." The maid reties the ribbon of her bonnet and stands "I must be returnin', When will ye be needin' the place?"

"As soon as may be, the moment the hanging is done." Kenneth's voice is firm but his eyes are shining.

Ellen nods and with a swift embrace for Keela, departs in a whisper of skirts, they hear her singing as she meanders away up the road toword the village.

Keela turns to Heathcliff "He'll never agree."

Her husband nods, and turns to the doctor "What Nell forgot to make mention of is her master's abiding hatred for all in this house."

The gentleman raises his gold spectacles and inspects the lascar over their frames, "Hmmm…by which you mean, you have some quarrel with the gentleman?"

"E' wants us shot." Keela supplies.

The doctor nods "I see, on account of your…parentage? Kenneth did offer that forknowledge."

Keela jerks a thumb at Heathcliff "'Im shaggin' 'is wife didn't 'elp matters."

The doctor chokes on the tea Joseph had brought him and turned an exquisite shade of scarlet, "Madam!" his tone is horrified. But he is smiling all the same.

"If need be we can perform here, I will leave a bottle of the same, Joseph my good man, you can see to cleanliness can you not?"

"Aye, tha' I can." The wizened servant takes the bottle offered and vanishes into the depths of the house.

Kenneth and his venerable companion stand, the old man offers his hand and shakes both of theirs, "Doctor Yacov, a pleasure to meet the pair of you. Maam, we will operate in three days, the Wednesday, make a note of it, you are to work as hard as ever you can until the Tuesday to ensure that your blood flows and your muscles are quite ready for what is to come, and upon that day you must rest and move as little as may be managed, lest you lose too much blood. I am afraid I will have no choice but to employ a particular leech as my assistant in this endeavour."

The Taig shifts uncomfortably "I fekin' hate leeches. Horrid little buggers."

The doctor colours to the roots of his hair "Madam! Please, a little courtesy. I am afraid the procedure will fail without them, so you will have to accustom yourself to the thought, however we will turn your head away so that you will have no need to see them, it does not do to have a patient witnessing the artistry that is surgery."

She nods reluctantly "Thank you, doctor."

He beams and shaking hands once more departs into the warmth of the afternoon leaving the two of them in his wake.

Heathcliff watches the smile that pulls at the edges of her mouth, without words pulls her into his arms, Joseph returns to find her dancing about the room gleeful as child, Hareton almost drops the lamb he enters carrying, when told the news of the good doctors, and the poor old servant must scramble to catch the little beast afore it falls to the stone, it's mother has rejected it.

They all stand looking down at the creature, and Heathcliff orders Hareton to find milk and feed it himself if he would rather not have it served for supper.

And so Keela's lunch preparations are accompanied by the lamb and Hareton, who will not leave it for a moment but carries it about, wrapped in an old horse blanket and trying to think of a name.

Keela's assertion that it should be named Mint Sauce is not welcomed, the poor child's lip quivers something dreadful and he runs to Heathcliff howling that Keela intends to cook his wooly companion and not to let her.

The lascar finds her shaking her head at such goings on and gently tells her not to tease him, she sighs and promises that the lamb shall be quite safe, though if he insists on bringing it to the table….

The lamb is given the seat beside her, and she spends the meal batting it away and finally haring round the room after it for the last potatoe, which it took from very plate when she turned to answer Joseph.

By bedtime the creature appears the latest addition to the family, and Hareton bids that they must make a bed for Minty also, and so poor Joseph is sent to the stables and they lay down hay and blankets for it, when they go to wake the child, the lamb is as expected cuddled in beside him, chewing contentedly on the rich strands of his hair.

Keela glances up at her husband "I don't want t' wake 'im. 'E looks so 'appy."

"The lad or the sheep?" she giggles and the boy opens one eye and smiles, the doctor is set to arrive that afternoon, and they are still arguing about whether to give into Hareton's whining to be taken to the hanging.

Joseph sighs and finally sets down his cutlery over breakfast "Stop yer gibber gabberin'!."

Both turn to look at him and return to furious Romani, Hareton's head turns from one to another, they tired of his demands to know who would win the argument and changed to their own tongue so that he would not understand how it was progressing.

"He's too young. Ye cannot think to let him watch some poor woman choke to death for sport."

Heathcliff sighs "He knows yer getting' her arm out of it, he's a strong lad."

Joseph cuts in, struggling and stumbling over the sounds "He'll have nightmares."

They drop their forks in unison.

Hareton's eyes are gleaming; he claps his hands together

"Was that gypsy? Do it again!"

Joseph shoots him a dirty look, "Ye can't listen to they two jabberin' away wi'out learnin' somethin' though I wish I coul' nay."

"Why are you so set against it?" Heathcliff softens his tone, her eyes widen and she answers him in their own way.

"Because it could be us one day."

He takes her hand then, "And ye know he'd want to be there if it were."

She sighs and nods "Very well, bring 'im."

Heathcliff turns to Hareton "Ye can come, but when its time fer the doctors yer to come straight home."

The boy nods, "But when can…"

"Ye can see her when she's better."

The little dark head nods and the boy leaps up from the table to fetch a rope for Minty, so that the lamb might accompany them.

Quite a crowd has gathered, it seems all the village has turned out.

Hareton gasps at the sight of the gallows, at the coffin set beside it, open and waiting to lay claim to its gruesome treasure.

The talking ceases as the strange company approach, a stone is shied from the depths of the crowd and Heathcliff steps aside, it whispers past him, Hareton reaches up and takes his hand, a reassuring touch, Joseph casts beady eyes over the assemblage as though God might whisper in his aged ear and name the perpetrator.

The door of the church opens and all turns as one, a woman in a white gown is led out into the sunlight, hair like gold about her shoulders, eyes red with weeping, Heathcliff feels Keela's hand tighten in his own, he moves to kiss the fiery tresses, and whispers against her ear "It'll be done soon."

She nods, a sharp jerk of the head, she were never good about things dyin', cried for three hours the first lambing season when they lost one.

Now with people it were always another matter, especially if those people happened to be Sassanachs.

The woman has grown weak at the sight of the gallows, skin waxen and pale, eyes rolling back in her head, the two farmhands half push, half carry her up the steps, she looks up at the burly figure of the hangman, his eyes full of sorrow behind the black scarf they have wrapped about his face.

Heathcliff tries not to notice Edgar Linton, sitting at a small table that has been dragged out from the church, with his execution papers weighed down before him, a crucifix holding them to the wood that they might now be blown away.

How very bittersweet.

And then he begins to read, his voice a steady monotonous ringing, quite unlike his usual tone.

Sally Green, of Gimmerton village, arraigned for murder and accused of witchcraft.

She has been found guilty, and must die.

May God have mercy on her soul.

At Hareton's side: Joseph murmurs a prayer.

The farmhand steps forward and helps Miss Green to stand upon the cart, whilst his companion draws the noose about her throat.

Edgar glances up, and asks if she has any final words.

She turns haunting brown eyes upon him and asks the forgiveness and prayers of those assembled.

She does not even protest her innocence, neither rails nor yet blasphemes.

She draws a long breath, reaches into her pocket and draws out a few small coins, places them into the executioners hand and he takes them, moving to the head of the cart and taking his place, the blonde head nods and the cart begins to roll away, the crowd is roaring, the man should be swifter about his duty.

He does not wish to move until she is ready.

Edgar looks up, eyes cold, this is a public execution, if Giles has not the stomach for the deed he will be replaced.

The man alights from the cart; he will have no further part in this.

Edgar sighs and rubs his eyes, all this fuss for simple hanging.

He hates execution days.

He could have ordered a burning; he did not out of mercy.

The poor woman is left standing on her toes above the cart bed, unable to go forward or back.

No one wishes to take Farmer Giles's place, and to have her death upon their head.

Keela smiles to watch the farmer's younger daughter Daisy embrace him, her eyes glowing with pride. Mrs Giles stands, arms folded across her ample frame as though daring anyone to question her husband's merciful heart.

None do.

Several moments pass, the magistrate's cheeks are flushed, this is growing embarrassing.

He could never move the cart himself; he would do himself some harm.

And look like a heartless monster before the crowd…He cannot free the woman, the law will not permit it, and he was awake until three of the clock trying to find some way.

He looks once more to his papers and tries to ignore the disgruntled muttering of the crowd, like the wind through the rushes.

They wanted a hangin'.

He rises from, his chair, running cold eyes over the assembly,

"Egyptian." His voice cuts the air like a whip as Keela and Heathcliff both turn about at the summons.

He raises a pale finger and points to Heathcliff "You, move it."

The gypsy's eyes burn with black fire, Edgar rushes on before the creature has chance to voice his refusal.

"Do it, and you shall have what Ellen asked of me."

He smiles to watch the dark eyes widen, and almost laughs at the devil's amazement.

"You have my word." He finishes.

Black eyes meet blue and the crowd parts and he steps forward, Keela grabs his arm, pulling him back

"Nay, if this is to be done, let it be me."

He glances down at her, and then back to Edgar, who looks concerned

"Can she do it? She's…"

The gypsy's voice is cold "Don't, she could rip you in 'alf with one arm."

The man pales somewhat but forces his face into a kindly smile as the flame headed girl approaches, "Move it, get this done and you shall have the use of my house for your…needs, and you may remain with me until you are well. You will be taken care of, I promise."

She nods, a smart gesture of her delicate head.

And approaches the cart, she looks up at the woman, strung from the tree.

"Forgive me."her voice is soft.

Sally smiles sadly "I do…pray fer me and….Make it quick.

The Taig inclines her head and turning, she snatches the cane from Mr Meadows and strikes the beast across the flanks.

It lows and bolts, dragging the cart in it's wake, Sally hangs for a moment caught between earth and sky, her lips moving in silent supplication….

And then she drops.

There is a dreadful groan of wood almost drowned by the roar of the crowd, and she is choking, kicking against her fate, writhing in agony, pale fingers struggling against the rope that binds her hands.

Her great green eyes wide, her lips parted, gasping, fighting for every last agonising breath.

The sky roars its anger, as the rain begins to fall, Hareton whimpers and clings tighter to Joseph, who pulls him closer and shelters him within the depths of his coat, turning his face away.

The air turns sour as she hangs there, her face now growing an ugly purple…it is badly done, the poor lass is in great sufferin'…she chokes, gargling against the rope, a hideous promise of a sound…

Keela snarls and pushes Mrs Brown aside, she grabs Heathcliff's hand and pulls him forward, eyeing Edgar, daring him to interfere, she catches Sally's kicking legs and Heathcliff locks his arms about her waist…

One….two…three….

They pull against the oak's might with all their strength.

The air is filled with the terrible sound…the promise of bones breaking…a final gasp….and the awful deed is done.

The stand back and look up at the body, swinging slowly before their eyes…

And then before either can speak or so much as think on the horror, Doctor Kenneth and his companion, Yacov are at their side, hustling Keela away with them, Heathcliff turns to Joseph, who is staunchly holding Hareton, hidden under his coat…Thank God he did not see…

Joseph nods slowly, a small smile pulling at his withered lips, as much as if to say, Well done, Lad.

"Take him home, Joseph."

Another nod, and they shuffle away.

The crowd slowly dispersing, complaining of the rain…a woman has met a miserable end and that is all these good people have to say?


	29. Chapter 29

Chapter 29

Heathcliff follows in the footsteps of the doctors who have Keela between them, conversing gleefully, they may yet make medical history!

Edgar saunters along behind as all reach his door and are forced to wait in the rain before he allows them to enter with their gruesome cargo that Giles brings on his cart.

They are kept to the kitchen, Ellen is to wait at every moment and keep a close eye on Heathcliff, if he thinks to go anywhere near young Cathy in her nursery, he will be shot.

He leaves the odd assembly, as the corpse is laid out upon the great wooden table, which Nelly assures the venerable doctors has been cleaned as thoroughly as may be.

Very well, then let the great work begin.

Yacov draws a strange blade from the depths of his bag, as Kenneth unrolls a length of cloth filled with frightening instruments, each bright as a mirror.

Yacov begins his administrations whilst Kenneth prepares a draught to slow bleeding and a second against pain.

Heathcliff eyes them suspiciously, it strikes him somewhere between doctorin' and witchcraft to watch Kenneth mutterin' over his herbs and potions.

Yacov, measures the cadaver and then comes to Keela does likewise to her, returns to the table and carves his way through the cold, dead arm without flinching, Judas! His face does not even pale, not the slightest flicker in his counternance…

Ellen sinks into a chair, and keeps her gaze on the window, drawing a steadying breath at the stench of death that fills the room, Yacov turns with a smile as Kennth holds up two glasses and bids Keela drink, to success and in thanks to Sally Green for this rather wonderful arm!

Heathcliff shakes his head at the ghoulishness of doctors as Keela throws her head back as though she were attempting to drink the spirit of Hindley Earnshaw under the table.

The wood is cleaned once more, a thorough scrubbing until Ellen groans at the effort, as Yacov has her repeat the cleaning thrice over before he is satisfied.

Keela is ordered to strip her shirt, they are men of science and there need be no sense of shame nor embarrassment.

She stands awkwardly, and turns to Heathcliff "Will ye 'elp?"

He catches the laces at her throat and wrist and pulls them loose, fingers finding the hem of her borrowed raiment and pulling it cleanly over her head, she stands one arm clasped across herself for dignity.

Ellen finds a length of cloth and binds it swiftly about her for modesty's sake.

Kenneth helps her up onto the table and she stretches out, he smiles and pats her good hand, promising that she is in the very best of hands, Yacov taught him personally and were he in her place this day, he would trust the man with his life.

She nods, eyes wide, trying not to tremble.

Yacov apologises as he draws lengths of soft rope from his bag, she must be bound to the table, to prevent movement that could disrupt the operation.

He turns to Heathcliff; a horsebreaker and stable hand should be good with knots.

He moves to her head and binds her good arm and the ruined shoulder, then moves to her ankles, until she is tied like a heretic for the question, she raises an eyebrow

"Ye know just 'cos this is all the fashion in France, don't mean we 'as to take it up."

The room bursts into laughter, and Yacov brushes her hair back and regales them with tales of life in France, he trained in the city of Paris for some years…

He draws his blade, and Heathcliff half wishes his wife were woman enough to faint at the sight of it….

But she is his Taig and so grits her teeth as the metal brushes her skin…she yelps as it bites in the original cut must be…tidied…it were taken unevenly, was this by sword? What a badly done…apologies…as an artist of surgery...

Kenneth pauses and bids Elen fetch a wooden spoon, he places it between the patient's teeth… it will prevent her biting her own tongue in half in her…travail.

It means suffering…agony…his voice rises as her cries blossom to shrieks….Nelly sits twisting her skirts between her fingers, until Heathcliff is sure she will tear them, Kenneth stands at Keela's head and murmers encouragement, it is almost done…a few moments more…good lassie.

Heathcliff closes his eyes, ashamed of his own weakness in this moment, tears hot on his skin, he cannot watch her pain…he sinks to the ground beside Ellen, and sings to her…a song of the rebellion…. her voice joins him…a roar of primal agony, as though she were pouring her heart and soul out along with her blood, Yacov glances over and nods, smiling.

They must hurry….Kenneth fetch the…"assistants"…a jar is drawn out and Ellen rises without warning and claps a hand over the bloody figure's eyes as the slithering creatures are drawn out and the good doctor places them upon the brutal wound…the arm Kenneth!

