Chapter 3: Of Secrets and Stolen Beaus

"Well, Scarlett waits for two years for Ashley to return from his Tour. Of course he does return, and is quite changed in his affections towards her. She's a child no longer, but a young belle, fresh from the Fayetteville Female Academy."

"You don't need to remind us, sir," Brent smirked. "We remember just fine!"

"Just the same, that's her over there, in the white gown. The year is 1860, and it's Christmas Eve Night. And that of course is young Ashley Wilkes, with whom she assumes herself to be in love."

"Never liked that Ashley," Stuart glowered as he observed…

No trace of the skinny, awkward child dubbed a troll by Cade Calvert remained, and it was safe to say that over half the men in the room were besotted within moments of her arrival in the grand ballroom of Twelve Oaks. Scarlett was clearly aware of her popularity, and she fully expected any of the men to drop whatever they were doing to greet, converse, dance, or otherwise oblige her every fancy. At the moment, however, she had eyes only for the tall, elegant Ashley, newly arrived from Europe.

She prettily stamped her foot to get his attention away from the young lady he was addressing.

Promptly, he excused himself and led the glowing Scarlett toward the dance floor like the handsome young gallant he had been bred to be.

"You look lovely, my dear, a real belle." Ashley smiled, kissing her petal-soft white hand.

"Oh Ashley, you do run on so," Scarlett smirked like a cat but flushed with pleasure. Her sultry eyes delved into his grey ones, sparking a light within them that was uncustomary to behold.

"Ashley, do tell me about your Tour."

With pleasure, he began to speak about the great cathedrals and the glorious rivers and the fine music.

"I loved the opera, my dear. I must take you and your mother and sisters. You would find the fashion immensely pleasing."

Scarlett gave him a casual shrug. "If you say so. Oh Ashley, you must promise me at least three dances tonight. All the waltzes."

He smiled at her. "As if I could favor any of the other young ladies with you in the room my dear, my beautiful little Scarlett."

"Ashley!" a small voiced girl appeared behind him, holding out her hand with a look of adoration upon her face.

Scarlett glared at her for daring to impose upon her wooing.

"Melanie!" Ashley dutifully kissed her on the cheek. "Scarlett O'Hara, this is my cousin, Melanie Hamilton."

Scarlett appraised the girl, small and spindly, she was a slip of a thing, with eyes like a startled doe. The two were of the same height and age; however, Scarlett carried herself with an infinite sense of maturity and self importance. Melanie was wearing a beige confection of a dress which had been engineered to render her more shapely than she actually was; the design failed dismally, for it only served to swallow her tiny figure, so much so that her head seemed quite small atop the hideous thing. And the color! So plain, with so little adornments; she looked miserably trapped within the yards of fabric.

"I remember you," Scarlett said loudly, her posture momentarily forgotten.

"You used to come to Atlanta with your father, but my goodness, you've changed so much!" Melanie cooed in her sweet voice, "I'm so very happy to see you. And what a lovely dress you're wearing, Scarlett!"

"Oh this old thing? I only wear it when I don't care how I look." Scarlett wore a self-satisfied smirk, confident that she need not fear losing Ashley's affections to this mealy-mouthed ninny.

"Did you bring your brother Charles with you?" she addressed Melanie.

"Sadly no," Melanie sighed, "I came with my Aunt Pittypat. Charlie will be so very sad to have missed you, he does so enjoy your company."

"Ashley!" an elegant female voice carried over the crowded room, and Scarlett turned her black-lashed green eyes to scan the ballroom for Ashley's mother, who had called for him. Ashley's mother was small and petite, with not even a hint of grey in her golden locks, her point of glory crowning her otherwise plain features. Though she was small in stature, Mrs. Wilkes was a very dignified lady who Scarlett admired very deeply. Hers was a figure of steady grace and elegance, yet her reputation preceded her as the sweetest, gentlest woman in the entire County.

"Ashley, your father would like you close at hand for the toast. Find him, won't you, dear? Scarlett and Melly, I'm glad you found one another."

