Disclaimer: I do not own the wonderful Will Benteen, nor Suellen Benteen, nor Tara, nor any other characters and scences of Margaret Mitchell's that are used here.

Story is set at Tara, Clayton County, GA circa 1884.

Enjoy! ~ smarty

Chapter 1

"Janey!"

Jane Elizabeth Benteen swiftly glanced over shoulder to see her older sisters seated serenely before the table, their shiny heads bowed and hands neatly folded on their laps, gently clasping their rosary beads. Their skirts lay pillowed out around them as they kneeled on the hard dining room floor. Her oldest sister, Susie, was giving her a cold, disapproving look. Jane bowed her head self-consciously and breathed a gentle sigh. She had dozed off again during evening prayers and would likely be hearing from her mother about it later.

Next to her, her younger brother Robert fidgeted with trying to find a comfortable position at the gathering. Being not quite tall enough to reach the table while he was kneeling, Robert was afforded the luxury of resting against a chair, his gangling hands clasped together on the hard, wooden seat. Still smarting from being reprimanded by her sisters, Jane elbowed him once and he was still.

"Our Lord is with thee. Blessed art thou among women," Jane's mother, Susan Elinor Benteen, gently lulled in recitation of the Hail Mary. Jane always found her mother's voice lacking the priest's conviction when it came to prayers. It was so painfully easy to let the toneless voice put her to sleep. She had no idea how her sisters stood it. Reluctantly, she joined her siblings in intoning, "Holy Mary, Mother of God, pray for us sinners, now, and at the hour of our death."

Next to Mrs. Benteen, Jane's father, Will Benteen, began to haltingly count his decade, thinking deliberately as he fingered each bead. His wife gently murmured the words he forgot, prodding him along patiently. Jane bit back a smile as she looked at her tall, gangling father. He could have been an imposing figure, had his features not been so humorous. He was a convert, so he lacked their mother's advantage of practicing the faith from birth. He worked hard to know his prayers, but like everything he attempted outside of what he knew, it came off awkward. Jane adored her father. Listening to his flat, halting voice was always her favorite part of the evening ritual.

Once he'd finished and Susie began reciting hers, Jane slowly let her mind wander. Susie's prim and proper voice always irked her to no end. Susie was a young lady. Susie was going to marry well. Susie was the oldest. Susie always got her mother's attention. At one time, Susie hadn't thought herself too good to play with Jane and Robert. That had been before she'd "grown up." The seventeen-year-old hardly spent any time out of giving herself airs and looking down her nose at Jane anymore. As she listened to Susie's stuffy voice, Jane smiled to herself, thinking of tripping her sister up the stairs or pulling on one of her pale blonde curls.

Jane shifted her bright blue eyes from Susie to her next older sister. Thirteen-year-old Martha Ellen Benteen sat beside Susie, quieter than a mouse, her face solemn in its meditation on the Holy Virgin. Jane liked Martha, as did everyone. It was impossible not to like Martha. Graced with the elegant beauty of her mother's gentrified roots and the humble amiableness of her father, Martha was in every way perfect. Her dainty features mirrored those of her great-grandmother, Solange Robillard, whose portrait hung imperially in the parlor. She had spirit and vitality, as evidenced in their frequent games together, and a natural, deep respect for her elders. She'd never been punished without bursting into tears at her own self-hatred. When she talked, she spoke softly, gracefully. She always had the right thing to say. Nary one hair on her auburn head had ever been disturbed. Now on the cusp of womanhood, her sweet disposition had yet to change. And as for her prospects, she'd caught the eyes of young men even as a child. Everyone in the county knew that Joe Fontaine, who lived down the road at Mimosa, was hopelessly in love with her, even though she blushingly denied this to be true.

Jane surreptitiously turned her head and looked down at the small boy kneeling opposite the chair. Robert she hardly thought much of. As the youngest child and only son, Robert Edward Lee Benteen had learned to carry the world's expectations on his shoulders from a very early age. His rich, golden hair was his mother's and his plain face and gangling frame belonged to his father. The house servants deferentially referred to him as 'the Young Master,' as everyone knew Tara, the family's farm, would one day be wholly his own. Robert didn't talk much. He often wandered around with a stupid look on his face, his cloudy blue eyes wide and absorbent. He followed his father around like a shadow, and idolized him as if he were the Lord incarnate. He'd been a willing playmate when he was younger, but now that he was able to handle some responsibility, he spent more time helping his father around the farm and learning the family trade.