It is readied in place, and still the song goes on…over and over…first one then another…

In his study Edgar sits, his hands clasped over his ears…his lips moving in prayer…let the poor woman live…have mercy…let your angels be present….

Kenneth dabs at his tutor's brow with a rough cloth, the patient has fainted…Merciful heavens.

Heathcliff rises and moves to clutch her good hand…the doctors are muttering like fortune tellers, as they sew, together, swift and neat as tailors…the afternoon drags on…time is of the essence….Now to place leeches to ward against infection!

Kenneth stands back, breathing hard and begs Ellen that she might open a window, the room is oppressive with the scent of blood and sweat.

Yacov casts off his apron and sinks into a chair, as Ellen fetches him a glass of brandy and another for Kenneth, she glances at Heathcliff and then passes him one also, her master be damned they all need a stiff drink after such a horror.

They sit and watch the motionless figure.

Heathcliff finds his tongue "Did it work?"

Yacov sighs "Young man you must show a little patience…one cannot rush God…nor an artist…I have done my part…she is in God's hands now….Kenneth you will care for her."

The rough man smiles as his tutor embraces him and offers congratulations; he has performed his vocation admirably.

She must lie here tonight, if all has gone well she will awake tomorrow, and with the utmost care and gentleness may then be moved to a bed, the arm must not be touched, save to change the dressing and leeches.

The doctor accepts his payment, and leaves with a tip of his hat bustling out into the night, on his way to the inn.

Kenneth is offered a room, Edgar descends the stairs, his eyes soften at the pitiful figure on the table, yet his voice when he addresses the gypsy is cold

"She lives?"

The dark head nods, ebony tresses whispering in the candlelight.

"Good, I understand she may be moved tomorrow?"

Another nod.

"I will have Ellen make up one of the spare rooms on the first floor, I imagine she should be moved as little as may be managed?"

Heathcliff glances up, "Aye."

Edgar cannot bring himself to smile at the fiend. "Very well. You…may stay with her."

He all but trips over the words in his rush to have them said and over and quits the room at once.

"Thank you."

The magistrate never hears his enemy's reply.

All night long he sits at her side, Kenneth comes back down to fill a needle with water, and as he did so long ago he slips the silver beneath her tongue and feeds her, she does not move all through the dark hours, though the wind whispers at the drapes and the candles gutter.

A maid brings breakfast for the patient….If she be not awake, he may as well avail himself of it. She can always bring more later.

Heathcliff thanks her, eats as quick as may be, and returns to his vigil.

The doctor descends a few hours later, and asks if she has given any sign of waking. No? That may well be a good thing, as long as she is still breathing, there is cause to hope.

He checks the limb for any sign of blackening and delighted that there is none, takes a candle and draws off the leeches, one by one, dropping them into a glass jar and laying fresh ones upon the wound.

Keela groans.

The doctor almost drops his candle, and Heathcliff reaches out to stroke her hair, mermaid blue eyes flutter open…he smiles down at her

"Mornin' love."

She whimpers in response.

Kenneth is muttering reassurances; all appears well. She must lie quite still, is she feeling at all unwell?

He reaches into his bag and draws out a bottle, he fills a spoon with some clear elixier and Heathcliff raises her head as the doctor helps her to swallow it.

Ellen enters and her face lights up at the sight, she fetches a pillow from the chair and lays it behind the flaming head,

"There ye go, me brave lassie." She pets the flaming locks, as though Keela were but a child.

As she used to do when Cathy were small.

Kenneth cannot free her from her restraints but Heathcliff is permitted to hold her other hand, she clings to him and her mouth twists into what passes for her smile, the doctor leans close over her, and enquires as to how she feels, her voice is hoarse from screaming, she feels terrible, though she thinks his medicine has helped somewhat, her arm feels as though its aflame.

Kenneth tuts and nods: and promises that all of this is to be expected.

In a few hours, if she is feeling better, she can be moved to a proper bed.

She sighs and smiles at that, lies back and faints away again.

As evening draws in, Kenneth decides it would be best to move her now, before she wakes, Edgar lets them use four of his strongest servants to move her to a pallet and help carry her up to the room that has been readied, Nelly hurries ahead of them and draws back the blankets, scolding them to be gentle with the girl, though they are soft as butterflies wings, at last she lies pale and still in the bed, Ellen pulls the coverlet up over her and eyes the hand that lies beside her, with a smile, she turns to doctor Kenneth "It be a fine match, keep 'er out the sun an' ye'd never know it were not 'er own, is there anythin' I might be doin'?"

The doctor stands over the sleeping Taig and smiles softly, "Nay, Ellen, be about yer buisness, I shall be at hand, Master Linton has given me leave to stay until she is fit to be discharged from my care."

Ellen and Heathcliff exchange a surprised glance and Kenneth laughs at the pair of them, Master Linton has a better heart than the gypsy will confess.

He would do well to recall his kindess now and weigh it against his past sins.

See if one do not balance the other.

The gypsy's smile twists into a snarl and the doctor swiftly takes his leave, followed by Nelly in short order.

That evening a knock at the door which when opened reveals Ellen with a tray and food enough for two, She tuts that the Taig is still sleeping and sits an hour with her master's unwanted guest.

She takes the supper tray out with her, and bids him send down for anything should the lass wake.

Heathcliff sleeps the night in the chair beside her, waking only when the good doctor bustles in come breakfast to change the bandages and leeches once more, she yelps awake at his ministrations, he holds up an eyeglass and inspects her closely, her eyes seem clear and bright, no sign of fever, her grip tightens as the doctor draws back the dressing, the leeches are doing their work admirably, if all goes on in the same fashion she shall be up and about in six weeks, then the real work begins.

She will have to make use of that arm and that is going to hurt, but hurt it must for if it is not re taught to work correctly, it will wither and die and the operation will have failed.

Ellen comes running up the stairs two at a time at the news that Keela is awake, she enters to the sight of the lass sitting up in bed, pale and somewhat sickly looking, but alert and alive as she's ever been seen.

Ellen feeds her tenderly from a bowl of broth and the lass has the gall to remark that pleasant as it is if she never sees another bowl of the stuff it will be to soon.

Why can she not have real food?

Ellen laughs and says it's doctor's orders, her body must focus on healin' not digestin' 'eavy food.

If the arm takes, Ellen shall make her a roast dinner and cakes an' all and she may eat the damn lot.

The girl laughs at that and the old maid orders Heathcliff out, that she might bathe the girl as well as possible without moving her overmuch, and with assistance from Kenneth changes her into a nightgown.

Keela complains for her shirt's return, and Ellen says that whilst she is staying with her master it will be a bedgown until she is well enough for a day one, no more shirts and britches, and the boots will have to be left outside.

The maid has scrubbed 'em for two days and they will not be clean.

Keela roars with laughter and asks who ever heard of polishing shoes, now silverware she understands, no need for 'em anyway. Ye can get about faster with yer own bare feet.

Ellen sighs, well not here she won't, she 'll not be trampin' mud all over Edgar Linton's carpets.

At length they allow her husband to return, she pouts up at him

"They're as bad as Frances! I look like some damn fancy."

He sniggers at that, though the dress suits her well.

If she weren't ordered to hold still she'd…

The door opens and Hareton rushes in, he would have leapt onto the bed but Heathcliff caught him out of the air and set him in the chair in his place, Joseph holds up Keela's shawl and the others must sit through an hour of prayer that seems to go without end.

At length Joseph pauses and Hareton begs to see the wound, they all draw a breath as the doctor carefully draws down the shoulder of her dress, and the child pouts that all he can see is bandages.

"Ye horrid little monster." She leans over cautiously to embrace the child, but she is smiling all the same.

He looks up at Heathcliff "Were it horrible?"

He nods "Aye, she fainted fer pain after screamin' the house down."

The lad's eyes widen "Ye didn't! So….does this mean we can go poa…."

Heathcliff claps a hand over his mouth.

The room erupts into laughter.

Kenneth smiles "Six weeks lad, an' ye must 'elp 'er but all told it looks well so far, better than I dared hope."

Joseph sits with her and reads from the Bible, Hareton has even brought her pater noster, Hareton helps feed her come lunchtime and she enquires after Minty, he has settled in well, but mean old Edgar would not let him in the house, he had to be put in the field and given hay, what if he don't like Grange hay? What if the horse in the field is mean to him?

They shush and fuss over him, and assure him the lamb will be safe and happy until it is time to take him home, does he still sleep in the boy's bed? Joseph rolls his eyes to heaven and confirms that it does, it still sits at the dinner table an' all.

She gives him half of her bread roll and tells him to go feed his friend with it.

At length the two wander home as evening draws in, and so their days pass, and still her wound heals, by the end of the third week she has even lost her fear of leeches.

Heathcliff laughs when Kenneth relays it to him, and says he thought to see the Devil repent afore such a thing occurred.


	30. Chapter 30

Chapter 30

Edgar wanders about the house like a ghost, but they are fed well and want for nothing, at length Keela enters her sixth week and Doctor Kenneth comes in as he does each morning and evening and touches her arm and moves the fingers gently, he informs them that Yacov will return one last time to check on her progress, he is expected within the hour, if he is satisfied that all is healed he will perform then a few small tests and if the outcome pleases him, she may be allowed to return home.

Lunch is brought up by Nelly, who delights Keela with a slice of game pie, some potato's, and a glass of wine, compliments of her host.

Keela smiles, surprised and takes a drink, it's not half bad.

Yacov makes his arrival and beams to see her sitting up and awake, is she in a great deal of pain? Less than expected, that is wonderful news, he removes the dressing and examines close the wound, the faint marks of stitches are still visible, there may be a slight scar, now can she move her fingers?

No.

Try, and again…hmmm, he bids her close her eyes and draws out a needle, before Heathcliff can prevent it he has pressed it into her arm, she curses like a sailor and her fingers clench tight in pain.

The room gasps, Kenneth is wringing his hands, Ellen shames herself by bursting into tears and Keela ceases her profanity at such an outburst and glances down…her fingers uncurl slowly…she looks up, eyes bright, her voice full of wonder "Doctor…Ye did it…."

The old man sinks into the chair offered by Kenneth, and accepts a glass of wine, he is quite still for some moments and then he stands and gives a shout of joy, raising his glass high and soaking the bedclothes with wine.

Ellen fusses that the sheets shall have to be changed and the lass moved, they help her to the window seat and she sits in quiet rapture, opening and closing her hand, though she flinches a little each time, she will not stop.

Yacov and Kennth are furiously shaking hands and patting each other across the back, Ellen has fallen to a fit of tears that will cease for nothing, Heathcliff moves to sit beside Keela…she stretches out her hand and her pale fingers close upon his own, he raises them to his lips and kisses her, she giggles, and for all her scars, she has never looked more beautiful to him than she now does, all in white like an angel, her hair a cloud of fire about her shoulders.

Ellen pushes him roughly aside that she might embrace the lass, taking care of her wounded side, and watching in fascination, the doctors bid her pick something up, and lay a quill upon the table…no, hmm perhaps something a little larger, they lay an apple…she catches it up, and loses her grip at once, it falls and Kenneth returns it to the tabletop for her, no matter, she is doing admirably, it will take time.

Despite their delight at her progress it would not do to rush things, she must take her time, must not over exert herself.

And no guns!

Not yet, Yacov smiles and catches her right hand, shaking it gently, she tightens her grip and his face glows with pride.

He must write to the college in London and tell them of this…. Kenneth must join him.

The two go out, planning their trip in booming voices.

Keela does not recall Kenneth smiling so often in all the years she has known him.

Joseph and Hareton are sent for, the lamb is once more put into the field and Hareton spends the afternoon trying to get Keela to pick up various objects about the room, with little success.

Joseph hold out his Bible, they may not read unless she can take it from him, goaded she stretches out…her fingers close upon the spine, the book tumbles to the carpet, Hareton rushes to retrieve it, and she has enough movement in her fingers to open it herself.

Joseph bids Ellen to get a hold o' he'self and notes she cried less at the horror of the surgery, Ellen rejoins that she were sick of shock at such a sight, a bell rings above their heads and the maid leaves to attend upon her master, at sundown Joseph gathers Hareton and his sheep and lead them off home, ever the good shepherd.

Ellen comes to the door, that evening a bunch of cloth in her arms, her cheeks flushed,

"Master requests that ye join him fer supper if ye feel able to lass."

Keela's head appears from the bedclothes where she and Heathcliff lie sprawled, "Ye mean Edgar Linton?"

Ellen sighs "Aye, there be only one master here."

Keela sniggers and pulls at Heathcliff "Can 'e join us?"

The maid's eyes close and Heathcliff thinks she is praying for patience.

"O' course not, yer lucky 'es allowed in the 'ouse at all, now get out lad, I must get 'er dressed, 'es been kind enough to lend ye one of his sister's old gowns…"

Keela's face turns white with rage, her teeth bared, almost feral in her sudden ill humour.

"I'll go down naked 'afore I wear somethin' o' that sluts."

The old woman groans and sinks into a chair "Ye'll not talk o' the mistress in such a way again."

"She 'aint mistress, Edgar disowned 'er, didn't 'e Heathcliff?"

The gypsy nods, Keela's eyes flash "An' the last mistress 'ere is dead, I'll go in me own clothes or ye may send to Joseph fer a spare shirt if it means so much to ye."

Steel blue eyes meet sapphire and silver; Ellen looks more angry than Keela recalls seeing her since the days of Miss Frances.

"Now ye listen, ye little savage, Master has shown ye a great kindness, to the both of you." She stresses, that they might not miss her meaning "So I think it but a little request that ye go down an' enjoy a nice supper and make yerself amiable company. And not go in lookin' like a man."

"'E 'ates me." Is the plaintive response.

Ellen folds her arms: refusal will not be counternanced. 

"Nay, 'e 'ates 'im." She gestures to Heathcliff "An' yet 'es left 'im alive and even permitted 'im room in his 'ouse fer weeks on 'end on yer account."

Keela gives her a dirty look, Ellen smiles and holds up the dress,

"Now will ye hold still if I washes and dresses yer?"

Heathcliff is sent from the room, at length the door opens, Ellen stands there looking somewhat ruffled, and bids him step in.

Keela turns to him, and the world turns…Ellen were right about the arm, ye'd never know it were not her own…and her face….In the candles glow she smiles up at him…whole and perfect…how?

He turns wordlessly to the maid who laughs "Paint an' powder, an' a great deal o' both. The magic o' women eh?"

Keela's eyes are full of tears as she takes in her reflection in the looking lass, she makes to run a hand over her cheek, Ellen catches her gently "No my dear, ye'll smear it all, ye must not touch it."

Keela nods, and turns back to Heathcliff, she whirls about and the white cotton of her gown flutters about her ankles like clouds….She is wearing a pair of the most ridiculous shoes…tiny silk slippers, not a bit of good for anything.

Her feet don't look a bit like her own.

"Yer awful clean. Ye look…like lady." His tone is bitter, it hurts to see her so, reminds him too close of Cathy…when she returned from her…convalesence with the Lintons…When he lost her.

As though she can read his thoughts, Keela comes to him and holds out her arms, he embraces her then, so strange to feel her hands on him…he kisses her and shivers at her fingers dance across his neck, slow and sensual.

Ellen sighs "That's enough o' that, ye can comport yerselves disgracefully when ye gets 'ome, come now Keela, yer late. Again."

She looks up into his eyes "Tell me ye mind, an' I shall refuse to go."

"I mind, but ye'll go all the same, I hate him but damn him, he were good to ye, so…go."

