"Do I look alright? Perhaps I should have chosen the other dress." Scarlett fiddled with her gloves, then sighed loudly.
"You look beautiful," Carreen answered in a soft voice. It was not a lie. Scarlett did look beautiful, although Carreen was only too well aware of the serious turn things had taken. She had assumed that her sister and her husband were engaged in a marital quarrel, only marginally fractious but blown out of proportion because it was Scarlett involved, and Scarlett was so bullheaded and stubborn when she perceived a slight. But now that she had met Rhett for herself and seen Scarlett's changed demeanor, she was troubled indeed as their carriage bounced noisily over the terrain leading to Dunmore Landing.
"But I can not stay long," Carreen was reminding her sister. "…and I can't do anything about it. Any leave of absence can be issued only by Mother Superior. Anyhow, why do you suppose you would need me to remain? Your husband will be there, after all."
"No reason, I suppose." But alarm was showing on her sister's face. She then asked the question, "…and what did he look like, when you spoke with him at Auntie's?" and then followed with, "But I'm sure I do not care what he looks like!"
Carreen rolled her eyes. "He looked very similar to the day I saw him last, only dressed more informally and in better spirits. Still the same, though. About forty-five, although he could be older or younger by several years. Moderate height, but on the tall side. Broad shoulders. Rectangular face with a prominent jaw. Dark, steady eyes. Biggish nose, but well made. Black hair, cropped very close to his head. Tight-set mouth and curving mustache. He reminds me of a Sicilian."
"A what?"
"A Sicilian. You know, from Sicily…Italy?"
"When have you ever met one of those, Sissy?"
Although shades of her old self were coming through, Carreen could not shake off the feeling that Scarlett was nervous to the point of illness. She could attribute it to exhaustion, certainly; after all, her sister had her full share of worries.
And her burden would only increase them, Carreen thought to herself guiltily. She could hold off telling her though. At least until she had settled this business with Rhett. That was logical thinking: she would help Scarlett settle whichever issue was plaguing her marriage. Then, in return for her discretion in her time of need, she would seek her sister's own discretion and aid, and have her child quietly and without shame on her family name. The thought soothed her own nerves, which she hastily attempted to get into some sort of order.
On reaching their destination the sisters found that Rhett hadn't actually returned home yet. Mrs. Butler, who met them on the landing, suggested that they wait for him in the solar, leaving the door open behind her. The house was very finely built, but plainly furnished, as was the case with most of the old Charleston gentility.
Carreen thought that Scarlett looked supremely unimpressed, and even more so when Rosemary walked in wearing a dark blue dress made from gauzy, nearly translucent fabric. Her eyes were steely and hard, and Scarlett lowered her eyes rather than look Rhett's sister's. This, however, was not the case with Miss Eleanor, who welcomed both Scarlett and Carreen with marked enthusiasm.
"What a lovely pair you both are," Miss Eleanor gushed, and Rosemary snickered.
Scarlett looked trapped in her tight-fitted, high necked black mourning gown and Carreen felt dingy in her habit, which was dusty from two days worth of wear.
Rhett looked tired and overwrought when he finally appeared, and stood aside at the doorway to let first his mother and sister pass, followed by Scarlett, who was expecting him to kiss her by the look on her face, and Carreen in the rear. In that moment, she thought that Scarlett looked like a little black mouse, looking upward with stunned hesitation as it is about to be crushed under the breadth of a boot. He held up Scarlett at the foot of the stairs, then introduced a small girl and a boy dressed in plantation finery as his niece, Abigail, and his ward, Edward.
"They'll be spending a few weeks here at the Landing," he said, "…then it's back to school for them both. Abigail will be starting at Sacred Heart in Savannah, Sister."
Carreen smiled and informed the little girl that she really knew very little about Sacred Heart, but believed the Sisters there to be very kind indeed.
