The usual disclaimer applies, Gone with the Wind and all its characters belong to Margaret Mitchell and her heirs, I own nothing.
Dr. Magruder completed his examination and exited Rhett's bedroom, his black leather medical bag in hand. Scarlett waited in the sitting room, and rose to speak with him as soon as he appeared. The doctor eyed her with detached interest over his pince-nez, "So you are Mrs. Butler. You haven't been here before."
"No, I haven't, my husband and I have been estranged for many years." Scarlett decided to be direct with the physician, rather than mince words. "He sent for me last week but did not explain himself. I understand his illness is grave."
"Yes, very," he said. "He will die soon, but I can't say when. He has good days and bad days."
She nodded. "What is this illness?"
"At the time he suffered cerebral apoplexy, he was hospitalized in London. During that period he contracted an infection of the liver, probably hepatitis, which, coupled with alcohol consumption, has led to atrophy of that organ. In the usual course of an illness such as this there is bruising and bleeding, fluid builds up causing the bloated belly and dropsy of the lower part of the body. The impaired circulation can lead to failure of the kidneys as well as the liver. The build up of fluid in the abdomen makes breathing difficult. As the liver is unable to purify the blood, toxins build up in the blood stream and jaundice becomes pronounced, causing a yellow or orange discoloration of the skin, the circulating toxins also cause intense itching of the skin, irritability and sleepiness, and lastly delirium and dementia. It is your husband's wish to be spared this, so we agreed upon the heavy dose of laudanum and morphine. He tells me that you will stay with him. He trusts you to know when the time is right. Do you understand this? Can you accept this responsibility?"
"Yes, doctor, it is my wish to be of any assistance needed. Years ago, during the war, I nursed wounded soldiers in Atlanta. I believe I can help." Scarlett's air of confidence reassured the doctor that she would use good judgment in caring for his patient.
"Good. So far there have been no deficiencies in his care. He is doing as well as can be expected. For the most part he is comfortable, clean and in reasonable spirits." Dr. Magruder then opened his bag and pulled out two bottles of medicine which he handed to Joseph, as he prepared to leave.
"Thank you, doctor," Scarlett said. What a bleak picture, she thought as she walked into Rhett's bedroom and gave him a bright smile. "The doctor says you're doing well."
"Liar," Rhett scowled back at her. "Let's get one thing straight; I'm sick, not stupid. Dispense with the false cheer."
Scarlett arched an eyebrow, and spoke evenly. "I can appreciate your sister's assessment of your emotional state. Perhaps if you wish me to remain here with you, we should attempt to be civil with one another."
"Hmmph," Rhett grunted his grudging agreement.
Scarlett scanned the room for a plate or tray, "Have you had breakfast?"
As she spoke Joseph entered the room carrying Rhett's food. "Doctor say you can eat now, Captain Butler."
"Thank you, Joseph. I'll take that." Scarlett took the tray and placed it on Rhett's lap and eyed the meager meal it contained, oatmeal gruel with milk and what smelled like chamomile tea. "Is this all you eat?"
"Food sickens me," he said, pushing the tray away.
"Maybe a little ginger would help. It's good for stomach upset." She spoke with brisk efficiency. "I'll check with your cook and see if there is any in the kitchen."
Rhett grabbed Scarlett's wrist before she could move toward the door. "Don't start trying to manage my life. You are not the mistress of this household."
"I thought you wanted me to behave as a proper wife would. I'm only trying to help you," she said as she jerked her hand away, annoyed. Her initial surge of anger gave way to shock when she realized how weak he was. At one time it would have been impossible for her to break out of Rhett's grip.
"I want you to sit, and talk to me," he said pointing to the chair next to the bed. "Tell me about what you've been doing with your horses or about your grandchildren, anything. Just talk."
"All right, now I know what you want." Scarlett eyed the tray he'd pushed aside. "I would like you to eat something. If I talk, will you eat?"
"What?" he snapped, incredulous.
Scarlett remained firm. "It's a simple request."
Joseph had come back into the room bearing a small tray containing medicine: two pills and a bottle of tonic. He listened to Scarlett attempting to bargain with Rhett and smiled, shaking his head. "Captain Butler, I brung your medicine. Doctor say you gotta eat something 'fore you take it, you know that."
"Fine," he muttered in disgust. He pulled the tray back into his lap, picked up the spoon and took a few bites of the gruel, before dropping the spoon back on the tray. He looked up at Joseph and Scarlett, both watching him, "Happy now?"
"It's a start," Scarlett said, as Joseph placed the pills in Rhett's hand. She then quietly slipped out of the room.
