Author's Note: Thank you to all who are reading and reviewing this little story. I did want to reassure everyone that this most definitely falls under the category of a "what-if" story, as well as one which takes liberties with Margaret Mitchell's fabulous characters. Although I've placed them in an alternate setting, I do hope that they are behaving true to character.

First of all, thank you to sohhkb for keeping me on my toes as far as facts! (By my count she's around 12 weeks pregnant.) To saragwtw and QueenTania, you've got me debating on the storyline I had created for Frank… Feedback is great, but please keep reading and enjoying!

Chapter 4

Raindrops began to pelt the windows and trickle down the glass, reminding Scarlett that she was still inside a jail of sorts, albeit a more pleasant one than she ever would have enjoyed at home. With a storm closing in on the plantation, the long avenue was completely devoid of activity; even the slaves had presumably fled the fields to find shelter indoors.

Soft footfalls came into the parlor, and Scarlett turned around to meet the reddened eyes of Rosemary, who was sorely lamenting Lieutenant Bonham's departure.

"Shall I call for some tea?" Rosemary murmured.

Scarlett had no interest in tea or food; and she was oddly chilled despite the summer season. The weather had been unseasonably mild for South Carolina, and Ashley had grimly predicted a fearsomely cold winter for the soldiers who would be stationed in Virginia.

"Tea will be fine," Scarlett muttered absently. "Thank you."

Rosemary rang a tiny silver bell and landed upon the velvet-covered settee with a heavy sigh.

"It doesn't seem right that they're gone. How many days has it been, four, five?"

"I've stopped counting," Scarlett let out her own pensive sigh as she left the window and took a seat upon the settee opposite Rosemary's.

One of the black maids rolled in the tea cart and sat it in between the two women, then bobbed a curtsy and hurried away. Accompanying the steaming pot of tea was a plate of scones set off by fresh butter and raspberry preserves. Rosemary's hands were trembling slightly as she lifted the teapot. She filled up her cup and added a thimbleful of sugar, which she stirred nervously.

"Luke hasn't written. Not a letter or a wire."

Scarlett took a bite out of her own scone, having every intention of eating it, but immediately setting it aside. She shuddered as she imagined eating it, and lost all trace of her appetite.

"There's not been word from any of them," Scarlett snapped irritably. "Ashley's not even written to tell me how Charlie is."

"It's not as though Ashley is your lover," Rosemary chortled. "Well? He isn't, is he?"

Scarlett rolled her eyes and refused to meet Rosemary's gaze. "Of course not! I'm married to Charlie, aren't I?"

"You'd be far from the first woman in history to love one man while married to another."

Scarlett ignored Rosemary's words, and instead closed her eyes and attempted to recreate their last meeting within her mind. Ashley's eyes, his new beard, his kiss upon her hand…wittingly or not, he had done nothing but bolster her girlish dream of winning his affections during his short visit…and yet, Scarlett was powerless to do anything about it.

She found herself standing up and looking out the window again. The plantation was so quiet and still and peaceful; beyond it, the world seemed vast and untamable, and the enormity of her sense of loss hit her as deeply as a dagger thrust to the heart. How ever was she to make the best of her circumstances when she was here alone at the tender age of sixteen?

Scarlett closed her eyes against the dull headache that had seemed to plague her since Ashley's visit. The pain within her temples throbbed so that she could barely stand being in a lighted room; with new enthusiasm, she raked her fingers through her hair and yanked out the pins which held it.

"You should wear your hair down more often," Rosemary observed.

Scarlett massaged her scalp with her fingers. "I shouldn't have let it loose in the parlor, but I can't stand it; truly, I can't!"

"What? Your hair or Ashley's absence? I saw how you lit up around him at dinner. It was as if he held the sun and stars in his back pocket and you were so very eager for a glance of them, you'd do anything!"

The pounding of her head had began to ease long enough for Scarlett to consider Rosemary's words along with her accusative tone. She began to pace restlessly as the other woman stared her down.

"Ashley is…" Scarlett began, "Ashley is…" She folded her hands demurely as she returned to her seat in an attempt to hide their trembling.

