RHETT AND BELLE

PROLOGUE

Belle Watling was tired of war.

It was the hot summer of 1850, and Fort Sumter was just another place name on a map, as were Gettysburg, Antietam, Spotsylvania, and Appomattox. The cataclysm that was to wrench those places and all places in the American universe was still a decade and a million lives away. The war which engaged Belle was of far greater scope, longer duration, and held far less prospect of peace or surrender than a mere war between the states ever would. Belle's war was every woman's war.

The war between the sexes.

It was a man's world, a white man's world at least, and the weapons were many for the men and few for the women. A woman's power was almost always dependent on her relationship to a male, a function of her status as a daughter, wife or mother. The exceptions were women who were nobody's daughter, wife or mother—at least in the eyes of the world. Nuns and prostitutes were both sides of the same mirror. Nuns held the limited power they held by the complete rejection of sex; prostitutes held their power by the embrace of it. Belle was no nun, but she was a hell of a prostitute. And for nuns or prostitutes, two cardinal rules were ironically the same.

Don't fall in love.

Don't bear a child.

So it made little sense when Belle Watling did both.

The father was the one man to have challenged the self-imposed celibacy that had been Belle's reward to herself as proprietor of a bordello who didn't need to entertain customers.

He was the one man to have pierced an emotional armor so well in place that Belle had long forgotten a time when it was separate from her very constitution.

He was the one man Belle had ever fallen in love with.

His name was Rhett Butler.

PART I - RHETT

CHAPTER 1 – Before Europe

Rhett Butler was not close to his father, Ambrose Fontveille Butler, just as Ambrose had not been close to his father, "Johnnie" Simms Butler—one of South Carolina's first and most colorful cotton exporters, who had three times made and twice lost a fortune-luckily having a heart attack at a poker game before he bet the third. Ambrose had rebelled against his father's licentiousness and contempt for social proprieties, a worldview generally held by the Butler men—at least according to family lore. He was determined to break the mold, starting with making sure that his precariously preserved inheritance would allow him and his new family to take their rightful place at the helm of burgeoning Charlestonian Society. If he craved anything but risk-free prosperity and moral respectability, he had apparently quashed those yearnings upon marriage to Rhett's mother, Charlotte Legrand Halifax—who like many of Charleston's coastal aristocracy, was only a generation or so removed from reinvention herself.

But Ambrose could see at an early age that his son Rhett's personality leaned powerfully in the direction of the more historically typical Butler man. Though he was a quick study, good hunter, and a natural athlete, he seemed bored by all of these wholesome pursuits. At 14, he was expelled from a prestigious boarding academy because of the discovery of his sponsorship of a weekly poker game, wherein the progeny of some of Charleston's finest families shared a bottle of rum and lost their weekly allowance to the game's affable arranger-Rhett. At 15, Rhett masqueraded as the 18-year old brother of a friend to gain entry to a ball thrown by a major planter outside Greenville, and waltzed with several of the county's finest belles before a classmate of the real brother unmasked him. These two escapades alone (how many others had perhaps gone undetected?) were evidence enough to Ambrose that Rhett was indeed prone to the same vices as his grandfather Johnnie; reckless gambling and inveterate womanizing (that broke a wife's heart—as well as left Ambrose with several half-siblings of questionable coloring.)

If Rhett's actions were simply youthful indiscretions, Ambrose wanted to ensure they remained the last of a few, not the first of many. He resolved as the best course of action a military career for Rhett, boarding him at a strict military prep school for his senior year. To his relief, the boy acquitted himself well enough during his final year there that Ambrose was actually able to wrangle for him an appointment to West Point itself. Between the masculine camaraderie and the outlet provided by channeling his baser tendencies into the life of soldier and maybe even warrior, he hoped that Rhett could bring honor to the family and still find some satisfaction in his vocation. (Although stern, Ambrose did wish his children something that passed for happiness.) If that path was the wrong one, he certainly hoped that Rhett could be interested in learning to run the family business—but he was wary of putting his son in proximity to the constant temptation of flowing cash.

