Bad Romance
Chapter 4:
The words permanent memory loss had just been mentioned for the first time, and had come out of the mouth of old Doctor Meade. The elder exited the room behind Rhett, who held the door wide as the doctor advised the two ladies maids that their mistress was exhausted, and that he had administered a sleeping draft so that she could rest more comfortably.
"I should have been summoned straightaway," Doctor Meade was saying. "Doctor Dean is little more than a backwoods idiot when it comes to delicate matters like this - but Rhett, I tell you truly, I have never seen it before in all my days of practice…first Melly and now this…bad business, Rhett, very bad, indeed."
Rhett took one last look into the dimly lit bedroom, his eyes searching out Scarlett's face. She appeared to be sleeping. But then, he noticed the way in which her teeth were gripping her lower lip, the way her eyes were painfully squeezed shut, and her fists clenching the folds of her nightgown.
"What is wrong with her?" he demanded as soon as they were alone in the hallway, his question addressed to the doctor in a tone which brooked no nonsense.
Doctor Meade hastily answered him, "I don't know that, yet. She seems to have feeling in her limbs, she is competent, and relatively alert. I can only say with certainly that she has no recollection of life beyond age fifteen or so. I can do what I can, but medicine can only serve a limited function - the human brain, you understand, is so complex-"
The doctor's rambling seemed to appease Rhett to a degree, and his expression relaxed somewhat, although not completely.
"I need to go," Meade said quickly, "Miss Melly's funeral is tomorrow at two and I'll come here straight after."
Rhett nodded, and old doctor silently took his leave.
He was not tired in the least, which was a surprise, seeing as in the course of a day he had first washed his hands of Scarlett only then to be dragged right back to her, the veritable bane of his existence. So Miss Melly's funeral would proceed tomorrow, he pondered with satisfaction. Perhaps his conversation with Ashley had accomplished that, at least. Although some loyalty to the memory of Miss Melly lingered within him, he felt that he had done his part by socking Ashley into cold, hard reality, and he was determined not to repeat the lesson. He was going to be rid of Wilkes, the man and the memory. If he could only rid himself of Scarlett…
Against his better judgment he opened the bedroom door and walked in, quietly taking a seat on the side of the bed nearest her face. Hesitantly, he stuck out a shaky hand and ran his fingers over her face, as though convincing himself that she was alive. She was, very much so.
"A few more hours, Mammy, please!"
Rhett smiled, thinking that she sounded like Bonnie. Her tone was so innocent, so childlike, and it suited her much better than the commanding way in which she ordered everyone, from the servants, to Ashley, to the children around…The sole reason that that attitude had not flown with him was that he had grown resistant to her over time. And it had taken the dissolution of their marriage for her to realize that he might have responded to kindness out of her, but even more to sincerity, qualities which she possessed only minimal traces of…but this new Scarlett, this Scarlett of old, had little about her that was not sincere. This Scarlett was merely terrified for her virtue and what her mother and Mammy would have thought at her behavior -
She stretched and let a yawn escape her mouth.
Are you awake, Scarlett?" he leaned closer to her face and coaxed her gently, thinking halfheartedly that perhaps she would wake up and know him and all would be normal - and then what, would he leave?
Her eyes opened on a level with his, their noses nearly touching. She blinked once, and he knew that the sleeping draft she had been given would make it hard for her to focus. She blinked again, and he tried to read into those eyes of hers. There was no recognition, nor surprise, either. Not much confusion, as before. It was almost as if she didn't see him at all. But surely she did. She pushed herself up on the pillows and looked him over, her eyes beginning at the top of his head and traveling down to his shoes, then back up again.
It was strangely unnerving, for all of her performance of this morning - this time, she found him sorely lacking in something.
Scarlett, although she said nothing aloud, was in fact having difficulty accepting that he was real, and again, alone in her bedroom. A married man, he had said. I'm going to be ruined, was her first thought. But he was there, and he had not left - and she needed that knowledge that someone would not leave her.
"Do you disappear at the stroke of midnight?"
Rhett laughed hollowly at that and pulled his pocket watch out of his vest pocket. "Well, I suppose we have three more hours to find out, don't we?"
Scarlett blushed bright crimson, thinking that he had taken her comment as some sort of an invitation, which was entirely not the case!
"Why are you still here? Will you at least tell me that?"
"If I am unwanted -"
"No, I want you to stay…but I want you to tell me, please."