"What is he? Your champion on a white charger?" Rosemary said after a moment of uncomfortable silence. "Let me guess, you assumed that even though you went your separate ways and married others, you would always hold a torch for him and he for you?"

Miserably, Scarlett felt the urgent need to unburden her heart to someone.

"Charlie is Ashley's wife's brother. I did it, I admit it! I only married Charlie to hurt him!"

The intense scowl coming from Rosemary's brows made Scarlett almost quail.

"Do you hate me now?" Scarlett moaned. "I know you think that I'm horrible! But how would you feel if Luke Bonham was engaged to some mealy-mouthed ninny while he was in love with you? How would you feel, then?"

"Is Ashley in love with you?" Rosemary interrupted Scarlett's rail. "Are you quite sure that he is?"

"Yes!" Scarlett declared.

Rosemary made an attempt to chuckle. "Well, then I suppose I shouldn't judge. I would be awful put out if Luke claimed to love me and then married another…but, Scarlett, honey…you're married to someone else now! You've got a baby on the way and it isn't Ashley's!"

Scarlett flashed her a look of loathing for mentioning the thing. Her loosest day dress was so tight that it was painful to wear even without a corset, and her breasts felt like to burst under the tight constraint of her bodice.

"Cheer up," Rosemary stood up and took her hand. "Only six months, give or take. Then the worst part of it will be over."

"What? My life?" Scarlett muttered. "I do believe that I will have to care for the thing after I've carried it."

"I meant the war, you selfish thing!" Rosemary giggled genuinely. "Luke says that the Yankees will be finished in one battle. It'll be glorious, he said."

"Charlie said something similar," Scarlett acknowledged. Her despair and loneliness were more than she seemed capable of baring at the moment, and she swayed dangerously at her feet. Hurriedly, Rosemary grasped her arm for support. She knew that Scarlett had eaten very little since the men had departed, managing to down nothing more than a few sips of broth or a few bites of toast. She had to be fretting about Charlie too, deep down; Charlie, who had risen from his sickbed in a valiant attempt at heroism, and who Rosemary suspected still was ignorant of the fact that he was to be a father.

With a rush of protective sympathy, Rosemary guided Scarlett back to the settee and began to run her fingers through her hair soothingly. Scarlett was so very emotional these days. That's why they call it a delicate condition, Rosemary thought as she soothed the other woman, it wreaks havoc on a lady's nerves.

Still, Rosemary understood Scarlett's dilemma. It had been so terribly hard when Rhett had been turned out, then Maria had gotten married and left for New Orleans, only to die a mere two years later. Rosemary would have understood it better if Maria had been ill even one day of her twenty-one years, or if there had been some sort of warning that Rhett would be tossed out on his ear; however, the hand of fate was unswayable and Rosemary had long since accustomed herself to the harsher aspects of life. Scarlett, she suspected, had not suffered similar sorts of things. She had never known anything but a loving family; she had had to worry about little more than prospective beaus and pretty gowns. When the war had come, she had made a fast marriage like so many other women throughout the South had, and now, she would have to play the hand she'd been dealt.

"Don't worry, Scarlett," Rosemary said with a fierce protective quality in her voice as the other sobbed on her shoulder. "You won't have to endure it alone. I promise you that. You won't have to do it alone!"

Sounds of a carriage rattling to a halt in front of the plantation were immediately followed by a loud rapping on the front door. The insistent knocking echoed throughout the foyer and reached the ears of the two ladies in the parlor. The valet hurriedly ran to the door to open it, and Rosemary and Scarlett hastily gathered their skirts and wiped their eyes. All feelings of sadness aside, it would not do for two genteel ladies to receive visitors looking like hoydens.

A loud clamor of voices arose from the hallway, and Amelia Butler let out an aghast cry. Rosemary steeled herself and whispered furtively to Scarlett.

"No tears, promise me! No matter what's happened, no tears! And if I start to weep, slap me. Promise?"

