Rhett Butler alighted from the carriage in front of Mrs. Watling's cathouse, and motioned delicately for the boy to follow. He was a peculiar young fellow, Rhett kept thinking…and yet, he was much like Rhett, minus manners, looks…and he'd tried to teach the Dodger to gamble, to play just the easiest forms of poker and bridge, and it just wasn't going to take…
A number of people passing on the street looked curiously at Jack Dawkins, also known as the "Artful Dodger." Even though Rhett had gotten the boy to drop his ridiculous old men's clothes in favor of a normal boy's suit and knickerbockers, the Dodger had insisted on keeping his top hat…and clean though his skin was, there was nothing to do about his yellow teeth, as dental care for London pickpockets was apparently quite scarce.
As Mrs. Elsing, a leading Atlanta matron stared at the young man, picking his teeth casually with a purloined letter opener, the Dodger shouted. "Wot's wrong, you old biddy? Ain't you niver seen a gentleman in your life? You ain't no oil-painting yourself!"
Mrs. Elsing screamed. "Well I never!" and she shuffled across the street indignantly.
"I wouldn't…er." Rhett was trying hard not to laugh. Badly behaved as he'd been as a Charleston scamp, he never would have had the nerve to behave as this enterprising thirteen year old acted. How one could be so staggeringly obvious, so loudly obnoxious and still be one of the best "dips" in London—no wallet, handkerchief or watch-chain had ever been safe from the Dodger's roaming fingers.
Jack Dawkins looked up at Belle's magnificent establishment. "That's the bawdy 'ouse, is it?" The boy leaned back and considered it. "It's right out there, eh? In Cheapside, most of the 'arlots keep a lower, image, you knows."
"Well, here in Atlanta, if you are prosperous, your life can be a pleasant one." Rhett pointed at Grandpa Merriweather bouncing along on the cart that boasted "The best pastry in Atlanta" "That old fellow is having a marvelous time, and his daughter-in-law's cakes and pies are providing fairly well for them."
"No' much of a rig though, is it? I wager they ain't livin' like your madam friend yonder." Jack Dawkins pointed a grimy finger—when would he learn to bathe?-at the Watling house.
"Well, perhaps there is more of a demand, shall we say, for what Belle has to offer. Her biscuits perhaps are tastier." Rhett couldn't believe the conversations he was having with this little urchin. He'd met the Dodger just as the boy was about to be transported "for life" to Australia. Jack was a habitual offender, and the magistrates were sick of him.
After Rhett had told Scarlett that he was finished loving her, he'd gone on a trip, first to Ireland, and then to England…much of his money was in banks there, as he'd done a good deal of blockade running and purchasing on English shores.
Much as he was tired of Scarlett, he had thought of possibly bringing something back she'd like—or something for her children—his stepchildren. The child Rhett and Scarlett had had together of course was gone. Little Bonnie.
And, somehow, Rhett had gotten into a conversation with the young Dodger on the docks, and had tipped a turnkey to allow Jack Dawkins to slip his chains and board the "Queen Mary" with Rhett to go to the United States.
"You 'ave to understand" the boy had told Rhett, "I ain't the farmin' type, you know. 'Ard work gives me hives…"
"Or any work, I gather" Rhett had said, laughing. But of course Rhett had been immensely relieved when, after Father had cast him out, cutting off Rhett's allowance, after the expulsion from West Point, and the idiot girl he'd refused to marry-that gambling and making little arrangements and investments had kept Rhett in ascots and brandy much more easily than had he pushed a plow.
They'd gone to the races at Saratoga, he and the Dodger, and ten minutes after their arrival he'd asked Jack if he wanted a bit of spending cash, and Jack had smiled and shown Rhett a couple of greenbacks…Rhett had been loath to let Jack wander through the crowd anymore…his rather elastic conscience still didn't allow for pickpocketing!
But he'd find something for the boy to do. Jack could read and write and do some ciphering, and perhaps Belle Watling could keep him busy.
But, just as Rhett was about to escort the Dodger into Belle's place, Rhett heard a cough.
He looked up, and there she was. The only woman he'd ever loved. The woman who'd driven him mad, and made him laugh, and been so angry when he'd gone with the army instead of taking her out of the burning city of Atlanta when the Yankees came.
"Scarlett. How are you, my dear?" Just smile…give her your teeth.
"I wasn't aware, husband that you'd returned to Atlanta" Those green eyes. Even with all the sadness and tragedy we've had, they still dance a bit. Wasted on an idiot like Ashley Wilkes—a deflated balloon, in Rhett's studied opinion.
"Not going to inter-duce me, Captain But-lah?" Rhett was startled. "Oill do it me-self. 'Allo, I'm Jack Dawkins, lately of Piccadilly Square."
Rhett was crimson, for perhaps the first time in his life. What on earth would Scarlett think of the Dodger?" Rhett was relieved at least, that Scarlett was wearing no rings on the fingers of the hand that shook the Dodger's—he'd have had them quickly.
Scarlett was still a bit speechless herself as the Dodger kissed her knuckles.
"I'm Captain Butler's protégé, you might say, mum…I'm to be his right-hand man, you know. Good to meet the lady of his life."
Rhett finally managed to speak. "Jack, that's not—what nonsense. Scarlett, I picked up Jack in London, and he's an orphan of sorts—"
"' Me mum were a chorine in Reigate, 'afore she died of the clap"
Scarlett was laughing, perhaps more at Rhett's embarrassment than at the curious little spectacle before her. "So Captain Butler isn't bringing you to the house? I'm sure the family would love to meet you."
Now this had to be sarcasm, Rhett thought. Scarlett wouldn't want Wade, Ella, or especially Mammy to see young Master Dawkins, would she?
The Dodger shook a finger at Scarlett reprovingly. "Captain Butler told me of 'is lovely wife, but 'e never mentioned she was the most beautiful woman in awl Amerricer."
Scarlett's eyes sparkled, perhaps a bit wickedly. "Did he speak of me, Jack? Lovely, am I?"
"Oh, yes, 'e wants to re-new your vowels. You know you're marriage vowels."
Rhett wanted to strangle the little bastard here in the street. Their vows were dead. But Scarlett took Rhett's sunburnt hand in her little white palm and looked up at him.
"I think we should bring Jack home to dinner…dearest."
Perhaps she's over Ashley Wilkes…perhaps—
"Well, let's 'urry it up then, you lot. I 'avent 'ad a meal since that bloody steak and kidney pie on the train…let's get it on, you 'appy couple."
And the three walked away from Belle's house and on towards Peachtree Street.