Chapter 6: The Kentucky Derby
Scarlett awoke early the next morning, half expecting Wade's revelation to be the result of far too much card playing and spirits; however, Rhett was indeed present in the salon of the National. Scarlett was genuinely surprised, for all that she did expect him. She had grown so used to not seeing him when she looked for him that the actual laying of eyes on the man was a rare thing. He looked horrible of course, fat as a hog and sporting a horrid little beard, like a seedy gambler well past his prime. She hated to think of such a strong, powerful man going to seed, and yet she was oddly comforted that no woman would ever want to touch him besides that Watling creature. He was half drunk already; and she didn't even have to smell him to tell. He was teetering, off balance, and so at home with the crowd of ne'er-do-wells surrounding him at the table that it would be impossible to mistake him for a gentleman. Yet he was her curse and her undoing, and Scarlett O'Hara would be damned before she gave up a chance to saunter by him on Ashley's arm and wearing an expensive new frock that Rhett's ill-gotten money had bought.
Ashley, for his part, was quite weary of tweaking Rhett Butler's nose, even if the man was a dissolute drunkard and scoundrel. Scarlett had none of that, and asked the maître'd to seat them at the very center table, where they were sure to be noticed by all. Noticed they were. Ashley seemed to be sinking lower and lower into his chair and Scarlett was nervously toying with the garnet about her neck. Rhett had spotted them as they walked in, and he was glowering. If looks could kill, Scarlett thought, Ashley and I would be mince meat. She didn't care. How dare Rhett have a son by that Watling woman, or worse, some other fancy lady from New Orleans, and claim to love her, Scarlett? Julian was polite, well-dressed, and educated; Scarlett would have almost been tempted to bet Tara on the fact that he was Wade's age or younger, making his conception after that fateful barbeque at Twelve Oaks. Rhett claimed that it was love at first sight…what a lie! The boy's existence was proof enough on that count.
Rhett knew Scarlett had spotted him, but he didn't care. She had the audacity to rub the sad-eyed Ashley Wilkes in his face, after all the history and years between her and himself. He had played cards with Wade and Miss Melly's son-if Miss Melly hadn't been a saint on earth, he'd have refused to believe that Wilkes could have possibly sired such a talented and exuberant boy as Beauregard-and then there was Julian, of course.
The irony that Beau and Julian had become thick as thieves of late was not lost upon Rhett. He wondered for the briefest of moments if Scarlett was jealous at all. Julian wasn't the child of his body, but certainly the child of his heart. When he had first become acquainted with Belle Watling, her name had been something else. She was the daughter of an impoverished but respectable landowner, a man with more pride than sense, and he, Rhett, was the son of the privileged Charleston Butler's. He'd taken Belle out buggy riding with only one intention in mind; but he soon learned that he was hardly the first young man to do so. Belle and Rhett were friends instantly, he found a willing ear to sound off his troubles, while Belle found a protector and advocate. She would later call on Rhett to help her escape her situation when she found herself with child. Although the brat belonged to Belle's father's overseer rather than Rhett himself, he made it a point to look to the child's well-being. He was sent to New Orleans, became a perfect hellion, and now, was playing cards with Wade Hampton and Beau. Life was funny that way, Rhett sighed.
Scarlett was doing this on purpose, he was certain. Wade had run to his Mother Dearest and told her that he, Rhett, was in town, and this was her response. He had stormed out of her life with the declaration that he didn't give a damn what the woman did with herself, yet the fact remained that he did. He cared as much about Scarlett now as then, ten years earlier, but this affront was too much. Wilkes had forfeited his right to a dignified argument between gentlemen a long time ago, when he was repeatedly unfaithful to his own jewel of a wife. Rhett seared with hatred toward Ashley Wilkes. He took another swig of whatever the place had served him; he was fairly certain that the whiskey supply had been depleted by himself the night previous. To hell with it, Rhett thought. He would settle this once and for all.
"Hello Ashley…and…Mrs. Butler, I presume," Rhett mock-bowed to them both, taking delight from Scarlett's flushed cheeks.
"You're drunk, Rhett!" Scarlett snapped in a furious whisper.
"If I am, Mrs. Butler, then I have the distinction of drinking in public rather than private, like yourself."
Ashley stood up in his chair, his face stiff with disgust, "I cannot stand idly by while you speak to Scarlett this way. If you have something to say to me, we can exchange words out of the public view."
"You're still quite the little gentleman, aren't you, Wilkes?" Rhett said as though he were speaking to a small child.