He pondered what to say. Somehow he didn't think it entirely appropriate to throw the burden of his position of estranged husband on her just yet. "Scarlett, you and I, we know each other…quite well…It's unfortunate that you cannot remember-"
She let out a shriek, which frightened him, "You! You compromised me! And kidnapped me too, probably!"
He shook his head and gently put a finger to her lips. "I did not compromise you, Scarlett. I only assumed my…husbandly rights…but have not done so for some time-"
"Husband! You…you're my husband?"
"Don't tell me it's all coming back to you now?"
"Not at all. Oh God!" she moaned, which elicited another wry laugh from him.
"What is it, Scarlett? You find me repulsive, perhaps? Or too old for your taste?"
She was still moaning as he posed the question, but then said quickly, "I'm not married! I'm not! I'm not!" She turned around and sobbed into her pillow, her shoulders convulsing as she let out those awful cries. Frankly, he didn't know what to do but to rub her back softly, just as he had done with Bonnie during one of her tantrums, and wait for it to pass. The sleeping draft did its work then, and she fell into a deep sleep, leaving her bewildered husband to his own musings.
How to proceed? Would he leave for Charleston, as he had thought - surely not yet, anyway - not with her so unstable. And there was Miss Melly's funeral, surely one of them needed to make an appearance and Scarlett certainly wasn't strong enough to do that. The children, who were lost as little puppies. Ashley Wilkes and Beau, who needed watching, Scarlett had reminded him of that responsibility during their last normal conversation - but what was normal, for them? He'd be damned if he knew…
. . . .
As the sun rose higher, the activity in the house increased. The maids were cleaning, preparing breakfast, and from down the hallway, he heard stirrings from the children's rooms. Wade needed his help shaving, for he had only just starting sprouting hair on the bottom of his chin and was not confident enough with the razor to handle it himself. The boy's hands were shaking as he asked him about his mother. How was she, and could they see her soon. Although Rhett's personal opinion was that if the idea of being a wife was so repugnant, being a mother would be even more so - but still, he promised Wade that he and Ella could see her very soon, but that right now, he needed them out of her way to better allow her to recover. Then, Wade had asked if he and Ella would attend their Aunt Melly's funeral, and although his first instinct was to say no, Rhett told Wade that he could accompany him, if he wished to pay his respects, but that Ella would not, because seven-year-olds should not witness such things.
He clapped the boy on the back as he took his leave, then knocked hesitantly on Scarlett's bedroom door and entered. She was sitting up in bed, still wearing her shift - and frantically she pulled the covers high to her neck.
"Oh God! Why are you still here? Why can't you at least have the decency to leave me alone?"
"I was merely -"
"I'm so ashamed, so very-"
"Whatever is there to be ashamed of, Scarlett? You've done nothing wrong."
"But I have, and I can't remember any of it - or you - oh why won't you go away?" Her shoulders were bent dejectedly, and she rocked back and forth giving him a tantalizing view of her smooth back and shoulders as he sat down beside her.
"You asked me to stay with you, Scarlett. And I did. As per your request."
She shook her head, saying nothing, which prompted him to ask casually, "You're not crying, are you?"
Like an angry child, she answered in a pout, "I never cry! But why don't you go?"
"Is that why you haven't asked one of the maids to dress you yet, you're hoping that I'll leave? If it is, you might as well give it up. I'm staying right here."
"Then I will!" she declared, attempting to stand up. "I'll go home to Tara right now, and as soon as I'm there, I'll know that all of this has been a dream. That you're not real, that none of this is real - and I'll be free to marry Ashley and - well, when I leave hear, it will be the last you ever see of me!"
He was only breaths away from telling her that she could do just that, marry Ashley and see the very last of him. But something about the way she said it struck something within him that was wholly unexpected. This was a fifteen-year-old's love, a love borne out of girlish infatuation…but why had he never seen it as that before? If he had owned that much insight into that toxic, twisted thing between Wilkes and his wife, he might have been able to understand why she pursued the woodenhead so doggedly.
Despite every ounce of common sense he possessed screaming that he should leave, immediately, he was slowly realizing that if he had the time, he would delight in getting to know this Scarlett better. She was so completely refreshing in her purity, in her innocence - this was his deepest wish fulfilled, to be allowed to know her before two bad marriages and the war had done terrible things to her.
Impulsively, he moved to face her and asked, "Would you like for me to help you dress?"