Ambrose had indeed sensed correctly that the blood of Grandpa Johnnie coursed mightily through his own son. But he assumed appetites in Rhett that, though similar to his grandfather's, were not nearly as coarse—or equitably spread. Although Rhett Butler rarely said no to a drink, or to a bet that smelled lucky, he already knew when he discovered such vices that they would be never more to him than pleasant pastimes; mere props in a play peripheral to its narrative. One trait far dominated the rest.

He had known what would make life interesting for him since the age of seven, when his thirteen-year old cousin came to spend the summer at his grandmother's country's estate outside of Charleston. Becky arrived in late May, a tomboy of sorts, happily joining the group of pre-pubescent cousins who whiled away the day climbing trees and playing in the creek. Sometime in early July she took to bed "with a fever", and though she recovered rapidly, by the end of the month had shed her play clothes, and was trying on hoop skirts and looking at the latest fashions in the illustrated ladies magazines with some of her elder female cousins. And she now insisted on being addressed as Rebecca.

She had arrived that summer on the cusp of a transformation Rhett was only to understand years later. But he was nonetheless fascinated by it when he first witnessed it, a rebirth of sorts as mysterious and exciting to him as birth itself. When he looked at "Rebecca" in August, he experienced a strange stirring that had not been present when looking at "Becky" in May. Whether or not the charms of the fairer sex would have dawned on him at the same time had he not noticed their genesis in so particular a manner one cannot be sure, but certainly it was not based on a biological discharge of chemicals in his own body—he was only seven. His precocity was evidence of something greater.

Like a botanist and his plants, or an entomologist and his insects, Rhett had found the subject of his life's work. It would be to explore, dissect, and understand the creature that was woman. As he himself was graced by good looks, charm and a genuine respect and curiosity for his subject, he was an excellent candidate for such an endeavor. He never articulated it as such of course, but by the time adulthood loomed he certainly recognized that the most fundamental fact of his life was not even in question.

He would be first and foremost a man who loved women.

So when his father set forth his plan for a military future for his son, Rhett saw temporary acquiescence to it as the only likely way in which not to jeopardize his inheritance—and with it a standing in society and wielding of financial power that would facilitate the pursuit of his passion for women with much greater ease than if he was consumed by the mundane tasks of keeping body and soul together. He even took the opportunity to apply himself to his studies—an apt choice given there was little else to do at the military school besides drilling and the plotting of elaborate practical jokes.

He found he excelled in the subject of literature, for even in the driest tomes one could find contemplations on women and the consequences of their existence. Although many of these ruminations occurred in historical volumes, (allowing the tutors to distance the boys from any potentially suspect passages from which they might draw unclean conclusions), Rhett saw no reason to that believe human nature had changed fundamentally in thousands of years. The truths imparted in the great works could certainly be applied to the present. Not only the lessons of love, but also the lessons of history.

Rhett's spoiled fellow Carolinians thought themselves, as "southern gentlemen," to be somehow unique creatures in history. Despite his similar background, Rhett possessed no such hubris—his truly keen intelligence saw through such blatant subjectivity. In fact, he found it quite ironic that those thinking they had nothing to learn from the past were the same ones most steeped in glorifying a Southern "civilization" that was galloping backwards through history, as evidenced by the elaborate cultural anachronisms, the feudal agricultural economy, and an outmoded concept of prosperity that was measured only by the wealth of a few.