Edward was shyer than Abigail, who seemed interested in Carreen and asked her if she was a "real" nun, however, he did explain after some prompting that he was trying to brush up on his Latin. The teachers in New Orleans, he explained, taught him a sort of French Latin that was all blurred in his mind.
After they made their introductions and small talk, he told them to go and play outside after they had shaken their "Aunt" Scarlett's hand. Again, Scarlett had that mousy look on her face.
He addressed the two children as though they were trained hounds. "Go." And they went.
He used no terms of endearment to either of the youngsters, and addressed Scarlett and Carreen both with politely spiteful remarks - and Carreen recalled all too well how he so bluntly told her what he thought of her sister.
"Rhett, you're behaving quite disgracefully."
Scarlett was on the brink of tears - which she should be, in Carreen's opinion. Rhett, however, showed only irritation.
"Indeed? More so than you, coming here when I expressly forbade you to do so?"
"Why you - you said you didn't care, not not to -"
"Have a care for your sister, Scarlett."
Carreen met his eyes. Shameful man.
"There is no need for you to worry about offending me," she said, gazing up at him for a moment
"Naturally," he replied.
When his mother returned to the foyer, she announced that she had rang for lunch and urged them to follow her into the dining room. Carreen was to sit next to her at table, then Scarlett and Rhett, across from one anther at either head. Rosemary sat opposite Carreen.
"The bugs are proving catastrophic to our rice-" she was saying.
And she could talk of nothing else.
To console the other woman, who she didn't really like but to whom she felt obliged to speak, Carreen said, "Well, it seems that all the other plantations are in the same boat."
"And that's just it," Rosemary replied curtly. "Dunmore Landing has always been immune to such…imperfections."
Was she talking about the rice, or had her bugs been a metaphor for herself and her sister?
"There have been ten confirmed cases of yellow fever as well," Mrs. Butler offered. "Two deaths in forty-eight hours, the doctor's wife said when she was here for tea yesterday."
"It's very alarming," Carreen agreed, then looked down the table at Scarlett and Rhett's battle of wills. Scarlett's green eyes had taken on a glint that hurt Carreen to look upon. He had made her shake in her boots earlier and now she had replaced her feelings of hurt with anger.
"It is this weather that's to blame," Rosemary stated. "The heat, brings the bugs. Brings the fever. Cooks you, doesn't it? Scorches the dirt itself."
"Sounds like a fever, does it not?" Rhett himself piped up. "Or like a corpse…attracting all the vultures."
A mood of listlessness descended over the table, and Carreen felt compelled to offer up some evidence of Scarlett's good character.
"You remember, of course, Scarlett …after the war…that summer, how hot it was?"
Scarlett looked grateful. "Yes, of course. We had a deal to do to see the cotton planted and a few vegetables to eat…"
"We would have starved without her," Carreen said, truthfully.
"I don't know about that, Sissy."
Carreen was surprised that she would use the pet name she had bestowed upon her during childhood in front of the Butlers, but her heart swelled with loyalty and sisterly affection.
"I do. You saved our very lives. I doubt any lady alive would have been more resourceful."
"No," Rhett Butler replied. "No lady would have been." And then he stood up and left the table, not even pushing his chair in or making an excuse to his mother for his rudeness.
Rhett's mother took Rhett's sudden disappearance quite calmly. She was a small woman with silver hair and dark, gentle eyes.
"He is like that sometimes," she said vaguely, "I'm so glad to be with you again, Scarlett." She added, "Even the circumstances cannot change that, anyway."
Scarlett nodded, and Carreen observed that it was more tolerable to be in Rhett's presence while his mother was there.
But the situation worsened in the following days.
Carreen woke with a gout of blood on her sheets. A wave of something like panic swept over her. But by the next day the phenomenon abruptly passed and the maids had collected the stained sheets, probably assuming that it was just a particularly strong one of her monthly courses. She began to breathe more freely, although her habit felt tight and Scarlett's nerves were on the raw.