She kisses him one last time and allows Ellen to lead her away.

She descends the stairs, cautious not to stumble upon the hem of her gown nor slip in her ridiculous slippers, it is cold without the rough cotton of her shirt, she is ushered into the dining room…

It looks like something from a dream…the candles glow, offering a warm, romantic air to the chamber, the table is covered in soft white cloth and yards of lace and gleams with fresh polished silver, the windows are thrown wide, and a breeze whispers in, heavy with the scent of roses.

Edgar stands and bows before her, she waits, taken aback, normally she would simply shake his hand…

Out of the corner of her eye Ellen gestures a curtsey, Keela would rather slit her own throat on the butter knife…

Oh very well.

She stumbles into the gesture like a carthorse…Aed brought a woman to teach her manners, she were never any good.

She glances up, cheeks glowing like coals.

Her host is smiling and trying valiantly not to laugh. He moves to draw out a chair for her, Keela is about to say that she can get to her own chair thank you, but Ellen shakes her head almost imperceptibly and Keela is almost greateful for her presence.

She sits, and stares in horror at the array of silver before her, now Aed had gone through this with her most carefully….Start at the outside and work your way in…

She takes up the large spoon and applies herself to her soup, Ellen coughs, she spares a glance, Edgar is watching her with a horrfied expression.

She sighs and sets it down "I'm sorry, I were never any good at this."

His eyes are kind "It's quite alright…how are you feeling?"

"Better, thank you Sir." She returns to her soup, it's wonderful; she's never tasted anything so wonderful in all her life.

"We were going to have bouillabaisse but Ellen said if you could not pronounce it, it would be unkind to serve it." He laughs a little.

Keela offers a small smile, encouraged he blunders on "She told me a little about you, and I recall you from the Heights of course. Ellen tells me you waited upon Hindley's late wife."

Keela snorts her meal, "That's puttin' it genteeley, did she tell ye 'e used to flog me? What about the fact I 'ates baths? An' wash in a river if I 'as my way? Or that I worked the fields? Nay, I'm quite sure she didn't."

"Miss Keela, forgive my ignorance." He looks panicked at the thought of having offended.

Poor man, "It's a'right Master, an' it's Mrs Heathcliff."

His eyes darken at that, and he applies himself to his own meal.

They eat in silence for some time and as the main course is served he finds his tongue once more.

"Thank you for joining me, I…I greatly admire, what you did for the woman at the gallows. The other week, I have found no chance to tell you."

She smiles then "Fer killin 'er? An' why would ye admire somethin' like that Sir?"

He fumbles with his fork a moment, "You showed great mercy, you ended her suffering."

Her eyes flash "Which ye, yerself imposed Magistrate." She addresses him as though the title were a curse.

His cheeks colour "It is the law Miss Keela. It is not my decision."

She raises an eyebrow, he casts pale eyes over her "You are most unlike any woman I have ever met Madam." He offers,

She smiles at that "Aye, I can see that Sir, but then yer used to a certain sort o' company."

His eyes grow softer "You know, in some fashion you remind me of…my late wife."

She roars with laughter, at that and almost chokes on her slice of beef, Edgar leaps to his feet and claps her upon the back, she waves him off,

"Thank ye Master. How does I remind ye of 'er?"

He leans across the table, golden hair sparkling in the candle's glow "I cannot say, something in your manner I think, a wildness, as though you have the moors themselves in your blood."

She laughs again "Shamrocks maybe Sir."

He smiles and laughs a little at that, talk turns to his family, he indicates the portraits of his late parents, and answers her questions concerning them, in turn he asks about Ireland and she spins quite the yarn, of her birth and abandonment as she had it from the Priest, of her father's death and their penury, of her selling into slavery and years upon the plantation and arrival at the Heights.

He watches, eyes wide, held spellbound, he truly is a wonderful audience.

As they finish dessert, a wonderful dish of some sort of fruit ice that Keela cannot name, Edgar meets her eyes directly

"May I say, how lovely you look this evening, Miss Keela."

She grins "Ye would not say so, could ye still see me scars, or were I still missin' an arm."

A hurt look crosses his face "No, then I should say that you looked like a strong woman, whom life had treated harshly. like a woman in need of a little gentleness, and good treatment."

She giggles "Oh I shall 'av me fill o' gentleness an' good treatment, from me own 'usband Sir, just as soon as it pleases ye to let me return uptairs."

Ellen drops her head into her hands in despair.

Edgar blinks for a moment, like a rabbit that's been struck about the head.

Keela collapses over her empty bowl laughing at the sight, at length he recovers himself

"Do you intend to shock me to death before the evening is over?"

She grins wickedly "Can't blame a lass fer tryin'."

He lays aside his spoon "Do you dance, Miss Keela?"

She nods "I can if I've a mind to, Sir."

He stands, straightening his jacket, a rich velvet, the colour of oak wood, he offers her his hand

"Would you do me the honour?" his tone is soft, his eyes full of kindness.

She glances to the ceiling, "Nay Sir, I must respectfully decline."

"I mean no ill intent, what harm can there be in one dance?"

She steps back "I think me 'usband would see both harm and ill intent were he with us Sir."

He sighs, blue eyes guilless, and then reaches out and catches her hand in his, she moves to pull away, he tightens his grip and she finds herself led into the drawing room, Ellen is sent for Mrs Patton, an old retainer of his late mother who has quite the little gift for the piano, she taught Isabella to play, at Mother's request, does Keela play any instrument?

She shakes her head, her hands were made for birthin' lambs and punchin' cretins nothin' so ladylike as musical persuits an' she can't paint nor draw neither, she can write though, Miss Catherine set the Parson's wife to instruct her.

He recalls; did she not illustrate their wedding invitations? Yes, beautifully done, if she can draw so exquisitely then he is sure she could be taught to play almost any instrument of her choosing, or indeed needlework, quite any of the feminine arts she sets her heart to.

Ellen informs him she is quite the cook.

The Taig giggles and confesses that this much is true, a rotund woman in a gown of the softest lavender, her grey hair set in ringlets about her head bustles into the room and settles herself at the piano, the little stool groans beneath her weight, and Keela offers a silent prayer that the wood will hold. And not spill the poor lady to the floor.

Edgar stand across from her and bows before her, she sweeps a low curtsey, a whisper of white cotton across the floor, Mrs Patton's head appears above the piano "Beautiful dear, simply beautiful!"

They laugh and Edgar extends his hand, she steps in and takes it, careful to keep to the steady promise of the notes, which flutter like butterflies to fill the chamber and colour the air with their beauty.

She steps forward and then back, she recalls this dance, Catherine danced it with him that dreadful Christmas.

Ellen beams, she has more grace than the maid recalls, indeed she holds herself well, and dances as graceful as Catherine ever managed.

The maid drums her fingers on her skirts along to the music, the master is laughing as the poor girl spoils the effect by tripping over the hem of her dress and her slipper comes loose, she stumbles and without thought Edgar catches her.

She laughs and when he bends to slip her little shoe back into place with a witty remark, she helps him to stand once more.

"Ye vile little bastard." Heathcliff's voice cuts the air and the vision is shattered like glass.

All eyes turn, Edgar straightens his cuffs and eyes the lascar with open dislike "I'll thank you to guard your loathsome tongue, in the company of a lady."

Heathcliff sneers "She weren't no lady an hour ago. She didn't even want t' come down, Nell all but had to drag her, to get her to stand yer presence."

Edgar sighs, as though much put upon by the ignorance of the lower orders. "I thought I made it clear, Ellen that I did not wish to be troubled by this…"

Keela steps between them "Enough, both of ye, let it be." She turns to Heathcliff and offers him her hand with a smile "Come on, love."

He looks down at her as though she has offered him a worm, "No, how could you let him near you? I saw the way he were holdin' you."

Her eyes widen, "He weren't doin' nothin' bad, 'e were 'elpin' with me slipper."

The dark eyes blaze "Aye, like 'e 'elped Cathy with that damn dog. It's all a trick Keela, to make ye like 'im, to make ye forget what he really is."

Her eyes flash "That's sounds like something someone would have once said about you."

He curses then and quits the room, Keela calling after him.

But she does not give chase, she sinks onto the piano stool when Mrs Patton offers it, and Ellen fetches some tea.

Edgar fusses with his cravat and looks uncomfortable "Miss Keela, I am so very sorry…I never meant…"

She raises a hand "It's not yer fault Sir, just the way 'e is."

Edgar offers a weak smile "I never…"

Her eyes flash to his face suddenly "Did ye know he were watchin'?"

The slight cheeks flush and she is on her feet in a moment, pale face inches from his, he almost fears she will take him by the collar and shake an answer from him.

"Did ye know?"

He shuffles "I may have had some notion."

Her eyes darken, full of sorrow and reproach, "That were a dirty trick Master Linton, I thought better of ye."

So saying she turns on her heel, stumbles again and cursing kicks of her borrowed slippers and flies off into the dark gardens.

She finds Heathcliff beneath the larch trees…God how they had waited when Cathy died…

"Heathcliff."

He glances up "Go away."

Her mouth tightens "No."

She moves to sit beside him, "I didn't know ye were there."

"So I see." His voice is full of bitterness.

"Edgar did." She sighs.

He nods at that "'Course 'e did, prancin' about with ye, grinnin' like an idiot, tellin' ye how beautiful ye are…And you! Falling for it! Lapping up his simpering praises like a damn dog!"

"Heathcliff." Her soft voice carries a tired, defeated note.

"No, it's disgustin', yer as bad as…" he cannot bring himself to speak her name.

She is on her feet then, eyes blazing, her fist strikes him like lightning, a vicious blow that levels him to the wet grass, and leaves his head ringing.

He leaps up before she has chance to kick him and returns the blow, she stumbles, and sways, he grabs her arms in a cruel grasp

"No! Before God, the poor girl." Edgar Linton rushes down the lawn towords them and all but pulls Keela from his hands, he touches her face gently "Are you alright? Your arm? It is not hurt, should I send for Doctor Kenneth?"

She shakes her head weakly; Edgar meets Heathcliff's black eyes and slowly, deliberately gathers her up in his arms, displaying a strength that surprises the lascar.

As though he were protecting her…From him.

Heathcliff finds the doors locked against him when he deigns to return to the house and stand below her window, he calls up and she comes to the lattice and raises it, looking down at him,

"Hush, ye'll wake all the 'ouse."

He looks up at her, "I'm sorry, fer striking you, and for spoiling your evening."

He thinks she's smiling "I am sorry too, I hit yer first an' it were wrong. Though there were no call to be jealous."

He looks disgusted "I weren't."

She raises an eyebrow and then they are laughing, "Are you going to let me in or must I wait out here all night for penance?"

She leans out and examines the wall "Ye can get up, can't ye?"

He catches the vines that ornament the wall and climbs up them swift as a serpant, she holds the lattice as he slips through and welcomes him with a warm embrace, he eyes the chamber, her shirt and britches lie out upon the bed, she turns about

"'Elp me out o' this will ye? I wants t' go 'ome."

Heathcliff reaches out and slowly pulls at the laces that hold her gown closed, it falls away before his hands, exposing skin as pale as the moonlight that whispers in at the window…he presses his lips to the skin soft as satin where he throat meets her shoulder and she smiles and leans back into his arms, turning to kiss him, locking her fingers deep into the raven waves, he pulls at her gown and she makes no move to prevent him, her voice finds no protest, he drags the cloth lower, she stands half bare before him, without flinching, proud as a queen, she looks like herself once more, you would never guess the ravages done to her, she does not even cross her arms, simply stands, and with a sway of her hips, as though she stood before the campfire, the men to enchant, the silk falls, as though it were clouds chased away before moonlight.

Even on their wedding night, she were not so brave.

She eyes him, one brow raised as though daring him onwards.

His black eyes burn into her, taking in every inch of her, she has never allowed him to view her so before.

And as before he is surprised by what he finds, she is stronger than she were before, he can spy the promise of muscle, strong as a slave beneath the creamy white flesh, the scar at the right shoulder, where they married flesh and bone.

Powerful legs, shorter and heavier than Catherine's, more a common, workin' creature than one bred for racin' but strong and sure, feet delicate, tiny and white as snow, the promise of her womanhood hidden in amber, stomach firm and hard, her back scored a thousand times, and then again, the memory of her pain pink as rose quartz crystals against the lilly white skin, the marks at the left wrist and about the ankles, where she bore her shackles and chains without a tear, the throat wounded deep with the promise of the hanging rope, the obscene cross over it, pressed deep into the skin, as though she carries her God within.

The face beautiful and fierce, the hair a fall of fire, the eyes blue as a river in winter, sparkling up at him, she reaches past him and snatches up her britches pulling them on and fastening them, belting them tight in place before throwing her shirt on over her head and tucking it in, she glimmers in the firelight and glances back to him

"Where did Nell hide me boots?"

He shrugs, she took them away, determined that his remade wife should cease her…sinful modes of dress.

As well demand the rain to cease as part Keela from her boots and britches.

"Find her and tell her if she don't return 'em I shall put 'em aside and go about without 'em."

At length, the offending shoes are returned, Keela pulls them on in time for a passing maid to enquire if she will not join the Master at his breakfast, she is on the point of refusing when the girl smiles "But Miss, he has news of yer 'ome."

Heathcliff and Keela exchange a single glance, he nods and she takes to her heels, taking the stairs two at a time.

Edgar glances up from a letter he was perusing and smiles, "Good morning, Miss Keela."

She inclines her head "Mornin' Master Linton." He waves to a chair and she sinks into it, the maid brings her breakfast, and she waits with bated breath.

He holds up the letter, "A letter from a dear friend, currently with the King's men in a country I believe will be of interest to you."

His eyes are grave.

She pales, he sighs at length her fist strikes the table "Master, what is it?"

He looks up "Forgive me, my aquaintence is somewhat afraid….the cursed Irish…apologies…the rebels…."

"Rebels?" her voice is glowing.

He nods, "Yes, Miss Keela. Rebels. That shall have to be dealt with. Would you not agree?"

Her smile thins "I beg yer pardon?"

He lays aside the letter and applies himself to his food, pausing to examine her expression "The rebellion, we can't have such ideas spreading, I mean think of it, Miss Keela, You are as English as any of us now, are you not? You have been here for years…"

The knife beside her plate is caught up and stabbed into the table with such force that it drives into the wood with a terrible sound, up to the very hilt.

Edgar moves his chair back a little.

"I dare ye to repeat that accusation Sir." Her voice burns like smouldering coals.

"I meant no offense…" the pale face is sweating in shock and fear.

"Those dags took me arm and more besides!"

He sets down his spoon and meets her gaze frankly over the milk pitcher, glittering silver in the morning light.

"Why did they do such a thing?"

""Fer Rebellin'"

His eyes flash "Good Lord, a woman and a rebel. As I live and breathe"

She nods, hair glittering in the golden glow.

He watches his porridge for some moments, as a druid looks into the fire, the future for to tell.

"What else besides Miss Keela?" his voice is gentle.

She makes an obsecene gesture and his cheeks flame scarlet.

He stammers for a moment "I am so very sorry…if only you had the name of the perpatrator, charges could be brought against the fiend…I presume he was an Englishman."

"Oh Aye Sir, I got 'is name. Daniel Corder, Lieutenant of the King's army, ordered 'is men t' do what 'e weren't man enough to do 'isself. Save fer me arm, he took that by 'is own 'and, and burned me 'ome to the ground, an' all me servants within."