And then there was Jane, the youngest daughter, the oldest remaining child, possessed with neither her mother's good looks nor her father's good manners. Her ratty brown hair was not at all pretty, and it took hours to get it brushed and neatly braided every morning. Sandwiched in between her pretty, dainty sisters and the pride and joy of the house, she was the one with whom no one wanted to be around. At ten years old, she was not yet a lady and certainly not a child. An adventurer since birth, she more often than not went off to play by herself. Yet, wherever she went, she always found a playmate in Trouble. It seemed as though she could never do anything right, earning the high disdain of her mother and a sad shake of the head from her father. Jane didn't understand. She wanted to be petted, she wanted to be made much of, she wanted to be liked, just as her other siblings. It wasn't fair that things never worked out for her the way they were supposed to. Perhaps if she just…

"Jane."

She glanced up at her mother's haughty voice and realized that Martha had already finished her decade and the family was waiting on her. Coughing self-consciously, she began telling her decade, playing gently with her beads as she did so.

Jane's mother watched the beads sway to and fro in the child's hands, a disapproving scowl written plainly across her face. She had never liked Jane. She hadn't even wanted Jane. She'd been content with her two daughters, but her stubborn husband just had to have a son. Her frail, delicate disposition hadn't been equipped to deal with the stress of bearing so many children. Both Jane and Robert had cost her her health and nearly her life. She tried to look after the girl as much as she did the other two, but Jane was so distasteful in every which way. She was so…monkey-like. Try as she might, Mrs. Benteen couldn't find a single likable attribute of the child. Perhaps she would grow out of it, Suellen mused. After all, it was the only hope she had left for the girl.

Jane smiled to herself as she came to the end of her decade, content to have successfully made it through without her mother's harsh corrections. She abruptly came to a close and gathered the beads up in her palm, waiting to be rewarded for her efforts. Instead, there was only silence. She surreptitiously peered around the table to see if anyone was appreciating her accomplishment, but they all had their heads bowed solemnly in quiet expectation.

She looked down at Robert, who silently dozed beside her, his posture against the chair making it possible for him to escape their mother's attention. She nudged him slightly, but even that failed to rouse him.

"Robert E. Lee!"

The stillness was broken by the harsh sound of their mother's voice. A startled Robert jumped and opened his eyes to see Suellen glaring down at him. He looked down like a scolded puppy and tentatively began his decade.

Jane hid her face to mask a giggle. It seemed as though she wouldn't be the only one to suffer their mother's wrath tonight.

Robert, ever so much his father, stumbled through his decade, halting and unsure of himself. He spoke so lowly, however, that most of his grievous errors escaped his mother's attention. Eventually, his quiet, mumbling voice came to a pause, signaling that he had ended.

"Virgin most faithful," Suellen intoned, beginning the Litany of the Virgin. Jane's voice mingled with the rest of the family's as she responded automatically, "pray for us."

The house servants, seated in the breezeway that connected the dining room to the kitchen, swayed and hummed gently in between the responses, the effect of which never failed to give Jane goose bumps. With each response, the humming seemed to escalate in tone and tension until Jane felt fit to burst out of her skin. This was all her religion meant to her simple, unfettered mind. It wasn't ideas; it was a feeling.

All too soon, however, the Litany had ended and Jane was back to listening to her mother's dull, toneless voice rattle off the final Hail Mary, signaling the end of prayers. She breathed out through her nose with relief as she hastily joined her family in finishing, "Holy Mary, Mother of God, pray for us sinners, now, and at the hour of our death. Amen."

She gratefully opened her eyes and jumped to her feet, eager to get up out of the kneeling position. Her sisters and mother had gracefully risen from the table, Susie and Martha kissing their father goodnight and moving off to bed while Suellen replaced her rosary on the mantle and extinguished the gently burning candles. Her father, groaning, had finally gotten himself off the floor and was rubbing the stump of his left leg where it connected to his wooden peg. It ached him in cool weather and in the evenings oft times than not, and he'd be consigned to sit in front of the fire and rub it until all traces of the rheumatism were gone.

Robert was already gone. Jane whirled around, trying to locate him, and finally caught him slinking off in the shadows. She hurried over and tapped him on the shoulder, causing him to nearly jump out of his overhalls.

"Whatcha doin'?" She whispered curiously.

