Work Text:
It started when I left that house. I couldn’t bear to hear what else my- what else Catherine had to say. So I left. It was easier this way, I told myself, this way she doesn’t need to see my face while she walks from our home to his. This way is easier, I had to convince myself. About two weeks into my escape, I hadn’t quite managed that.
I had been staying in yards, in barns, on hillsides, just somewhere to stay the night, away from people with questions and concerns. I still remembered my days on the streets as a child, how people always had questions when I walked on their roads. Never kind ones, more similar to what Hindley would throw my way. Things like “What are you doing?” and “Shouldn’t you be in the town over?” When I was a kid, I could get away with not answering. Trying that now would only look suspicious. So I stayed out of towns. But one gets hungry when running- when living freely. In the day, I wandered to a market I had passed, and it was there I heard the news.
“Will thou take the journey with her?”
“Of course! I do plan on marrying her, whether here or America, doesn’t matter much to me.”
I didn’t bother learning the names of those men. I simply followed the second one to the shore on the following day. If he had somewhere to go, I could follow. Anywhere was better than here.
As it happens, America was the New World. I do remember Mr. Earnshaw mentioning it once, when he was still coherent. The ship I followed was headed there on a military mission, and that courted woman was going as a nurse for soldiers. Nelly, I had no idea our country was in war! Don’t look like that, I have been busy, it isn’t my fault. Besides, the men on the ship didn’t look terribly interested in the affair either. I blended right in. And yes, I was a stowaway, but that is besides the point! Would it be horrible for me to continue? Thank you.
America was a different world. I landed in a crowded town, similar to Gimmerton but far bigger, and far more colourful. The people there didn’t even bother to give me a second glance. It was great.
I left the port behind, and traveled inland. I soon discovered that the port town was the closest thing to home as America would get. The weather was cooler, the trees were taller, and the towns were farther apart. Where at home it took a day or two to walk into another town, there it took five. A month into my endeavor I had only made it over one state, into ()()()(). Trees lined my path the whole way there. Had I not been so sullen about what I was escaping, I might’ve found it beautiful.
Nelly, I hope you do not judge me for the way I spent my time.
In America, my darker skin keeps me safe from the hatred towards England. I am able to mask my accent, and then no one asks questions. People assume different places as my origin, and I let them. Sometimes, someone who looks like me will stop me on the street in ()()()() to ask if I am from where they are. I let them think I am. On one such occasion, it was a lady of small stature and divine features, somewhat close to me in tone, who asked me if I was from Barbados. I told her somewhere close, and she took my hand.
She led me to a grand estate on the east side of town, surrounded on three sides by large lawns and on the fourth by the river this town was known for. To myself, I worried over the fact that I would be under the care of some whiny, gorgeous rich family, too similar to how it went for Catherine. I opened my mouth to tell this lady that in no way was I to be sticking around, but before the words could fall, she shoved me through the door. Immediately, the entryway took my breath away. Light shone into the foyer from large windows both above the door and from the parlour in front of us. Embroidered shawls lined the walls, and beneath were shelves covered in what looked like tokens from a multitude of cultures. Small precious stones, wood sculptures, painted carvings, so many and so astounding. This Lady must be traveled. And the foyer was only the beginning of it. Led further into her house by a servant, immense tapestries chased me and detailed rugs nipped at my feet. Flashing metals blinded me, and the simple glamour of it all stole me off my balance.
“Sir, I demand thine family name.” the Lady requested, once she had me in a chair across from her.
“Heathcliff.”
“That’s not- that doesn’t sound barbadian at all.”
“I do not know the circumstances of my birth.”
“Oh.” That caused her to pause. After a moment of scrutiny, she began again. “So we’re back where we started. Very well. Heath, if you’ll come with me.” She took my hand again, though entirely unnecessary, and dragged me to a room upstairs decorated as lavishly as all the ones below. Releasing me, she picked up a portrait from a nightstand.
“What is this all about?”
