"Another day and I reckon we'll have that fence finished," Will Benteen observed, pushing the brim of his straw hat back so that it wouldn't catch the smoke from his cigar and direct it back to his pale eyes. "You've been a good man to have around, Rhett, and I hope you don't mind me saying that's a bit of a surprise."
Rhett lit his own cigar and rolled his shoulders as he brought it up to his lips. "I don't mind at all, Will. I'm surprised myself. I never really was a farmer, and it's been a long time since I had to work with my hands."
"Your folks had a plantation, didn't they?"
"Yes, but they lost it after the war. Even then, I hadn't been there for years."
"Same might've happened to Tara, if it wasn't for Scarlett."
Rhett grimaced and drew on his cigar. "You've had quite a hand in it too, Will."
Will nodded with matter-of-fact acknowledgement. "Least I could do."
Reflecting on some of his own actions, Rhett thought privately that in truth Will could have done far less. He might have voiced a similar sentiment, but Ella and Bonnie galloped out onto the porch. Ella held her baby sister's hand tightly, and they were both out of breath.
"Daddy!" Bonnie cried, tugging her hand free and toddling across the rough white planking, her arms uplifted. Smiling indulgently, Rhett scooped her up onto his knee.
"Hello my darling," Rhett said, planting kisses across Bonnie's cheeks with exaggerated smacking noises that made her giggle and shove at his face. He laughed and straightened up, looking at Ella over Bonnie's black curls. "What have you girls been doing?"
"Mother says it's time for supper," relayed Ella seriously.
"I believe our presence is requested at the table, Will," said Rhett. Ella's head tilted to one side. She used that gesture of puppy dog confusion so frequently, Rhett often teased her that her head might get stuck like that. The men stamped out their cigars in the flat dish set on the table between their chairs. Will rose, and Rhett tried to set Bonnie down to do the same.
"No!" Bonnie protested, refusing to let go of the handfuls of sleeve she had caught in her pudgy fists.
"Bonnie doesn't want to walk," Ella offered. "She only wants to run."
Rhett quirked one dark eyebrow. "Is that why you came out here in such a hurry?" Ella nodded. Rhett stood and held Bonnie up so they were eye-to-eye. "Should we all have a race to the supper table?"
"Yes!"
"But, Uncle Rhett, Mother won't like it…"
Will clapped a hand on Rhett's shoulder. "I'll see you in a minute, then," he said, then winked at the little girl and left the trio alone on the porch.
"Set Go!" cried Bonnie, now squirming eagerly to be set down on her own sturdy legs.
"Are you ready to race, Ella?" Rhett asked, keeping a firm hold on Bonnie.
"But Mother…"
"It will be all my fault."
"Uhmm…"
Rhett let go of Bonnie and the toddler immediately took off down the narrow porch. "You had better hurry if you don't want your baby sister to beat you," Rhett said lightly. Ella hesitated a moment longer, shifting her weight nervously as she clearly debated the risks of her mother's anger or losing to the baby. Then she turned on her heel and ran after Bonnie, catching up to her in time to pull open the front door, whose knob Bonnie could barely reach, for them both.
Rhett removed his flask from the pocket inside his coat and took a swift drink before following the girls.
He entered the dining room only a few seconds behind them, interrupting Scarlett's tirade almost before it had begun.
"Ella Lorena Kennedy, you know better than to come run—"
"Who won?" Rhett asked loudly, picking up Bonnie who had come running to his knees. Her lower lip protruded as Ella proudly proclaimed her victory. Rhett tapped Bonnie's mouth lightly and whispered in her ear, "Your daddy came in last." Bonnie appeared to ponder his words then clapped her hands delightedly.
"Daddy lost!" she crowed.
Rhett took his seat across from Scarlett and settled Bonnie on the chair pulled up next to his. Ella had seated herself next to her mother, and was casting nervous sideways glances in that direction. Bright color bloomed in soft spots high on the apples of Scarlett's cheeks and her jaw worked visibly under her skin as she stared at Rhett. Will was already in his seat at the head of the table, with Wade at his right. Suellen, almost as pregnant as Scarlett, came in last, herding her daughters before her. With the arrival of her sister, Scarlett swallowed visibly and abandoned the attempt to find a suitable reprimand. Rhett winked at her and she scowled back at him.
After Will led grace, a custom much neglected in the Butler household, the supper dishes were circulated until every plate was piled high with food. Rhett watched Scarlett glance around, her gaze lingering on Wade's plate. Then she shook herself and began to eat.
Rhett had served Bonnie with only a small taste of food, as almost anything on her plate would be ignored. She greatly preferred to take her meals from her father's plate. He carefully cut small bits of ham to place within her reach. Her hand stretched out for the food and Rhett caught it gently.