Edgar stands, his eyes blazing "Apologies are not enough for what he has done to you, forgive me and mine Keela, please know that not all of us feel against you as you seem to believe, though I well understand your sentiments against us now. I…I am aquainted with the Captain of the regiment now in Ireland, he was a fellow of mine at college….If you will permit me to accompany you home, I shall prosecute this Daniel Corder myself on your account, on charges of destruction of property, murder of the first degree and…the other."

She meets his gaze frankly "Rape Master Linton, no need to dress it up with pretty words. E' let 'is men use me like dags in 'eat, an' I would never 'av consented."

Edgar flinches at such a base description. "For rape also, what punishment would you seek?"

"I wants 'im court marshaled." She says "Show me yer English honour, if ye be a just people 'el face…"

"A firing squad." Edgar's voice is soft.

"Seems a tad merciful, can't ye get me anythin' better?"

Edgar is so shocked, he laughs, "So you will permit me to accompany you?"

"Let me ask…"

He cuts her off "I do not seek the consent of a vagabond."

Her eyebrows raise "Then what ye askin' me fer? Or do ye try to ferget what I am?"

He flushes "Forgive me, that was dreadfully rude of me, you cannot help the manner of your birth."

She stands "No more than he can, sir, nor yourself Sir."

He sits in awkward silence "Very well, though I am sure he will refuse. Please, be seated, let us finish, to show that you forgive my unkindness."

She sits with a gentle sigh, and takes up her spoon, the porridge has grown half cold, still it be warmer than at home, when Joseph must take fifteen minutes about grace.

"I will write to my friend and ask his advice, if he knows our intentions this Corder fellow may bolt."

She sniggers "He think I'm dead."

Edgar pauses, spoon halfway to his lips "Wh…Why?"

She sets down her cutlery and leans across the table her face inches from his "'E swung me from me castle window wi' a rope around me neck, Master Linton. Cut me down and dumped what the poor fool thought were me lifeless body to rot in a marsh."

The spoon's mate is set down, the Magistrate shudders delicately "I see, so we shall add attempted murder to the charge shall we?"

She smirks at him above her toast.

He calls Nelly and bids her bring him parchment and quill, and sets to writing an account of the crime, as well as the charges to be brought.

She wants the death penalty for every man what were a part o' it. And 'er treasure returned to 'er. She has no doubt the thieving sassanchas will have taken all they could lay a hand to afore they fired the castle.

Edgar nods and writes swift and neat, how soon would she be willing to leave?

As soon as may be?

He sends off a note to the mysterious Captain whose name he will not surrender.

At length he sighs and bids her bring down her husband, she goes to the foot of the stairs and starts.

He was standing in the hallway.

Edgar shakes his head at the vagabond's inability to keep to a simple order and bids him join them and sit.

Edgar's voice is quite different now, sharp and clipped, he repeats his offer, Heathcliff folds his arms and eyes him with fearsome dislike.

"We don't need yer help."

Keela sighs, now he's just being obstinate.

"Oh so ye can find me Corder and try him can ye?"

He rounds on her "'E don't need a trial, a musket's all it'll take love."

Edgar drums his fingers against the table, drawing both sets of glittering eyes back to himself

"If you were caught you would both be hanged. I can prevent such an occasion, if you will let me. If you will but this once follow the law…"

Heathcliff takes Keela's hand "No, we hates ye, always 'av, 'aint we love?"

She sighs "Well aye, but…"

Heathcliff rises from his chair "Then what else is there? Come on pet, time we were going home."

She stands and turns with a sad smile to Edgar "I thank ye fer yer kindness Sir, I shoulda' been dead without it."

Her husband snatches her hand and pulls her from the room "That's enough o' that, yer sounding as bad as…ye'd be dead without that doctor, that sod had nothng to do with it."

"E let us stay in his 'ouse." She argues.

"I'd rather have been at home. So would you. Or have you forgotten all them times 'e set his damn dogs on us?"

She hangs her head "No, love."

They make the front hall.

"Aye, an' don't yer forget it, 'es not half so nice as he makes himself seem."

He strides away, the fire headed woman following close at hand, Heathcliff glances back at his wife

"What is it? Keela, what are ye not tellin' me?"

She averts her eyes and then offers her full, burning gaze.

"The rebellions comin'. E' told me 'e 'ad news o' Ireland, 'e has a friend can catch me Corder, but 'e said 'is man were afraid o' the rebels."

Heathcliff pales at the fire reborn in her eyes.

"Yer not goin' so ye can take that look off yer face." His voice is harsher than he meant it to be.

Her head snaps about, 'What did ye say?"

He sighs, "I said ye'll not be goin'…Keela, it were a miracle ye came home the last time!"

He snatches her shirt and pulls the shoulder down to expose the scar that encircles her arm.

"Look! It'll be worse if they catch ye again! Would ye really risk yer life to go back?"

She pulls herself up to her full height, for what little it is worth.

"Ye know what Ireland is to me!"

Gone: is the affectionate tone of his loving wife, he stares down, the full-throated roar of a rebel at arms.

"I know, but I'll not lose ye again. Cause or no." he is careful to speak softly, if he raises her ire she'll like as not fight him all the harder.

He looks away from the passionate tears in her eyes, he cannot give into her will, though it hurts him to refuse her anything.

"If ye mean to go then write yer will, give Hareton yer love, leave Joseph yer beads as I know ye intend to do, and kiss me farewell, for we'll ne'r see ye more if ye cross that sea."

She pauses.

Heathcliff takes her hands "Keela, how am I to live without ye? I know how ye love yer country but do ye not love me more? Am I not worth more to ye than any cause?"

She turns her face away then, that he might not see her tormented tears.

Her voice is a harsh rasp "I should'a known ye'd stand with 'em. I forgets sometimes yer a Sassanach."

His grip on her fingers tightens "Keela."

She pulls her hands away, and steps back from him.

"Come with me Heathcliff, we'll leave the lad with Joseph, don't abandon me now. I needs ye."

He snaps "Ye ask me go to war against me own people."

She snarls with rage "They're not yers! They never wanted ye, but I do! And I'm askin' ye to fight fer me."

Heathcliff shakes his head, ebony locks twisted altogether with fire as he pulls her into his arms and embraces her.

He whispers against her lips, "Nay, ye're not leavin' this island ye contentious creature. So ye may make yer peace with it, I'll bid Ellen t' bring ye all the news as she has it o' the rising, I promise."

She struggles in his arms, he all but shakes her.

"That's me final word on it, Keela, don't make me lock ye up in the house."

Her expression is horrfied "Ye would not dare!"

His smile is bitter "I'll lock ye down in the stables like a slave, as long as this madness be on ye."

He catches Keela and throwing her over his shoulder brings her home as thunder roars in the heavens and the cobalt sky grows grey with the promise of a storm, he ignores the beating of her fists against his back, "Look ye foolish woman, ye see the lapwings?"

"Course I sees 'em." Is the furious reply.

"The storms' comin' in an' what are they doin'?"

"They's goin' 'ome where it be safe."

He sets the Taig down upon the doorstones of the Heights "Aye, so why are ye bein' more stupid than a damn bird?"

For a moment he thinks she will strike him again, Joseph opens the door and the lascar's wife storms past him, the servant turns accusing eyes to Heathcliff

"I only refused to let 'er go and get herself shot." is the snarled defense.

Joseph shakes his head and returns to the garden with Hareton.

Heathcliff follows in her footsteps, he finds her in the bedroom, curled up on the bed, he moves to lie beside her, pulling her into his embrace, "Keela."

"Aye?"

"Isabella is dying."

Her head comes up "What? How do…"

He smiles "I overheard the servants, Edgar has laid plans to go and fetch my son and bring him home. She sent him a letter begging him to take the child."

Her eyes sparkle "And hide him from you?"

He nods.

She waits, barely breathing for him to go on.

"By rights the fool cannot keep him, besides I have plans for him."

She grows whiter than snow at the realisation.

"'E's comin' 'ere?"

Heathcliff's tone is soothing "Ye shall see very little of him, but yes, I shall force Edgar's hand and have him returned to me."

She falls back against the pillows, "Ye truly mean t' bring yer bastard here?"

He strokes her hair, praying such affection might douse the fire of her temper.

She sits up and glares down at him, "Ye told me she would not return nor bring the child!"

"She'll be dead by morning! Pray tell me, how less likely to return would ye like her to be?"

She scowls.

He kisses her forhead "All I'm askin is that ye don't poison 'im."

She sighs "That I can do…what about…"

"Keela." Is the sharp reply.

She rolls her eyes to the heavens, "Do 'e look like ye?"

Heathcliff shrugs "Don't know, we'll find out soon, they should be leavin' London about this time…Edgar shall have my note demanding Linton's return when he arrives home, Joseph shall fetch him and ye can answer yer own question by supper."

The scowl darkens, the scars depressing into the flesh making her appear quite terrifying.

"Which room do ye want 'im in?"

He considers "Put him in his mother's old place."

She nods, kisses him softly and whispers against his lips "I'm only not killin' the whelp fer ye. Remember that."

He pushes her from the bed, playfully "Get on with ye, woman."

She laughs and slips from the room; Heathcliff quietly decides to have Joseph check the lad's intended place of repose for serpents and other such horrors before the boy is sent up.

It would only be wise.


	31. Chapter 31

Chapter 30

The old man complains bitterly at being sent out at such an hour to fetch the boy, and returns soon after.

Edgar insits the child sleeps and is too ill to be moved, he will bring Linton to the Heights tomorrow, himself.

They pass an uneasy night, Keela rises from the bed every few hours, and stands before the window, awaiting the sun, like a criminal afore his execution.

Heathcliff sighs and sits up, brushing the hair from his eyes, "Keela, come back to bed, love. Ye'll know when 'e's here."

She glances back at him, "I can't sleep. I'm sorry fer disturbin' ye."

He smiles "It's alright, him comin' won't change things. Ye'll still 'av me, an' Joseph, and Hareton. I'm sure he'll come to love yer."

"I don't want 'im t' love me. What name did she give the brat?" Is the bitter reply.

"Linton." Is the soft answer.

She claps a hand to her mouth to smother her laughter "Oh, ye must have been furious!"

She falls against him, and he cannot help but laugh with her, "It were an insult an' no mistake. Perhaps he won't be so bad, though I have little hope."

"'Es half 'er, it's a wonder ye can find any hope at all."

He pulls her into his arms and she lays her head against his shoulder, Heathcliff kisses the bright hair, "Don't talk of 'er, I'd much sooner think of you."

She smiles, cheeks flushing a little.

He can still turn her head, even after all these years and all that has passed between them.

At length they rise and go down, Hareton helps Keela ready breakfast, whilst Heathcliff and Joseph tend to the work of the place, they settle to lunch and at length to dinner, still the boy does not come.

By supper Heathcliff is making threats to go and fetch the brat himself.

Keela is halfway through washing the plates when she hearkens to the sound of carriage wheels on the road.

She flies to the living room, Heathcliff smiles up at her.

She swallows hard, she feels a little faint as though her stomach might rebel at any moment.

Her husband rises and embraces her, kissing her forehead and takes her hand, he leaves her at the door stones as Edgar alights

She hears little of what passes between them, Heathcliff bodily lifts the boy from the carriage and sets him down, Hareton and Joseph take him between them and usher him inside, the poor whelp sets up a most dreadful wailing, declaring that he cannot stay there and begging his uncle not to leave him…

Keela makes her way back inside, she returns the main room, the lad has been set into a chair before the great fireplace…

He looks up and fair cowers at the sight of her, turning to Joseph who sits close at hand "What is that thing? Is it a servant? Or some curiosity my father keeps for his own amusement?" his voice is weak and trembling, as though it takes all the strength he has merely to speak.

Joseph sighs, they are off to a wonderful beginning.

Heathcliff makes his appearance and saves the old man the trouble of an answer.

"This is Keela."

Linton's pallid face grows yet paler, until it is the colour of cream, soured by the sun.

"But…she's monstrous."

Keela draws a stool up beside him, and settles herself before the flames, careful not to look at him. "If it distresses ye lad, I can conceal it."

He nods, great blue eyes pleading. "If you would be so kind, I do feel so very ill."

She offers a pitying smile, he only flinches more.

She sighs and turns to Heathcliff "May I make use of that which Miss Cathy left?"

He nods "If ye wish it."

She stands and strides from the room, she hears the boy's whisper "Is that a boy or a girl?"

"Miss Keela is a lady." Is Joseph's reply.

"But it dresses like a man?"

The old servant nods, Zila brings porridge for supper but the poor boy moans most piteously that he cannot swallow such rich fare and so Joseph must bring him milk weakened with water.

Keela and Heathcliff exchange an appalled glance as Joseph bustles from the room muttering prayers.

Hareton is kind enough to the interloper, in his own rough way.

Keela roared with laughter when Heathcliff told her he had sent for a tutor for his son to make a gentleman of him, and teach him all that he should know.

They fall into an uneasy way together, six now rather than five, though the child constantly cries or else throws a fit of temper, his health is weaker than spun sugar and all that they can do between them is not enough for his little highness.

Heathcliff curses the child's weakness and despises the whelp more with each hour that passes.

Hareton tries his very best to be companionable, though Linton is unkind and spiteful, and only cries when scolded or called to account of his wickedness.

He teases poor Hareton mercilessly regarding his lack of education, Keela comes to his defense most fiercely and rejoins that he shall be a better man than Linton if he does not learn, that a gentleman needs compassion and a kind spirit better than any amount of gold or learnin', he wails passionately that she hates him, and he shall tell his father that she is unkind to him, and besides he cares nothing for the opinions of his father's housemaid!

A woman needs a pretty face more than a clever tongue.

A slave should know it's place; perhaps he shall have his father beat such knowledge into her?

The Taig is on her feet in an instant and lifts the boy from his chair by the front of his collar, for weeks now she has listened with forgiveness to his remarks and slights.

No more.

She has him by the hair and drags him kicking and screaming clear across the stones to the where the fire burns, Joseph rushes in drawn by the boy's wails, enough to wake the dead from their tombs.

She holds him before the glittering flames "Perhaps I'll toss ye in ye horrid little goblin, an' give ye a face t' match the ugliness inside ye, eh?"

The boys shrieks, a mindless howl of a sound.

Joseph looks from the terrifying face of the gypsy woman to the sobbing boy and has little doubt that she will make good her threat.

'Master!" he cries as he lunges forward and catches Keela by the arms, she writhes against him, Heathcliff appears and strolls in as though such a scene were quite ordinary.

"Well?" he waits for an explanation.

Linton is crying in good earnest, coughing enough that Joseph fears the lad will choke to death if Keela do not loose her hold soon.

Heathcliff steps up to her and catches her hand, "Let him go."

Her grip tightens; he pulls at her fingers, less gently. "Keela. Whatever he has done, he will repent of it. I promise."

Linton looks up, wide blue eyes glittering with tears, it would seem more afraid now than he was of the threat of burning.

His Father has him by the scruff of the neck and shakes him, "Ye will apologise boy."

The miserable creature hangs his head "I apologize."

She nods "Very well."

They are disturbed by a thunderous knock upon the door; Joseph throws up his hands and hurries to answer it.

To Edgar Linton, he sighs at the sight of his hapless nephew gripped by the neck by his father.

"Go away." Is the cold order, 'Ye'll not see him."

The magistrate sighs "I'm not here for him."

