Thank you to everyone who has read and/or reviewed. Imgonewiththewind – I corrected Carreen's name in Chapter 9 – thank you for pointing that out. And you'll find out about the place card swapping in due course. Kathleen, Twilightchick, Guardian Spirit and everyone else – thank you for all your encouragement.
This chapter was originally double the length – but I have now cut it in to two. This chapter is mostly dialogue. The next chapter will be up shortly.
As always, I have to declare that I don't own any of the characters (well, maybe Jack) and that they are all the intellectual property of MM and her estate.
Chapter 10
"Don't hold me so tightly. I'll faint," Scarlett said trying to wriggle out of Rhett's arms. She was sitting in front of him, sideways, balancing precariously on the ridge of his dark chocolate leather saddle. They were trotting down West Peachtree Street. She could see the turning into Marietta Street in the distance and beyond that – a few blocks further – was her home.
He laughed softly, the sound muffled by her hair. "In all my years of knowing you, I think you have only fainted once." She felt his chin rest gently on her hair and wondered if he was drinking in the scent of her hair – an aroma that he used to find intoxicating.
"If you are referring to the incident in the horse jail," she said, "You made me faint." She turned to look at him and saw him grin and, despite herself, she couldn't stop the corners of her mouth turning up. She knew she was right even though he had never admitted it. She could still recall him putting his hand over her mouth to stifle her furious screams when she realised he was not going to lend her the money for the taxes on Tara and had merely led her on for entertainment. "Please Rhett," she pleaded. "You don't need to hold me like that. I won't fall off. I feel constricted enough in these stays without you making it worse."
"You could always adopt the Lady Godiva look."
"Lady who?"
Rhett chuckled. "Godiva . A noblewoman of England." She had no idea who he was talking about but she was distracted by a sharp pain that traversed right through her thigh as the horse stumbled on the camber of the street.
"Ouch! Can you please be more careful where you lead the horse. The ridge of the saddle is digging right into me. It's uncomfortable. Rhett, can I sit behind you instead? Or better still, can I just ride home alone? If you were a gentleman, you would walk."
"Absolutely not. To both requests." He pulled his left arm tighter round her and she squealed. She had a feeling that he was enjoying her helplessness. "Scarlett, how much did you have to drink tonight?" She didn't answer and instead tried to shift her body away from him. "I saw you consume at least three glasses of wine – and I missed the champagne reception."
"I am not quite sure that you have any right to criticise me about anything," she snapped.
"I'm not criticising you. Yet. I just asked you a simple question."
"I don't have to answer to you anymore." Had she really appeared that drunk? She hadn't felt drunk, maybe just slightly tipsy towards the end.
"You've never answered to me, Scarlett." And then, though she couldn't be sure because the wind was gently whistling through her hair, she thought she heard him mutter under his breath, "Maybe that was part of our problem."
"What did you say?"
He cleared his throat. "Nothing, my dear."
She turned round to look at him but he didn't return her stare – instead he was focussing on the street that stretched ahead. They were now at the bottom of Marietta Street which would become Peachtree Street in due course and it was eerily quiet – in the ten minutes they had been riding, they had only passed a handful of people. Atlanta was asleep or at least tucking up for the night. Suddenly, Scarlett felt her slipper work its way loose. The upwards and downwards movement on the horse and the accompanying jiggling was making it impossible for her to grip it. "Rhett, I think my slipper is..." and before she could get the words out of her mouth, the slipper had fallen off. "Ooops," and she started laughing. "Don't worry about that silly shoe – they're too big for me anyway and I won't be wearing them again."
Rhett brought the horse to a halt and dismounted to retrieve the silken object. "I don't want your Prince Charming finding the shoe and then come searching for you. At least not until I have left Atlanta."
"And who might my Prince Charming be?" she asked with a hint of coquettishness.
"You know who I am referring to." He grabbed her other foot that was still clad with a slipper and pulled it off before he handed the pair up to her. She took them and rested them in her lap.
"Thank you," she said. Then he unbuttoned his jacket and removed it and handed it up to her too. "Here, take this. If your feet are indicative of how cold the rest of your body is, you need this."
"I'm fine, really..."
"Take it," he insisted and thrust it into her hands. She complied. It had the remnants of his cologne on it and cigar smoke. "I have no idea why women think it is perfectly appropriate to go out dressed in nothing but flimsy chiffon or silk on a cold spring evening. Really, Scarlett, your vanity gets the better of your commonsense."
"Well, I didn't expect to be returning home on horseback..." she smarted.
"And you wouldn't have needed to if you had limited your intake of wine." Her jaw stiffened in outrage but she didn't respond. She just wanted to get home.
He climbed back on to the horse and re-took the reins. They sat in silence. Scarlett couldn't ever recall them riding on horseback together – it might have been romantic if it was with someone other than her husband.