When Scarlett returned she was carrying a small case in which she kept her collection of cabinet cards. She sat down in the chair next to the bed, and smiled at Rhett, "If you are really interested in my grandchildren, I'll show you some pictures. I don't know if I'm prouder of my grandchildren or my horses!" She then began pulling out pictures. "Here are Wade's four children: Melanie is ten, Annabelle is eight and a half, Caroline is seven and Teddy is three and a half. Three angelic little girls, and then there is Teddy, a little devil! I love them all. I'm thinking of buying another house in Atlanta because I can't get enough of them and I know Wade's wife would rather not have me as a guest quite as often as I turn up."
"I'm glad to hear that you've finally learned to appreciate children," he observed dryly.
Scarlett shot him a look of annoyance, "Is this your idea of being civil with one another?"
Rhett shrugged. "Who is this?" he asked pointing to the picture of a solemn-faced girl. "She looks a little like Melanie Wilkes."
"That's Wade's oldest child, my Melanie. You see, she has the Hamilton eyes, big, round and brown. She is prettier than Melly was, but just as special. She loves the stables, and rides well. She's a natural. All of the children ride, except for Teddy, he's too young. Wade, Alicia and I agreed not to start riding lessons before age four because of..." Scarlett's voice trailed off and she took a sidelong glance at Rhett. His face registered nothing.
She started pulling out all the pictures in the case--baby pictures, a picture of Ella and her husband at their wedding, pictures of children on horseback under the big Butler-Tarleton Stables arch.
Rhett pointed to Ella's wedding picture, "I never got an invitation."
"For what it's worth I wasn't there either," Scarlett said, frowning, her displeasure evident. "Ella and John eloped."
What Scarlett failed to mention was her strident opposition to the match. She had met John Connelly, a gifted painter, in Savannah through her O'Hara kin. The O'Hara cousins were trying to help the young man, newly arrived in America, find work. John had come to Savannah from Ireland via Paris where he had hoped to attend the École des Beaux-Arts. After two years of apprenticeship under an established painter with ties to the Académie, he ran out of money. John decided to immigrate to America instead of pursuing further education. Scarlett commissioned him to paint four portraits for her.
John went on to teach painting to young ladies, and that was how he met Ella. Painting had become her passion and she continued her art studies while attending St. Vincent's Academy in Savannah. Scarlett was unaware of the blossoming romance until it was too late. She hectored Ella mercilessly to give up John Connelly because she did not think he was a worthy beau; he was ten years her senior and an artist. How could he support a wife? Ella would not be moved by her mother's arguments. She loved John; he made her feel special.
After Ella's graduation, John proposed to her. He had accepted a position teaching in New York City, and did not want to leave Savannah without her. An ambitious young man, he made the most of his opportunities and eventually obtained his current position at the Metropolitan Museum of Art. If Scarlett hadn't been so opposed to the match, she might have been able to admire his gumption.
"He was quite impressed with the little paintings you gave Ella when she was young," Scarlett remarked crisply.
"Yes, I believe he is an admirer of the Impressionists." Rhett looked up from the picture and turned to Scarlett, "Did they ever tell you, I saw them in New York two years after they married? They were attending Paul Durand-Ruel's National Academy of Design show."
"No, Ella never mentioned that." Scarlett stared hard at Rhett. "You mean in 1886, the spring of 1886, after the Kentucky Derby?"
"That's exactly right Scarlett, after the Kentucky Derby, in May of 1886." He matched her stare, as he emphasized the date.
Rather than rise to the bait, Scarlett scowled darkly and continued her narrative. "These are her two children: Michael is twelve and Cathleen is nine. I don't see them as much as I'd like. I get to New York every spring for a visit, after the running of the Belmont Stakes. They spend a month in the summer at Tara."
"I know Ella's children well. I used to visit them twice a year, before I became too sick to travel." He smiled fondly at the photographic images. "I haven't seen them in over a year, how are they?"
Scarlett stared at him, dumbfounded, her voice rising with emotion, "My grandchildren, you visited my grandchildren!"
"Ella is my stepdaughter," Rhett remarked blandly, unfazed by her outburst. "She and her family accept me, certainly with more grace than you."
"She never told me anything about this!" Scarlett sputtered with indignation.
"Nor should she have, it doesn't concern you. However, I am amazed the children never said anything to you. They speak frankly and do not dissemble."
Scarlett was still trying to absorb this information--Rhett had a relationship with Ella's children. And Ella had kept this fact from her for how many years?
"What's this last picture here? You haven't opened it. Saving the best for last?" He reached for the last frame in the case, which looked older and more worn than the rest.