The boy looks up, his lip trembles "What? You mean you are not here to save me from these…these…savages! Uncle, they are monsterous!..."

"I am here to see…Mrs Heathclff." Even now Edgar struggles at the title.

Linton stamps angrily "Uncle! You know full well, Mother is gone!"

"I know dear Linton, I mean the first." Is the shaking reply.

Linton dares glance up at his father with a surprising fire in his glare

"Father. What does he mean? The first?"

Keela steps forward "What can I do fer ya Master Linton?"

"May I come in?"

Heathcliff drops his son unceremoniously, leaving Joseph to help him back on to the settle.

"No, ye can fuck off."

Keela sighs "Heathcliff."

He crosses his arms and glares down at her "He crosses that door, I'll kill him."

She nods "Very well, since yer determined to be difficult. Master Linton, if ye will come with me we had best walk on."

"I have found Corder." Edgar's words cut the air like a whip.

Joseph drops his Bible.

Linton rises from the settle as best he can manage "Who?"

Keela sways a little, between them Heathcliff and Joseph ease her into a chair afore she faints.

Heathcliff eyes the magistrate coldly "In that case, ye'd best step in."

Edgar enters smartly and settles himself before the fireplace, with a pat to the head of his beloved nephew, who scowls bitterly, that he has come for some matter besides the liberation of his own precious person.

"I have found the Captain Daniel Corder, the militia of Bradford have their orders to apprehend him and see him brought here, chained and under guard."

Keela looks up, eyes wide "'E's comin' 'ere?"

There is a look close to panic growing in her gaze.

Heathcliff strokes her hair gently, and kneels at her side, "It's aright, love. He can't hurt ye."

The poor lass is trembling, Linton finally tires of being so ignored.

"Who is this? Why will no one tell _me_ anything?"

His father rounds on him and Edgar flinches despite himself.

""e's the bastard that cut Keela's arm off, an' worse besides." He eyes his son's horrifed face "Aye, she's had it returned, but the scarrin' on 'er face, that so sickens ye, 'e did that an' all. An' more."

The boy swallows hard, "Uncle…why are you bringing such a wicked man here?"

Edgar's smile is gentle 'So that he can be brought to justice, Linton."

The boy nods, Edgar smiles, the boy at least seems no worse than when he left him, in truth he feared what he might find when he came today.

He returns to his papers, "Miss Keela, as I have told you he is being brought, and will be here in three days, he will be tried by a jury of his peers, military men…you must testify agaist him in the court."

She looks blankly at him "What's that?"

Edgar fumbles for a moment "It means that you must come into the court, I will be with you, you need have no fear, he will be brought in and you must swear upon the Bible…you are a Christian are you not?"

Heathcliff lays a hand on her shoulder "Catholic."

Edgar nods, "I see, well I'm sure we can amend the oath to allow for such heres…. The Catholic faith. You must promise that what you are saying is the truth, and tell them exactly what happened and answer any question that they put to you. Can you do that?"

She nods, and his face lights up "Good, now we will ask doctor Kenneth to serve as a witness, we will also need a witness to your good character…"

The two gypsies exchange a glance and burst into laughter.

Edgar sighs "Fine, I can see this will be an impediment but is there anyone who would lie for you?"

Heathcliff shakes his head "Ye'd get half the village to swear against us, in our defense…No, I can think of no one."

Keela is quiet for some time "What about Nell?"

Edgar visably pales "You would bring Ellen into this?"

Heathcliff nods "Why not? She's known us both, long as anyone."

Edgar shakes his head "No, I cannot permit her involvement."

Keela smirks "So ye'll defend me, so long as it don't call yer 'ouse into disrepute?"

The poor man flushes scarlet and mutters "My aquaintence with either of you brings my house into disrepute. Very well, I shall offer a defense of your character myself. How long have I known you now?"

They cast their thoughts back across the years "All but twenty years, sir."

Edgar runs his fingers through his golden curls "Good Lord, has is truly been so long? Why, I believe you are right, we must pray they do not ask to see my court records." He laughs a little. "How long have the pair of you been…they may ask as to Isabella, there is a record of…"

Heathcliff's eyes darken "Then ye tell 'em she deserted her home and her husband."

Edgar is on his feet in a moment "Why you…"

Keela has the magistrate by both arms, pulled tight behind his back, he struggles all the same, cursing the fiend before him.

Heathcliff sneers down at him "Ye could always tell 'em it weren't a lawful marriage, I already had a wife. Why not tell yer noble friends the truth Edgar? That yer foolish sister were little more than a…"

Keela looses her hold and the room gasps to watch her slap her husband clear across his handsome face, the blow echoes in the deafening silence that fills room.

"Thank you." Edgar's voice is trembling; his eyes shining with unshed tears.

The gypsy stands as still as though turned to stone, "Ye think to strike me, before him?"

The girl leaps back, not swift enough for he lays a vicious hold of her flaming tresses and she screams in agony as he drags her to her knees by the hair.

Joseph is on his feet, shouting above the threats and the whimpers of pain.

The fahl devil is to release the Mistress at once, he stood by when it were Miss Linton and may God have mercy upon his wretched soul for so doin', he'll not do so again.

Edgar stands "Nor shall I."

Heathcliff smiles as though amused by this sudden display of courage.

He is within his rights to beat his disobedient wife, is he not?

Edgar is shaking, whether from rage or fear it is difficult to discern, there is such an allowance in law…

Linton rises from the settle, blue eyes glittering; he delights in such displays of violence and cruelty, and besides, he hates the papist woman, with the devil hair and the foul tongue, she is unkind and coarse.

Keela kneels on the cold stone, she glances up into burning black eyes, deep as the mires of hell.

"Wait fer me."

Her voice would break the coldest heart, and he hears once more the call of the moorland winds and the kiss of the snow.

_Help me…I'm going to be good…_

Heathcliff's fingers fall from her hair and he pulls her to her feet, and embraces her.

She presses close, beast like in her manner, Edgar glances to Joseph who smiles, and resumes his chair at the hearthside.

Edgar is left standing a moment, and tries to ignore the disappointed sigh of his bitter nephew.

He takes his place once more, "As I was saying, Corder…"

"That were unnaturally brave of ye, Edgar." The gypsy devil cuts across him.

Edgar smiles, a little "Well, I was only concerned for your safety, naturally."

The room collapses in laughter.

Zilla brings tea and the mood of the affair changes, in some small and soft manner.

Joseph smiles and offers silent prayer of thanks unto his Lord.

It takes Edgar an hour to explain the workings of the court and have Keela understand him, she has only ever been the defendant.

For wearing man's array; for thievery; for drunkenness; for assault; for the use of foul language; for recusance from church.

And finally for the crime of being a known and true Egyptian.

His father had let her off with flogging and the stockade for most of her transgressions, and Edgar suspects silently that the girl never fully forgave him her humiliation.

He must confess in his quieter moments when Mother and Father first took sick he had half suspected the wicked pair of laying a curse against them.

Ellen had promised on perdition of her own soul that they had done no such thing; ye could tell when they had a mind to such devilry.

In his darkest hour he had given thought to calling on them for help, might they have had some magic that could have saved them?

And then it had been too late…He wishes now that he had been stronger, Catherine had lived and yet no sooner had she come than her sickness passed among all the house, and within three weeks his beloved parents lay cold in the earth.

And then his darling had been lost to him…

Where they two pass by, ill luck follows like a shadow, a specter of evil that haunts their steps.

They have magic, so the village whispers, he listened only the last week to Miss Giles swear that the devil girl saved her sisters child, when a lad swore witchcraft against her.

The people do not trust the inhabitants of this house, and well they might not.

Yet…

He looks about him, Joseph sits with Linton and Hareton, kind and firm as he recalls his own grandfather, Heathcliff holds his wife close to him, kissing the red locks and running his fingers down her back, and when they smile one to the other Edgar can find no hate in his heart toward them.

In their coarseness and their ignorance he sees a love as pure as any in his sister's novels, had he allowed his gamekeeper to shoot at one, he would surely have found he must contend with the other.

Had father sent one to the gallows he would have discovered he must hang both, for where one goes the other will follow.

Even to his own house, when Ellen had brought the maid as his stable hand, he saw her wicked companion in the darkness, night after night, he suspects even now that Keela had no knowledge of her loyal shadow.

He had finally bid Thomspon not to chase him off, let him watch her.

He…meant no harm.

Only a man who had acted ill and missed the wife his cruelty and spite had driven away.

He recalls how when Cathy was nearing her end, he had espied the girl waiting in the hall, scrubbing the same tiles over and over, finally Edgar had risen from his seat and announced that he would walk to the village and be gone at least half an hour.

He had secreted himself in the hallway, and watched her slip into his study when she thought he was gone, and take the key he had been sure to leave in the unlocked desk where Keela would be sure to find it.

She had let his enemy into the very walls of his home that night.

He wonders even now if she knows how he helped her?

She was a pleasant sprite to have about the house, with her flaming locks and lilting laugh; she worked as hard as he could have wished, and yet always there was sadness in her.

She missed the fiend.

He recalls the night when Catherine in a fit of jealous madness had set the stable block alight, she had taken a candle down and "forgotten" it upon the hay.

The barn had gone up like a candle at Christmastide, and Edgar had been awoken by the ringing of the bells and the cries of his servants, he had rushed down the stairway and found Ellen on her knees in the yard sobbing, at the inferno of his stables, the roar of the firewind and then his dairy lad had cried out at the sight of his little horse breaker, smothering the flames with a blanket, just long enough for the slaves to lead the beasts through and out to the safety of the courtyard, lengths of cloth tied about their eyes and brought on by a strange sound, a clicking at the back of her tongue, that seemed by some magic to drive them.

The wood had creaked like the opening of heaven's gates and Thompson had cried out that the roof surely could not hold much longer, come out now lassie.

There be a colt, and she will not leave him.

Good god she will burn like a witch! Come clear where it be be safe!

Ellen had wrung her hands, half blinded by tears, begging the girl to come safe out.

She cannot lift the creature and he will not walk on.

He be only a bairn, she cannot leave him to such a fate.

The beast's mother is straining at her ropes, whinnying in a fashion to break the heart.

Screaming for her youngling.

And then the roof had come down with a sound like thunder and the opening of the earth.

Edgar had watched in horrifed silence.

As out of the fire the creature had been driven to walk through the flames, blind, with a scarf about its eyes and only the reassuarance of his handler to lead him on.

The yard had erupted into applause, and cheering.

Keela had pitched to the stone and rolled like a beast to put out the flames that kissed her clothes, and Jane the dairymaid had taken the liberty to empty the water pail over her, an act that the doctor later remarked may well have saved her life, she stood, shaking the water from her eyes and caressed the soft dark head of the pony, ordered water for the beasts and washed the ash from their coats with scorched hands afore she would permit the doctor to be sent for herself.

As he salved her burns she remarked in Edgar's hearing that she did not care overmuch for herself but if Mistress thought to harm a horse in her presence again she'd murder her as soon as look at her.

He watches her now, this frightful creature that God formed and called a woman, and willed to be a wife.

In truth he half fears to take her into court to face her persecutor, she may well kill him on sight.

He runs his eyes over her, from her worn, ill-fitting shirt to her mud stained boots.

The court will never listen to the likes of one such as she…she would be turned away from the courthouse….

He leans across "Miss Keela, we have three days only until the defendant arrives, perhaps a fourth day until you will be summoned…do you have a dress in your possession?"

Her eyes darken at once, flashing like the windows of hell.

"Why?" her tone is suspicious.

He sighs "Miss Keela…"

"Mrs Heathcliff." Is the cold retort "Or Keela."

God, she claims her salutation with pride.

"Keela, if you arrive as you appear to me now, they will throw you in the prison house yourself for wearing man's clothing, if they do not hang you for your heritage!" his tone is firm, almost angry "I do not want that for you, so will you please, listen and permit me to help you? You are Keela of Kilkenny, widow of the late Lord Aed of the same, you are an Irish national, your father was born in Dublin and your birth mother in Spain! I know…it is only a small lie! It will account for your…discrepancy of feature, a gypsy looks not unlike a Spaniard am I wrong?"

She tosses him a mutinous look "Not all of us."

"Keela, these are ignorant men…use that to help yourself, I implore you."

"Ye ask me to lie regardin' me own ma!" she is on her feet and Edgar finds her quite frightening, in that moment.

He re-arranged his papers "If you tell them the truth of what you are you will be hanged. Without trial."

Her face is terrifying, feral and bitter, glittering white teeth bared in hate and rage, he rises to meet her eyes

"I have the record of your birth."

She turns still as stone, he draws the paper "A copy I had sent from Dublin, the bishop was kind enough to oblige. There are two, would you like to see them?"

She snatches the sheaf from his hands, and hunches over them like a dragon, guarding it's treasure.

Heathcliff draws her onto his lap and she curls up and shows him the pages.

He leans in and reads them, Keela MacBride, born Dublin, May 1st 1765, Mother Clair MacBride, Father Donald MacBride, Legitimate.

Heathcliff draws the second and read it aloud to her,

"Nuri, Born: Dublin, Ireland. May 1st 1765. Mother: An Egyptian Woman. Father: James O Cellachain. Illegitimate.

Edgar finds he is smiling despite himself, Heathcliff laughs and Keela raises an eyebrow "What?"

He indicates to the paper "Nuri."

"What of it?" her tone is warning.

He embraces her gently, "It's Egyptian, a word for gypsy."

Edgar nods and smiles "Also, it is found in the tongue of the Hebrews, its meaning is my fire, also amongst the Arabian peoples, where it is given the meaning of bright or luminous."

Hareton glances up from his place "Will ye be usin' that now?"

She shakes her head "I'll be Keela still, but it were nice to see it."

She hands the papers back to Edgar "Thank ye, for fetchin' them."

He hands back a piece of parchment "You will want to keep this I think."

She takes it and her face lights up, Heathcliff smiles and gives it to Joseph who quits the room and can be heard traversing the stairs.

It is the record of their marriage.

She will never know what it cost the magistrate to order it sent, the terrible memories of his beloved sister.

In all his letters to her, he never made mention of the fiend having wedded the stable hand, it would have been more than her sweet heart could bear.

Had he used it to win her freedom from her tormenter he has little doubt the shame would have destroyed her.

And so he kept his secret, and carries it still.

He prays that when they meet again in heaven, sweet Bella will forgive him.

"As I was saying." He continues in a strained voice, "Your father was Irish, we will not lie regarding your…foundling beginnings, but we will make a secret of how very wretched they were…your old friend has agreed to swear for you. He knew you all your childhood, and permitted you to be given to your parents, yes?"

She nods "He officiated at both of your marriages did he not?"

Another nod.

"He is sending a letter on your behalf which I will read to the court, now as I was asking, have you a dress in your possession?"

She nodded, as though the question left a bitter taste in her mouth.

"If you would be so kind as to change into it, that I may decide as to its appropriateness?"

She rises with a put upon sigh, and stamps away into the upper reaches of the house.

Edgar smiles nervously about "Does she have no need of a maid?"

Joseph roars with laughter ""Coas' missi do no'. No' like t'uther we' 'ad, lassie go' 'em made special' we got no needin' fo' maid' roun' ere!"

The magistrate shuffles uncomfortably, and looks up at footsteps on the stairway.

Keela storms in like a thundercloud, and stands before him, stiff and formal.

"Well?" her tone is surly.

