Absent

Scarlett walked out of Dr Mead's office with a slight smirk playing at the corners of her mouth.

'In the family way' he'd said. She lifted her chin higher, confidently observing the world around her as she relished the astonishing identification of her symptoms. She had expected a diagnosis of biliousness and overwrought nerves. After all, she hadn't shared a room with her husband for years now, naturally a baby was the last thing she would have attributed her feeling poorly to, it hadn't even crossed her mind.

But as soon as Doctor Mead had announced the startling news a fiery swirl of recollections had engulfed Scarlett, threatening to burn, choke and caress her so mixed up were the feelings of love and hate that accompanied that night which seemed so long ago, yet seemed like yesterday. Rhett's breath, bitter with whiskey, hot against her neck. Rhett's hands, strong, brown, masculine hands flexing before her eyes, moving under her hair putting pressure on either side of her skull telling her that she was powerless next to his mannish, brute strength. Reminding her that she was his, his wife. And then, finally, Rhett claiming her as his wife, claiming her body as his own, using her for the purpose of his own pleasure. But oh, how she had felt that pleasure too. How she'd responded to his touch, arched her back and yearned for him, how sweet the ecstasy of surrender. She knew it was shameful. But Scarlett could feel no shame about that night.

She'd tried to feel angry, she'd tried to feel shame for she knew that her mother, dear, sweet Ellen, the perfect lady, would have died of shame had she known her daughter had writhed and curved about her husband's body, moaning in welcome to his touch instead of enduring it as a good wife should. Yes, Scarlett had tried to feel these things but she could not.

That is, until Rhett had returned, three days later with bloodshot eyes and bloated with drink. He was sober, but it was clear that it was the first time since he'd left her bed. How he shamed her then. She'd thought she had the upper hand. Rhett Butler in love with her. Imagine it. But he'd denied the confessions of love that Scarlett had hugged to her heart but wasn't so sure about yet. He'd made her feel used, dirty. As though she were merely one woman of many instead of his wife whom, only a few days ago he had whispered words of love to with a passion that was overwhelming in it's intensity. He'd named Belle to her and laughed when she got upset and masked that sadness with anger. He'd reminded her that she was only a body to him. And by packing up that same day and taking her favourite child with him, he'd reminded her how utterly powerless she was against him.

But now, well now it was she who had the ace up her sleeve.

Scarlett walked into the parlour of her Peachtree Street house and settled herself into Rhett's big arm chair, which was far more comfortable than the spindly settees, and placed her hand gently on her stomach. She was surprised at herself. Surprised because she realised that she wanted this child. Upon hearing that she was to have another baby her first thoughts had not been about her figure, the inconvenience of pregnancy, the pain of childbirth, how much this news would hurt Ashley whom she had made a promise of chastity to, or even how the child might be used as a pawn in her bitter power wars with Rhett. No, her first thought had been that this child was most certainly meant to be. It had been made from the most passionate, exciting night of Scarlett's life. Made on the night that Rhett had said 'I love you'. She wanted this child and, with a sense of analysis that came rarely to Scarlett, she also felt that she needed it.

This child would be the key to turning her marriage from the cordial, cold, emotionless arrangement it was now back, at least to the way things had been at the beginning. 'Or maybe' though Scarlett with her mind on Rhett's whispered 'I love you', despite the denial he'd made clear afterward, 'maybe this baby will make our marriage something a little more. Perhaps he'd act with more care around her now that he'd let slip his true feelings. Perhaps he would once again bestow upon her some of that lavish affection he used to which was now solely reserved for Bonnie.' At that thought Scarlett stopped herself and reprimanded herself under her breath. It was a horrible thought, a mother being jealous of her own daughter. Besides, soon there would be another baby. A baby they could love together, one who would love them both the same. For while Scarlett knew that her youngest daughter loved her dearly, she also knew that there was a special place in her baby's heart reserved only for Rhett.

There was only one problem. Rhett had been gone three months now and she'd had no word from him. She would be starting to show soon and if Rhett didn't return before long the tongues of Atlanta would be wagging so furiously that Scarlett wouldn't be able to step outside her own front door. Everyone knew that Rhett Butler adored babies, and everyone knew that Scarlett and Rhett no longer shared a bed, so the only explanation for Rhett not rushing back to his pregnant wife's side would be that he knew that the child was not his. Scarlett knew that she wouldn't be able to bear it if people started saying those things. What if Rhett heard them? Would he believe her?

She didn't even have any idea where Rhett was. She considered writing to him, addressing the letter to his mother in Charleston, trusting that Mrs Butler senior would know where to forward it to. But this didn't appeal to Scarlett four two reasons. Firstly, it was making it abundantly clear to Rhett's mother that her son and his wife were on such bad terms that he hadn't even informed her of where he was travelling and where he was taking their daughter. And secondly, she wanted to tell Rhett this news in person. She thought it to big a development in their marriage for her not to be able to witness his reaction. She supposed she could just ask him in the letter to come home and not say why. But that seemed to her like begging and her pride simply would not allow it. Besides, despite how confused her feelings towards Rhett were at this time, she could clearly identify one of those feelings as anger.

Anger was put to the forefront of her turbulent emotions when, three days later she received a letter from her Aunt Pauline in Charleston. Rhett was there, visiting with Bonnie.