Scarlett started to say no, but he caught her off-guard. She held her breath as he opened it. There was the picture that the young Irish artist had used to paint a portrait of Rhett and Bonnie so many years ago. It had been taken in Charleston during the late spring of 1871, after Rhett left Atlanta with their daughter. Rhett was sitting on a tufted velvet bench holding Bonnie at the waist; Bonnie was standing on the bench with her little hand on his shoulder. Rhett wore the expression of a proud father, while Bonnie grinned like an imp. Something about this picture captured Bonnie's spirit well. It was one of Scarlett's favorites and never failed to make her smile.
"I always carry this one with me." Their eyes met. Seeing the picture and the look on Rhett's face took Scarlett back twenty-five years to the night she had given him the painting made from this picture.
#
Spring, 1875
Rhett signed the bill of sale for their Atlanta mansion in the autumn of 1874. At the time, he told Scarlett the house had been built for her and she could use the proceeds from the sale as she saw fit. Most of the money went toward the construction of her own home at Tara. Scarlett called the house Blue Skies because to her the sky over Tara was always the most beautiful azure blue. It was also a symbolic name, hopefully representing a break from her stormy past. Scarlett wanted a new business challenge to complete her transition. In due time, the idea of a horse breeding business began to appeal to her and seemed the ideal investment for the remainder of the money from the sale of the Peachtree Street mansion. In the spring of 1875, Rhett came to Tara to sign the papers forming the Butler-Tarleton Limited Partnership.
Beatrice Tarleton was true to her word; she did speak to Scarlett about buying some horses. At first, Scarlett refused to consider getting involved in the horse breeding business because she knew nothing about it; moreover, it did not interest her. Will asked her how much she knew about lumber before she bought her first mill. Scarlett scowled, said she recognized an opportunity to make a lot of money when she saw it, and didn't see how horses could be worth as much as lumber. However, she was interested in buying a horse for herself and one for Wade. Ella refused to learn to ride; the memory of Bonnie's death still frightened her. Beatrice used this opportunity to take Scarlett horse shopping in the surrounding Georgia counties. At first Scarlett resisted, but eventually Beatrice started to wear her down. When Scarlett returned to Tara, practically giddy with excitement about the bloodlines of the horses she had purchased, Will knew she was hooked.
Jim and Beatrice Tarleton and Scarlett traveled to Atlanta and had a member of Henry Hamilton's law firm draw up papers of incorporation. Henry pointed out that Scarlett was still legally a married woman, and would need Rhett's signature on the papers. He recommended the Tarletons and Scarlett prepare the document and send it to Rhett's lawyers in Charleston. Scarlett was shocked when, instead of returning the signed contract via mail, Rhett traveled to Georgia and met with the principals at Scarlett's new home. The situation was initially rather awkward, but Beatrice's earthy, good humor and impressive knowledge of horses helped smooth things over, and the foursome forged a business plan that carried Butler-Tarleton Stables for the next eleven years.
The night the papers were signed, the Butlers and Tarletons dined together to celebrate. After Jim and Beatrice went home, Scarlett was at last alone with her husband. An uncomfortable silence fell between them. There was so much she wanted to say, but he maintained an aloof bearing, and would not be drawn into conversation. Finally, Scarlett suggested they retire.
She lit a lamp and led the way up the stairs to the bedrooms. On the second floor landing, across from Scarlett's bedroom, hung three oil portraits of her children. In the dim light, Rhett could just about make out the faces of the three children. He was most surprised to see the portrait of Bonnie. Scarlett moved swiftly past the paintings without a thought to their impact on Rhett, and led the way to the second bedroom on the left. She opened the door, placed the lamp on the bedside table and wished Rhett a good night.
Though it was dark, she found her way easily to her own room. Once inside she sank into an overstuffed chair and stared into the darkness, her mind in turmoil, knowing she would never be able to sleep as long as Rhett lay on the other side of the wall separating their two rooms. She remembered the wild thrill of their last night together. Her heart beat madly when he touched her in the most casual way during the course of the evening. Memories washed over her in the darkness and an intense longing to be in his arms, to feel his lips on hers, filled her. If only he would let her into his heart again.
When she heard footsteps in the hallway, she sprang to the door. Upon opening it, she saw Rhett standing there looking at the portrait of Bonnie.
"It's quite a nice likeness, don't you think?" Scarlett asked.
He didn't turn to face her, but answered, "Indeed, quite nice. Where did you get this?"
"I commissioned it in Savannah. A young Irishman, who learned his craft in Paris, painted it for me. You must remember the photograph he used to create this painting."
"Yes, very well." He turned and faced Scarlett. "Do you have any brandy in the house? I feel the need for a nightcap. Perhaps you would like to join me."