He runs pale eyes over her, and smiles "Wonderful! Now raise your head, that's better, look me in the eyes. Don't shuffle; stand up straight! "

She pulls herself up with a curse, this sickens her, she feels like a damned doll!

Edgar sighs and rubs his eyes, "You must be a lady in the eyes of these men, you must appear as a respectable married woman, against whom Corder would have no just cause for violence."

She scowls bitterly "I'll give 'im just cause fer violence."

Heathcliff runs a hand through her hair "Hush love, let the man do his work and ye won't have to. Edgar'll kill 'im for ye."

The poor man pales, "Now do not misunderstand…They may let him go…if you do not behave correctly they will believe his actions against you an act of war! Miss Keela you are known unto the English regiments of your homeland are you not? They say you yourself led attacks against regiments and settlements then under English control."

The Taig's expression is painfully smug.

"Doubtless once word gets out that Corder has been apprehended and will face a court marshal all your old enemies will come pouring in over the boarder to swear against you. You must appear a weak and biddable woman, under the sway of her nationalist husband."

She glances to Heathcliff; Edgar touches her hand gently and shakes his head.

"No. I meant…"

She stands again. "Aed!? Never, ye cannot ask me t' blame 'im! E' were against it from the start! It's to insult 'is memory, 'e were the gentlest man! E' 'ated wars and fightin'!"

"Convince them of your loyalty to the crown! You wed an Englishman! That this is your home now!"

Heathcliff fears she may be ill, he lays a gentle hand to her back as her cheeks pale, in truth it looks as though she is struggling to keep her stomach from rebelling.

Joseph hurries to the kitchen and brings his Missi a cup of mint tea to settle her, and lays a cool cloth to the back of her neck, for he swears her attack of rage may bring on the fever.

It were so with Miss Cathy.

At length she draws a steadying breath, Edgar smiles "Better?"

Keela nods, and shakes her head to clear it, "Forgive me, ye were sayin'?

She will hear him out it seems.

"Lay all nationalism upon your late husband, you did nothing more than obey. You raised no arms, killed no men. You are weak of mind and body, you must refrain from food for the next three days, we want you weak and slim, pliable and sweet. Recall Isabella, and my dear wife in her last days."

Heathcliff sighs, the man will not help himself, it seems.

Another word like that, he will let the Taig at him.

And may God have mercy on the fool's soul.

"A white dress would be best, I will make you a gift of one of…": he cannot speak of his sister even now.

Keela forces herself to smile "Thank ye, it's very kind."

Edgar goes on "The attack upon your castle was an unprovoked assault, you were in mourning for your late husband, recently killed at English hands. You were all fasting, you were in no position to defend yourselves. And would not know how…they dragged you and your ladies from your needlework…"

Joseph disguises a snigger as a cough.

"I can't sew." Is the unhelpful remark.

"I shall send Ellen to show you how, you may have the basics in a couple of days and it will distract you during your fast. Consider it pleasing to God Miss Keela, that you should embrace the woman he made you to be."

Heathcliff takes his hands from his wife "Ye brought this on yerself Edgar."

She stands and the magistrate cowers…she faints dead away…

As one they fall to their knees at her side, calling to her, trying to revive her…she opens one eyes and grins wickedly.

Edgar starts back on his heels, Joseph barks with laughter.

It were better than Miss Cathy at her worst! He claps her across the shoulder, and helps her to rise.

Keela laughs at their stunned expressions and wishes to know where else they thought she should learn such?

What else did she learn? If she can weep at will it would be best to do so, when mention is made of Aed and of her own sufferings and those of her servants.

She must rouse these men to pity, and Corder must seem as a beast in their eyes, they are honourable men and to think that such as they let a poor, helpless woman be so mistreated!

Aye, she has the idea of it.

It is for a few days only, until the brute's fate is signed and sealed.

Heathcliff and Joseph exchange a glance, the magistrate is trickier than either of them credited him.

Well played, Sir.

It is Edgar's turn to be smug.

See if this won't carry the day!

To the amazement of all he is permitted to stay to supper, he makes a strange sight at the rough wooden table, crushed between Hareton and Linton, who is determinedly not speaking to him.

The boy sits in bitter silence with his toast and warm milk, and opens his mouth only to nibble at his food or else to complain of how he feels, and his wretchedness at being forced to sit with them.

At length Heathcliff orders him upstairs and Joseph escorts the lad.

The company breathes a sigh of relief and talk goes on, if a somewhat stilted and uncomfortable.

Keela must sit and watch the fine meal she has made ready and set down pass by, without recourse to so much as a bite for herself.

Edgar smiles encouragingly, it will help to win her case.

If she be moved by hunger think on Corder, and the death he surely deserves.

Even gentle Master Linton seems roused to fearsome dislike of the man.

At last the magistrate thanks all for their hospitality and sees himself out, with the instruction to meet him at the courthouse in three days.

They pass in misery for the lass, by the third she is all but as weak as Linton himself, who enquires if perhaps she may find a little sympathy in that cold heart for his sufferings now?

Zillah must help her to dress and make ready, and silently gives thanks that she be too exhausted by her fast to protest, a quieter mistress the house has never known.

It be a staunch improvement.

She helps Keela down the stairway to her husband, he takes her arm and she leans on him as they walk on, she seems not a bit like herself, soft and weak, quiet and mild as a dove.

Edgar awaits them with his papers and a ready smile, he greets them with surprising warmth and bids the lady to step in ahead of them.

The courtroom has been taken over by the men of the army for the day, a sea of red and white, Heathcliff glances about, it seems something from one of Keela's nightmares…

He helps her to be seated and steps back into the shadow of the doorway.

A venerable gentleman in a uniform so bright and glittering it all but hurts the eyes enters with a smart tread and takes a seat before the young woman.

The day's judge it would seem.

He looks closer and confusion crosses his face.

The emerald eyes move to Edgar, "This is the Irish woman?"

Edgar nods, blonde curls glimmering in the morning sunlight "Lady Keela of Kilkenny."

The man rises to his feet and bows, swift and neat.

She inclines her head…the trial begins.

The man offers his name as General Smith, and puts his questions to her, one follows another, until Heathcliff struggles to recall what she has told and what she has not, the man seems to him to ask the same question in a hundred different ways and at each the crowd leans in, likre rushes about the river.

Two hours pass and she is meeting him on his own ground, her answers never change, Edgar turns and offers the lascar a small smile.

Now, the defendant must confront his accuser.

Bring up the Captain Daniel Corder.

They drag him in, in chains, his scarlet uniform, faded and stained with mud.

It would seem he were captured under some protest.

He looks up, catches the eyes and terrifying face of she who seeks his death.

His eyes fix upon the gruesome scars that she has taken no care to conceal, this morning.

He turns to the general and they chain him into the dock "General, who is this unfortunate woman?" his tone is gentle…

Keela trembles with the effort to hold herself in her seat.

"You know her not?" Smith's tone is calm, as though this was perfectly ordinary.

"Nay. I have never seen that face before." The liar replies.

Edgar lays a gentle seeming hand upon his charge's shoulder.

In truth Heathcliff suspects he is trying to hold her down.

Good luck to him.

"I say that these words are a lie." Edgar announces.

The crowd murmurs.

"Is it possible that you may have seen her before she sustained such a grievous injury?"

The Captain shifts a little "It is possible. Yes, I recall her now."

The assembly gasps! He will confess?

Edgar is smiling…he waits…

"You are aware of the charges brought against you Captain?"

"I am."

The judge nods "Then if you will offer your own version of what took place?"

The Captain looks hard into his superior's eyes, as though he might read his soul itself, and find some sense of the danger to his own life.

"The woman sitting before the court now, is so very unlike the fiend that I recall that I own I knew her not upon first sight. On the morning spoken of, I received word of a rebel leader's return to Irish shores, a most sinful and wicked creature, responsible for the burning of English settlements, men woman and children within good Sirs. We heard rumour that It was a woman, I confess at first I could not bring myself to believe such. The only native close enough at hand for such, was one Aed, Lord of Kilkenny, he had both the means and I believed then the ill will against our soverign land to stir up such…revolt. And so, I had in a prior month, with all due courtesy arranged a meeting with the man, and found him to be both kind and gentle; by no manner did I have cause to think evil against him. He desired peace, indeed he offered hospitality to myself and my company, which I did graciously decline, he was sickened by the tales I offered of the actions taken against my countrymen, and yet seemd somewhat discomfited, I asked him if he knew who might have done such? Had he given the orders by his own lips, we could I was sure reach some accord; I meant no harm to himself nor to his people. Could such a great warlord not work in friendship with us?"

The judge nods and eyes the scribe, taking down all that is said.

"And what said he? What passed thereon between you?"

"He said he knew nought of such doings, he would never permit such savagery. And yet though I desired greatly to offer him my trust I felt moved not so to do, I felt at some moments, that his Lordship was not truthful, for he paled and clutched at his reign with trembling hand, the more I told him, in truth I feared for his health by the time my tale was told. He would oft times glance behind him, to his great castle, and a look of some anger would pass over his counternance."

Keela shifts a little and is suddenly fascinated by the buttons at her sleeve.

The judge turns sharp eyes "Ladyship, you will kindly be seen to listen to the testimony of the good Captain."

She sighs "I would yer honour but he speaks of my husband as a saasanach lovin' coward!"

Smith starts "Madam, please guard you tongue."

She rolls her eyes to heaven.

Edgar drops his head into his hands.

Corder continues at a gesture from the General.

"He asked what would be the manner of proceedings if he should discover the scoundral, which I confess only roused my suspicions against him further, and when I explained the manner of death that would be meted out to such a creature, he paled and appeared as though the Sweat were upon him. I own, I did ride closer to his hand and ordered him most sternly, to tell me all he knew."

The crowd nods as one.

Smith smiles thinly "And did he then confess unto you?"

Corder shakes his head, 'He did not Sir, I told him we must meet again and if should he be stricken meanwhile by conscience at the suffering of my countrywomen and their children…burned alive, and worse yet! He need only send me a word, a short note was all and I would come at once for the criminal, and he himself should be rewarded handsomely for his aid, perhaps the King would see fit to restore to him some land, which had been captured, or an exchange of prisoners might yet be considered, I knew for instance that we held his own younger brother in English hands, also an uncle, both much beloved of his Lordship. A fine feat I assure you."

Keela's hands are balled into fists. Clearly she knew nothing of this meeting.

Corder smiles across at her and goes on, a veritable bard of the courthouse.

Edgar has sank into a chair at Heathcliff's side and is shuffling his papers like one possessed.

For something…anything to turn this tale from it's clear conclusion….

The judge turns an irritated glance in their direction.

"Magistrate, you would interject?"

Edgar shakes his head "Not at present, General."

Corder winks when the Judge is not looking.

"If I may be permitted to finish?"

The old man nods again, with a sigh.

"I had a note some weeks later…"

Keela gives a strangled cry, Edgar slams a hand upon her shoulder "It is the heat...the sunlight is affecting her…"

The crowd makes a sympathetic sound, and the clerk fetches her a glass of water.

She thanks him most prettily and sips it delicately…it's a miracle of God the glass does not shatter in her fist, she clutches it tight as though it were her enemy's throat.

"I received a note, that his Lordship had died…in most tragic circumstances…and that he had spoken of his sorrow and tribulation at a thing upon his conscience, which permitted him no rest, he dared not disclose the cause of his agony, even within the confessional. Finally at length and fearing for his own reason he disclosed the truth of it to a manservant, who had been with him all his days…This good man, angered by the loss of his Lord, and knowing well the savage who so brutally took innocent lives and led others into the folly, wrote to me of their return and bid me come at once and I should find not only one but also a traitor to the crown! A deserter and a coward! And a small boy, a good English lad in need of rescue, afore they bedeviled his sweet mind against the land of his birth! For this monster, this fiend, who tortured babes in their cribs…was none other than his own lady! Keela Macbride!" he leans across the bar that he might plant his hands upon the table at which she sits and snarl into her face

"A traitor to the English crown! A murderess, a rebel and a known and true Egyptian!"

The crowd is on its feet, at the last their bloodlust roused.

Keela turns ro Edgar and shrugs "Gig's up Master. I thank ye fer yer defense."

She gets to her feet and faces the general "Well, I must thank the Captain fer tellin' me o' me 'usbands betrayal, and thank the Good Lord 'e met a merciful end 'afore I got me 'ands on 'im after this day."

The crowd gasps in horror.

The judge is pale as death, looking through his papers, "You confess Madam to the Captain's charge? And I beg you most earnestly, answer not in anger, but consider well your words."

She smiles "I confess to killin' English, nay, I be proud! Though I never slayed a bairn."

Smith glances across to Edgar "A what?"

"A child Sir, her ladyship means she never killed a child."

"But the noble Captain has told but half the story and so if ye will permit, I shall finish it?" she says.

The judge nods, the crowd howls its disappointment, but he stands firm and will not be moved.

A decision taken when but only half a tale is heard cannot be just.

"Aye, I led the raids, I burned yer villages, I did it all, an' ordered me men at arms to follow in me lead, though some were against it. Aed knew nothing of me doin's, he were innocent as Adam, though I do not doubt that he suspected me. I returned with me second husband and his nephew some months after Aed's deaths, we made ourselves at home once more, and decided that since the bairn were entertained by the servants that we might ride together, and this we did."

"I see, and where did it please you both to ride?" the old man would know.

"Up to the mountains Sir, An' 'appy we were, but the we 'eard a cry, and descendin' was met by me old servin' maid, Brigid, she were all o' seventy, an' 'ad run all that great way, her nails torn from both 'ands an' feet together!"

The mood of the crowd turns, Heathcliff hears muttered curses against the Captain if he were the cause of such.

"She begged that we turn fer 'ome at once, that the English army 'ad come, and 'eld all within under lock and key and with threats o' death if my 'usband would not surrender 'imself to their keepin'. My Heathcliff is no traitor Sir, not to your country nor any other, 'es a good man, an' finer ye'll never see in all the world."

The crowd smiles at such devotion.

The monster has a heart it would seem.

"And you thought the English meant to slay your servants and husband?" The silver hair glimmers in the sunlight, like fresh polished coins.

She nods.

"And yet, I do not doubt that you will tell me that you returned? Most admirable my Lady."

"Thank ye Sir. Aye, we did return right swift, an' knowin' they 'eld all the castle, we thought we must enter by another means an' so scaled the wall with a pair o' knives I carried always on me, knowin' that wthin were a set o' muskets, an' thinkin' we might by some swift thinkin' overcome their numbers."

He nods, as riveted by the telling as any other.

"And how thought you to do this?" the judge enquired.

She laughs a little, "Well Sir, me late 'usband were rather too fond o' strong drink, and so my new 'usband suspectin' 'e must 'av some 'idden about the chamber, for it was 'is room by which we entered, and findin' it to be so, an' 'avin served loyally in yer King's army an' havin' knowledge o' such things, we stuffed the bottles and threw 'em down upon the 'eads of our invaders. This naturally gave away our position, and so armin' ourselves with the muskets at 'and we prepared to fight. Only, a voice comes at the door, an' it were Captain Corder as stands afore ye now, only 'e were leutenant then, an' thusly introduced 'imself when I asked who 'e were, an' said 'e were there fer me 'usband and if 'e would but surrender 'imself, the child an' I might go free. O' course I believed 'im not, though me husband tried with all 'is power to persuade me to let it be so. An' so I takes a blanket from the bed and we ties it so and throws it from the window, I had still my husband's jacket from his days in the army and biddin' 'im thus disguise 'imself, to go ahead of me down the rope, Corder were getting' impatient for I 'ad offered a truce and were bein' slow in namin' me terms, he 'ad 'is men batterin' the door whilst all this were 'appenin'. I saw me 'usband and his nephew down onto the ground and I made all haste to follow, but I were caught by his soldiers an' dragged back into the chamber, I screamed fer me darlin's to flee an' leave me behind. Corder were furious that they escaped 'im…but 'e 'ad me….I confess I were frightened though I tried to 'ide it."

