Scarlett's excitement about going to Atlanta for the first time in two years was quickly tainted with thoughts of apprehension and fear; she couldn't think of anything except the money for Tara – and Rhett. If he had come back to Atlanta after the war, she wondered, why had he not come looking for her; Scarlett knew their last moment together had been full of fear and angry words, but also passion and vigor. She quickly resigned herself to the fact that he may not even be in Atlanta and her trip would be in vain; after all, Scarlett knew coming to Atlanta meant endless screeching stories from Aunt Pitty and a hawk-like gloom over her head from the entirety of Atlanta, things that made her want to pound at her head until she could hear or see no more.
Once the train came to a stop Scarlett stood on the bottom step of the platform for a long while; she searched for Aunt Pitty's carriage but saw nothing. Just as she stepped forward into the street she caught a glimpse of Uncle Peter waving to her from a nearby corner; the front of the depot was teeming with people, both coming and going. Once she settled into the carriage Uncle Peter lifted the reins and they were off. Scarlett swallowed hard; the familiar streets she had loved so much were only flimsy memories compared to the hustling town she'd been accustomed to, each house they passed had a new type of damage: burnt lawns, broken banisters, and disheveled curtains hung in every window; the Yankees had destroyed everything. Blue uniforms moved on each side of the street causing a rising anxiety in Scarlett's chest; these men had invaded her nightmares and now were living in her reality, she was afraid and could not understand why everyone else wasn't running from them.
"Yankees...they're everywhere." She whispered to herself.
"Naw, Miss Scalett, you ain't got nothin' to wahy about, they's rude and all, but they steer clear uh us if we does the same to them." Uncle Peter reassured Scarlett; he knew she'd been in the country so long that the sight of Yankees walking freely amongst the crowds was not something she was accustomed to.
Aunt Pitty's house had not gone unscathed by the Yankees, but thankfully it still stood relatively untarnished. Scarlett stepped out of the carriage and walked slowly up the walkway to the front door; surely Aunt Pitty would be in a state, she had no desire to deal with the sobs and uncontrollable shaking Aunt Pitty was known for. She drew in a breath and pushed the door open; the state of the house eerily reminded her of Tara, the walls were dull and what furniture was left had been worn ragged. Upon hearing the front door Aunt Pitty came fumbling down the stairs with open arms; Scarlett drew in a breath to prepare for the embrace.
"Oh dear Scarlett, it's so nice to see you again! It's been dreadful here just me and Uncle Peter, you know how I get dear." Aunt Pitty fumbled with Scarlett's hair and hugged her incessantly before leading her into the parlor for tea.
"How have you been Aunt Pitty? Melanie told me to tell you hello, has she written you?" Scarlett sipped her tea; it was possibly the best tasting thing she'd put in her mouth in months, unfortunately Aunt Pitty looked as short on nourishment as she; the kitchen was barren from what Scarlett saw in passing.
"Oh yes, she wrote me of your trip and asked me about Ashley. You know he's still in Virginia; he's been helping reform the damage done by the Yankees up there, he should be home soon." A look of happiness flashed in Aunt Pitty's eyes; her love for Ashley and Melanie only increases when she thinks of them together.
Scarlett and Aunt Pitty chatted for a while; Pitty told her of everything new in Atlanta and Scarlett recounted with stories of Tara and Melanie and Beau – leaving out the detail of the taxes of course.
"Oh Scarlett I almost forgot to tell you, Caroline Meade is having a fundraiser for the reconstruction of the town all day tomorrow, do say you'll join me." Pitty looked suitably eager, but Scarlett saw this as her chance; she had to get away from Pitty and see about Rhett and the taxes.
"Oh Aunt Pitty you know I'd love to come, but I'll be so terribly tired, after the trip and all. I think I'll just rest up a bit tomorrow, you won't mind terribly will you?" Scarlett smiled slightly and faked a yawn.
"Of course not dear, you rest and get your strength back, you really do look as if you've been lacking in rest lately." Aunt Pitty placed a hand on Scarlett's arm and looked at her with genuine concern.
"Do give my best to Mrs. Meade, and I'm sure Mrs. Merriwether will be there, please tell her I asked about her." Scarlett stood and kissed Aunt Pitty on the head; she was terribly tired and wanted more than anything to be able to sleep free from her nightmares. Fear and trepidation swept through Scarlett's mind; she was unsure of what her first move would be, her fear was that Belle would have to be her first stop; surely she'd know where Rhett was. Scarlett lay in bed with her stomach rumbling; the meager supper Pitty's servant scraped together did little to alleviate Scarlett's gnawing hunger. Her eyes grew heavy and she quickly fell into a light sleep.