Ashley's mouth formed a thin line. He admonished Rhett in his eyes, but refused to raise his voice to Rhett's level, attempting to maintain a hint of civility. "I apologize to you for any shortcomings of my own, sir, but you have no right to criticize Scarlett, in so public a place. Have you no respect?"
"None," Rhett raised his voice even further, silencing the entire salon. Scarlett was looking pale. Perhaps she and Wilkes had finally consummated their long-standing relationship. "I have no respect for women who lie. I have no respect for women who cheat. And I certainly have no respect left for women who keep the company of white livered, cowardly men."
Ashley's face was grey now, his voice raspy. "I never at any time-"
"Of course you didn't," Rhett spoke to Ashley although his eyes were focused on Scarlett. "I've already had a conversation once before with Mrs. Butler about your honorable breed. I even recall a prediction I made, that were poor Miss Melly dead like Scarlett prayed for all those years and she actually was able to possess you, she'd be unhappy. How fickle is woman! I was wrong. How happy you are! A toast, then, to Mr. Ashley Wilkes and to Mrs. Scarlett O'Hara Butler, may you live happily together for all of your days."
"Enough of this," Ashley muttered, looking mortified, "come, Scarlett."
Rhett let out an odd laugh, and turned around as if to leave.
Scarlett looked horrified, almost to the point of sobbing. Good, Rhett thought, let the cold-hearted thing have a taste of reality. He paused for a moment, listening to Ashley murmur words of comfort to her. It left a bitter taste in his mouth. He turned around slowly.
"Wilkes!" Rhett socked Ashley in the mouth so hard that the other man landed in a heap in Scarlett's lap. She screamed, horrified, and fainted. Rhett, satisfied at last, strolled out of the salon feeling infinitely better as he eyed the two fallen forms of his wife and her lover. The crazed look in his eye disappeared and he was once again debonair, slipping a crisp wad of bills into the hand of the stunned maitre'd and making his exit.
Scarlett vaguely remembered Ashley carrying her upstairs from the dining salon and placing her on the bed. Even less, she recalled Ella's terrified screams and Wade's angry shouts. In the very back of her mind, she even had a slight recollection of Mr. Blair's triumphant yell that Leonitus had won the Derby by a long shot.
Scarlett's face was burning with fever, so delirious was she. Ella sponged her off with cool linens until she was able to breathe, and someone had called for a doctor. A kindly looking man, he pronounced that Scarlett was suffering from a "nervous complaint". When, hours later, her eyes finally opened, Scarlett found herself staring at Ashley.
"Have you been here long, Ashley?" she said weakly.
"Three days," Ashley nodded, slightly coolly.
"That's a long time," Scarlett tried to sit up.
"No, Scarlett," Ashley said firmly, "you must lay still. We've been very worried for you, my dear."
"Oh Ashley, you're being a goose, I'm not weak like-" Scarlett stopped short of saying her name, but she knew that he knew who she meant. Mentioning Melly, even indirectly, still cut him to the quick and she knew it. "I'm sorry, Ashley. It's just that I feel so silly lying in bed all day while you take care of me. I hope I've not been talking in my sleep…"
His silence did nothing to reassure her.
"I have been, then…" Scarlett murmured. "Rhett?" She looked at Ashley's face for confirmation. He gave none, only looking down toward the floor.
"Mother!" Ella's voice penetrated the silence as she bounded through the doorway. "Ashley, you were supposed to tell me when she was awake. You must get Wade, quickly, please! Oh Mother, we've been so worried!"
Scarlett's emotions got the best of her at her daughter's embrace. Ella was normally so very stiff and dull; she felt a thrill that perhaps her daughter did love her after all.
"It's alright Ella, dear," Scarlett stroked Ella's gingery hair as the girl sobbed, "Mother's fine. Please, sweetheart…" Scarlett's voice dropped to a whisper as Ashley left the room, "tell me what happened. I just remember…Rhett…and then fainting."
"I was so scared, Mother. You were talking nonsense about Tara and owing three hundred dollars, and then, when Ashley tried to tell you it had been paid you starting screaming…oh Mother, it was horrible! You said things about…my father."
Scarlett's look of panic was lost upon Ella, who continued: "but then, when we thought you were lost to us, you saw her. It was like she came to you in a vision and everything was alright again."
"Who, Ella?" Scarlett said through hot tears.
"Aunt Melly of course," Ella said as if it were the most natural thing in the world. "You were having a conversation with Aunt Melly."
"Melly?" Scarlett sobbed like a small child, clutching Ella, "I want Melly, I want her so. I needed her and she was gone."