Melanie chattered on with Mrs. Wilkes for a few moments, clearly flabbergasted by the flurry of chattering woman and the sharp, witty humor of the County men. She finally excused herself, and went off with India Wilkes in order to be better shown off. Scarlett had attempted to listen politely to the conversation, but she stayed put after the other girls had left, keeping her eyes fixed upon Ashley, his lean figure towering over most of the men in the room.

"Dearest Scarlett," Mrs. Wilkes had caught the target of her affection, and her grey eyes were alit with intrigue.

"Yes?" Scarlett said, taken aback.

"There is little sense in hiding it, my dear. You are quite smitten with my son."

Scarlett's cheeks flushed with arch embarrassment.

"I do believe that he admires you as well. But what man in the room would not, dear Scarlett? You are the most beautiful girl in the County by far, but sweet girl, beauty only counts for so much. Inner beauty, such as your mother possesses, is a far more desirable quality in a wife, especially for the girl who would have my Ashley."

"I try to be like Mother," Scarlett looked downcast.

Mrs. Wilkes took her hand.

"Look at Melanie over there, see how she inquires to his needs. She is well meaning, is Melly, her kindness overwhelming."

"But surely he wouldn't marry her for her kindness?" Scarlett burst out, then looked slightly ashamed.

Mrs. Wilkes laughed. "Dear Scarlett, your honesty is a becoming quality. It makes you unique. Indeed, I would enjoy you as a daughter-in-law. You would bring fresh life to this house."

"Should I tell Ashley that I love him?"

"You are far too young to fancy yourself in love with anyone, sweet girl. And you're far too pretty to marry soon. Enjoy yourself. Flirt with as many young men as you can; and when you decide that it would please you to marry, if your heart tells you to pursue Ashley, then you will have my blessing."

"You're so good to me, Mrs. Wilkes."

"Sweet girl, dance! Hurry, I believe that young Tony Fontaine is without a partner."

Scarlett made no further attempt to subdue her wide grin.

Suddenly she stopped, the smile frozen upon her face.

"What'd you stop it for?" Brent inquired.

"This is the point where her life changes drastically," said the senior Host.

"What do you mean?" asked Stuart.

"Scarlett could have had Ashley Wilkes if his mother had lived. He would have married her because Mrs. Wilkes so clearly favored her, even over her niece. As it happens-"

"She died!" Brent interjected. "Well I'll be a monkey's uncle. We was there that night! She just collapsed, right there in the ballroom."

"That's right," Stuart chimed in. "We all thought she'd just fainted and they brought out the vapors and just like that, Ole Doc Fontaine said that her heart done gave out."

"She was a great lady," Brent said solemnly. "Bet she's got her wings."

"Indeed she has," the voice of the Host chided the boys. "Now, as to the matter at hand…"

"Yeah, what does Ashley have to do with Scarlett being in trouble?"

"I'm afraid that they have been one another's stumbling block over the past decade or so. He owes his life to her many times over, but she has fiercely clung to him, even at the cost of her own marriage."

"Who'd she marry after poor old Charlie died?" Brent wondered aloud.

"She has had two husbands since, one Frank Kennedy and one Rhett Butler."

"Old man Kennedy? What a comedown for her. Damn it! Why did I have to die? She would have definitely picked me over him." moaned Stuart.

"Please, don't tell me she married Rhett Butler! He insulted the Cause plain as day in front of all of us!"

"Its not your place to judge the suitability of her decisions, young Brent and Stuart. Your place is to help her before its too late for us to intervene."

"What does she need? Ain't that Butler fellow made of money?"

"He's cutting her off after Christmas. They are in the midst of a very bitter divorce."

"Can't we just shoot him?" Brent wondered aloud.

"No," said the Host wearily. "Shooting him will not help her…not at this point."

"Why?" Stuart questioned. "Scarlett ain't sick, is she?"

"Not sick. Just discouraged."

"Well of course she is, married to a cad like Butler and then bein' scandalized by a divorce. Makes my blood boil."

"At exactly midnight tonight, Scarlett will throw away life's greatest gift."

"What!" Brent and Stuart exchanged frightened looks. "Not Scarlett! She can't do that! She won't never come up here if she does and…well…it ain't right, Boss!"

"That's correct, young men. Now that you know what's at stake, go on. Good luck,

and good work."