Tables Are Turned

"Cheer up," he said, turning from her and starting up the stairs. "Maybe you'll have a miscarriage."

For a dizzy moment, she thought what child-bearing meant: the nausea that tore her, the tedious waiting, the thickening of her figure, the hours of pain. Things that no man could ever realize. And he dared to joke. She would claw him. Nothing but the sight of blood upon his dark face would ease this pain in her heart."Gone With The Wind, p. 913.

With an animalistic hiss of rage, Scarlett lunged angrily at Rhett. Taken by surprise, he still managed to sidestep her blow neatly and he caught firm hold of her arm. But Scarlett was nothing if not persistent. With a strength she didn't realise she possessed, she determinedly wrenched her arm free of Rhett's grasp and once again lunged blindly. Rhett had not anticipated a second strike so quickly. Caught off balance, he made a grab for the banister...and missed.

Scarlett's feeling of victory dimmed quickly as she watched her husband fall down what seemed like an endless flight of stairs. She froze as she turned her gaze upon the crumpled still form on the cold marble floor. It looked nothing like the strong, confident man who'd been holding her arm moments earlier.

No, it couldn't be Rhett. Nothing bad ever happened to Rhett. Perhaps he was playing a trick on her. She just had to wait. In a couple of minutes, he'd sit up and he'd laugh at her in that jeering way and mock her for being so gullible.

A couple of minutes passed. He was still lying there. He was all right, wasn't he? Get up, Rhett, Scarlett thought frantically. It's not a funny joke. It's just not funny.

She needed to yell for help. But her vocal chords had mysteriously ceased to operate. She opened her mouth to scream. Nothing came out.

It was Prissy who came in and let out a bloodcurdling shriek when she found her master lying at the bottom of the stairs and her mistress staring at him in shock. Prissy's shriek alerted Mammy, who quickly sized up the situation and sent one of the house servants for Dr Meade. She also got rid of the gawking Prissy by sending her upstairs to look after the children.

"Dey doan need to be hearin' about dis here situation, you understandin' me?" she said fiercely. And although Prissy would much rather have stayed and heard about what had happened, she could not dispute Mammy's logic. She grudgingly went up, just in time to stop three worried children from running downstairs.

It was another three hours before Scarlett's voice returned. During that time, she had been plied with brandy and tempted with tasty treats by a concerned Mammy urging her lamb to "jus' say a few words, honey." If Scarlett had been in her right mind, she might have found Mammy's offerings of rich food and brandy to be somewhat amusing, considering that Mammy had spent most of Scarlett's life telling her that neither was appropriate for a Southern lady.

Despite Mammy's efforts, it was Melanie Wilkes who first coaxed Scarlett to speak. Mammy had reluctantly left them alone, admitting that if anyone could comfort a burdened soul, "it was Miz Wilkes."

Avoiding the topic at hand altogether, Melanie stroked Scarlett's thick black hair and massaged her back gently as she talked of happier things. She mentioned that Atlanta's oldest judge had come to call on Aunt Pitty that afternoon and although Pitty swore up and down that he was a silly old fool, Melanie had noticed that she blossomed under his attentions. Maybelle Merriwether's little Raoul was more mischievous than ever – he'd discovered a batch of pies Mrs Merriwether had baked for one of her best customers and scoffed the whole lot down. Maybelle was in fits, worrying that he'd be sick.

"But if you want my opinion, darling," Melanie said confidentially, "Raoul Picard is so stout that I would venture to say this isn't the first pie delivery he's intercepted."

Perhaps it was Melanie's lighthearted chatter or maybe it was her gentle caress which reminded Scarlett so much of Ellen. Whatever the reason, she erupted into noisy tears.

Melanie calmly produced a handkerchief and as a lady should, looked away with apparent disinterest, as Scarlett blew her nose loudly.

"There, there, darling," Melanie crooned soothingly, as she patted Scarlett's back gently. "It's alright to cry. Don't be afraid."

It was Melanie's sympathetic tone which rubbed Scarlett up the wrong way. "I'm not afraid!" she snapped defiantly, and then gasped, putting her hand over her mouth. Her voice was back – but was it really her voice? It sounded so harsh and brittle, so different from her usual breezy soprano. Ashamed of her recent crying jag, she was even more embarrassed to find herself starting to weep bitterly once more.

Melanie didn't say a word, having realised that Scarlett was not in the mood for conversation. She simply continued to stroke Scarlett's hair as Scarlett sobbed lustily.

"I've killed him, Melly," she said flatly. "It's my fault that he's lying in the library right now. Oh, Melly, I've killed him. What will I do?"

Shocked by Scarlett's words, Melanie stopped stroking her hair. "Scarlett, dear, whatever are you talking about?" she said gently.

"I've killed him, Melly, I've killed him," Scarlett moaned miserably. "You saw his body just lying there, still as anything. He's dead, I tell you. Dead!"

The last word came out as a piercing shriek and a worried Lou ran in to see if everything was alright. With a few words of reassurance, Melanie dismissed Lou quickly and then returned her attentions towards Scarlett.

"There, there," she murmured. "Darling, you haven't killed anyone. Why, Captain Butler is like a cat with nine lives. He'll be alright. Dr Meade is fixing him up right now and you know how clever he is."

Even as Melanie said the words, she wondered if she was telling the truth. Captain Butler's body certainly had looked lifeless. If Dr Meade had not assured her and Mammy that Rhett still had a pulse, she too would be in doubt about whether or not he had died.

Sensing that Scarlett simply needed comfort right now, Melanie embraced her and began singing a peaceful lullaby – the very song she had sung to Beau as a newborn. Scarlett's green eyes fluttered and closed.

Melanie Wilkes looked down at Scarlett and sighed. For Scarlett's sake, she certainly hoped that Rhett Butler would survive. She remembered the hateful rumours which India had spread some time ago about Ashley and Scarlett having an affair. She hadn't believed the rumours then, but they were even less credible now. Looking at the tortured expression on her sister-in-law's face, Melanie had no doubts whatsoever about the solidity of the Butler marriage. It would be obvious to anyone, even India; that Scarlett was deeply in love with Rhett.

Author's Note: Hi everyone! So I was trying to write Chapter Three of She Belongs To Me and somehow this little plot bunny hopped into my head and demanded to be written down. What do you think?

I don't want to beg for reviews, but I'd really love to hear your thoughts, comments and feedback on this story.