A woman is led weeping from the room.

Even Edgar is biting his lip, eyes wide and wet.

She speaks on, holding all spellbound to the musical lilt of her voice…

"What took place, in all truth even my 'usband knows only a little. I were dragged back in as I told ye, but the lieutenant were 'appy that they 'ad me at least…I 'ad been a misery unto 'is army fer years an' at last 'e saw 'is chance fer revenge, an' so knowin' me faith and the fierce love I bore me country an' my hatred fer the sons o' England…" he voice trembles a little and she resumes her seat, closes her eyes against the memories that flood her…

"'E bid them…do me 'arm as only men can do, Sir."

The judge shoots Corder a look that is not at all pleasant, "What harm did they do you Madam?"

He will make her name the crime.

So be it.

She stands, her voice ringing like the tolling of chapel bells.

"The worst crime of all against a person o' woman's form Sir, rape."

"I see, and how many men ravished you therein?"

She snarls, beast like "Rape Sir. An' violently done, it were a cruel thing General. Seven in all. One afore another."

The Judge drinks from his own glass, his aged face pale and wan.

"What then took place Ladyship?" his voice is softer now.

"They dragged me to me feet, though I were bleedin' most dreadfully, an' in a torment o' agony, I confess, I wept like a woman fer it's doin'. An' bein' all I 'ad of me 'usband I caught up a staff ;e made me, many years ago, fer it pleased me to touch that which he had made fer with kindess."

The crowd is trying to conceal its tears.

Even the men find themselves unmanned at such a tale.

"And…" the judge draws his handkjerchief and wipes his face, pale and round as fresh-formed cheese.

"An' I thought they meant to take it from me, so drew it back an…'e said, he would not be so cruel as to take a staff from a cripple Sir…I looked about an' spied no one so afflicted…'is men caught hold o' me…and bore me down to the floor once more…Whereupon Corder drew his own sword and I closed tight me eyes an' prayer fer I were readyin' meself fer me end. An' before god I wish that were their cruel design! For he cut at me arm most savagely until it lay upon the floor, an' I'll own I screamed as though I were in 'ell, Satan and all 'is demons could not inflict such agony Sir. "e stood over me as me blood spilled out, an' with a smile said that I might never raise arms against 'is King again. An' now I might pray alone, fer the forgivness of me sins, an' I saw a man take the length o' rope from the window, an' guessin' they meant t' 'ang me like a dag I reached up with me only remainin' 'and an pulled me crucifix high and tight about me throat, thinking then the rope might not close an' take from me me life. They came back in, and findin' me still drawin' breath, put the rope about me, and stood me upon the ledge, corder made a show o' recitin' me crimes, as though it were a trial! An' they pushed me from such a height…I swung and kicked and choked for it 'urt terrible, they set me castle aflame, an' I heard the screams o' me servants as they burned alive! Men, women and the children that had served Aed and me, an" at length they took a ladder an' cut me down, and Corder threw me body over the neck of his beast an' told 'is men t' take me coat o' emerlad velvet an' fly it from the mast o' their barracks afore sindin' it to his magesty stained with me blood. He himself would dispose o' my body. Well it were a long time, we rode an' 'e took me down to where the marsh lights burn, an 'e threw me in to the muck an' left me to rot.

Well I crawled free, me shift covered all over wi' leeches, and some 'ad taken to me wound…I fainted…an' woke up in a bed in the church o' our lady, me old friend the Bishop, whom I belive has written to ye, had been told o' my end and guessin' where they would toss me, and anxious that I should not be without a Catholic burial came with his man servant and took me from the mire by cart to his church, an' findin' me still barely livin', praised God above an' sent in all secrecy fer a doctor o' good faith as would keep our secret. "e worked tirelessy, three weeks on end t' save me, an' 'e did, though I were crippled an' scarred, I were not permitted to leave the church but must be keep in the catacombs amongst the dead, as though I meself were half in the grave. 'E came down wi' food and that I might hear mass, givin' up his own rest to do so. An' asked o' me what I would do, and begged most heartily that I should find some means to leave the land, go to England, where my husband might protect me, call myself by another name and forget all that had happened. I refused the last but would for his sake do the first of his wishes if he could but find me a way, it took years afore it were safe to secret me out, in a coffin, on the dirge cart, in the watches o' the night, 'E arranged passage an' disguised me as man, gave me gold from 'is own pocket and 'is own clothes besides, provided me with another jacket o' emerald velvet that I might recall the cause I loved so well, an' 'is love fer me,no father could love a daughter more than 'e loved me, 'e said and it were on this account 'e risked all to get me 'ome to me 'usband. It were a dangerous crossin' at last we reached the shore an' I begged me way 'ome along the roads until at last I reached 'ome. Master Linton whom I served some years past, allowed me the use of 'is ouse that two doctors might try their skill at restorin' me an' arm, o' a woman lately hanged in the village, by the grace o' God they were successful. An' whilst I were stayin' upon Master's hospitality fer my healin' 'e came to ask me my story an' so I told 'im, 'e said I might bring charges against the man responsible, though we thought we must return to Ireland. Then 'e heard 'e was 'ere and 'ad him arrested an' so here we are. An' this is me case in full."

"Have you any proof of your accusations?" shouts a man from the rear of the crowd, with long brown hair and amber eyes that gleam with barely hidden ferocity.

She pulls at the shoulder of her gown and the people presnt recoil from the scar, deep and vivid, as though she had been clawed asunder by the devil himself.

The judge looks from the accused to the accuser "Very nearly proof enough, though is it not possible madam, that you may have sustained such a wound after some other fashion?"

She meets his cold eyes, unflinching "Would ye like to send fer the doctor what helped restore it?"

The judge shakes his head "We could not trust his testimony, I think. For what doctor would not be pleased to claim such a near miracle to his credit. You would have done better, ladyship to claim that the Good Lord restored you arm to you, that you might punish your enemies." He laughs a little.

"I put it to the peers, gentlemen, you have one hour."


	32. Chapter 32

Chapter 32

Heathcliff moves to his wife's side and helps her to her feet, "Come on love, ye need food." He leads her out and they sit upon the pillory, boots kicking against the wood as they devour the bread and cheese Joseph readied that morning, Edgar joins them standing a little way off, to their amazment he draws a bottle of brandy and uncorking it drinks it clean from the neck.

Keela snatches it and swallows, and turns wiping her mouth on the cuff of her gown and passes her husband the poison.

He returns it to its rightful owner, untouched, who shakes his head and remarks with a sigh that he cannot blame her.

He is so overcome and in such discord of humour, that he feels he could drink for a week.

And he: a moral opponent of such vice.

She spoke well, though not as he had wished, though now he thinks it would not have done then any good, had she laid the blame at Aed's feet, Corder's first revelation would have finished them.

The gyspies share a glance, Edgar looks less fearful when threatened with harm to his own person than he does on this cool evening.

The sun will be well down afore they can turn for home.

An hour never seemed to pass so slow…Keela clutches her husband's hand, as Edgar paces about, until he has worn a line in the dust of the road with his tracks.

At last a door opens and the clerk appears, they must return.

The enter and resume their places…The judge takes his chair once more and turns to the sea of scarlet clad officers and men at arms

"Gentlemen you have heard the facts as laid before you this day, how do you find?"

The hall is silent at the grave…the crowd appear to be holding their breath…

"We find there is insufficient evidence to convict Captain Daniel Corder of the charges laid against him here this day."

Edgar curses and the whole room turns as one to stare at him.

He blushes "Forgive me."

The judge raises a silver brow and inclines his head, he strikes across the parchment before him, "Very well, this court finds the accused not guilty, he is aquitted of all charges against him. Captain, you are free to go."

The villain smiles as the bailiff's remove his shackles, he straightens his jacket, replaces his hat and bows low before Keela as he strolls from the courthouse.

Keela sits in stunned silence, Heathcliff moves to her side and reaches for her hand, she does not move…

"Keela."

She sits as still as though she were carved of ice, the crowd murmers and Edgar comes to their side, between them the two men take her arms and support her from the chamber.

Edgar Linton sighs and mutters oaths aginst that dammed General every three paces, of the hour it takes them to return to the Heights.

By the sight of the doorstones he is swearing at himself and cursing his own blindness, he should have ordered a civil trial! Of course, the man's peers would support him.

And now he has lost her one chance of vengance.

Joseph and Hareton rush out…Joseph drops the cake had made at the sight of them, and it falls to the stones, to be leapt upon by Throttler and his company.

They bring Keela in and settle her into a chair before the fire, Joseph brings blankets and tea and when this fails, would have gone in all haste to the wine cellar for something strong enough to rouse her interest.

Heathcliff forbids such folly, and so he stands wringing his withered hands and muttering prayers, at length he demands to know how they passed the day…

Edgar curses, tears rushing into his great blue eyes and sobs that the trial was lost on the grounds of insuffiecent evidence…Yes, she showed them the mark! Revealed it before all the assembly! They said could it not have been gained in some other manner! They would not trust the Doctor's testimony! Oh but he has been a fool! And can see no way of making amends!

Hareton pats his shoulder as he passes by with a cup of weak tea for Linton, who languishes in his chamber.

Edgar sobs like a babe, for the injustice done this day and in truth one knows not how to comfort him and the other has no care for so to do, the third sits in silence, eyes wide and staring…Heathcliff would rather she wept or raged against it, anything would be better than this silence…this hopelessness.

He moves to kneel at her side; a single tear kisses her cheek…it glitters like a shard of diamond against the milk white skin…

The kitchen door opens with a sound like thunder, Ellen Dean blows in upon the living room after the fashion of a raging storm, her eyes fix upon the sorrowful creature before the fire, and her fists clench.

"Keela! Or Nuri or whoever ye truly are! Ye wicked wretch! Ye told me yer 'usband died at English hands! Ye made no mention o'…" she waves mutely at Heathcliff and goes on "All those months livin' all but in me pocket an' ye never told me what ye'd been about, or the truth of yer affliction! The English ye said! Not one word about yer own cruelties lassie! It's a wonder even Heathcliff here can look at ye!"

Edgar turns and waves his hands desperatly to silence her, but the woman has held her tongue too long and now would speak her mind afore her nerve fails her.

"Women and babes, Keela MacBride! Ye shall answer to God for it! Oh ye see if ye don't! An' t' think Master even let ye hold little Cathy! It's a wonder ye did no' set the crib afire while we slept! It seems we ha' thought too high of ye, well I repents o'ever bringin' ye 'ome! I wish I'd left ye on the docks, that I do!"

The girl looks up, eyes deep with tears, her lip trembles piteously…

"Well ye may weep ye savage! An' repent o' yer evil ways! An' ye were proud o' such! I heard ye say so, we all did! Ye burned towns and villages! An' forced others to do so on yer orders!"

The old woman is weeping in good earnest, her voice trembling with emotion, her breath coming in great gasping breaths.

"Ye think yerself quite the soldier! I am sure, never would accept tha' the Lord made ye a lass! But ye would have the clothes off old Joseph's back, an' curse an' fight! Ye would no' weep fer a whippin' nor beg mercy afore the stockade! Ye came from the devil an' no mistake! I pray God forgive me fer bringin' the likes o' ye down upon this village! Get yerself back to Ireland, yer not welcome 'ere no more, they's good folks ere' about, they'll ave no more truck wi' yer kind. Get out, today, if ye know whats good fer ya!"

Heathcliff turns, and before any can rise Ellen flies like a bird loosed from its cage, her head strikes the doorpost and she slumps to the ground, like a bag of grain cut open.

She groans and moves a little, Edgar stands and looks down upon her

"I bade you to hold your tongue Ellen, that such an occasion might be prevented, however since you would go your own way, I must say, as deep as my loathing runs for Mr Heathcliff I will bring no charge against him for this, had he not struck you, I would have ordered you to the branks for such wickeness of speech, it is slander Ellen to speak as you have done. Now get home to my daughter and pray that I do not decide to dismiss you from my house."

Joseph rises and helps the maid to her feet, though it seems out of years of loyalty as opposed to any agreement with her part.

Edgar sighs and resumes his seat "Miss Keela, I am so very sorry…I am quite sure that all do not feel as Mrs Dean does…She spoke in anger…and forgets that you outrank herself today, she would recall you, her master's little serving maid, and not a lady of land and title."

Keela turns to glance at him, her gaze bitter and cold as ice "She recalls as ye all do, the gypsy bastard brought to serve Mrs Earnshaw, that frightful thing, the Taig, the devil lass, the witch…I know what they say o' me, what they've always said…an' o' him too." She takes Heathcliff's hand; he kisses her forhead, murmering something against her blazing locks that Edgar cannot understand.

The Magistrate sits in discomfort, though Ellen spoke out of place today, there can be no denying that the girl's confession of murder and brutality, even in a time of war will have soured the mood of the village to her presence, her disgust for the country that took her in, will have warmed no heart either to her or her cause.

Her threat that had her husband been yet living…will have shown only that she is a Godless heathen, heedless of the faith she claims so ardently, she will not be commanded as woman should be, as God himself proscribed.

He allows himself to wonder how Heathcliff goes on with such a creature, he thought himself to have a good understanding of her nature, and yet after the revelations of the courthouse he finds himself in question.

Edgar thought her only badly brought up, wild and without manners, but then how should a slave have come to learn such, her ignorance could not be laid upon her shoulders alone, and as for her growing up with Heathcliff for her closest companion…He recalls them, always together…as thick as thieves and wild as any two sinners could be.

Forever at some mischief or other: or else at punishment for it.

He had pitied her then, been fascinated by her…the wild girl with hair like fire that chased in the steps of the gypsy foundling…he had thought softly on her in his youth, before his acquaintance with Miss Earnshaw had blossomed into love…had wished in some moments that matters might have been changed, that he could have had chance to know her…but the lascar was always with her and he dare not approach, he had thought to do so once, on market day whilst she considered a clutch of fresh eggs…she wore a simple brown petticoat and chemise, her hair shining in the afternoon light…he had thought himself bewitched when she turned and smiled bright as the morning sun…He had straightened his coat, of purple velvet, opened his mouth to offer some kind greeting…and found himself pushed into the mud as Heathcliff bounded past him to get to the side of his partner in crime.

Unable to resist tormenting the Linton's son by throwing him down even in the presence of a lady…and she had laughed! And taken the ragged boy's hand and run off home across the fields with him…and poor Edgar had been left, lying in the dirt to be helped up by Mrs Irons, who had scolded him for being silly enough to fall down and spoil his fine coat.

The people of Gimmerton had never liked the wicked pair, whenever anything went missing it was always to the Heights that the constable must make his weary way, and poor Father must send his bailiffs to collect one or else the other, who would doubtless follow like a shadow and shy stones and curses at the poor fellows from behind the trees, or stones that lined the road that wound like a gypsy's ribbon across the moors.

And then the whole place would turn out to watch them punished, for what little good it did.

