All of the Players belong to the incomparable Margaret Mitchell. Reviews are much appreciated; love it or hate it, I need constructive criticism.
Chapter 1: Of Debuts and Marriage Proposals
Scarlett O'Hara had never been beautiful, but no one had ever possessed the courage to say it to her face. Only lately had she become aware of that fact, keenly aware, acknowledging the passage of time was occurring within herself just as much as it was within the people and things about her person. Captivating, stunning, and owning a pair of unforgettable green eyes which had once cemented her as the belle of three counties, the selfsame belle wore a sanguine expression as she examined her aging reflection in the vanity. Much as she'd like to utter a 'fiddle-dee-dee' and forget about her mounting troubles, the sense of urgency of the occasion, and of course, the omnipresent feelings of burden laid upon her by Melanie, that she must watch over Beau and Ashley and be kind to the long absent Rhett-duty called. And Scarlett O'Hara was never one to miss a party.
"I'm ready, Nan," Scarlett called to her daughter's maid, signaling to the Negro woman to call for her carriage.
"Miz Scarlett, ma'am," the maid, called Nan, nodded obligingly. Scarlett had no love for her newest house servant, who was younger than Scarlett's own son. She would have never spent the money on a separate maid for Ella ordinarily, but Prissy was at Tara now, with her new husband, one of Will's field hands. Even if Scarlett could spare Dilcey, she had enough to do as housekeeper to worry about dressing Ella properly. Mammy, for her part, was as old and dear and ornery as ever, but of very little use these days. So Scarlett had hired another girl. The girl was light-skinned and stern-faced, and to boot boasted the name 'Emancipation', which Scarlett had quickly shortened to Nan. Nan's wages for guiding Ella Lorena through her first social season were exorbitant for a darkie maid in Scarlett's opinion, but Ella had no complaints, and Nan was competent, if not overly so.
"Are you finished dressing Miss Ella's hair?" Scarlett questioned sharply, taking in her reflection one last time.
"Oh yes'm." Nan smiled with delight, as if it was she were the one going to the ball rather than Ella. "Miz Ella's a vision, Miz Scarlett. Ah suspect she'll have every suitor in Atlanta-"
"That'll do, Nan," Scarlett fumbled with her small evening bag, casting one last look of longing at the vanity before slamming the door behind her, irritated that she had to go to this party at all.
"Oh, Ella, honey." Scarlett quickly appraised her daughter, so awfully tall instead of slim and lovely, as she had been at that age-as Bonnie would have been. Ella looked down at the floor as if she wished to disappear into it.
"Don't Miz Ella look fine, Miz Scarlett?" Nan muttered expectantly, again taking on airs which made Scarlett's blood boil.
"Fine," Scarlett nodded disinterestedly. Ella's gingery hair did look better than normal, pulled back into a graceful knot at the nape of her neck. Her cream ball gown was cinched at the waist, emphasizing her bountiful breasts (Scarlett wasn't sure where in the world the girl had gotten those). Ella's skin was dusky pink, tinged with the faintest hint of rouge on her lips and cheeks.
"Remember, Ella Lorena, say little and speak softly. And if I hear any talk of philosophy I shall faint on sight."
Ella could recite poetry and spew philosophers' statements like no one Scarlett had ever met before; and, though the pastime wasn't entirely unladylike, it was unlikely that plain, bookish Ella would ever attract a suitable husband. That simply wouldn't do, not for Rhett Butler's stepdaughter. Rhett had criticized her management of her children from day one, but Scarlett would be damned if Wade Hampton and Ella Lorena didn't make good marriages and put that particular accusation to rest. Perhaps then, Rhett be able to forgive that shortcoming of Scarlett's and begin to address the rest of them, once and for all attempting to salvage the wreckage that was their married life.
"Mother," Ella roused Scarlett from her happy trance with her mousy voice, "the carriage is here."