Scarlett nodded in assent, and the two walked into the foyer, seeing for themselves the disorderly entrance of the new arrivals. The first man was bleeding from the temple, a bandage having hastily been wrapped round his injury, which was leaking all over the priceless rugs. The second looked outwardly healthy, yet was breathless as he gave Mrs. Butler his message.

"Water!" the harassed looking Captain Butler called as he emerged from his study. "Sit down, soldiers. Tell us what's happened."

"Major battle, sir," the soldier choked out as the valet hurriedly pressed a cup of water in his hands, which he gulped down gratefully. "It's a victory for us. General McDowell advanced across Bull Run against Beauregard's men near Manassas Junction. We was overrun by 'em, Captain, but then Johnston's reinforcements poured in from the Shenandoah and we let them Yanks have it. You should have seen Colonel Jackson, sir. Just standin' there holdin' his ground like a stone wall. Then we attacked again and them Yankee boys turned tail and ran back to Washington. I bet Lincoln's still feelin' that lickin'."

"Praise be to God!" Captain Butler wiped his face with his handkerchief. "What are my orders from President Davis, then, Corporal?"

"Better ride right quick to Richmond, sir. The President needs every military man that can be spared at his disposal.

"We weren't meant to go for at least a month! What about our planting?" Mrs. Butler burst out, "I mean, my dear, the Congress doesn't even meet until November!"

"War happens on it's own time," Captain Butler nodded. "Thank you for riding so far in so short a time, Corporal. My man will see you both housed and fed; I'll dispatch riders to the neighboring plantations to inform them of our victory. My dear?" He addressed his wife. "We should make preparations to journey to Richmond. If you would prefer to remain here until November with the children…"

"No," she interrupted. "I'll have their things packed by nightfall. We'll go by train."

The large porcelain clock began to strike four, and the soldiers were turned towards the stairs by the valet.

"Sir?" Rosemary cried, unable to contain herself.

The corporal who had delivered the message rounded to face her.

"I know that you can't possibly know of particular causalities; but sir, I would be much obliged if you could tell me the fate of the gentlemen in Mr. Hampton's legion?"

The soldier's face flushed at her address; for he was a poor man and was unused to being approached by fine ladies. In all his days, he had only seen a handful of southern belles from a distance, and now he stood only feet away from the two most enchanting that his eyes had ever beheld.

"They was on the reverse slope of the hill, ma'am. Pretty well protected from enemy fire. They was charging the enemy flank, ma'am. So I'd say they wasn't in too much of harm's way."

"God bless you," Rosemary said as a wave of relief spilled over her. Scarlett was standing next to her, stunned.

Another knock upon the front door roused Scarlett from her trance-like state, and she left Rosemary's side momentarily to answer it since the valet was otherwise occupied. She moved toward the door with long-practiced serenity, although her insides were heaving. It had never occurred to her that Charles would be thrust into battle so soon after being so very sick. If he had been spared in this battle, he'd not make it through a rough encampment. She realized that her hands were trembling as she opened the door, and took care to hide them behind her back as she greeted the rain-soaked figure.

"Mrs. Hamilton," Rhett smiled as he wrung out his dripping hat and jacket and set them on the porch. "Nice weather we're having!"

His face was etched with concern at her unresponsiveness.

"You're not ill, are you?"

Scarlett shook her head. "There's been a battle. We've won it and now we're going to Richmond tonight."

"So I've heard," Rhett took her shaking hand in his own and patted it gently. "We've only lost about three hundred and the Yankees nearly four. I've not heard yet about how many wounded. I suspect this is one of many Pyrrhic victories for the South."

"Whatever do you mean by that?"

"It means that we won, but that we're going to lose in the end."

"Lose? But Rhett, you can't mean that?"

"I do mean it, my dear. We won this battle on the inexperience of the Yankees who haven't had the time to call up their full conscriptions. Give them a month to prepare for us and we'll be the ones facing the agony of defeat. I promise you that, Scarlett; we will not win."

"How can you say that? In your Uncle's house?"