"Mother?" Ella looked horrified, thinking that perhaps her mother was having another fit.
"I'm sorry, sweetheart," Scarlett groaned, miserable. "where's Rhett?"
"Rhett?" Ella spat, "hopefully halfway to Virginia by now, that black hearted bastard. When Wade heard what he said to you he threatened to shoot him on the spot. It took Beau and Julian and all the boys to hold him back."
Scarlett's tears returned at the knowledge that Rhett was gone. She remembered his words, every syllable. His words had been cold, indifferent, and by leaving when her family thought her at the brink of death he had proven his apathy.
"Mother!" Wade Hampton kissed his mother and held her so tightly that Ella had to remind him of her illness. "I'm so happy you're better."
"I wouldn't have been alright if I'd heard you'd gone charging after Rhett with a shotgun."
"It took every bit of charm I possess to get him to calm down," Beau Wilkes said helpfully, appearing at the door next to his careworn father. "I finally convinced him that a steadier hand and cooler head was necessary to finish off that piece of filth."
"Beau," Ashley scolded. "Cease this talk this instant."
"It's alright, Ashley, I am quite alright." Scarlett scoffed. "Now for the last time, all of you…don't be shy, what happened that I don't know about?"
Wade exchanged a glance with Ashley, who looked weary, and then to Ella, who nodded. "It's this, Mother. That ill-bred, scurrilous louse left you these before he took off."
At the sight of the divorce papers, Scarlett fainted again.
Scarlett was on the train to Nashville the next morning, stopping only to allow Wade Hampton to pay a call to Miss Blair under the ruse of conveying half of the Derby prize money to the Blair family. Despite Mrs. Blair's protests, Scarlett attempted to give the whole wad of dollars away, knowing that Beatrice Tarleton would never accept a penny.
"We'll keep it," Wade had said to her after their unsuccessful attempt, "for a rainy day." Good boy, Scarlett thought.
She, Wade, and Ella were off to Atlanta next, by way of Jonesboro to allow her to rest a few days at Tara. It would be good to see Will, Scarlett thought, but never Suellen and her passel of brats. Dutifully, she played the generous aunt always, bringing the three girls a bounty of new gowns each season.
Will was waiting for them at the station, hugging Scarlett and Ella and shaking Wade's hand. He hoisted Scarlett's trunk into his small rig and offered his hand.
"What's that look on your face, Wade Hampton?" Scarlett raised her eyebrow quizzically. "Why aren't you getting in?"
"You're staying at Tara and getting well, Mother," Wade braced himself for the impending argument. "The doctor was very strict, Mother, you've had a great shock. You need some time to think. Ella and I will manage things in Atlanta. The Peachtree house needs to be maintained; you can't stay there alone, it's not right and you know it."
"Soon everybody will know about the divorce," Ella burst out, then looked ashamed, as Will obviously did not know yet. Luckily Will had the good grace to pretend to not have heard and looked away.
"I suppose I'm overruled," Scarlett sighed as she beheld her grown-up children. "Where shall you stay, Ella Lorena?"
"Aunt Pitty's," Ella said brightly, "it's all arranged. I wrote her a letter explaining about the store…"
"The store?" Scarlett interrupted.
"Yes, Mother," Wade interceded. "The store."
"You're not selling my store," Scarlett snapped.
"Of course not, Mother, we're-"
"You can't work the store and your law practice too, Wade Hampton!"
"Of course not, Mother. Ella is."
Scarlett looked at her daughter with abject horror.
"Why not? It's mine, isn't it?" Ella grinned.
"Ella, your place is-"
"My place is at that store, Mother. I won't let it go under. I promise."
"And I have more lumber orders from clients for Uncle Ashley," Wade interjected, "so don't worry a thing about him. I'll even go down to the mill once a week and check the books."
They had thought of everything, Scarlett thought, the manipulative little things. She had the strangest feeling that underneath all that love and affection was an ulterior motive. They wanted her out of Atlanta for some reason…but she was going home. Her longing for Tara was even stronger than her broken heart. Let them go, Scarlett, she told herself, after all, it'll all be theirs someday. She waved at Ella and Wade as they re-boarded the train to Atlanta; usually their leaving was quick and with little conversation; however, this time, she kissed the pair of them as if it was the last time she would ever look upon them. They were so grown-up, at twenty-three and seventeen. They were no longer impressionable children, but spirited, capable adults. As their waving arms became smaller and smaller, Scarlett felt a surge of pride. She was ready to go home.