Ella and Scarlett didn't speak on the ride to the Pecard house, only recently grand again, as Rene had finally traded in his pie wagon for a very profitable lottery venture back in New Orleans with none other than his hero General Beauregard. Maybelle Pecard, formerly Merriwether, stood with the Widow Meade, one of the last of Atlanta's Old Guard still alive, at the front entry of the stately place. Scarlett scoffed privately at sight of the two peahens, Mrs. Meade in black silk, for the Doctor had only died a year previous, and Maybelle in an ugly looking purple mess. She put on her best smile and greeted Maybelle with as much kindness as she could muster. Melanie would have been proud. Next to her and her pig-nosed daughter, Ella looked positively radiant, for all that she stared at the ground. Melanie wouldn't thank me for that thought, poor good Melanie.
Scarlett nudged her daughter. "Greet Mrs. Meade, Ella Lorena."
"Mrs. Meade," Ella managed to squeak, shaking the lady's hand limply, "and Mrs. Pecard. How good of you to invite us to your fine house."
Scarlett's cheeks reddened slightly at her daughter's shortcomings, but couldn't help but note the keen eyes of Raoul Pecard, the Pecards' apelike oldest son, devouring Ella as much as propriety would allow.
Wouldn't that be a slap in the face to old Maybelle…even Rhett wouldn't have dreamt that Ella could be married to one of those snobs.
With those happy thoughts in mind, Scarlett took leave of her daughter, making sure that her dance card was filled with the names of every eligible young man whose family was a moderately respectable Democrat. She would be damned if Ella didn't have at least one proposal by the end of the evening, and meanwhile, she, Scarlett, would have a good time. If her fabled beauty had faded slightly, her wit had not, and Scarlett quipped just as easily with the young men, only her son's age, as she would if she were still the belle of Clayton County.
"Now I do declare, Raymond Pecard, I never saw a more handsome cut in all my born days. You must prevail upon your dear mother to allow you to visit my daughter Ella at the Peachtree house. She's home now from school and you do know she longs to see you."
The younger Pecard, who was neither handsome nor particularly used to the attention from the ladies, especially that of the still handsome Mrs. Butler. Unsure of what to do, he only mumbled his thanks and promised vigorously to visit Miss Kennedy at first opportunity. Under his elder brother's stern gaze, Raymond kissed Scarlett's hand and departed, leaving Scarlett alone, feeling discouraged as she watched Ella, who looked utterly miserable dancing with Joe Whitling.
"My dear Scarlett, why ever are you hiding in the corner, darling?"
Scarlett's heart soared as she held out her gloved hand for Ashley to kiss. Good, sweet Ashley, who never came to parties, was here, looking surprisingly debonair. He too had been ravaged by age, his fair hair completely grey; however, Ashley's eyes had finally began to recover some of their former sparkle. Slowly but surely, he was recovering from Melly's death.
"Ashley!" Scarlett exclaimed, then spoke more softly, "I had it on good authority, Ashley Wilkes, that you were going to spurn this party like you did the Bonnells'."
"And miss Ella's debut? Never, Scarlett. She's such a good girl, your Ella, with such a bright mind, and-"
"Oh Ashley, don't run on so. I worry so for Ella. She's not got a lick of sense, just talks philosophy and ideals and-" She stopped her speech as the corners of Ashley's mouth curved upward into a smile. "Yes, yes, I know the Wilkes men find that sort of thing appealing, but she's never going to have a place in Atlanta society when she's off telling nice young men that we'd all be better off living like gypsies."
"Ah, she's been reading Thoreau," Ashley looked fondly upon his goddaughter, dancing now with Frank Bonnell and looking slightly pleased with herself. "Scarlett, don't be so hard on Ella. She can marry Beau and we'll be-"
"Don't talk like that, Ashley Wilkes," Scarlett placed a hand upon his arm, "all the talk about us has just now ceased. Let's not give the old biddies something else to sink their teeth into."
Ashley shook his head. "Dance with me, Scarlett. I insist. Let the tongues wag, and we'll pretend that we're back at Twelve Oaks for a moment."