The boy silently put a finger to his lips and turned his attention back to sneaking into the hall. Jane followed right behind him. She observed him carefully test the creaky floorboards before setting down his feet, and took the attention to make sure she stepped wherever he stepped.

"Robert! Jane!"

The children squealed and looked up to see dutiful old Dilcey, their mammy, staring down at them. She stood in the way of the children as their mother, who'd spoken, coldly beckoned them back. "Come here."

"Now look what you did," Robert grumbled, hanging his head and slowly ambling over toward Suellen.

"It was your game." Jane hissed back impertinently.

They stopped and stood in front of Suellen like two criminals awaiting their sentence. Mrs. Benteen coldly looked from one to the other before she spoke, "You were sleeping during prayers again."

Robert nodded. "Yes'm, we were." Jane stomped on his bare foot, causing tears to well up in his large blue eyes. Yet, he bit his lip and kept from crying out. Jane huffed silently. Why did he have to act so brave all the time? It annoyed her as much as Susie's preening or Martha's perfectness did.

Suellen turned her attention to Jane. "Well?"

"He was. I was tryin' to wake him up." Jane shot Robert a snide look. She'd always known her brother was stupid, but to confess everything right away? How stupid could one get?

"Jane."

The girl snapped her head back around to face her mother. "Yes'm?"

"Did you fall asleep during prayers?" Suellen gave the child a knowing look.

Jane shifted nervously from foot to foot. "Yes'm…I mean, no'm….yes'm – no'm – yes'm…" She studied her mother's face, desperately searching for some sort of sign as she waffled back and forth, trying to choose the lesser of the two evils.

Suellen had had enough. "Stop!" She cried out sternly, causing Jane to go still. She turned her attention back to her son. "Robert."

He looked up hesitantly. "Yes'm?"

"You're a good honest boy, and I do love you for it." She placed an affectionate hand on the boy's bony shoulder. "I will not punish you tonight, but I expect to see you as attentive during prayers as you are out in the fields. Don't let me catch you at it again. Do you understand?"

Robert nodded gratefully, a smile gently pulling at the corners of his mouth. "Yes'm."

Suellen nodded serenely and patted his back. "Good. Now up to bed. It's long past your bedtime."

"Yes'm." Robert kissed his mother and hurried off with Dilcey, who took his hand to guide him up the stairs so "de Youn' Mas'r doan falls down in de dahk."

Suellen sighed wearily. Vexed lines appeared across her face, giving her a haggard look. "What am I to do, Jane?"

Jane chanced a glance up at her mother pleadingly. "Mama, I didn't mean no harm by it, really!"

Suellen shook her head at the girl. "What is the fifth commandment?"

Jane thought for a second before slowly replying, "Honor thy father and mother."

"Consider that, Jane, next time you choose to lie to your mother." Suellen looked down and opened up her Book of Devotions. "Ecclesiastes 12:14, 2nd Corinthians 5:10, Revelations 5:13, 2nd Maccabees 12:39. Copied in your best penmanship. I expect it done tomorrow before you can go out and play."

"Yes'm." Jane's mouth curled down in distaste. The passages her mother had chosen rankled of purgatory, and she knew, as well as her mother did, that she did not like to ruminate long on "all the poor souls in purgatory." It was probably because she'd bought a one-way ticket there for being such a contemptible child, and for lying to her mother.

"All right." Her mother rose and moved off toward the parlor. "To bed, Jane. It's past your bedtime."

"But I can't go to bed! I ain't tired." Jane pouted, and scurried away when their maid, Prissy, made a motion to catch her by the arm.

Suellen turned back toward the child, a short reply ready on her tongue. She refrained from saying it, however, when she caught sight of something behind the girl. Jane, confused, looked up just as she felt two large hands on her shoulders. She smiled with relief as she gazed up into her father's amused, passive face. He'd come to her rescue at just the right time.

"Leave her be, Sue. If she goes to bed now, she'll just be gettin' up and walkin' around later on. 'Sides, she's had enough lessons for one night."

Jane leaned back against her father's butternut trousers and sighed happily. Her father's low, flat voice was gentle and reassuring, soothing almost (if something so emotionless could be considered soothing), and, just like the man it belonged to, belied the strength and resolve lurking just underneath its unassuming exterior.

Mrs. Benteen's gaze instantly softened. "Yes, Will. But let Prissy at least get her dressed for bed. It'll take the poor wench hours to redo her braids."

