"I'll think about it tomorrow" had long been Scarlett's philosophy
to solving problems. This was one of the few occasions in which tomorrow came
and she was, in fact, thinking about it.
Rhett was gone and Melanie was dead. What to do now?
Her first thought was to try and track Rhett down. It's only been one night,
she thought, how far could he possibly have gone?
Far enough, she realized sadly, and in countless directions. He may be boarding
a ship headed for China this minute, thought Scarlett, not realizing how unlikely
it would be for a ship to go from Georgia straight to China. Her thoughts were
interrupted by a knock at the door. She sighed, wondering if she should get
it herself or even agree to speak with whoever it was. Before her mind was made
up, she could hear Prissy answer the door.
"Miss Scarlett," Prissy shouted from across the house, "It's
Mister Ashley here to see you!"
Ashley! Scarlett wasn't sure whether to kiss him or kill him. In her mind, he
was partly responsible for her problems with Rhett. But, she decided, poor Ashley
has been through enough this week. If it was going to be absolutely necessary
for her to blow up at him, it could wait a couple more days. And perhaps, Scarlett
prayed, things would change by then.
Of course Prissy, useless girl she was, hadn't invited Ashley in. For once,
Scarlett was thankful. He was still standing in the doorway when she approached
him.
"Ashley. I greet you."
Ashley started at her for a moment after hearing her unusual welcome. "How
medieval," he said. "I just came to tell you, Scarlett, that the funeral
will be tomorrow."
"Thank you, Ashley, I'll certainly be there."
There was a moments pause as Scarlett fought with politeness, but finally gave
in to it.
"Where are my manners. Please come in. Can I get you anything? Coffee?"
"Thank you, Scarlett. I haven't had a good coffee in years. That would
be wonderful, certainly."
Scarlett groaned quietly at his accepting the invitation, and then led him into
the dining room.
The coffee seemed to cheer Ashley up some. Scarlett thought she almost saw
him smile. They talked for a while about the weather, the quality of their coffee
and other such topics I will not bore you with here. Finally, Ashley asked,
"Is your husband around?"
Scarlett nearly choked on her coffee. She had to think fast-should she tell
him?
"Ah, Rhetthe was just so upset by Melanie's death. Hedoesn't
like people to know how emotional he can be. He thinks it makes him look unmanly.
He's out of town for a while. Until he calms down a bit."
"I see," said Ashley. Scarlett thought she could hear him whisper
Melanie's name to himself. He looked for a second like he might start crying,
but then he suddenly looked up at her. "Scarlett?"
"Yes?"
"Please make sure I go to her funeral tomorrow? No matter what I say, no
matter what I do, no matter what's happening, please. I'm not sure if I'll be
able to force myself to make it on my own."
"Of course, Ashley."
"Also, Scarlettsince it's just me now, watching over little Beau,
would you promise, should anything ever happen to me, to take care of him?"
"Don't think such things, Ashley! I'm sure that Beau will be old enough
to care for himself when your time comes. You'll be an old man by then."
"Right. I have another, what, forty years left? Another forty years left
to be without my Melanie. Another forty, miserable-"
"Uh, Ashley?
"What?"
"Perhaps you should go home. You sound like you might need some rest."
Ashley finished off his coffee. "You're right. Alright. Okay. Okay, thenI
shall see you tomorrow."
It was a beautiful, bright, sunny day. No day to be holding a funeral. Especially
not Melanie's.
Ashley had managed to get to the funeral on his own, and Scarlett was thankful
for that. She didn't want to make any more contact with him at this time than
was absolutely necessary. She did her best to blink back tears, happy that at
least her veil would hide any that she let slip out.
Ashley looked awful-tired, pale, and very much like he was going to be ill.
Still, he also did his best to stand there quietly and with as much dignity
as he possibly could, next to his son.
It was about halfway through the funeral that something went wrong.
Ashley suddenly moaned loudly and collapsed. Thinking at first it was merely
from stress, a few friends of his made an attempt to comfort him and help him
up. After a few seconds of this, one of them suddenly shouted:
"Good god! He's dead!"
There was a gasp from the crowd, and several went over to check on him. The
preacher stopped reading and went to look as well. Scarlett stood, mouth open,
completely shocked. It hadn't occurred to her yesterday that Ashley's words
might have been a warning. But now it was clear. He had been planning this.
Scarlett, remembering her promise, took Beau aside from the commotion.
Four days later Scarlett was attending Ashley's funeral. Little Beau stood
next to her, sobbing. Both his mother and father were gone now, one already
buried, the other lying in the next grave over, about to be.
After some investigation, it was reported that Ashley had taken just enough
arsenic to kill himself with, shortly after his breakfast. Having eaten beforehand,
it slowed the poison from making it through his system until he was at the funeral.
He had probably asked Scarlett to help him get there in case the poison acted
more quickly than he'd planned.
Beau was now staying in Bonnie's old room. It was the only spare room in the
house set up for a child. Wade and Ella were quite happy to have a new playmate
on hand at all times.
Scarlett, however, was not happy. This was seriously deducting from her time
to figure out what to do about Rhett, not to mention leaving her terribly stressed.
She was very grateful for the servants, for she didn't know how she'd ever be
able to handle housework on her own at a time like this.
Taking in Beau had helped her popularity, though. It was amazing how easily
public opinion of her could shift, she thought. People would stop her on the
street to tell her how sweet she was for taking in "that poor little Wilkes
child."
After putting the children to bed, Scarlett began working on the Rhett problem.
First off, where would he most likely go?
"Probably as far away from me as he can," she mumbled to herself.
Where was the furthest he could go? She got up, for she was certain she had
a map of the world around someplace. It took a bit of digging through dusty
old books, which she had no clue as to why she even owned them, but she found
it. That would take him to somewhere around India.