Scarlett, impressed with Ashley's gumption in spite of herself, allowed the man who was responsible for the whole mess with Rhett, the man who had lived within her heart for half a lifetime, to lead her onto the dance floor. As she danced with him, chuckling slightly at the sight of the society matrons gawking at them as if Rhett were glowering in the corner and poor sweet Melly were still living, Scarlett felt an odd sense of peace. Ashley would never recover fully from Melly's death, but it hadn't destroyed him as she had feared. She would never renounce Rhett, and the cad hadn't been able to lick her yet. They were survivors, Ashley and her, and he was the only real friend she still possessed, who had stood by her in the ten horrible years since Rhett had stormed out of the Peachtree house for good. They had both been through hell and back, and had endured, maintaining both their dignity and regaining a shred of respectability.
Ashley leaned in slightly, whispering politely in Scarlett's ear, "you look so beautiful, my dear."
"Oh Ashley," Scarlett sighed, "you've been indulging in Rene's famous punch."
"No Scarlett," Ashley said, with as firm a resolve as she had ever seen in him, "I have been thinking seriously upon this matter for quite some time. I've discussed it with Beau, and he agrees wholeheartedly. I know that you have some expectation that Rhett will eventually return, but, my dear, it's been nearly ten years."
"Ashley, don't-" Scarlett's eyes widened with horror.
"Scarlett, I must entreat you, humbly, and with honorable intentions, would you become my wife? My dear, you must know my high regard for you, and I cannot help but think that Melly would think it suitable. You are already a mother to Beau, he's as close to Wade as a brother. You have waited for Rhett long enough, as I, well, as we both have mourned Melly long enough."
Scarlett was speechless.
"Please, my dear, you don't have to answer me quickly. I had merely hoped that the feelings of mutual regard which we have both expressed," Ashley's eyes looked momentarily downcast, "I had hoped that we could have a loving companionship. I have it on good authority that even our friends would be-accepting."
"Friends?" Scarlett had to laugh, "oh Ashley, you've forgotten one minor detail in your suit, my dear. I'm still married to Rhett."
Again Ashley looked hopeful, "I hope you aren't angry, Scarlett, but I spoke to Henry Hamilton about it over a year ago. Rhett has effectively abandoned you, despite the generous financial support. It would be simple to acquire the necessary documents, simply stating that the marriage is no longer valid."
"Ashley, calling it something different doesn't make it anything but a divorce. Do you know a divorced woman?"
"I don't care, my dear. I know only that Melly would want it, and so my resolve is firm. I want you to be happy, and dare I say it, I want to be happy myself, in the days which are left to me. Our friendship survived the war, and the trials of this past decade. It seems right to me, Scarlett, that we grow old together in one another's company, surrounded by grandchildren."
Grandchildren who are going to be half Cracker, Ashley Wilkes, since no society matron will let their precious children marry your son and my son and daughter when you marry a divorced woman.
"Ashley, darling, I-"
"Don't answer now, Scarlett," Ashley smiled, "I'll be here. I vowed when Melly died that I'd never marry another. I prayed sincerely that you and Rhett would reconcile, but now it just hurts me to imagine you alone in that monstrous house. When Ella marries, and she will, I'm sure, very soon, I want to make sure that you are surrounded by those that love you."
There was no lie in Ashley's eyes, he was cold sober, and Scarlett's heart sank. He was right, Rhett was never coming back to her. She could count on her fingers the number of times he'd appeared for the duty round in Atlanta. He had been there for Wade's twelfth birthday and presented him with a set dueling pistols, which he matched with a black stallion when Wade turned fourteen. He had even made an appearance when she sent Wade off to West Point, a boy hero looking eerily like his father in his light grey uniform. With Ella, Rhett had been kind, if not affectionate. Ella had been such a strange child, as if she were lost in her own little world. Scarlett had tried to relate with her, and with Wade Hampton, but both children kept the inner workings of their hearts secret from her, for all that she did love them. She loved Beau Wilkes with all her heart, loving and petting him and spoiling him like she should have spoiled Wade. Beau was goodness and Melanie all over in looks and demeanor, and through Scarlett's gentle coaxing, eventually escaped the clutches of well meaning but dull Ashley and followed Wade to West Point, where they both excelled. They were a natural family, and would be happy together, as Ashley said, with Melly's blessing.
Why then, after ten miserable years apart, was that black hearted varmint still on her mind?