"I suspect that Uncle already has his T's crossed up in Washington; investments here and there and the like. Our family doesn't take kindly to poverty, at least the brighter side. My father would soon as starve to death than to do something dishonorable."

"Are you trying to tell me that Captain Butler doesn't believe in the Cause either?"

"He believes in it far more than a miserable reprobate like me. But he's not a simpleton, and he won't let this war break him. Why the hell did you think he'd give up the chance to be a general? Well, its because he knows that the war will be over sooner or later and he'll want to be a private citizen again. Well my dear, you look simply horrified. Are you quite sure that you want to be associated with such people?"

Harsh, derisive laughter escaped from his lips, and Scarlett faced him with shock written all over her face. He had insulted Ashley and Charles and the Cause all in a single sentence, and here she was expected to believe that his entire family felt the same way? She had just recently accepted Mrs. Butler as a protector and Rosemary as a confidante. Surely Rosemary didn't feel the same way as Rhett, not with Luke serving at the front!

Scarlett returned her attention to the man in standing in front of her, who was observing her with an odd look of detachment. She recalled that her appearance was disheveled to the point of being laughable. Her long hair was curling wildly about her shoulders, and she had long set aside her hairpins in the flurry of activity.

"I apologize…" she began.

"Don't," Rhett smiled as his eyes continued to assess her. "You are much more charming this way."

Her eyes upturned towards him, and he noted that they were red rimmed. "Come now, Mrs. Hamilton! Don't tell me that you've been weeping. Is it just for fear over Mr. Wilkes's safety? Surely you've not come to care for your husband?"

Scarlett glared at him, but was unable to think of an adequate retort for such a blatant insult.

Rhett cleared his throat loudly, his gaze turning away from Scarlett and toward the young woman shooting daggers his way.

"I trust that young Mr. Bonham is well?" Rhett said awkwardly.

"I wouldn't know," Rosemary answered. "But you certainly aren't helping us by skulking about like a serpent."

"A serpent, eh? I certainly hope that I'm an exotic species of cobra."

"Rhett!"

"In all seriousness, Sis. I've come to offer you and Mrs. Hamilton an alternative to Richmond. Let me put you on a train to Atlanta. It's much safer. I'm being offered a share in a new business enterprise which will bring me there frequently, and I'll give you an enormous allowance with which to keep you entertained."

"What about Scarlett?" Rosemary demanded. "Whatever is in Atlanta for her?"

"Her sister-in-law for one," Rhett said sweetly. "Which of course promises visits from her husband and brother-in-law during their furloughs."

"That's the last person she wants to be around!" Rosemary declared hotly. "Tell him, Scarlett."

Scarlett wasn't pleased at all by the way in which both of the Butler siblings stared her down and she sulkily crossed her arms over her midsection.

"She's going to have a child, Rosemary. This isn't a game; this is war, for God's sake!"

"I know its war!" Rosemary shrilled. "I know it is, and so does she! We both have men out there!"

"Scarlett!" Rhett entreated as he grabbed her firmly by the shoulders. "For once in your life, be reasonable."

"Take your hands off me! You don't even know me! How dare you?" Scarlett began to sob and Rosemary enveloped her in a hug.

"You need to leave!" she whispered furtively to Rhett. "Get out of here before you really upset her. And if you're thinking about exposing her secret to Auntie, I'll…well…I'll never speak to you again!"

Rhett gave his sister a coolly disdaining smile as he backed away, his hands raised in mock defeat. "I suppose that I cannot dissuade you from going. But I can dissuade you from staying."

"Auntie won't hear of her traveling once we are safely there!" Rosemary smirked.

"Auntie may not…but Mrs. Hamilton's husband certainly will."

Scarlett's face crumpled in disappointment. "You wouldn't dare tell Charlie! I haven't told him yet!"

Rhett chortled vindictively, as though he were addressing two very naughty children rather than two ladies.

"He's lying, Scarlett. He wouldn't dare."

"I would dare," Rhett bowed deeply as he turned to depart. "Have a lovely trip, ladies. Ah, the rain has finally stopped. It must be my lucky day."