A/N By Frank (he he) Demand... please find here chapter two of this little unintentional story. It is a lot shorter than it could have been - yet longer than it might have been - when the rush have subsided I might go back and rewrite/add-on... but the impatient nagging of some dear fellow writer and an irresistible wager caused it to come out this way at this time.
I really hope you will enjoy this - my take - on what might have been going on in the hours before the proposal and drunken acceptance of said proposal.
Well... read on and don't forget to tell me what you think ;)
When Rhett Butler entered his dressing room after breakfast this particular spring morning he swept a cursory glance over the immaculate clothes that the resident valet of the National hotel had made ready for him.
Taking in the dark colours he frowned slightly and paused. "Majutu, please... I asked you to lay out the green silk vest for me"
"Also – please prepare the gray pantaloons for me instead of these black ones"
"Yes Mr Rhett" Majutu responded reluctantly. A frown matching and surpassing that of his temporary master's clear in his weathered feature. Though he was serving at a hotel, rather than at a large house which he had before the war. His standards and the dignity with which he performed his tasks matched even the most noble of the former house servants that the South had known before the war. However Master Butler did tip handsomely thus it did not pay to show ones displeasure to clearly.
"Don't give me that look Majutu – I know what you think... well it is not a close relative of mine who I have to see being laid to rest so I will wear anything I darn well see fit" Though the words could seem unkind, they were uttered with humour and a warm glint in the eye. Majutu had served him well since his first visit to Atlanta in the early days of the war, and was one of the few surviving constants from that time.
"Very well" With a bow Majutu set about the required task. He held Rhett Butler in great esteem. Apart from his generous tips, Majutu had always known him as kind man who showed a great respect for him and his job. Majutu of course knew of the gossip and rumours that seemed to follow Rhett Butler wherever he went. No doubt many of them were true, nevertheless he liked the man who didn't sell himself short or submitted to the general hypocrisy of polite society.
When alone Rhett undid his morning robe and slid into the hot bath that had been prepared for him. Enjoying the feel of the warm water and generous bubbles which crackled and pricked against his skin.
He leaned back and slowly let himself sink deeper into the water until his ears were covered. Muffling the soft noises from the general hubbub of activity in the hotel completely.
Tranquillity at last. Though unfortunately the water did not block out his own thoughts.
A few minutes later Majutu returned with the green silk vest as requested. And Rhett slid back up in a more upright position.
His eyes followed the efficient movements of the dark man as he laid out the required garments. He stayed silent – didn't want to spoil his new found tranquillity with unnecessary words. And words were clearly uncalled for judging by the skilled handling that Majutu displayed.
When alone again his eyes travelled back to the gleaming green silk of the waist coat. He knew that the gay colour would not in any parts of society be deemed fitting, no matter how extended and limited his acquaintance was with the late Mr Kennedy.
It wasn't that he particularly despised the lately departed man, nor wanted to show him any specific disrespect. It was just that this – probably – was going to be a very special day for him. And he didn't want to be dragged down by drab clothing. It wasn't his way nor was it his style to bow to propriety in such a small matter... and today wouldn't be the day he surrendered. Not when he hoped and planned for it to be such a special day.
He didn't know when the assuredness that one day he would marry Scarlett Kennedy had settled in his mind. Maybe it was the day he learned of her latest pregnancy, maybe it was the day she had shared her darkest secret, maybe it was on a not so special day when the light had caught her determined profile and the haunted hungry look in her eyes and he had promised himself that he would wipe it away and replace it with the carefree look and the lust for life he had seen in her when they had first met so very many years ago.
Perhaps the assuredness went back even further than that. Perhaps to the day she had come to him in his time of imprisonment. Draped in old curtains and with a forced simper on her lips, trying to make with him an impossible deal.
Or perhaps it went back to the day where he had felt the most malicious sting to his heart, and momentarily been knocked speechless by the news of her marriage to Frank Kennedy. The man that they were to lay to rest today.
Odd how circumstances of life played together to create an impossible jigsaw of connections, obligations and expectations.
Frank Kennedy had been the reason he had first met Scarlett – then O'Hara. He had also been a chief reason for his return to Atlanta during the war, and thus an unknowing facilitator of his second meeting with that renowned former belle of four counties.
