Disclaimer: None of the characters are mine. Without Margaret Mitchell, this work would not exist. I do not own any part of Gone With The Wind and no money is being made from this story.
Chapter One: A Reckless Moment
June 1862: Atlanta, Georgia
It had been a moment of recklessness. There could be no other adequate explanation to justify how she had allowed the events to unfold as they had. She had gotten caught up in the moment and had given little thought to how rash her behavior had appeared. It had been, she had to admit, a gloriously enjoyable evening.
Now, having had time to consider her actions that night and how they had looked to those present, she realized that she had acted a bit impulsively.
Those who knew her best would not have been overly shocked by that admission, as late as it was in being reached. They would also not be surprised by the fact that despite her awareness of her socially inappropriate actions that she remained defiant.
She was tired of her life as a widow and a new mother; she had admitted as much that night. At just seventeen years old she found herself caring for a newborn son who was just several months old. Charles, her late husband, who she had been married to for only two months, had been dead for nearly a year. This was not the life she had visualized for herself.
She had been the belle of Clayton County with more beaus than any other girl her age. She had flirted and danced with all the men and had generally enjoyed her carefree life until that fated day at Twelve Oaks, the Wilkes family's plantation. The day had not gone as planned. She had arrived, rather scandalously dressed, with a design to become engaged to one man but found herself by the end of the night promised to another.
The marriage to Charles Hamilton had been another act of impulsivity on her part. She had only accepted Charles' proposal in order to spite the man she really loved. The man who loved her but wouldn't marry her for some reason she still didn't quite understand. She had not even really known the man she married and his subsequent death, shortly after their marriage, had freed her from certain obligations. The arrival of her son Wade, however, was an unwelcome reminder of the few times she had had to perform her wifely duties.
Charles' death had also irrevocably altered her life. His death meant a long and stifling period of mourning for a man she held no affections for. She hated being cloaked in the ugly and uncomfortable black crepe attire that was prescribed for women who had lost their husbands. Black was certainly not her color of choice. The suffocating restrictions that Southern mourning prescribed made her miserable. There was no way she could endure another year of this ritual.
As a result of Charles' untimely illness and death, she was unable to enjoy any of the frivolity other girls her age were experiencing. Dances, picnics, and barbeques were out of the question. Flirting with all the young soldiers she encountered daily was absolutely forbidden. It did not cross her mind that her status as a married woman meant that much of the fun she had enjoyed as a young belle would be unavailable to her after marriage. There would have been expectations of her as a wife and mother that excluded frivolity.
As she spent more time thinking about the situation that had transpired several nights before, she realized that everyone had been waiting for her inevitable misstep. She had wanted to feel alive again and act like the carefree, young belle she had been prior to the outbreak of the war. Everyone knew she'd be unable to resist the temptations when presented to her.
Initially, her reckless behavior had given way to defiant words. She didn't care what the old peahens had to say about her. She was young and had wanted to dance the night away. He had made that possible. They had danced together most of the evening, neither one caring that it was improper behavior for a Southern lady, let alone a widow.
Now, however, Scarlett O'Hara Hamilton was simply afraid.
"Please expect your father and me on Monday's train." Ellen had said in her letter that had arrived just that morning. "Make sure you are at the train station to receive us."
The letter had been brief with no hint offered as to why Gerald and Ellen O'Hara were traveling the twenty or so miles from the O'Hara family cotton plantation, Tara, in Clayton County to Atlanta. There was no need for hints or even an outright explanation because Scarlett knew exactly why her parents were making the journey to Atlanta.
What was a surprise to her was how quickly the news had traveled from Atlanta to Tara. The bazaar had taken place on Monday and Ellen's note had arrived on Thursday. The O'Hara's were well known in Atlanta, but it still amazed Scarlett that within a few days her parents had been informed of her indiscretion and had already decided to travel to Atlanta.
The rapid arrival of the letter confounded her as she sat at the breakfast table in Aunt Pittypat's home, with her sister-in-law Melanie looking on with genuine concern. Scarlett kept reading and rereading the words on the page until they were almost swimming in front of her eyes.
