Chapter One
Never had Clayton County seen a more beautiful bride.
They all agreed. Oh Miss Honey Wilkes had done well for herself when marrying young Charles Hamilton only the week before. And his sister, Miss Melly had fair shone with joy when marrying Ashley Wilkes. Alice Munroe had also been a pretty bride when she had married half a year before, but none compared to the beauty that was Scarlett O'Hara the day she became Mrs. Rhett Butler.
Dressed in her mother's gown from seventeen years earlier, Scarlett's waist was tiny, her cheeks were aglow and her Indian straight hair was piled enticingly upon her head. She beamed as she walked towards her fiancé on her fathers arm, all dimples and coquettish airs.
Her husband too, was very handsome. Dark and swarthy and all cat like grace. He was not received, of course, in his hometown of Charleston and all down that seaboard where stories of his philandering and gambling ran rife. But in marrying the belle of Clayton County he had guaranteed himself a modicum of acceptance within that County and none were pious enough to miss the wedding of this eldest Miss O'Hara.
When they had been pronounced man and wife he had swept her into his arms and bestowed upon her a kiss so shocking that it was sure to be the talk of the County for weeks ahead. When her husband had released her, Scarlett's eyes had darkened to emerald and an appealing flush travelled from her high Irish cheek bones, down into the delicate décolletage of her dress, leaving Brent Tarleton wondering just how far down that blush continued.
Brent liked Scarlett better than any other girl he'd ever met. She was feisty and fun and flirty and beautiful and she knew how to make a young man feel strong and powerful and needed. She never played favorites between him and Stu and, would occasionally let one or the other of them steal a little kiss while the other kept watch. The O'Hara's were a good county family, for all that they'd owned Tara only one generation, and Gerald O'Hara kept the best stocked brandy cabinet in the County.
So as Brent watched her promenading on the arm of her new husband, that Charlestonian rascal who had come and swept her away from the good County boys who had grown up alongside her, he couldn't help but picture himself beside her, accepting the congratulations of the neighbors they knew so well. Not because he loved Scarlett, but because it made sense. Because he was a good County boy and she was a good County girl and he wanted to take her to his bed as his wife and put dozens of future County babies in her. That was what he knew and that was what he wanted.
He imagined himself peeling Ellen's wedding dress off her, delighting in every inch of skin he uncovered. He imagined himself fumbling with the buttons of his coat in his excitement and he imagined initiating this new bride into what it meant to be a woman.
His hand curled into a fist at the thought of that unknown entity from Charleston doing all those things in his stead.
"He'll be takin' her away before she's hardly had a dance," Stuart grumbled under his breath, kicking sullenly at the spotless floor of Tara's front parlor. "And you know how our Scarlett likes to dance."
"She's not our Scarlett any more, Stu," Brent replied, almost equally as sullenly. "She's Mrs. Rhett Butler now."
"Hello Brent," a shy voice from the side intoned and Brent looked down, to see the familiarly hopeful face of Careen O'Hara.
"Hello, sis," he chucked her distractedly underneath the chin, looking directly over her head as her sister and new brother in law were congratulated by the Fontaine's.
Careen's heart sank and tears sprung into her eyes as she turned away from the man that held her heart and had unknowingly cut his teeth on it. She had pleaded and begged her mother to allow her to wear a full length dress to her sister's wedding and Ellen had relented, allowing her to don a charmingly modest pink and white lace creation, that made her rosy cheeks glow and her pale green eyes snap.
All night she had lain awake, imagining how Brent would see her in such a grown up dress and immediately forget about the pretty, vivacious Scarlett. She had fantasized long into the night about how he would beg to court her before he left for the war and return home to propose on his first furlough. Before dawn she had named their first child. Nathaniel, she had always thought, would sound lovely beside Brent's name - Nathaniel Brent Tarleton.
But now she was forgotten, never noticed, truly, not while her sister, the most beautiful bride Clayton County had ever seen, still held reign over the heart of the man she loved.
Later, standing on the steps of Tara, waving farewell to the newlyweds, Careen allowed the tears she had so valiantly held back fall, as she watched Brent bid a bad-tempered goodbye to Scarlett, just before she was helped into the buggy by her husband. It was dreadful really, to know one's heart at an age where no other would take you seriously. Dreadful to think that no matter how grown up she might get, Brent would always think of her as Scarlett O'Hara-Butler's youngest sister.
The tears came thick and fast as they waved the carriage down the driveway.
"Here now sissy, what's all this?"
It was Brent, of course, which only made the tears fall faster.
Careen sniffed inelegantly, forgetting her mother's admonishments that ladies never sniffed and always carried a handkerchief, and began using the sleeve of her dress to dry her cheeks.
Brent's hand was under her chin though, coaxing it upwards as he applied his own monogrammed handkerchief to mopping the tears from her eyes. For a moment, Careen knew hope.
"There now sis, we'll all miss her," he looked forlornly down the driveway again, where the buggy had almost disappeared.
In a fit of pique, Careen shoved the handkerchief back in his direction.
"Keep it," Brent shrugged, meandering off in the direction of Gerald who was generously pouring brandy for all.
Careen sighed, pressing the handkerchief to her face again and inhaling the lingering scent of tobacco, brandy and horse leather. Her fingers errantly traced the monogrammed initials B.T.
It was with the same handkerchief that she would wave goodbye to him as he rode off with his brothers two weeks later on his way to war, hollering goodbye as he past her without a backwards glance.
I have no set updating schedule for this little side-story to A Change in the Wind, I'm simply writing and posting as inspiration strikes.
Please let me know your thoughts in a short review.
Sarah.