The stockade for the lass and flogging for the lad…Edgar had stumbled across them once, in the woods just beyond the bounds of the village, Heathcliff with his shirt stripped from his back, the flesh torn by the lash….And the little Irish girl knelt behind him, her tongue dancing across the marks, licking the blood from his skin.

It had seemed a strange, pagan sight to such innocent eyes.

Licking at wounds, as animals are wont to do.

Curled together in the forest, more like wolves than people he had thought…

He looks at her now, even across all the years he finds her little changed, she has grown not a whit from that day to this, though her face is scarred and older of feature and form, he feels he would have known her anywhere, time has passed her husband by since the day he reached nineteen, it would seem that they will remain unchanged as all about them withers and dies…

He sighs and standing takes up his hat and replaces it upon his shimmering curls, "I think it would be well, to stay clear of the village for a few weeks Miss Keela, to you it was an act of war but…well, here it will not be seen in such a light." He offers a kindly smile.

Her eyes are hard as stone "I never killed a child Master, ye can tell yer damned maid that much."

He sighs, "Can you be sure of that Madam? Did you think to have your men check the cottages before you ordered them fired?"

"They were Sassenachs." Is the brutal reply.

Edgar shakes his head and turns to the door "Your cruelty, does you a discredit my lady. I own I thought better of you."

"Ye should ha' thought in the same fashion as every one else 'ere about and I should not 'a disappointed ye."

Heathcliff lays a gentle hand on her shoulder and eyes the magistrate's retreating back with an aversion dark enough to leave an onlooker shuddering.


	33. Chapter 33

Chapter 33

The pair sit in silence for some time, in the depths of the house a bell put in specially for young Linton jangles until it would drive one to lunacy.

Keela sighs "Joseph be up at the church, shall I go in to 'im?"

Her husband sighs "'E's terrfied of ye…go up to him then, might frighten 'im out o' the habit."

She giggles and quits the chamber he listens to the familiar tread of her boots on the stairwell, and considers, there are secrets he is keeping…plans and schemes he has shared with no other soul…is it time?

For weeks now Linton has been writing to his cousin Catherine…and so far all is hidden from Edgar…Ellen Dean must know, of that he is certain, she was born the night her mother was torn from the world….and by all accounts is now an enchanting lass of thirteen.

The time to move would be now…can he tell his wife? Should he tell her? Would she prove help or hinderance?

Would she betray his plans to Edgar and thus bring them all down in flames?

She has an unnatural and un-befitting tolerance for the fool.

The deed is almost done…if only there were some seemly way to have her safely out of the way until the matter was quite resolved, to his satisfaction…

His son shall be wed to his cousin and no power on heaven and earth will prevent it.

Least of all Keela.

And to think the man that carries the letters between the young lovers was once the dairy lad who bore the same between himself and the lass who would be his bride.

He cannot keep such from her…they swore once that they would have no such thing as secrets…for they were as one soul in both manner and aspect, what need has such as they for so foolish a notion.

They were one and the same and each knew well the darkness of the other.

Until today…she had offered not a word of the acts she took against the settlers in her land…true, he had never asked her but…he recalls only too well the horrors of war.

He struggles to keep the memories at bay, the wicked imagingings of what she has done…of what she may have caused….if he thinks on it how is he to consider her?

His sweet, loving, good wife…the war band leader who burned innocent people alive in their beds…and sang her rebel songs as they screamed their way to hell in the smoke and the amber.

He starts as she appears in the doorway, her hair glittering like fire…he can almost smell the acrid scent of smoke and the copper of fresh spilled blood…the stench of mortal flesh wreathed in flame…

Her smile that seemed so tender and kind…now seems to him wolfish and cruel…the enchanting eyes kissed by madness...

"Keela." His voice is gentle.

She sinks into the chair opposite, "Aye?"

"Did ye truly murder all those people?"

She nods and he hates the way her smile widens as she does so.

"They were enemies, invaders. Heathcliff me love, if a band o' blackguards burst in here and threatened all o' us, would ye not put 'em down like rabid dogs?"

He nods…"But this is not the same…ye took no care to check if…"

He eyes blaze then, full of saint like fire…the burning of a zealot that can hear no reason.

"If someone invaded yer home and threatened yer family ye would kill 'em, ye said so yerself. There be no difference."

He is on his feet then, and she rises to meet him.

"Ye cannot weigh one against the other…Keela, what does yer own faith say about murder? Tell me, I know ye can."

Joseph's voice echoes from the hallway "Thou shalt do no murder."

His tone is hollow, his aged face white and stark "Mas'er I would speak a word wi' missi."

Heathcliff shakes his head "No ye fool say whatever ye have a mind to."

The old man mutely holds out his hand…a sheet of parchment lies there…a heavy red seal shining like a ruby in the light… "A man o' yer cloth gave it me, bid me give it t' ye." The parchment passes between aged hands to hers…

Crossed keys….

Keela moves and closes her fingers on it, Joseph fetches her a knife and Keela cuts away the seal, taking great care to preserve it.

Heathcliff's curiosity overcomes him, "What is it?"

She glances up, "It be from his Holiness."

He laughs at that "Ye got a letter from the Pope? Christ, what else have ye not told me to merit such honour?"

She shoots him a dirty look and holds it out to Joseph, "Would ye?"

He takes it and stumbling a little with the unfamiliar words reads it…vitandus…whatever that means….oh the priest bid Joseph tell her, that the bells of the cathedral in Dublin have been rung…

She pales so swift, they neither one have time to catch her as she collapses.

Hareton hurries in with water and a cloth at Joseph's call, and they press it to her face and throat.

Her eyes flutter open, she leans to the fireplace and they draw back as she retches into the flames.

Once and then again until there be nothing but bile.

She snatches the cloth and wipes her mouth.

Turning back to them, she is struggling to breathe, she holds out her hand and Heathcliff bends to help her to her feet, she leans against him, his arms about her waist are all that keep her standing, she gestures weakly to the chair and he lowers her into it, she takes the parchment from the servant's hands, and runs her eyes over it…and then she howls like a wounded beast and pitches to the floor, writhing and howling as though she were in mortal agony.

Nothing they can say will calm her, at last Heathcliff bids Hareton fetch Doctor Kenneth and be quick about it.

It would seem reason has deserted her and why he cannot say.

He strokes her hair gently and whispers to her, soft and loving…it brings no change…he cannot bear to look into her eyes, she is white and cold as death, he brings his coat and lays it over her, Zilla enters shaking her head and cleanses the hearth and rekindles the fire, he draws Keela nearer, she is keening a high, horrible sound….oh how he wishes she would cease that dreadful noise…it is worse than Linton, at least that is mostly for pity's sake.

After what seems an eternity, the doctor arrives in a flurry, he drops his bag to the flagstones and kneels beside the girl, who has resorted to striking her forhead upon the stones…if she will not stop he will have no choice but to restrain her to prevent further injury to her own good self…

The word good produces a paroxysm of rage and tears…she flies for his face, fingers like claws

"Good? I'm the very devil ye foolish man! An' ye were stupid enough to save me worthless life! Oh why could ye not 'av let me die? Why…why…"

Kenneth glances up at Heathcliff, eyes wide with shock, he falls into his most soothing tone

"Mrs Heathcliff, you must try to be calm…"

He looks about "What could have brought on such a fit?"

Joseph takes up the offending letter and holds it out…The doctor shakes his head, it means nothing to him…is it perhaps a will? A letter of ill news?

The aged servant sighs and begs that they might send for Magistrate Linton, he has a knowledge of Latin and may be able to explain…

Very well.

He comes in all haste when Hareton arrives at his door, eyes wet with tears and begs him come at once, Keela seems possessed since the arrival of a damned letter that none of them can read…

Edgar follows in his foosteps at swift as ever he can go…God, he can hear her haunting cries from beyond the doorstones, he removes his hat and follows the sound to an upper chamber…

The girl lies upon the bed, hands and feet lashed to the posts…

"Good God, Doctor…is this necessery? Show me the…"

The parchment is handed over, Edgar raises a hand to cover his mouth in shock…his eyes fill with tears of pity…

"It is a bull of excommunication….for the murder of many souls…commited without the sanction nor grace of the mother church. The pope cannot and will not condemn such action and so Keela MacBride is cut off from the grace of God and has placed herself beyond the bounds his mercy…"

The men all glance at each other, Edgar sighs at the ignorance of peasants

"You might say she has been dismissed from the Catholic faith. If she dies unrepentant she will go to hell….I confess myself surprised…this is so rarely administered….only for the most blasphemous of sinners…"

Keela's cry brings him back to himself "Forgive me…it is…"

Heathcliff rounds on him "They're punishing her? For…"

Edgar sighs "For the burnings, yes. It was done without ecclesiastical approval….the church never asked her to do such a thing."

The lascar moves to sit beside his wife's head….he cannot guess if she knows that he is there, she lies murmering over and over like a woman out of her senses, her eyes dreamy, fixed on the sun beyond the lattice.

He turns flashing black eyes on the doctor "What did ye give her?"

The man fumbles in his bag and holds up a bottle, "It would put down a horse…I had no choice…she was liable to do herself some harm! You must watch her at every moment, do you understand? Keela!" he bends down to her, his face sterner than any recall his counternance.

"Keela, if you die you will go straight to hell, do you understand? So it would be foolishness to think on it, is despair not a sin? Come on woman! Pull yourself together."

The rebuke does no good that they can see.

Heathcliff sees the doctor to the door, he offers a sad smile "Your wife has lost her wits Mr Heathcliff, I can see little hope for her recovery. Unless the church can be persuaded to forgive her."

The gypsy looks down at him "Would they?"

Kenneth shrugs "I know very little of that way, but I tell you as a man of medecine that I think rather it is the knowledge of what she has done that is the true cause of her illness. She was always wild…but never cruel."

Heathcliff nods "She swears that war is different. She thinks I could not understand."

The doctor sighs and shakes his head "She sees herself as a crusador, I think, a willing martyr chasing sainthood. Such a woman will not live long, she will find a way to run towords death. Tell her that such behavior is the sin of pride, she may listen to that."

The lascar nods, "I will try. Doctor…I cannot lose her."

The man sighs "Then take her home, let her have her damned war."

The gypsy grows pale "The church will never forgive her. If she were to…"

"Know you how many she has killed?" the doctor's question is boldly put.

Heathcliff shakes his head "She told me nothing of it. I had no knowledge of what she had done."

Kenneth replaces his hat and pins his cloak about his shoulders "strange that she should make no mention of something which brings her pride, is it not? Especially to yourself."

"Ye think she was hiding it?"

The doctor nods "Tell me, truthfully now, do ye still love yer wife?"

"Of course." There is not even a moment to his answer.

Kenneth smiles "Then yer a better man than I wagered. I know not if I could love Martha had she done as yer Keela has. An' she knows it."

Heathcliff sighs "There is no proof she killed anyone."

Kenneth drops his bag torn between shock and rage "They say she ordered the doors nailed up! Ye could 'ear 'em beggin' fer their lives! An' she laughed! An' sang an' all but danced, she fired the first o' the cottages 'erself Mr Heathcliff. These were innocent people! They were not soldiers! They bore no arms!"

"I love her still." Is the cold reply.

The doctor raises his hands "Then yer either a saint or a devil."

He returns to her side, she has grown quiet and lies still as death, silent tears falling upon her cheeks.

Heathcliff move to unbind her, and helps her to sit, he brushes the hair from her face, she is trembling, he moves to embrace her, she pushes him from her, weak yet defiant

"Heathcliff…if I asks ye fer somethin' will ye do it, an' ask me no questions?"

He starts "Why?"

"Bring Daniel Corder." Her voice is hard as iron, she will counternance no refusal.

He can find no way to understand "Why? Do ye wish to kill him?"

She smiles then, too bright "Aye my pet. That's it, I wish to kill 'im, so ye'll bring him to me won't ye?"

She is too sweet…too compliant…she is lying.

"Keela." His voice holds a warning note.

She rises from the bed "Fine, I'll find him meself."

He moves to stand in her way "What are ye doing?"

"Atonin'." Her mouth is a hard line, her eyes ferocious in the guttering light. "I will hand meself to Corder, an' English justice. I'm a murderer me love, without hope o' forgiveness…I cannot repent…That's why he came fer me in the first place…I…I did a great evil that day….God has turned 'is face from me…as 'e should. Nell were right. I love ye with all me heart, but I's taken innocent lives, what right have I now to me own?"

He catches her by the shoulders then and shakes her until her teeth rattle like bones in the bag of a fortune-teller.

"Getting yerself hanged won't bring them back! It won't change what ye did! It were wicked, it were vicious and ye'll be prayin' fer forgivness 'til yer old an' grey but Keela, half the damn Bible was written by murderers! He means to kill yer people! Give 'im what 'e wants and yer signin' yer country's death warrant! Yer revolution's at hand and yer thinkin' o' crawlin' like a coward to yer own worst enemy cos ye lost yer nerve? I'm ashamed of ye!"

She hangs in his hands like a worn rag, and for the first time, he sees her as she truly is, the scars at her face…

"Keela, how did ye come by those?" his voice is cautious.

She hangs her head that her hair might hide her face from him.

His stomach turns…she has lied to him…somewhere, somehow…what has she sought still to hide?

In light of the day's revelations he dreads her answer.

"There were children…I…I brought 'em out o' the fire with me own 'ands…God marked me for me sins. They howled an' would not come to me a' first, ye see…they knew me…an' I only went in after another went afore me…"

Heathcliff half shakes her again "Who?"

"Corder." She half spits the name "'E threw off his jacket at the screams and went in to the fire….no heed fer 'is own life…I…I had no thoughts o' savin' em…an' then I saw me worst enemy doin' what I would not. I would 'a let 'em burn…me who cried fer a little lamb lost…An' I knew meself not. So I went in for 'em."

Heathcliff sets her down on the bed "Ye knew ye had killed no children…because it was you that saved 'em?"

She nods.

"Did ye nail the doors up?"

She nods, mutely "I went in through the window. Me men almost mutinied…then at the urgin' o' the priest, they joined me…but…many men died…women too…"

"And Corder?" his voice is hollow.

"He pulled me out of the fire…the beams were comin' down… I had a bairn in me arms…he pulled me out…an' demanded to know what I were doin' there…I….I told 'im I'd spied the fire from the castle and come down to help…He praised me charity…God above, Heathcliff…he spoke to me as if I were a saint…riskin' me life to save my own enemies…'e saved me that day…I think his cruelty were partly in anger…'E thought 'iself mistaken as to me character, an' then 'e learned it were me that set the fire."

"But ye still saved the children, Keela."

She snarls: "I made 'em watch their parents die."

"And you'll live with that every day for the rest of yer life. " is the soft reply.

She nods, brushing away her tears with the sleeve of her gown, he helps her return to her usual raiment and they sit in silence for some moments.

At length he speaks "Keela…there were no good cause for what he had done to ye, whatever evil ye did. Ye could never have deserved it."

She smiles weakly "Thank ye."

She moves to lay her flaming head upon his chest, he runs his fingers down her back

"Did ye mean what ye told Edgar? That they were Sassanachs and so deserved such an end? Ye cried for a lamb dyin' as ye rightly recall."

He sits, and looks her hard in the eyes "Are ye so different my love? Have ye become one who could slay a child? Are ye not my own darling? Have ye become a soldier now? Has war so changed ye?"

For a moment silence stretched out between them like a lover.

She shakes her head, "Nay." She brushes the scars with pale fingetips

"An' may these always remind me o' that choice…"


End file.