How exactly her parents had discovered so quickly what had transpired at the hospital bazaar, Scarlett could not even begin to guess. There was any number of people that would have been all too happy to trample on Scarlett's good time. Scarlett had a nagging suspicion that the letter had probably been penned by either Mrs. Meade, Mrs. Merriwether or Mrs. Elsing. Most of Atlanta's Old Guard, its most respected citizens, had been in attendance, so it could have come from any number of sources.
Scarlett was well aware of the fact that there had been quite a few people present that did not like her but that information did not shock her. She was, after all, a Southern belle with the smallest waist in five counties. Before her marriage, she had had her fair share of beaus and she had seen nothing wrong with using her charms on any number of men. Whether they were promised to another girl or not. She had probably made quite a number of enemies. If a young woman did not know how to keep her beau interested Scarlett did not feel sorry for her.
However, Scarlett's inexcusable behavior, for a widow, and respectable Southern woman, at the hospital fundraiser had been the talk of the town since the scandal had broken Monday night. The people who had been privy to Scarlett's actions had been appalled and had quickly shared the news with friends who had not attended the event. It was possible that by early the following morning, all of Atlanta had heard how Charles Hamilton's widow had acted.
Had someone boarded the first train to Jonesboro to tell her parents? Had they waited in the parlor while her mother scribbled her note to her daughter? Scarlett considered the matter as she read the short note a fourth and then a fifth time. She turned it over, expecting there to be more, but the backside of the note was blank. Then she lifted her head and saw that nothing Melanie and Aunt Pittypat were watching her.
Aunt Pittypat, Melanie and Charles' spinster aunt, who had raised her niece and nephew after the loss of their parents, had been beside herself with worry. Scarlett was, after all, living under her roof and people would say that she had not protected the two women and their reputations.
"Mother and Father are coming to town." Scarlett's voice shook with barely concealed worry.
"Oh, darling Scarlett, you mustn't' worry." Melanie, as usual, was trying to be the voice of reason. "A visit from your parents will be a lovely distraction."
"Oh Melly, they're coming to take me home to Tara. Someone has fed them scandalous lies about the other night." She exclaimed. How could Melanie not see this visit for what it was?
"I'm certain that that is not the case."
"Melly, will you accompany me to the train station?" There was no way that Scarlett wanted to face her parents alone. For all she knew they might get off the train, take her by the arm and force her to take the next train back home. Having Charles' sister Melanie there might help the situation with her parents. She couldn't even imagine how her parents had reacted upon hearing of the night's events.
"Of course, Scarlett. I will be by your side to help you through this. I am sure we can convince your parents to allow you to stay. I wouldn't worry too much about it. We have a few more days until their arrival." Melanie reached across the table and reassuringly patted Scarlett's arm. Scarlett looked down at Melanie's delicate hand, uncomfortable with Melanie's display of kindness. She didn't even really like Melanie all that much.
Despite Melanie's quiet assurances, Scarlett was ill at ease with what Monday morning would bring.
Truthfully, Scarlett could hardly remember exactly what had happened on the previous Monday evening. As a widow, she should have been nowhere near the venue. There was to be a bazaar and then a ball to help raise money for the hospital but seeing how she was in mourning for her late husband Charles, Melanie's own dear brother, there was no question of her attendance at the event. That meant that Melanie and Aunt Pittypat would also not attend out of respect for Charles' memory.
To add insult to injury, Scarlett had worked very hard preparing items for the bazaar and had even spent endless hours decorating the hall. It was only because of the last minute emergency necessitating her and Melanie's attendance, that she found herself in the hall on Monday night. It was, if truth be told, all for the glorious cause. All Southerners had to do their part to ensure the Confederacy's victory in this war. Charles had died for the cause after all.
Scarlett had known that she wouldn't be able to dance or flirt but at least there would be music and she could feel alive and young for a few hours. Being a widow, even after a year, made her feel like her life was over. She sometimes felt that it would be a kindness to bury women alive with their deceased husbands, rather than allow them to enter the various stages of mourning. Life was so unfair.