Scarlett led the way to the dining room and found the silver tray on the sideboard with the cut crystal decanter containing a small amount of brandy. She picked up the tray and told Rhett they should go out to the front porch where they might enjoy the night breeze. Once on the porch, Rhett poured two generous glasses of brandy.
After pouring, he held up the decanter, checking it in the dim light to verify that it was nearly empty. "You've run out Scarlett, do you have more?"
"No," she replied, "I don't keep it for myself. It's only for guests."
"I see," he remarked. "So you'll not be joining me?"
"No, I'm afraid not. I have a weakness." Though she was sorely tempted, she knew she had to be strong and resist the urge. She added, "Feel free to finish what's there."
Rhett looked at her sharply, then, shrugged.
Scarlett took a seat deep in the shadows of the porch and watched as Rhett drank the first brandy, then pulled a cigar out of his pocket and lit it. Watching him perform these simple acts, so familiar to her, gave her great pleasure. She missed him more than words could say.
Then she spoke up, "I have something for you."
She disappeared into the house, and reemerged shortly, carrying a large parcel wrapped in brown paper.
"I didn't know when I would see you again, to give this to you," she said as she pushed the parcel toward him.
"Let's go inside. It's too dark out here to see," he suggested.
In the parlor, Scarlett lit two lamps and watched as Rhett pulled the paper off the portrait. He studied it carefully, not speaking. Finally Scarlett put her hand on his forearm. When he turned to look at her, she thought he had tears shining in his eyes, but she couldn't be certain.
"Do you like it?" she asked softly, yet eagerly.
"My God, it's beautiful," he gasped. "I scarcely know what to say."
Scarlett laughed lightly, "Thank you is usually considered appropriate when one appreciates a gift."
"Of course, thank you, my dear. I shall treasure it."
Then Scarlett made her error. Thinking she had caught him in a moment of vulnerability, she proclaimed her love and reached to embrace him.
He looked at her quizzically, holding her at arms length. "I appreciate the gift, but nothing has changed between us. In fact, I had intended to discuss the possibility of a divorce with you."
Her hand flew up to her mouth and she let out a sharp cry of surprise.
"A separation then? Surely you didn't think I wanted to reconcile?" His voice was smooth, betraying no emotion.
"No, of course not. It's just that... well, we just signed those incorporation papers because..." she shook her head, perplexed. I am a fool, she thought. "I told you many times before, no divorce, ever."
"I hoped you'd changed your mind." He observed her agitation dispassionately.
"No!" She cried sharply, "I would never be able to hold my head up again. My children..."
"That's something else I wanted to discuss with you. I would like to be a part of the children's lives, but my visiting here regularly is out of the question. Why don't you send them to school in Charleston? I can recommend some good schools; you can visit them, select one for each child. Out here in the country, your choices for their education are rather limited, and Wade does want to go to university."
Scarlett was still in shock over Rhett's request for a divorce or separation. She could only mumble her assent to his suggestion about the children's schools.
He eyed her speculatively. Seeing her distress, he thought better of continuing the discussion. "I think I'll retire now. Thank you again for the present. Good night." Rhett picked up the painting and went upstairs to his room.
Scarlett went out to the porch in search of the remaining brandy. Greedily, she finished what was on hand and cursed herself for not replenishing the supply. "Tomorrow," she thought, "I'm going to buy some more in Jonesboro because if Rhett stays here another night, I'm going to want to drown in it."
#
She gathered up the pictures, put them back in the case and snapped it shut. "Well, enough of this." Rhett lay against the pillows with his eyes closed. She touched his arm lightly. "You rest. I'll come back later." Quietly she exited the room.
Back in her own room, she put the photo case away and went out to the piazza. The salty tang made the breeze smell good. Discovering Rhett's hidden relationship with Ella and her family shocked Scarlett. She could tell from the look on his face that he loved Ella's children as though they were his own grandchildren. Suddenly, she did feel pity for Rhett. While he certainly had the upper hand in their relationship, he had lost so much in the bargain. Leaving the country made it impossible for him to enjoy frequent visits with Ella's children, and he wasn't acquainted with Wade's children at all. He had sacrificed any potential to develop or deepen loving bonds with these children just to avoid having anything to do with her.
Scarlett began to think of the Christmas holiday. Clearly she wouldn't be back in Georgia in time to celebrate with her family, so she'd have to let them know exactly what was going on. She wrote her first letter to Wade, describing his stepfather's condition, as well as the will and burial plans. The next letter was for Suellen. Finally, she wrote one to Ella, who loved her stepfather dearly. She wondered if Ella knew how sick Rhett was at the time she had last seen him. These sad tidings over the holidays would grieve her.
Many thanks to all of you who have left such warm words of encouragement. I appreciate your feedback. Kendra, big time weeper at the end.