Without words, she handed me the frame in her hands. It was of a young couple. The man had a shock of dark curls overtop dark, surly features. The woman was much fairer, similar to the Lintons, but she had curls that were a honeyed shade of brown. They were strikingly similar to this lady.
“This means nothing to me.”
Except that, it kind of did. I would be lying if I said that the man in the portrait shared no resemblance to my own countenance. But this strange woman had dragged me into her house, breaking my streak for remaining unnoticed in any town I traveled through. I was tired of the walking, and she hadn’t shown any inclination of remorse. I waited for what felt like forever for her to finally speak up.
“These are my parents. They died when I was young, a few years after we had moved here. They left me this estate, and my name. I wish to know more about where I am from. Heath, if thou wouldn’t mind, I can see similar traits. Don’t try to dissuade me.”
I held my tongue.
“Fine. No, I understand. Thy don’t know it thyself, I cannot ask this of you. I apologize. Though I cannot let thou leave my sight, I can offer a night of lodging. Is this acceptable?”
I nodded, and a servant appeared behind me to whisk me away.
The night turned into a month, which turned into half of a year. For reference, it had been eight months since my flight from the Heights. Not a night went by that I did not dream of Catherine, but my days were spent with the lady.
The Lady’s name was Raeni, but she insisted that “Lady” fit her better. She never ceased the horrible use of “Heath”, despite many a protest.
We spent every morning dining at her table, every midday walking the town, every evening on the shore, and every night returning to her dining table. In short, we got to know each other intimately. Lady hadn’t lied about the land left to her, it was bountiful. It took over a week for her to show all of it to me. After that, she showed me the town. Where we were located, on a more privileged side of town, the war felt as distant as it does here. The town was relatively new, everyone who lived there had come from somewhere else. Some weekends, Lady and I would spend in the parlour of a neighbor, where the staple drink was never tea. Bringing it up was a sensitive topic, so occasionally there was coffee, otherwise it would be a sweet fruit juice. Always it was a person from money, and never were they someone with a recognizable name. It was refreshing, and during my stay I learned a great amount about the world around me.
The grace period would not last forever.
Our location made us a perfect base for English soldiers. Tensions in town were rising. A lot of the nobility, while not partial to either rebels nor patriots, were vexed the invaded space. As much as it wasn’t my business, it bothered me too. Englishmen tried to buy out some of Lady’s land, and they met their payment at the end of my fist. This made me very, very noticable. Neighbors we use to have brunch with offered to hide me, and servants would swap my clothes for masking ones.
Nelly, it’s true, I made connections with rebels. As local and minute as they were, as a community they refused to budge under any outsider. It was quite impressive. Lady herself seemed an important figure.
This continued for a month or so. British ambassadors and soldiers would show up, stay a week, and get a lot of complaints. The ones concerned over scuffed boots hightailed it quick. Soldiers generally stayed for a spat then moved on. I created enough of a ruckus to give our end of Main Street a reputation. Lady would bite with words, and together we were undefeated. But she was smart, so smart, and she knew when it was prudent for the two of us to lay low. The weather turned cold again, and we chased the chill North.
“Heath, I don’t think this will last,” Lady said to me, on a night where we found ourselves holed in an inn.
“Lady-”
“Heath, dear, no. No fighting it. It is with a heavy heart that I advise thou to return home.”
“To thy estate?”
She shook her head. I knew she meant England. I despised the notion, but my defense was weak. With little reasoning, she convinced me of her plan. Lady would return to her estate, and to her servants, and I would leave for Europe. No ship had safely left for England for months, so I got a ride to where I could.
The journey ended up with me landing in a pastoral French town. Nelly, I believe you would like it in France. Though the language was horribly nasal, the food and the land was something to note. I did not find it hardly a fine price to pay in regards to what I left, but I managed.
I was back to sleeping on hillsides, under the cover of trees and the starry sky. My dreams would frequent Lady’s house, but Catherine never truly left my sleeping conscience. Living feral again only reminded me of our childhood, and it hurt so much I almost came running back. But the pain of losing Lady, and of Catherine’s betrayal, was all still so fresh, I managed to stop myself.