Will nodded before slowly stooping down to Jane's level. He prodded her gently in the back and murmured in her ear, "Let's do what Mama says and get on upstairs."

"But I don't have to go to bed yet?" She asked tentatively.

"Not if you ain't ready to." Will stood and slowly began stumping off toward the old office and the warm fireplace awaiting him. "If you need me, you know where to find me."

Jane watched him go with a smile on her face, happy that she had, for once, gotten what she wanted. At that moment, Boo, the family's blue roan hound dog, shot out from between Will's legs and trotted past Jane. Giggling, the girl took off and chased the aging hound up the stairs, where Prissy and hours of rebraiding awaited her.

Jane, clad in her dingy gray nightgown, wrestled in a game of tug-of-war with Boo over her dirty sock while Prissy hovered over her, diligently binding the girl's wild locks into as neat a braid as possible. Jane ignored the maid's fluttering protestations whenever she turned her head as she playfully imitated Boo's growl, throwing all of her weight into the heated game.

Over on one of the beds, Susie and Martha lay huddled together, giggling and talking softly about the suitors after Susie's desirable hand and other "womanly" matters. Clad in more stylish gowns, their undergarments served to accentuate their curves more than hide them, their waists both strictly kept as tiny as possible (for, as their mother taught them, a tiny waist was terribly attractive to a man). Their hair already neatly done up in braids for the night and their toiletries gracefully executed, they looked and smelled as sweet and fresh as any self-respecting Southern girls aught.

"…And, I hear there's an eligible doctor that's just set up practice in Atlanta who's quite mature and terribly rich," Susie drawled enthusiastically.

"Oh, Susie! But how would you ever meet someone in Atlanta?"

"Why, naturally, I intend to go to Atlanta this summer and stay with our Hamilton relatives up there! Then I'll go on to Savannah and stay with our O'Hara cousins, and then on from there to Charleston with the Robillards." Susie gloated serenely. "Mama said it was essential I do so. All the eligible males are in the cities, Sissy. Surely, you don't think I can find a suitable husband by sittin' around in Clayton County my whole life. Why, I'll become an old maid before that happens!"

"You're right, I suppose." Martha traced the embroidered flower pattern on the quilted comforter she lay on. "It's just…well, there's plenty of nice boys in and around Jonesboro."

Susie arched a brow. "Like who?"

"Like…" Martha bit her lip and looked down. "Like Joe Fontaine. He comes calling on you at least once a week."

Susie gave her younger sibling a condescending smile. "Sissy, I don't care a thing in the world for Joe Fontaine. Besides, the only reason he comes calling so much is because he's in love with you."

"Do you really think so?" Martha gushed breathlessly.

"Of course! Why do you think a handsome man like Joe Fontaine hasn't gotten married yet? Why, he's waiting for you to grow up!"

"Oh." She reddened, but her soft gray eyes sparkled dreamily at the thought. "He certainly is handsome…" She rested her head against the pillow and sighed. She looked forward every week to when Joe came to visit. She loved how he respectfully called her "Miss Martha," and kissed her hand as if she were a lady instead of a child. Though he spent most of his visit with Susie, he often teased her with a clever new riddle he'd heard in Bullard's Store that she would sit up all night to solve in order to have the answer by his next visit. Now that she was growing into her womanly frame, she was beginning to reciprocate Joe's warm feelings of affection. Yet, usually after his visits, she would have to cry herself to sleep; for, deep in her young, vulnerable heart, she feared that he still and would always think of her as just 'Susie's little sissy.'

"Oh, Sissy, you're a child." Susie scoffed. "You've known each other since birth and he's nearly twice your age. He'll be more a mentoring father figure to you than anything else." Suddenly, she brightened and leaned her head close, causing Martha to rise up alertly. "Although, I've heard that he's quite the hellcat."

Martha cocked her head. "What's that?"

Susie smiled wickedly. "A man with a lightning-quick temper and a happy finger on the trigger to match."

Martha gasped. "Oh, it ain't so!"

Susie nodded. "Is too so. You go ask Mama. She'll tell you that all the Fontaine men have only been and only will be hellcats."

"But he's so sweet, and gentle, and courteous!" Martha protested, her voice raising enough to earn a curious glance from Jane.

"That's why it's so obvious he's in love with you, honey. He's just like a kitten whenever you're around." Susie patted the girl's knee. "But don't be fooled; he's a hellcat just the same."