"Did you enjoy tonight?" he asked after a while.
"Until you turned up, yes."
She felt his body shake with soft laughter. "You're no good at lying, Scarlett. I've always told you that." And then he leaned in towards her and whispered, "I think you liked it even more when I turned up." She shot him an angry look, her eyes wide with disbelief but she couldn't work out what he was thinking. Was he referring to his assault on her under the table or had he become aware of her immediately relaxing as soon as he had sat down next to her?
"No, I didn't. I was having a fine time before you joined us at the table. And at the end, you just seemed so angry with me. I was only trying to have some fun."
"I don't mind you having fun Scarlett and I certainly don't care who you flirt with but you need to be more discreet. And if you ever decide to have an affair..."
"I would never have an affair, Rhett," she protested loudly, turning to face him. He raised his eyebrows. "I wouldn't!"
"Maybe that's true now. After all, I suppose carrying on with someone clandestinely for twelve years or more would exhaust most people."
"If you are referring to Ashley, you know I never..."
"I forgot how you define unfaithfulness," he said coolly. She looked at him, hoping to read something in his black eyes and she thought she saw something – hurt? Regret? It was something she had seen before but had never bothered to try to determine what it represented.
Silence again fell between them before she broke it. "People were mean to me tonight, Rhett," she volunteered and then immediately wished she hadn't said anything.
"How so? It didn't seem like that from where I was sitting. That Louisianan ruffian was paying you plenty of attention. I can't imagine him being mean to you."
"You know I don't mean Jack..."
"Who then? Honey?"
He had always been so perceptive – not just about her but about everyone. It was one of his more annoying characteristics because she had never been able to hide anything from him.
"Yes, Honey," she said reluctantly. "How did you know?"
"I had the misfortune to have to sit opposite her for most of dinner and her rather disagreeable face is rather readable. Just like yours." He then leaned in towards her and with a softer tone said. "Ignore her, darling. She's just a spiteful, jealous woman who has nothing better in her life to do than belittle others and gossip about things that she knows nothing about. She'll be back in Yankee territory soon enough and you won't have to see her for at least a year or so. It's a shame that your son shares some blood with her although I don't see any of the Wilkes' traits manifesting themselves in Wade just yet. Thank God."
"I tried to ignore her but..." At the recollection of her accusations, she felt a blush rise to her cheeks. There might have been an element of truth in some of what she had said.
"Scarlett, you've got thick skin. She can barely have pricked the surface. How did she upset you?"
"It doesn't matter," she mumbled. She definitely didn't want to start discussing Jack with her husband or repeat Honey's allegations about the Butler marriage.
"It does matter if you are still contemplating what she said. You don't usually take things so to heart." She felt his hand gently brush some loose strands of hair behind her left ear and it reminded her of how he used to do that when she wanted his comfort. "Tell me, Scarlett."
She hesitated. In the past, she would have gladly unburdened herself to Rhett but now she wasn't so sure she could trust him.
Sensing her unease, Rhett said, "If it's any consolation, Maybelle is definitely one of your fans. She couldn't stop talking about you when we were dancing."
"What did she say?" she asked, her interest piqued.
"I'm not sure I should tell you. You have a habit of allowing any praise to go straight to your head." She dug her elbow into his waist.
He laughed again and Scarlett smiled. Everything was so much nicer when they were civil to each other. "I need cheering up. Please tell me," she said.
"Apart from telling me what a beautiful and engaging wife I have," he said, winking at her, "She also told me all the charitable deeds you have done over the last few months and how the success of the Christmas fete was entirely down to you. I think she even referred to you as "kind" – not an adjective I expected a member of the Old Guard to apply to you." If she ignored his last sentence, there seemed to be faint admiration buried within his words.
"And are you impressed?"
"No, because I know your real motive."
She glared at him and her eyes flashed with indignation. "Every time I think you are being nice to me, you suddenly come out with something horrid and nasty." He grinned again at her.
"I am only being truthful, Scarlett. I know you too well." She didn't respond and instead turned back round to face the direction of the horse. Then, as if he sensed that he had perhaps gone too far, he added, "But it's refreshing to see you socialising with people more worthy of your time. I never could stand most of the trash you invited in to our home."
"I don't see them anymore," she said quietly. "Anyway, you introduced me to most of them. They were your friends first."
"No, they were never my friends. At best, they were acquaintances whom I put up with as they had a purpose to serve." She thought about what he had said and realised that he was speaking truthfully. Certainly, in the latter stages of their marriage, he had chosen the company of their older friends and tried to limit social intercourse with the newer families to pleasantries exchanged in the street.
They were now on Peachtree Street and she could see their house, ablaze with lights in the near distance. She yawned and rubbed her eyes - the idea of bed was suddenly very alluring. She had had a long day and the alcohol she had consumed was making her tired.