It was, however, on this same day, this time in the middle of dinner, that Carreen began to again feel bad, but feverish this time. She had started to feel pains in all sorts of places: her back, legs, stomach, and even in that most secret place - and was obliged to ask Scarlett to give her an arm back up the stairs right in the middle of the meal.
"It's just swellings," she said quickly after Scarlett remarked that she clearly hadn't been starving at the convent, "I must have strained myself somehow, that's all."
When they reached the bedroom and safety, Carreen took off her veil and the rosary about her waist and sat down on the bed. Scarlett sat down beside her and frowned as she ran a hand over Carreen's exposed waistline. The bulge was there, obviously. It was hard, like a knot in wood. Carreen knew what it felt like. And her sister was no fool.
"Get in bed at once, and take your temperature. We'll have the doctor come and see you this afternoon."
Carreen thought quickly; no, that was quite impossible. "I'm quite well, really," she reassured her sister, who did not seem reassured in the least.
A few minutes later, she heard Scarlett hurry down the stairs to meet Rhett. By the sounds of his footfalls, he was about halfway up.
"Carreen is ill!" she announced.
"What seems to be the trouble?" he sounded out of breath.
"Well, she looks better now," Scarlett told Rhett, "but she looked truly horrid before." Carreen had noticed that Scarlett had difficulty forming her words around him, though she had no trouble expressing herself to anyone else.
"Well, there are a lot of people ill, Scarlett," he said shortly. "In town. They're calling it Yellow Fever, although they really don't know what the hell it is. But three have already died. If we need to send for a doctor, we can. But it's just inviting whatever it is into the house."
"I suppose that…I suppose it means that I'm not leaving then?" she said hopefully.
Carreen could see them standing there through her bedroom door. Rhett was gazing at her sister through tired, bloodshot eyes. The man had done nothing but drink since they had been there, she was certain.
"I suppose not," he mumbled. "Sister," he stuck his head in the doorway. "If you're feeling that sick, I'll swallow my pride and send for Doctor Anderson to examine you in the morning.:
Carreen sat up immediately in bed, horrified that he had seen her in a state of such dishabille, "That will not be necessary."
"Don't feel alarmed," Rhett said, "He's an old friend, he won't be put out by the call."
"It's not that, its-"
"Its alright, Carreen," Scarlett said, "…I know that you don't like to be looked at, but you've probably come down with what everyone else in town has-"
Carreen assured them tearfully that there wasn't the least risk of that; she'd been well cloistered at the convent, that she must have had a stomach upset, but it had passed and all she wanted now was to be left in peace.
"But Carreen-" Scarlett started again.
"Very well," Rhett cut her off. "We'll say no more about it for the present. We'll send for the doctor in a day or two if you're not completely recovered."
"No, no, no," Carreen slumped back on the bed and started to sob weakly.
Rhett, who had been twiddling his mustache while they were speaking, went up to Scarlett and gave her arm a squeeze. "Let's let Sister Carreen get some sleep, Scarlett."
On the landing Scarlett protested that she felt sure that they needed to send for the doctor sooner rather than later, no matter Carreen's wishes.
"And I'll sit up with her tonight and watch her," Scarlett said, "…I had no idea that she was ill all night. She wouldn't say a word about it, of course-"
"Does Carreen have any other acquaintances here in town?" Rhett interrupted. "Besides your Aunts, I mean?"
"Not that I know of. I can't say that I know all of her friends, of course - and I've never been in a convent-"
"No, I doubt if they'd have you," he said, catching himself glancing at her face. "But she's never mentioned a man?"
"A man? Fiddle-dee-dee. She's got other things to think about."
"What?" he chortled. "God? Aiding you in your campaign to ensnare me with your tempestuous affections? Or are you here on another matter entirely?"
She looked up to see if he was mocking her, but to her surprise, he looked oddly curious.
She had no idea. But something in his face caught her sharp eye, and she detected a potential advantage.