"I don't believe it." Martha declared fervently.

"You don't, huh?" Susie smiled slyly. "Well, I heard it on good authority about what happened last summer when he was staying with his mother's folks in Athens…"

She began whispering so quietly in Martha's ear that Jane couldn't hear a thing. Intrigued, she moved off of Prissy's lap and let go of the sock Boo still gripped in his jaws. Anxiously, she crawled up close behind them and attempted to hear more.

Suddenly, Martha drew back from Susie, a shocked expression on her face. "No!"

Susie nodded. "Yes."

"Well, who won?"

Susie gave Martha a dull look. "Who do you know is still alive?"

"Oh, that's terrible!" Martha crossed her arms. "Who did you ever hear that from, anyway?"

"Patty McRae."

"You call that a good authority? Everyone knows Patty McRae's nothing but a gossip. She pretends like she knows everything!"

"But Sissy, that's because she does! She's the worldliest person I know. She's been to Mobile once and Athens twice."

"Twice?"

Susie nodded smugly. "That's how she heard the story."

Martha sighed. "Oh, I imagine Athens is a lovely place."

Susie smoothed the hem of her gown and sat up. "You'll have to hear that from Patty. I've never been further than Fayetteville, and that was with Daddy."

"What? What happened in Athens?" Jane piped up curiously. To her dismay, however, the sisters separated and moved off to tuck themselves each into bed.

"Tell me! Tell me!" She cried, causing Susie to stick her tongue out at her. She stuck hers out in return before scurrying over to her nicer sister, who was already curling up underneath her quilted covers. "Martha, please!"

"Never mind, Jane. You're too young to understand." Martha said softly before burying her face in the pillow, her heart heavy and her mind unsettled by the things she'd just been told about her beloved.

Jane stuck out her lower lip and slowly padded back over to her bed, pouting. "You never tell me anything."

"That's because it doesn't concern you." Susie replied tartly, gazing closely at her reflection in the mirror. "Why don't you go back to playing with dirt or whatever it is that amuses you and just leave us alone?"

Jane growled and glowered at her sister, her fists balling up at her sides. The remark had hit an all-too-sore note, and it set her blood to boiling. Screaming, she lunged at her older sister in a heated rage.

Martha squealed and hid underneath her blankets. Boo jumped up on Jane's bed and began barking repeatedly. Prissy got up and fairly flew down the hall.

Jane and Susie rolled around on the floor, Jane pulling on her sister's pale blonde hair so hard it made Susie yelp, Susie scratching Jane's face with her squeaky-clean nails. Susie, however, was thinking fast. Eventually, she was able to angle herself into a position where she could throw the furious child off of her and scurry for the comfort of her bed.

Jane, still hot with rage, darted for her own bed and picked up her largest pillow. She sat up and hurled it at Susie with all of her might. Susie ducked her head to avoid the blow and the pillow connected with the gas lamp on her bedstead, causing it to crash and shatter onto the floor.

Instantly, the room fell silent. Boo jumped down to sniff around the fragmented glass shards. Martha poked her wide eyes out from beneath the blankets to take in the damage. Susie bit her lip, a worried frown crossing her face. Jane's face instantly changed from red to pale. No one, save for Boo, dared even move. Suddenly, they all jumped as a voice broke the silence.

"Whut gwine on in hyah?"

They turned to see tall, lean Dilcey standing in the doorframe, her arms crossed stoically. The girls held their breath and looked to their imposing mammy with wide eyes. Dilcey was not easy to get along with when she was mad.

Her eyes bounced from the wrecked lamp on the floor to Boo, who, bored, trotted off, to the blanketed lump that was Martha, to finally Susie and Jane sitting on their beds. "Why you gurls gwine an' break yo' maw's lamp?"

Susie, recovering her voice, hastily pointed a finger at Jane. "She did it."

Dilcey, unconvinced, warily turned to Martha, whom she knew would not lie. "Well, Mis' Mawth'r?"

Martha glanced from Susie to Jane to Dilcey, before casting her eyes down and playing with the ends of her auburn braids. "I didn't see it happen, but it certainly seems that way. You see, Susie and I were talking, and Jane got upset because she wasn't…"

Jane caught Dilcey's stern eye and bit her lip. She had a very strong feeling that Bible sentences wouldn't be the only punishment in store for her on the morrow.