The North, on the other hand, was charging into the future. (Fortuitously the Academy subscribed to several northern newspapers—although it seemed only Rhett and the odd professor looked at them). Industrialization was the basis of a new kind of prosperity, one that took into account the fortunes of all, not just of the landholding few. Unlike in the South, workers were paid, but immigration provided a large and cheap labor pool, and consequently masses of wage earners with money to spend. They fueled demand for the very products they made and required services that expanded the middle class. As they didn't need to be fed, clothed and given rudimentary medical care by their employers, their labor was actually cheaper than that of the slaves. And they were strivers, whose effort and ingenuity could provide rewards that no slave had cause to aim for. The northern economy had elasticity, the southern economy stagnated. One half of the country was running with the pack of Europe in the modern world, the other half was drifting lazily along the river of obsolescence.

All this Rhett could see. He had no outlet to articulate his understanding-the academy hardly being a bastion of freethinkers—but voiced or not, his intuitive grasp of the big picture was invariably sound and prescient. It would serve him well. It would have served the South well if she were able to listen.

Rhett also applied himself to learning the French language, as he not only found he could use it as a pretext to gain him access to a far less strait-laced literature, but thought it wise to develop a tool that would gain him access as well to women never even encountered by most young dandies on the "Grand Tours" of Europe that were becoming the fashion of the day for the new American rich. They usually traveled Europe with other Americans, or at least the southerners did—with other southerners. His father following slavishly the cultural cues indicating social status, Rhett was sure he too would be sent on a Grand Tour, but he had no intention of hewing the a path no more adventurous than that from Savannah to Atlanta. He would meet some real Europeans, and most decidedly, some real "belles"—the French kind.

Rhett did not actually take his father's proposal of West Point seriously, not realizing his acceptance, having less to do with grades and more to do with his father's close business ties to a South Carolina legislator, was guaranteed.

Making it through an entire four years at West Point, a boring institution that was training him for a career that held no interest for him, was not a prospect Rhett relished. His first plebe year, though unpleasant, had been somewhat cushioned. Although he was destined to reserve feelings of true friendship and loyalty to women only, a coterie of classmates wanted terribly to be his friend, and he was effortlessly popular.

During his second year, he even used his status to intervene on behalf of a few unfortunate classmates, including the new class of plebes, who were picked on from the beginning, risking retribution-physical and otherwise-from the upperclassmen for his impertinence. But those punishments rarely went beyond some extra push-ups and drills, which Rhett performed with an enthusiastic smile to frustrate and confound his punishers. He found when he deprived the cruel of the pleasures of cruelty, they became disoriented. When he refused to show fear, they became unsettled. No doubt the most intimidated among them might well have eventually made it his goal to "break" Cadet Butler, especially since Rhett was increasingly hard put to continue suppressing the witty barbs that perched on his tongue so readily during moments when others exhibited an annoying sense of self-importance. But by the end of the year, he developed an athletic silhouette and bearing of an adult that garnered him the psychological-if not chronological-status of an upperclassman.

Rhett dreaded the official change in status, as he would be expected in his third year to abuse the lower classmen as he had been abused. The whole system was the height of idiocy, as far as he was concerned. But just as his junior year was about to commence, Fate intervened, as it tends to.

In the autumn of 1848, Ambrose Butler, while riding his carriage from the docks to the family home, had a massive stroke. As the sole male heir, Rhett could hardly be blamed for returning home from West Point to attend to family affairs, to the consternation of brass who had had their eye on a rising star. Rhett was a natural leader and he knew it, but he had no desire or intention to lead anyone but himself. His classmates were distressed to see him go, ostensibly as they hoped he would win for them the class marksmanship trophy that year, and Rhett has the steadiest shot in his class. In truth, they wanted him to stay because they resented anyone who could control his destiny as they could not, and they further sensed he would not miss them a whit, and did not want it confirmed. It was their injured pride that gave rise to the subsequent fiction that Rhett Butler had been kicked out of West Point, a rumor that would later only fortify his contempt for a military culture that harbored as many gossips behind closed door as a tribe of aristocratic coastal biddies.