"I had better go and see about her," she said softly, leaving him standing there, his mouth slightly open. After gazing at her back for a moment, he went downstairs.
Scarlett reentered the bedroom to find her sister leaning over the edge of the bed, one hand pressed to her belly and one to her mouth, vomiting into the pail the maid had left earlier. After she had retched for a good five minutes straight, she laid back in bed, gasping for breath.
"It's like…fire…from the inside out," she whimpered as Scarlett sponged her forehead with a cool cloth. "I'm so ashamed," she said, her eyes suffused with tears.
"Please, let Rhett call the doctor," Scarlett said. "Please don't be so bullheaded!"
"No, Scarlett. Please, don't. I'm not so ill. I'm not on death's door."
The next day brought with it a blue sky and warm sunlight and a gentle breeze, bringing with it the rich and wonderful smells of the outdoors through the opened windows.
Carreen was still asleep, and Scarlett was happy to report to Rhett over breakfast that she had had no more vomiting throughout the night, and that they need not call the doctor at all.
"So she's better, is she?" he inquired. "I'd say that it's a bit early in the day to pronounce her cured."
Scarlett gazed at him imploringly. "What are you talking about? You act as if you want her to be ill, that you're happy about it?"
He shrugged. "I'm not happy about it. I merely had a theory. A hypothesis, if you will. I was only anxious to see if I was at all correct. I hope to hell that I am not."
"What did you-"
He raised an eyebrow. "I am loathe to say-"
"Oh say it, you devil! What did you think was the matter with her?"
"Go and see how she is, why don't you?"
Scarlett huffed and fumed and said that she would do just that. And ten minutes later, she and the maid and Mrs. Butler were bending over a miserable Carreen. Rambling words were issuing from her mouth in between retches. She kept on repeating, "I'm fine. No, no. I'm quite well."
Scarlett's face was green as she exited the room to face Rhett, who was waiting outside.
"What is it that you think is wrong with her?"
"Have you not had three children of your own, Mrs. Butler?"
"You think that - Carreen? That's absurd. She can't be…but she's a nun!"
"And a woman too, I believe…"
Rhett and Scarlett's recognition of her symptoms and Scarlett's acknowledgment of it that same night marked, one might say, the end of Carreen's panicked attempt to hide her condition from her sister, but then gradually gave way to panic of another sort - that things had gone this far and would no doubt go further. And it was with that fear that serious reflection began.
Scarlett, who was fanning herself with a newspaper, was accompanied by Rhett, and Carreen felt a keen sense of foreboding.
They knew. They had figured it out before she had had a chance to mull it over in her mind. Lord in Heaven, but she had not meant for him to find out along with her sister. But they both were there, lucidly recognizing what had to be recognized. It would be alright, she attempted to soothe her nerves; if they would help her, then all would be well. If not, they could perhaps advise her what steps should be taken for coping with her situation…
Rhett asked her how she was feeling, and Scarlett put in her own word explaining that Mrs. Butler was bent on calling the doctor but that if she would only reassure them that there was no need, they could spare themselves the scandal.
That did it. Carreen burst flatly into tears.
"Well," Rhett said, "perhaps we'd better make up our minds to call this mystery illness by it's name. So far we've been beating around the bush. Carreen?"
"How did this happen?" Scarlett said, her voice hollow and cool.
"Well, we know how it happened."
Carreen attempted to get a handle on her tears.
"Stop it, Sissy! Stop it! Stop crying - there's no sense crying about it now!"
"But now that we agree on a name," Rhett said, "…we need another name. I think you know what I mean, Carreen."
"That I shan't say."
"You must say, Sissy!"
"Why must I, Scarlett? It's not important! You'd gain nothing by knowing his name."
"I want you to tell me!"
"No."
"You see, Scarlett? It's not so easy after all. Now if you ladies will excuse me…since you're no longer in danger of perishing, Sister, I'm off to town. My evening is full."