For most of the night, Scarlett had been unhappy. The cause didn't seem so glorious after all. She was jealous of the other girls and their carefree attitudes, pretty dresses and the multitude of men they attracted. She wanted to be out there on the dance floor among them. Scarlett was certain that all the men would have been paying attention to her if she had been allowed to mingle instead of being trapped behind the counter of the booth she and Melanie were responsible for. She was so much prettier than all the women present.
Her discontent evaporated when she sulkily looked around the room and her eyes landed on an exceedingly handsome man that she vaguely recognized. Her Southern belle upbringing instinctively made her stand upright and flash him with a dazzling smile. Then she remembered who he was.
Scarlett had wanted to shrink into the background when she ultimately remembered him as the varmint from the last Twelve Oaks barbeque before the war broke out the previous spring. She watched him begin moving towards her with purposeful strides and realized that there was no time for her to hide from this man. Her young memory would not let her forget that Captain Rhett Butler had been witness to a quite truthful, but embarrassing moment, between herself and Ashley. Oh, her darling Ashley.
Melanie Wilkes, her sister-in-law, and Ashley's wife had begun conversing with Captain Butler upon his arrival at their booth and while Scarlett tried to slow down her quickened heart pace, it had not worked. As she watched them exchange pleasantries she realized that this ill-bred man could destroy her dreams. He was cad enough to do it. He had derived great pleasure and amusement, Scarlett gathered, from overhearing Scarlett's pronouncements of love to Ashley and Ashley's steadfast rejection of her. Rejection? It hadn't seemed like it at the time, but now she was unsure of how to describe Ashley's response.
Captain Butler had appeared kind in front of Melanie but had been merciless in his questioning of Scarlett, when Melanie stepped away to speak to Dr. Meade. The barbs towards her marriage and widowhood had been well placed. The man was insulting and infuriating. But above all, he was in possession of a dangerous secret. And he seemed to enjoy his power over her.
Captain Butler had correctly surmised that Scarlett had never really loved Charles Hamilton. She had married him to spite Ashley and now, over a year later, found herself long widowed, with a small child and living with Ashley's wife. Captain Butler had been pleasantly delighted by her current living arrangement. She wasn't sure how he knew, but he looked at her as if he could read her deepest, most private thoughts. The funeral pyre that he spoke of, although Scarlett was only half listening, had seemed like a preferable alternative to her conversation with him.
And then, thankfully, he was gone, called away to be lauded by the recipients of the hall. Captain Butler was the gloriously successful blockader who had beaten the Yankees at the cat and mouse game created by Union General Scott's naval blockade. The blockade was meant to strangle the newly created Confederacy and Captain Butler had found a way through it. She couldn't understand the hero worship of this detestable man by the citizens of Atlanta.
By the time Scarlett had tossed her wedding ring into the basket already heaped with gold rings, ear bobs, bracelets, and watches to aid the Confederacy, Captain Butler was there to comment on her selfless actions. She was just trying to do her part for the cause. No one needed to know that her wedding ring was meaningless to her. It appeared that Scarlett would not know a moment of peace until this disagreeable man's departure.
Scarlett was grateful when Captain Butler moved away once again and believed herself to be safe from any further interactions with him. There would be dancing now but as a widow, Scarlett knew that she would not be able to partake in her favorite past time. For the first time, in her young life, she actually wished she could return home early. She had no desire to watch other people dance and enjoy themselves. Her interactions with Captain Butler had also thoroughly exhausted and angered her.
Then Dr. Meade shocked the Confederacy by announcing an auction, of sorts. If a man wanted to dance he would need to pay for the pleasure of his dance partner. Despite the scandalous nature of Dr. Meade's suggestion, bids started flying. The excitement in the room was tangible, despite the indignation of the chaperones in the corner. She wondered if Mrs. Meade, Mrs. Elsing and Mrs. Merriwether were going to try to put an end to this unprecedented and shocking event. They would surely not allow women to be bid upon like slaves.