In respect to her husband's memory, Rhett's mother feigned disapproval at her son's decision to leave West Point, although she was in truth delighted. Rhett's younger 15-year old sisters, the twins Tessa and Lenora, adored Rhett, and made no attempt to constrain their glee. In addition, since mourning would delay their entry into society by a year, they were happy at the prospect of a masculine presence in the house, particularly one so less somber than Father. Perhaps Rhett would even bring some potential beaus to pay their respects to the young ladies. This was a daring thought, for they were well aware that appearances were to be maintained above all, and courtship of any kind during mourning was cause for scandal.

More apprehensive about the future were the slaves, a few houseservants only as was common for rich urban southerners. There was the butler and Ambrose's manservant, Jim, and Clarisse, his wife, previously Rhett and the girls' Mammy, but now the cook. They had a daughter Livy, personal maid to Charlotte and the girls, and helper to her mother. Jim was arthritic, and his household chores were becoming increasingly difficult .He didn't know how he'd keep up with a 20-year old.

"But what about when you go back up north, Mr. Rhett?" queried Jim, afraid Rhett would take him along. "Jim, whether back to West Point—or points unknown—do you think I'd leave my dear mother and sisters here without a man to keep watch over them?" Rhett answered with a wink. Jim puffed up momentarily at the compliment, which was indeed proffered sincerely. But the words "or points unknown" did not go unnoticed. In a life of enforced servitude, one of the few sources of workplace satisfaction came from knowing your master's secrets before his own family knew them

When Rhett turned 21 and took legal control over his father's estate, he gave Jim his freedom. Truth be told, it was less out of compassion or conviction, than because Rhett enjoyed the heady exercise of his newfound power. He promptly realized that Jim had nowhere to go and no way to support himself, and so they carried on largely as before. But Jim did ask for the freedom of Clarrisse and Livy, and Rhett granted it discreetly, making sure they both had a dollar each in pay a week. Like most Southern men, Rhett had never questioned the institution he'd grown up with. But the defacto bondage of the upperclassmen over the lower classmen at West Point had repelled him. He wanted no part of it, particularly as he saw the foundation of the South's wealth—slavery-equally as its downfall.

Ambrose's cotton-exporting business was indeed well run and coveted by more than one business rival. After spending a few weeks in the office, becoming intimate with accounts and the working of the business side of things, Rhett rolled up his sleeves and looked at operations on the dock itself. He became familiar with the boats that were contracted to transport the cotton, finding out which were well-maintained and likely to keep making the crossing unscathed. He became acquainted with the captains, and noted those who skimped on proper rations for their sailors to reduce expenses—they were the one most likely to cheat him as well, and soon lost his business. And he found the most trustworthy and competent foreman on the docks—a Sullivan—and paid him good money to ensure his loyalty and devotion. Then he ventured down the coast on a clipper to Savannah, and found out he had born sea legs.

As Rhett approached his 21st birthday, he convinced his mother that a trip to Europe was essential to investigate the feasibility of making the business one of importing as well as exporting. At present, the ships filled up in Liverpool with myriad goods that were dropped off in various eastern seaboard ports before refilling with cotton in Charleston and Savannah. Each ship dealt independently with Europe and the States. It seemed to Rhett it would be more profitable for the same ships to travel directly from Charleston to Liverpool and back, bearing cotton on the way out and manufactured goods on the way back-goods that Rhett could chose personally and arrange himself to distribute stateside. For example, weren't ladies' dresses from Paris in huge demand all over the South, all over the country in fact?

Charlotte Butler had a vague sense of Ambrose's forebodings about their son, though he had largely kept them to himself, and she ascribed them mostly to his own bad experiences with his father. Rhett had been the soul of responsibility since his return, and the business was thriving. If his motivations in traveling were not solely mercenary, it was hardly odd that a young man desired some adventure and freedom from his family. And if indeed he was prone to indulging in vices, better he taste the forbidden fruits in Europe than in the glare of Charleston society. So although her acquiescence was more formality than needed consent, she did not withhold it. But she already missed her only son before he left, because she knew he was following his heart, not leaving it behind.