Later he had been the wedge that bore between them – still unknown to the man himself – as he had wed Scarlett – then Hamilton. And now, his untimely death would facilitate that they would finally be together.
No wonder his head was spinning with thoughts and reflections. Even if he prided himself of his sharp with and unwavering ability to judge everything and everybody in an open eyed way and foresee the outcome of his actions. This was one series of consequences that he would never have been able to map out in advance.
Marriage.
He had truthfully never thought that he would feel inclined to take such a drastic step with anyone.
He knew that was a standoffish attitude given the normal moral code and views of marriage as the only respectable path for men – wealthy men of name and property of course - outside of the clergy. One that had often caused him to be considered an outsider. Men of his lineage had an obligation to secure the next generation – sons to carry the name and the money forward. But he had refused. Vehemently. And paid the price.
How funny – how absurd that he now found himself on the verge of making the commitment he had so long refused.
Marriage... he tasted the word and turned it around in his head.
I do... forever. Forever, for better – for worse. Well he intended for it to be "for better", he didn't want anything bearing any resemblance to the "for worse" that had been the most lenient description he could readily come up with for his parents marriage.
His father would even have approved of the bride. At least her lineage. Out of the respectable Robillard Savannahs. Though her Irish paternal heritage would have been played heavily down in his fathers descriptions of the match. Had he still been alive... which he wasn't. Which was probably good since he was sure that his father would never have approved of the circumstances under which this otherwise respectable match would take place.
Twice married. And now also twice widowed. Mother of two. A business woman, and a shrewd one at that. All fact which would have rendered this otherwise acceptable match of lineages completely unacceptable and undesirable.
Well. His father was dead and would have no say in the matter. No one would. Apart of course for his intended.
But he was sure he could convince her. Even if she did not entertain any current thoughts of obtaining his hand in matrimony.
She didn't love him. But she would love what his bank account could do for her... and her family. And he was sure that she held him in great regard. At least their often frank discussion on business matters told him as much. He felt sure... or almost sure... at least fairly certain. That he was her primary confidante. Who else would she be able to share her strong ideas and view points with. He certainly could not pinpoint another. Not even that excuse of a man that she claimed to hold in such high regard. No for him especially she hid her innermost self... and showed it only to him... the rascal. The blockade runner.
Truthfully she often told him to go away never to return... in less pleasant terms of course. (He smiled softly to himself as he recalled her latest tirade to him). Nevertheless he was sure that she still enjoyed it immensely when next they encountered one another. He could sense the relief in her when she finally again could go on and on about her plans for her business, and wanted his honest opinion on her latest scheme.
This told him that unbeknownst perhaps to herself she did have a special place in her heart for him.
A place that he intended to keep and expand on until he would poses her heart as its principal occupant.
He smiled again as one pleasant tableau after another played out in his head. How she would slowly grow to love him with the passion he held for her. Love him like he loved her. Share herself with him body, mind and soul.
The water was warm against his body, and he could feel how its soft caress enticed him as if it had been the loving caress of his wife to be.
With an effort he disbanded the urge that grew in him. And forced his mind down less "dangerous" paths. He would have to take his sweet time to teach her the pleasures that could be enjoyed and shared between two people. He doubted that she – despite being married twice – would have any idea that pleasure did not have to be something that was only for the man to claim.
Later... later. He sighed. Now more forcefully he steered away from this aspect of marriage. Instead he turned his thoughts to what would come first.
The proposal.
Though highly inappropriate it would have to be today. After the ceremony.
He would have to leave tomorrow. He had planned to do so before the accident had befallen the late Mr Kennedy, and after having postponed his departure for some days. He did not have the possibility to postpone for even one more day.
This of course had added some concern as to the successful outcome of his mission. But after some nightly reflections which had caused him to loose no little amount of sleep he had assured himself that he was just as likely to be successful on this day as on any other.
Perhaps more so today because it would be so totally unexpected. He was sure that an element of surprise could only be beneficial when trying to convince Scarlett to do something that she might not be completely inclined to do.
Looking at it from her point of view he could certainly see causes for concern. How could she know that marriage could be anything but a burden given the experience she had had with the concept.
Well. He would have to find a way to convince her.
Her grinned to himself. If she wouldn't comply peacefully he would have to resort to other means of persuasion. And wouldn't he enjoy that?