She snorted indignantly, "That does not deserve an answer."
"Careful, Scarlett, or I'll begin to think that you don't like me."
"I don't know you. And what I do know, I do not like! You're no gentleman, I know that much!"
She looked pleased with her insult, but he retorted, "A complement, my dear. But I do know you, very well, it seems. And deep down, I think that you know me too. Dare I say it, you might even like me, on some days."
"I know your name and that you have a wife. But I'm not her, sir.
At his knowing smirk, Scarlett clinched her fists in desperation. This man was truly disarming, what with that smile, those velvety eyes…until that moment, with her energy focused upon her attempts at remembering what had happened to her, she was quite unaware of the good looks of the man before her. But he was that, very much a man, and his presence shook her to her very core. She noticed his attire, or lack thereof: a loose fitted white shirt, unbuttoned to the chest paired with fitted beige trousers. His feet were bare and his chest, revealed by the open shirt, was also bare. His hair was falling into his face, as though he had just woken and had not bothered to comb it properly.
He looked …like a husband in his own bedroom…God's nightgown, it hadn't occurred to her that she could be in that very place, alone…
She was saved from making further conversation by a smallish rush of coppery curls and a gingham patterned day dress, which landed smack dab into that man Rhett's arms. It was a little girl, around seven or eight, and she clearly claimed Rhett's full attention.
"W-want M-mother!" she cried.
"I told her no -" a boy, about twelve or so, appeared in the doorway, "She wouldn't listen, don't be mad, please, Uncle Rhett!"
Rhett's whole demeanor changed as he scooped the little girl up and rounded on the boy. "I told you to keep her out of here!"
"I'm sorry!" he offered quickly, looking terrified. "She wouldn't listen!"
"Which is beside the point," Rhett said sharply. "It's no wonder that - stop crying, Ella!"
Scarlett was not amused by the autocratic display of his temper. These were children, clearly his niece and nephew, and he was behaving as though their intrusion had been a criminal offense.
"I don't care what it is! In the future you will ask for permission before barging in here- no matter the hour, no matter the reason!"
"Stop it!" Scarlett screamed, which seemed to startle both Rhett and the two children. "She's scared to death, can't you see that? And for what, wanting her Mother?"
Rhett drew in a breath, and looked warningly at Ella, hoping that she remembered their discussion of the night previous.
She rubbed her nose with her sleeve and nodded in understanding before fleeing the room, the wide-eyed boy behind her.
"Why did you yell at her like that?" Scarlett demanded. "What did she do?"
Until now, he had exhibited no such variable disposition - to see this man who claimed to be her husband in such a temper terrified her. This was no kind, compassionate man: this was a monster, a horrid monster! And if he could deal with the children so cruelly, imagine how he might deal with her!
He looked slightly abashed at having lost control, and said softly. "I'll see about some breakfast for you." With that, he quit the room and shut the door softly behind him. She lay still in bed and listened closely as his footsteps reverberated in the hallway, her heart hammering in her chest. She had to get out of here and back home, quickly. A door slammed and she could make out another exchange between him and the boy, who seemed close to tears. Several minutes later, she then heard him speak quietly to the maid standing at her own door, who entered without him and opened the curtains to allow the sun to shine in the dark room.
"Mist' Rhett say he gwine ter Miss Melly's house to pay his'spects b'fore the fun'ral, Miss Scarlett. He be back in'n hour. Ah's s'posed ter get you all dressed."
The maid disappeared into a large closet with a simple black dress in her hand, along with a pair of silk stockings and practical low-heeled slippers.
Quickly assessing her options, Scarlett decided to gamble. She smiled broadly at the maid and said, "I really am feeling much better. I can certainly dress myself, and you can go down to the kitchen and get my breakfast."
The girl looked surprised, but nodded and did as she was told. Scarlett wasted no time flying from the bed to the window, where she saw the carriage being readied and Rhett, dressed more appropriately in a dark suit, getting into the conveyance.
As soon as she was certain that he was gone, she shakily slipped into the simple black midday dress that had been laid out, fumbling with the buttons and feeling grateful that there were so few, before opening the door quietly and tiptoeing through it, closing it with equal silence. With none in the hallway, she seized her opportunity and crept down the stairs, and with no hesitation, exited from the front door.
Thanks to everybody who has read and reviewed! I really get ideas from your comments, as well as feedback, which is great! Please keep them coming! :) -NJ