The next morning Scarlett awoke to the sounds of Pitty thrashing around in her bedroom; she must have been dressing quickly in order to arrive early for the fundraiser. Scarlett yawned and stretched; this would probably be the last relaxing moment she would have all day. Aunt Pitty cautiously knocked on the door and peeked in; Scarlett closed her eyes and pretended to stay asleep, talking with Pitty surely would prove that she indeed was able to attend the fundraiser. Once Scarlett heard the door close and the clomp of Pitty's footsteps down the stairs she jumped out of bed; peering out the window she watched Uncle Peter help Pitty into the carriage and they drove away – Scarlett was alone. A dizzy rush smeared Scarlett's vision for a moment; she needed to eat, but this was not her main priority; she shook her head and started for the closet. Her dress looked perfect; Scarlett decided the night before to sleep in her corset lest she could not be lace it tightly herself. Her hair had been washed the night before by Pitty's servant girl; she smelled of lavender and her skin was the porcelain white that women longed for; she pulled on the hoops Mammy made and stepped into the green velvet dress. Scarlett gazed into the mirror; although she looked stunning, she was pale and very thin; the months of work and little food had taken its toll on her once robust figure, she hoped that Rhett wouldn't notice were she to find him.
Scarlett crept out the front door; she carefully examined the streets to make sure Pitty was completely out of sight. Slowly, she headed into town. She had to swallow her pride as she peered up at the house the entire town looked down upon – she was at Belle Watling's call house; never in a million years did Scarlett think she'd be here, and for a favor nonetheless. Careful to step lightly and quietly she circled the house to the back; with a light knock she surrendered any ego she might have still contained. The door opened and revealed a petite blonde woman with cakes of rouge upon her cheeks; Scarlett stood stunned for a moment, she was at a loss for words. "You here for a job...?" The woman asked curtly in a shrill voice.
The words hit Scarlett like a train; a job, this woman thinks I'm a whore! "Of course not...!" The words flew from her mouth faster than she could think. "I'm sorry, I...I need to see a woman by the name of Belle Watling." Even the name made a bad taste seep into Scarlett's throat.
"Oh Belle, she's in the parlor. Come on now, folla me." The girl grabbed Scarlett by the arm and drug her inside. Good God, she thought, I'm inside a whore house, what would mother think of me now?
"Belle, this woman is here to see ya. I asked if she was needin' a job, but I don't think so." The girl released her grip on Scarlett's arm and started to leave; before she reached the door she gave Scarlett a look of absolute distaste; Scarlett couldn't believe it, a Madame was actually looking down on her.
"Thank you Tilly." A womanly voice broke the silence; Belle stood and walked toward Scarlett. Her red curls bounced freely on her shoulders; Scarlett couldn't believe what she was thinking – Belle was actually kind of appealing. "And who might you be darlin'?" Belle stood directly in front of Scarlett; an inquisitive smirk ran across her face.
Scarlett struggled to regain her composure; the intent for her visit took precedence. "My name is Scarlett O'Hara. Miss Watling I..." Before Scarlett could finish Belle began to laugh loudly; Scarlett almost became angry at her rudeness.
"I should've known, silly silly me. Those eyes should've given you away." Belle sat back on a large, very lavish sofa still laughing.
"I'm sure I've never met you." Scarlett was genuinely confused at Belle's actions.
"You here to ask me about Rhett aren't you Miss O'Hara?" Scarlett's eyes widened; how did she know!
"H...how did you know?" Belle Watling knew who she was; Scarlett almost couldn't keep her composure.
Belle smiled slyly, "Rhett has told me about you before, darlin'. Don't worry...nothin' too bad." She laughed.
"I...I was wondering if you knew where he was? I haven't seen him in a very long time so I came to you." Scarlett's mind reeled with the supposed stories Rhett had revealed; could she see the longing in her eyes, did she know how bad she wanted Rhett.
"Oh my dear, you don't know?" Belle's face fell, "Rhett's in jail honey. He was arrested about a month ago."
Scarlett covered her mouth with her hand, "Oh my, what for? Would they let me see him?"
"You'll have to lie and say you're related to him; Hell I said I was his aunt, he'll explain the charges once you get there." Belle stood up and faced Scarlett, "I'm glad you came to me, but I am honestly surprised."
"I knew you wouldn't lie to me, Rhett had mentioned you before so I knew I could come here. Thank you Miss Watling, I'll tell Rhett you helped me." Scarlett smiled weakly and turned; once out the door she fell against the brick wall outside; Rhett was in jail, the realization hit her hard; what was wrong, would he be released – what about his money.