He had allowed Bonnie her own head in nearly everything while they had been in Charleston, despite his mother's disapproval. But at Tara, after the nursery dispute had come the dinner table. Bonnie not only ate from her father's plate instead of her own, she most often did so with her fingers. Rhett knew Scarlett had been mortified at this discovery. In their own house in Atlanta, it would have been good for an invigorating argument. In too close proximity to her family at Tara, a quieter but no less vociferous discussion had taken place in the middle of the night, lying in their bed with her back to him and her face stubbornly refusing to turn away from the far wall.
Rhett cupped Bonnie's hand gently in his own and reached for the small baby fork. Bonnie tugged and refused to open her fingers. Speaking gently and quietly, Rhett talked to her about the pleasures of being a big girl, and how said state of being hinged on many things including the use of flatware, and gradually cajoled Bonnie into accepting the fork. She was not very adept with the tiny silver utensil, so that although eating this way kept her hands clean, a good deal more of her meals ended up on her dress.
Her dress was the third point of contention in the family. Rhett had purchased all new clothes for her in Charleston, and allowed Bonnie to pick her own fabrics. Now, she had no durable broadcloth or calico which could hide somewhat the stains of grass and dirt picked up by farm children. Bonnie wore blue taffeta with white lace collars and refused, loudly, any attempt by Mammy or Scarlett to dress her in hand-me-downs from Suellen's girls (as all Bonnie's old dresses were still in Atlanta, and would now be too small for her in any case). Even Mammy had let Rhett know plainly that it just weren't fittin' for a little girl to be dressed so.
Rhett had not done anything about the dresses. He could afford to buy his baby as many new dresses as she needed or desired, so he saw no reason to care if she was ruining fine fabrics. And, on top of her table manners and the ongoing struggles over bedtime, letting Bonnie have her pretty blue frocks seemed unimportant.
A clump of potato spilled from Bonnie's fork onto his knee and he flicked it to the floor carelessly. Bonnie was eating steadily if clumsily, and Rhett turned his attention to the adult conversation.
"Did you get the fence done?" Suellen was asking her husband. When she spoke, Suellen's voice always had an undertone of whining, as if she were not satisfied by your answer before you even gave it. It seemed, most of the time, as if nothing and no one in existence was satisfactory to Scarlett's brittle younger sister. Including her own husband; perhaps it was a family trait, Rhett had mused bitterly.
"Nearly," Will replied.
The ever-present frown line which vertically creased Suellen's brow deepened, puckering the fair skin between her eyes.
"Will it be done soon? I had hoped you would look at the window in the parlor before it gets much colder."
Will smiled, well-accustomed to his wife's accusatory manner and not in the least put off by it. "I'll take a look first thing in the morning. You don't mind getting started without me, do you, Rhett?"
"Not at all."
Suellen snorted. "If he's as handy as Ashley Wilkes was, you had better finish the fence first. The window can wait."
Rhett looked from head to foot of the table, keeping his face carefully bland as his gaze passed over Scarlett. He waited for the hot retort which must surely follow her sister's words, remembering her anger at his own taunting after her marriage to Frank.
"Rhett can manage the fence," said Will in his placid manner. Rhett raised his eyebrows at his wife, but she remained stubbornly silent. Perhaps only he was not allowed to criticize the vaunted and adored Ashley.
"I'm happy to help, Will, Mrs. Benteen," Rhett said smoothly, his gaze not leaving Scarlett. He thought her nose twitched, but she gave no other sign of interest in the conversation.
Bonnie was growing frustrated at being ignored by her favorite table companion, and made her disapproval known by smacking the back of Rhett's hand with her small fork. It had the desired effect, as he turned his attention back to his tiny tyrant daughter.
It was much later, when the Butlers were alone in their small room after the children had been put to bed, that Scarlett finally gave vent to the displeasure Rhett had been waiting to hear voiced at supper. Rhett had intended to replenish his cigar case before joining Will on the porch again for a few minutes, giving his wife enough time to change for bed before he intruded. His back was to the door as he carefully laid cigars in the heavy gold case when the snapping rustle of her heavy skirts announced her presence. That, and the sound of the door being closed firmly. She wouldn't slam it, but over the last week she had perfected the art of shutting their bedroom door with just the right amount of force to indicate exactly how she wished to close it.
Rhett ignored her and added another cigar to the half-full case.
"What a fine field hand you make," he heard her scoff. "Aren't you worried all this hard work might make you ill when you are quite unaccustomed to it?"
Rhett straightened lazily and closed his cigar case. It was not full, but he began to doubt he would be joining Will again that night. "I know a thing or two about hard work, my pet. Don't forget, I also grew up on a plantation."