I wandered the countryside for… I’m not totally sure how long. The winter weather wasn’t balmy, but it wasn’t like how it is at home, so when it began to lift I didn’t notice until flowers began to bloom around me. Sleeping in nature was starting to bug me, so I snuck into towns. I learned that if I didn’t say a word, and lifted my brows, women would be drawn to me. In inns, in bars, on the street. Suddenly, sleeping was easy.
And would you believe it, it happened again.
One of the women who offered her home to me convinced me to stay again. And again. And again. Her name was Manon, and she had brown hair that was much straighter than Lady’s. Her skin was a delicate, pale colour, and her eyes struck me with their hazel. Manon lived on a large plot of land in a far end of France, with her husband and around other similar homes. A gravel path from her door led to a central fountain, where nearby landowners would meet for wine parties.
Honestly, any interaction with Manon outside of her hospitality was stifling. The people she surrounded herself with, while I couldn’t understand a word of any interaction, seemed to be self-centered and snobbish. I didn’t partake in any conversation while I was with her.
Despite my silence, word of me got around. On a night I wasn’t stolen by Manon, another lady dragged me to her neighborhood. Her place was not even a ten minute walk from where I had stayed only the night before! I discovered they were in correspondence, and that was the only explanation I could perceive.
I’ll be truthful and say that life was easy while I stayed in their care. On any given night, the women of that fountain square could be found picking me up, husbands be damned. This was the most I’d ever been cared for, beyond you, and the treatment was supreme. I could stand the unintelligible talk of high-class, simply for the fact that they never included me.
I made sure to write to Lady when I could. Because of my ability to stay in one general location, she could finally write back. Everytime she wrote, she sent to me gifts from her estate. I recognized jeweled pendants from her foyer, shining vases from the dining room, and even a gold astrolabe from her bedroom. Her missives kept me sane through my months in the bedrooms of aristocracy.
The funniest part of the French was how jealous they got when they discovered the gifts I received. The ladies would pile presents onto me when they couldn’t have me, and their men would hold it for me in cellars and safes. It was sure that once I left, it would be with heavy heads and heavy pockets.
And Oh Nelly was I happy to leave. As lush as my life was with those women, particularly Manon, I got tired of the society. I had stayed all the way until the next spring, and it was time for me to depart. Again, for reference, it had been a little over two years since I last saw Catherine, and a year since seeing Lady. Dreams of them both, to be truthful, chased me from France to the Mediterranean shore.
I made the entire journey in a (gifted) carriage led by two (obviously gifted) palomino horses. It was quite ridiculous, but I had a lot of personal effects in tow. As soon as I made it to a port town, I sold off all of the French portions, in favour of currency a little more universal. My presents from Lady stayed on my person.
Selling what I had, I could settle myself by the shore above a shop, courtesy of an English speaking merchant who owned it.He was laying low in the city, and he rented me the space for a month, so as to settle into the area and take it off his hands.
I confess, Nelly, I was getting bored. Though my journey had taken me far, I felt stifled by the land, suffocated by scenery. I needed an out. My merchant landlord, who I had grown closer to, offered me a solution.
“A space aboard my ship has just opened up, my good man. I know how thou tire of this life. Join me,” he offered, one bland and plain Sunday morning.
“Gio,” (his full name is Giovanni) I started, “what could a life on a ship offer me? I’ve traveled by it before, there isn’t much in the way of an occupation.”
“Heathcliff, the opportunities are vast. Accept, and I will show thou exactly what I mean.”
“And thou promise that it will be better than staying on land?”
“Son, thine rent is almost up. There is little room for negotiation. Thou mustn’t fight, and accept this!”
I gave in. The offer was too tempting, and I couldn’t bear more of the standstill my life had come to.
And so off we went! Gio the merchant, and Heathcliff the surly stowaway, on a journey across the sea. If my time in France was a comfort, this was the adventure. Sailing from port to port, the only constant being the sea, this was ideal. My hair grew too long, and I had to braid it. My skin got darker, warmer. I got strong handling the sails. No one aboard the ship cared if my language was crass, half of them spoke worse than I!