'Well' thought Scarlett, 'thank God that they haven't left the country.' She continued to read her letter, wishing with each word she read that she hadn't.

Aunt Pauline was admonishing Scarlett for her store and her mills.

'What right did she have?' Scarlett steamed inwardly. 'How dare Aunt Pauline scold her for her unladylike behaviour when it was that same behaviour which had saved them all from starving during the war?'

Certainly Scarlett knew that she no longer needed her businesses to put food on the table and a roof over her head. Why Rhett had more money than was imaginable and he paid for everything from the ribbons in her hair to the upkeep of their mammoth house. But she needed the store and the mills for an entirely different reason. She needed them to prove to herself that she was worth something. Never one to settle down to ladylike pursuits, Scarlett abhorred the dainty needlework, books of flowery poetry and endless cups of gossipy tea that the other ladies of Atlanta occupied themselves with. She found it difficult to while away more than two hours at a time with her children for she just didn't have the patience to watch their games, hear their lessons or listen to their trivial fears and hopes. She never even needed to mend things for her husband, which was apparently a ladies duty and greatest joy. For if Rhett ever tore anything, which he seldom did, he'd buy it again new. Nor did any of the children's garments ever require her attentions for Bonnie had so many little outfits that Scarlett couldn't even be sure she'd ever worn the same thing twice and Wade and Ella were so spiritless in their play that their clothing was in remarkable shape.

The store and the mills were the only thing that kept Scarlett feeling alive amidst the lovelessness of her marriage and the monotony of her days. Sometimes she even thought, with something that felt like longing, of the days at Tara after the war. For while the work was hard it had meant and achieved something. It had kept her and her family alive. It had had a purpose.

And now Pauline had rummaged up the nerve to tell Scarlett that she must cease and desist with her businesses for it was causing her husband shame. Rhett, ashamed? Ha Scarlett laughed out loud at the notion. Rhett had always admired her for doing what she had to do to keep her head above water in the early days. And even now that they were married he had seemed to enjoy nothing more than to listen to Scarlett prattle on about who she had cheated out of their eye teeth today.

A sense of bubbling fury welled up in Scarlett. This was another one of Rhett's foolish attempts to firmly reinstate himself and by association, his precious daughter, back into polite society.

'Why is it,' Scarlett thought, hurling the letter into the fire 'that the only way he can think of to make himself acceptable to society again is to blacken my reputation?'

When he'd been working his magic in Atlanta he'd tell any of the old biddies who'd listen that he felt he couldn't be at home because his wife had invited the Scallywags over and that he'd had to take the children to church alone because Scarlett was busy entertaining Mamie Bart.

'Why those people had been his friends too. In fact, if it weren't for him introducing me to them I'd have never met him at all.' Scarlett thought vehemently, a war raging inside her at the injustice of the world.

'In fact,' she thought, gaining momentum 'if it weren't for Rhett in the first place I'd probably still be the respectable widow of poor Charlie Hamilton and the lady that my mother always wanted me to be.'

As always at the thought of her mother and the standards she'd set which Scarlett had doubtlessly fallen short of, Scarlett felt a throb of sadness.

'Mother wouldn't have wanted me to run the store any more. Or the mills either. I have three children and another on the way. Mother would have said that I was blessed indeed and should be focusing myself entirely on their wellbeing and that of my husband.'

Bitter tears sprung to Scarlett's eyes but she pushed her palms into them to quell the flow. This was not a time for weakness. Rhett was doing all he could to destroy her reputation, which truth be told, were it not for Ellen Scarlett wouldn't care about. But it was also the principle of the matter. It was like Rhett was pushing down on her to stop himself from drowning, using her as a step on his way up and caring not that he was ruining her in the process. It was now a very personal matter and Scarlett, with her mechanically logical brain could only see one way clear of the matter. She herself must become above reproach. She would do as Rhett was doing but beat him at his own game. She would make herself over into a woman of unsullied reputation and to achieve this she knew what she must do. She'd have to sell the mills and sign over responsibility of the running of the store. She felt, with unexpected womanly tenderness that she couldn't sell the store. It was all Ella had left of the father she'd never remember and so Scarlett wanted to retain ownership of it for her middle child's inheritance. And while it would devastate her soul to give up the mills sometimes the bigger reward was worth a smaller sacrifice. She'd sell them to Ashley. Ashley whom she'd though about less and less since that night which seemed so long ago, yet seemed like yesterday.

As for the pressing matter of Rhett's extended absence, Scarlett knew there was now only one thing she could do seeing as how writing to him in Charleston where he was busy soiling her name was now out of the question. In a month or so, she would no longer be able to successfully hide her condition. If, in a month from now Rhett had not returned she would pack up herself and the children and seek refuge at Tara. There she would be invisible to the prying eyes of the Atlanta matrons and perhaps it would give her some time to think and asses what it was she was really feeling.

'And if Rhett didn't turn up before the baby came? If he did turn up and accused her of adulterous actions? If he never showed up again?'

Scarlett tossed her head to clear it. She'd have to think about those things tomorrow.

My goodness, how long has it been since I've written on here. Now that I'm back I don't know what kept me away. Please forgive me if my writing is a little rusty. Reviews are most gratefully welcome. I've just read 'Rhett Butler's People' and found it so supremely awful that it inspired me to try and mix up events for myself. Thank you for reading. I promise you this story has some interesting places to go if people are interested in reading about them.

Annie