The bidding quickly escalated and Scarlett realized that it had reached seventy-five dollars for Maybelle Merriwether. Scarlett knew that if circumstances were different, she could have brought in more money than that.
Scarlett's mistake was when she made eye contact with Captain Butler. Without warning, the room had become suddenly and inordinately silent given the number of people. Scarlett froze. Perhaps she had dreamed the last few moments. There was no way that Captain Butler, a cad, and a varmint, would dare to bid for her. Even he must know better. He was no longer received in respectable homes, but surely he hadn't forgotten all the lessons of his upbringing. He had not offered one hundred and fifty dollars, in gold, for an opportunity to dance with her.
Scarlett vaguely recalled that Dr. Meade had provided her with an opportunity to avoid scandal but before she could think about the repercussions her action would have, she heard herself respond.
"Yes, I will."
The real shock to the Confederacy was Scarlett, who, in throwing all caution to the wind, heard herself accepting the request. She had wanted to dance and dance she did, held tightly in Captain Butler's arms. She didn't care who was watching or what they might be thinking. She had feigned concern but the truth was that she had wanted to dance and she enjoyed being in his arms. When he had tightened his arms around her small waist she had protested but only slightly because the truth was that she had liked being held that closely and possessively by the man. She couldn't explain her feelings towards this man. One minute she wanted to slap him and the next moment dance with him.
Captain Butler was a divine dancer and, if Scarlett was being honest with herself, the most handsome man in the room. Scarlett knew that they were easily the most attractive couple at the ball. She wanted to feel his arms around her. She enjoyed his company and their conversation as they waltzed, even though she was only half listening to what he was talking about.
Scarlett had wanted to dance and somehow he had known and made it happen. She was struck by the candid way in which he spoke to her. None of her other beaus had been this straightforward with her. Suddenly, Scarlett wished she was not so constrained by the society in which she lived. Captain Butler was not concerned by it and seemed content. However, he was a man so things were obviously different for him.
There had to be some truth when he had said to her that Until you've lost your reputation, you never realize what a burden it was or what freedom really is.
Scarlett had not given any real thought to her reputation or the decision she had made by dancing with him. Not that night. She had even gone to sleep, alone in her late husband's bed, hearing the sweet music in her head and still feeling Rhett's arms around her. Not that she would ever admit it, because no respectable woman could, but she had dreamt of him that night. In her dreams, he was leading her across the dance floor.
The next morning, however, she had awoken with dread in her heart.
This morning, the dread had given way to fear when she learned of her parent's visit. Scarlett could only imagine the worse. They must be coming to Atlanta to bring their daughter home. Scarlett could see no other reason for their visit. She was going home all because she had wanted to feel alive and young.
Now she had only a few days to figure out how she would explain herself to her parents. She might as well pack her bags and make her goodbyes because there was no way Ellen O'Hara was going to allow one of her daughters to disgrace herself.
When she looked up from the letter, Scarlett realized that she was all alone in the kitchen. Aunt Pittypat and Melanie had left without her even noticing their departure, so engrossed was she in her own thoughts. She pushed the dish away containing her untouched breakfast just as she heard Wade's cries from the nursery. Reluctantly, Scarlett got up to go see to her son.
A.N. Everything before the infamous bazaar has occurred exactly as it did in GWTW. I will be playing around with the timeline, infamous events, and character reactions. Rhett's night of drinking with Gerald enabled him to manipulate the situation to keep Scarlett in Atlanta. I always wondered how events would play out if both Gerald and Ellen O'Hara arrived to deal with Scarlett.
Despite the fact that I have read GWTW more times than I can remember over the last 25 years, I found it challenging to write both characters. It seems like even in fanfiction, Scarlett and Rhett continue to be unpredictable and uncontrollable. I take my hat off to all writers out there who attempt to get these characters to cooperate.
This is my first attempt at fanfiction and I haven't written creatively in over twenty years. A huge thank you goes out to Aunt Flora for her challenge. I hope there are others out there who have accepted the task.