"Not as a field hand! You never worked in your life. That desk at the bank—"
"That desk at the bank is ensuring our daughter's future," Rhett snapped, his patience fraying. Would she never be able to understand?
Scarlett's slim shoulders stiffened. "You're a fine one to talk. Didn't you tell me once that with enough money, you don't need to worry about a reputation? And if you - if you cared so much…"
Her voice trailed off weakly, and she turned her head away.
"Yes, my dear? Pray continue. Your own reputation is so spotless, I eagerly await some pearl of wisdom which may guide Bonnie's future in your shining example."
"You're a cad!" Scarlett cried.
"Your limited repertoire of insults is growing quite tiresome. Do try a little harder, my dear."
"Oh!" She stamped her foot. In a thin slipper, the action did not have much force and made very little sound against the soft rag rug. It was comically petulant, with her obvious pregnancy an adult state quite at odds with the childish gesture. Rhett chuckled. Her eyes narrowed, the pale green growing dark with anger.
"If you cared so much then you wouldn't have spent two days brawling at Belle Watling's!"
Rhett tensed, every muscle in his body drawing up. Even his throat tightened, stifling the nascent laughter at Scarlett's ridiculous action. Scarlett's face was stark white, almost glowingly pale in the lamp light. Rhett stalked across the narrow distance between them. Scarlett swallowed audibly as he moved behind her, but she did not turn to follow him. Rhett brought one hand to her neck caressingly, running his fingers up and down the column of her throat.
"I would like to wring your neck for that, my darling." Rhett felt the movement of another swallow as he slid his fingertips slowly up to her chin. A shudder began in his shoulders and he pulled his hand away so she wouldn't feel the tremble in his fingers. He could never tell her why he had left that night. To confess his fear to her would be worse than confessing his love; like an already wounded animal turning its eviscerated belly up to the predator who had delivered the blow. He retreated to the far side of the room and began to unknot his cravat.
"What are you doing?" Scarlett asked, her voice strained.
"I'm retiring for the night."
"But - but I'm not ready. I haven't changed—"
Rhett dropped the cravat and raked his eyes up her rounded form. He began to unbutton his coat. "Should I call Prissy for you?"
"But you—"
"I am going to bed. I am not leaving my own room simply because your sensibilities have become too delicate to bear being seen by your own husband. I assure you, my dear, you possess nothing that interests me." He tossed his coat carelessly on a chair and began with the cuffs of his shirt. He carefully avoided looking in the direction of his wife, and by the time he had discarded his shirt he heard the rustle of her skirts, the creak of the door, and her voice softly calling for Prissy. Rhett finished disrobing hurriedly and, after retrieving the cigar case he had set aside, climbed into the high bed.
Rhett lit a cigar and sat back on the pillows. Prissy arrived in the bedroom shortly thereafter. Scarlett glanced his direction several times but made no further complaint about his presence. Except for the angry tension still knotting up his shoulders, it could almost have been a scene from the first year of their marriage as he watched Prissy help Scarlett out of her plain green dress. While the maid hung the pieces carefully on a hook, Scarlett shrugged out of her corset cover and turned her back for Prissy to undo the laces of her stays.
"That will be all," Scarlett snapped.
"Yas'm," mumbled Prissy, and closed the door softly behind herself.
Rhett drew on the cigar and stared at her frankly. Scarlett was still clutching the loosened stays to her chest. She glared at him and picked up her nightdress with one hand, then retreated to the far corner of the room. She struggled to keep her corset up with one hand while she ran the fabric of the dress through her other hand until she found the hem, then pulled it over her head. When the hem had floated down to her waist, she dropped the corset and pulled the fabric down until the nightdress was entirely on, except she kept her arms inside it. The fabric rippled and heaved as her arms moved underneath and when she stepped away, a small white heap by the corset indicated her chemise and drawers had been slipped off. She thrust her arms into the sleeves at last and, ignoring the discarded garments, came to the side of the bed.
Rhett smiled. "That was quite the show." Scarlett did not respond to the bait, and he felt reluctantly impressed by her uncharacteristic restraint. Silently, she extinguished the lamp so that the only light in the room came from silver moonlight and the round red glow of his burning cigar. The mattress rolled as she climbed into the bed, keeping her back to him. He smoked the cigar until it was a withered butt, then stubbed it out, releasing a strong whiff of tobacco. He closed his eyes, listening to Scarlett's shallow breathing until they both passed out of waking.
Thank you everyone who has left reviews or followed this story! I know the chapters are not very long so I'm sorry an update has been so delayed. I think I can get back to two a week now that my crazy month of travel is over.