"Oh Rhett, don't go now. The sick people-"
He held a hand to his mouth mockingly. "Concern, my pet? How touching."
"When will you be back?" Scarlett cried. "In the morning?"
"Considering that I'm traveling a grand total of three miles, it would be surprising if I wasn't."
"May I know?" Scarlett asked haltingly, "Where it is that you're going?"
Rhett murmured some remark from which Scarlett seemed to gather that she was meant to follow him and a moment later was hurrying behind him with short, fast steps out of Carreen's bedroom and down the hallway.
When they had reached Rhett's bedroom door, Scarlett asked somberly, "What can we do? What will we say?"
Rhett was fingering his watch, and pulled it out of his waistcoat pocket to check the time. "You'd better call during regular business hours," he jibed. Then, changing his mind at the distressed look on her face, told her he would go and see Mother Superior the next day and create a suitable story about Carreen's illness that would keep her away from the convent for a number of months. "That is," he said seriously, "…if she wants to return to the convent at all."
"Of course she does," Scarlett snapped. "…all she does is pray and fiddle with her rosary."
"Clearly that isn't all, if her current predicament is any indication." Rhett reminded her. "Of course, she is your sister. More to the book than the cover."
"What do you mean by that?"
"In short, she has all the attributes of insignificance. A good nun, so to speak. But as we have seen, there is much more lurking underneath that dull habit…that's all."
"But you're going to help her, aren't you? You're not going to tell your mother and your sister? If you do, then Aunties will hear and it'll be all over the city in a day! Say you won't, Rhett! You mustn't!"
"Scarlett, all I asked you for was a little peace. The prospect of a life suitably insured by honest work. I would have returned often enough to keep the gossip at bay, if you'd have only let me be…"
"But Carreen-"
"I know, I know, Carreen this and that and the other…but I know you, Scarlett O'Hara. And sisterly affection is not the spur that is activating you to become her staunch advocate."
"If you reveal her, she'll be the shame of every family in the South, and so will I and so will you and so will Wade and Ella, if you care to think about them."
He smiled wryly. "Pulling out your big guns, aren't you, Scarlett? So I take it that Sister dear will need to be transported to somewhere outside of Charleston, Atlanta, or even Tara, am I right?"
"Oh God, she could never go there. Not to Tara and Suellen and her big mouth. The whole County would hear about it by nightfall. And their connections in Atlanta the next day."
"I see your point. So I'll have to determine somewhere else safe to send her."
"Well, of course I'll go with her."
"Why would you do that?"
"She's my sister and I …well…I just have to."
"Suit yourself. I'll try to determine an appropriate place for her to rest comfortably and in anonymity and you can be gone by week's end. Fair enough?"
"We certainly can't go alone. And we can't be seen leaving together without you! Imagine the talk!"
"You're testing my patience, Scarlett. Now I've played your little game tonight and have been more than fair, I think, particularly in light of you breaking our bargain and coming here. Now, in kindness to your sister, I'll talk to the convent and keep her confidence, but that's it. I'm no longer invested in your family, Scarlett. If you want to clean up her mess for her, I'll ensure her good name here, but no more."
"You always were a skunk. But fine. I won't argue with you anymore tonight. I'd better go and see how she is. She's probably scared to death that we ran out like that."
As he watched her receding form, it flashed on Rhett Butler what it was that Scarlett was trying to convey to him, although he did not like to give her credit for anything other than manipulation; she was accepting her sister's situation out of honorable motives, of loyalty to the memory of her mother and of Miss Melly, attributes of both he could see in her sister. As he made his way down the staircase, this thought reassured him that his liberty and his peace of mind were safe. She knew where he stood, and while she would try to sniff out an advantage whenever possible, her tenacious survival skills would be firmly invested in Carreen…if not for herself, for the O'Hara name then. For some moments he lingered on the landing, gazing out the window and up into the blackness of the night sky, powerless against her presence and too weak still in his resolve to escape into town...