On a much better Sunday, a couple months into this endeavour, Gio pulled me into his quarters, with a secret to tell. I followed with trepidation.
“Heathcliff, I have not been entirely honest. Remember how I said that I was a merchant?”
My silence prompted him to continue. Nelly, this is the best part.
“Well, son, it is less official than that. The goods I sell, I did not buy. I recover my artifacts by illegal means, pirating them from ports and passing ships. I figure we know each other well enough now that this news will not taint thine image of me. Please, say something. I have more to say, but I need to know what thou have to say!” He looked so strong, yet incredibly nervous. He’s always strong and imperious on deck. I am the only one to ever see him when he’s vulnerable.
“Gio, I find this news incredible. Why does thou only tell me now? This would have been welcome much sooner.”
He laughed, and patted me harshly.
“Son, it is not so simple to go telling strangers of such occupations. Forgive me for my secrecy. I still need to make my request.”
“And?” I had more to say, but impatience is a weakness of mine, and the more I spoke, the longer it took him to get his words out.
“My age creeps on me, but my wealth prompts me onward. I am loathe to leave the fleet that I have amassed to the men I hire, for fear that they would run it to the ground. Heathcliff, I put my trust in thine hands. Will thou take this on? I will train you for all this life entails.”
Without hesitation, I grin and nod.
And it was the best decision of my life.
Giovanni spent weeks showing me every trick of the trade. We ruled the sea! A scourge to the lands around us. If I had been a problem in America, I was horrible now. By Gio’s lead, I had access to exotic lands, and money came in by the pound. Without any rules, if a man tried to stop us, it was easy to silence him. Crewmen stayed loyal, and the sun never set. Once Gio retired, taking half the bounty with him, it got out of hand. Running the fleet myself, the wealth I raked in was never before seen. I was on a roll, and governments be damned.
I kept in touch with Lady, and Gio, through my entire reign. Every response was filled with commendations of my tales, and in Lady’s case, continued gifts. She had started sending new things, so I gathered that America was still treating her well. Gio would send sly tips, and would keep me in check on some of my more grandiose plans. I even managed a letter to Manon, with the help of a French crew mate. Her response I never heard, for that crew mate couldn’t bring himself to read it aloud, but the gifts she sent made the message clear. In no uncertain terms would I return to her, though, no matter the favours she lavished upon me. The freedom the sea offered was far better.
Nelly, I know you wonder as to what brought this fantastic portion of my life to a close. I will say that it came slow, the ending of my flight among the clouds and the sea. I suppose it was never meant to last.
Among all my treasures, and all my greatness, my past haunted me. As rich as I could be, Catherine’s embrace would be richer. As indulgent my life, revenge on my oppressors would be sweeter. I had my taste of retribution on the ship, petty and deserved alike. I had begun to imagine how good it would feel to return, to show off my accomplishments to the Lintons, to Hindley, to Catherine! Even if the visit were short, even if no one remembered my name. The thought of seeing all that had changed ate at my very core. All my splendor couldn’t stop the need for it.
After a particularly successful night, exhausted, I retired to my quarters. I didn’t sleep, though, not yet. Instead, I grabbed a pen and ink, set out paper, and began to make arrangements. The end of my third year away was closing in quick. I wrote a letter to Lady, leaving my entire fleet in her care. I left a small portion of the wealth to Gio. The rest was to come with me on my journey back to the Heights.
And now, Nelly, I am here, and what a mistake this has been. Breathe not a word of my journey to Catherine. I had wished to surprise her with the news. She should be happy to know that no material matter can keep us apart now, no need, not when I could finance any whim, enact any wish… to know she went along with that wretched promise, and married Edgar, I find myself seething. But there is no going back. I will stay for as long as it takes to fully realize the aspiration that chased me out of the moors, and lured me right back in. I will find my own justice. I learned how to be right, how to be desired, and how to be sly. They will all see. Never doubt me again.