Belle was surprised when he came to her the next morning. She took one look at his face and knew that he had slept very little the night before. She led him to her private rooms without asking and he closed the door behind them. Then he dropped onto a cushioned chair like a dead weight. Belle thought of how handsome he looked when he was distraught.
"Well?" she asked him, after a long silence. "What happened?" She perched on the edge of the bed. Rhett rubbed his face with his palms.
"I brought her to bed, Belle. She cried herself to exhaustion. I don't think she even knew I was there."
"Does she want a divorce?" Belle probed. She had been dying to know. She did not know what she hoped the answer would be.
Rhett smiled then, but not with gaiety.
"No," he said solidly. "No. But I might."
--
Scarlett woke with a start. The nightmare she'd had was real. Her head hurt and her heart ached- and where was Rhett? He was sitting in the chair when she'd last seen him.
On second thought, she was glad he wasn't there. She didn't think she could ever show her face to him again. What an embarrassment she'd made of herself! And in front of Rhett's whore! She was certain the news would be all around town by noon.
She wished she could go back to last night and make herself stay in her bed. She wished she had never misled herself into thinking he might want her. How could Rhett bring that woman into the home where his child was born and where his wife slept a hundred feet away?
She kicked the coverlet away and got out of bed. She couldn't be here when he returned. She couldn't let him laugh at her and call her the fool. What a mistake it was to allow her heart to pour out!
--
Belle could only stare. What could Rhett possibly mean- he wanted a divorce?
"I don't understand," she admitted finally. How could he think to do such a thing after Scarlett had reacted to last night with such pain?
"I threatened to divorce her once before, Belle. What happened last night was the last straw. I am tired of our making miseries of each others lives. It's my fault. I shouldn't have coerced her into marrying me in the first place. She never loved me." Belle could hardly believe her ears. Rhett Butler, always right and self assured, always the one to say 'I told you so', was in the wrong.
"Don't be stupid, Rhett. Didn't you see the way she looked at you? Didn't you hear the way she called your name? God help her, she doesn't deserve you. But she sure as hell loves you."
Rhett's mood swiftly transformed. He sat up in his chair and laughed at her, and Belle wanted to slap him.
"Scarlett isn't capable of love, Belle. She is a jealous child, and she craves attention like she craves her brandy. No, that wasn't love you saw. That was adulterated greed and a passion for dramatics." Belle's face flushed the color of her hair. She could kill Rhett Butler right now! Why, if this was the kind of man he was every day, she had a bit more sympathy for Scarlett.
"Just because I never wore a ring on my finger doesn't mean I don't know love when I see it, Rhett. Women know these things. Don't you laugh at me!" But he chuckled just the same, and Belle turned away in disgust.
"I'm sorry, Belle." He reached for her hand and gazed earnestly into her painted face. "You are my closest friend, darling. I respect your opinion. I do. Maybe you're right. You always said I made decisions too quickly." He pinched her cheek. Belle lowered her eyes, avoiding his swarthy stare. She'd melt in his arms if she let herself. But she knew what he needed, although it pained her to think it.
"Rhett Butler," said Belle, kindly and firmly, "Go home to your wife. You'll be sorry if you don't."
--
Rhett closed his eyes and remembered the feeling of her arms around his knees. He felt her weak body in his arms as he carried her to bed. In his mind he watched her cry herself to sleep again and again. How could he have thought those emotions weren't real? She loved him! She loved him and le loved her and he would do anything in the world to make their marriage right again.
"Scarlett," he called when he opened the door to the house. He wanted to take her in his arms and make her say it. He wanted to hear the words coming from her lips. "Scarlett," he said again, and he bounded up the stairs. He entered her bedroom without knocking and found it empty. The bed was perfectly made as if no one had ever slept in it. Rhett swore. He needed to see her.
"Miss Scarlett ain't here, Mist' Rhett," said Pork when Rhett stormed back into the hallway.
"Well, where is she then?" Pork ducked his head.
"She went out, Mist' Rhett."
"Out? Out where?" But Pork would not answer him, even when Rhett threatened.
"Damn you!" He paced the hallway, tearing his fingers through his slick black hair. "Did she at least say when she would return?"
It was no use to question the servants. Scarlett was gone.
--
She tiptoed into the house as quietly as she could. It was long after dinnertime. The children would be asleep, and if it were an ordinary night, Rhett would be out.
But there was light flickering in the parlor. Scarlett cursed under her breath.
As carefully as she could, she went back out, softly closing the door. Ashley and Melly would take her in for the night!
She had resolved to never cry for him again, but as Melly's thin arms went around her shoulders and her soothing voice filled her ears, Scarlett sobbed. Rhett hated weak women. She was sure he hated her.