Rhett pulled the horse up outside their mansion and jumped down. He grabbed Scarlett from underneath her arms and swung her down.
"Do you want me to carry you in, Mrs Butler?" he asked, looking down at her shoeless feet, his sardonic frown once more etched on his face.
"No thank you. I'm perfectly capable of walking." She started towards the front door, doing her best to ignore the sharp stones that she felt piercing her stockinged feet. Pork opened the door.
"Miss Scarlett, Ahs jest comin' ter de hall."
"Well, my husband decided to bring me home instead." A faint smile crossed Pork's lips as he looked at Scarlett and then looked back into the street and saw his master.
"Mister Rhett, Ahs tak de horse ter de stables. Lemme, suh." He ran out of the front door, down the path and opened the gate and took the reins from Rhett. Scarlett looked at them and thought she saw Rhett hesitate – perhaps he had made commitments to be somewhere else tonight. Then, she saw his broad shoulders shrug and heard him say thank you before he followed her up the path and into the house. He closed the door behind them. Scarlett started walking up the stairs.
"Have a drink with me, Scarlett. I'll make you some hot lemon if you like." It was a command rather than a request.
"No thank you," she said without bothering to turn round. "I just want to get out of this dress...this corset...and go to bed. Would you mind asking Pork to fetch Mammy?"
She heard Rhett's footsteps behind her and then he was beside her, their steps aligned as they walked up to their bedrooms. "You seemed upset at the ball and it isn't just about whatever Honey said."
She stopped and looked at him. "Well, darling husband, I wasn't best pleased that you made me leave so early."
He shook his head slowly. "I think you wanted an excuse to leave. I think you were looking for an excuse to leave and I gave you one. What was wrong? You used to love balls."
"That was in another lifetime," she said. "Before everything...happened..."
He placed a hand gently on her back. "Tell me Scarlett." She stopped and looked at him. It had been so long since she had confided in him. She had missed his perspective and advice, and to some extent, his brutal candour. Along with Melly, he had always made her feel better about things but unlike Melly, she had never tried to shield him from the truth. There had always been something very refreshing about being able to unburden herself on him. His eyes were kind and he looked sincere but she had not trusted him with her confidences for ever so long. And then she remembered the last time she had confided in him, when she told him she loved him only for him to tell her he didn't give a damn and was leaving her.
She carried on walking up the stairs with him as her shadow. "Since when did you care?" she finally said as she reached the landing.
"Just because I don't love you, it doesn't mean I have stopped caring about you." Oh, she wished he wouldn't keep on reminding her that he didn't love her. She knew that and his actions had borne that out.
"Please don't keep on saying that. It hurts me every time you remind me of it," she said with a frankness that took him by surprise. They were on the landing now and he was looking at her, his face smooth and indiscernible. And then she asked him the question that had been troubling her for the last couple of hours. "Why did you have to dance with Maybelle, Rhett?"
"So that's what all this is about. I wondered as much. Why did I dance with Maybelle? I thought it was pretty obvious."
"Not to me it isn't," she said quietly. "I mean, I don't understand why you would come to the ball and then make a spectacle of me like that." Rhett sighed in frustration and then ran his hand through his thick black hair that had started greying at the temples.
"You were never one for introspection, Scarlett," he said.
"Tell me, Rhett," she asked softly. "Enlighten me. Why Maybelle? Why couldn't you have danced with me or at least allowed me to lead the dance. I felt humiliated as though we were playing out our... war in front of all our old friends."
Surprise registered on his face. "I didn't mean to embarrass you, Scarlett. I'm sorry if you took it that way."
"Why couldn't you have just played our game a bit longer? Why Maybelle?" she repeated.
"Oh Scarlett," he said, sounding exasperated. "It didn't have to be Maybelle but it couldn't have been you. Darling, I thought it was plain. If you had led the dance with that Jack Picard then you would have been the talk of Atlanta for the next six months."
"And I guess it's alright for you to waltz the night away with Maybelle? The last time I checked, she wasn't your wife."
He looked at his accuser. "Scarlett, I didn't do it to spite you." She looked into his face and it was devoid of malice and mischief. "I did it because I wanted to protect your reputation. I thought I told you that." As he spoke she vaguely recalled him muttering something along those lines when he had gone to collect his dance partner from the stage. "I was worried that you were too... erm...tipsy... to waltz properly and I didn't want all that attention on you that would come with leading a dance. You seemed to be stumbling rather than walking. I also didn't want Jack Picard dancing with you without me being occupied first." As if reading her mind, he added, "Not because I begrudge him dancing with you but because of how it would have looked. Or might have looked. You know how fickle the old battleaxes are in Atlanta and I saw how he only had eyes for you all through dinner." He cupped her chin in his hand as he brought her eyes up to face him. "You've obviously made all this effort with everyone and managed to keep your nose out of scandal for the last few months, only to risk undoing it all because your vanity got the better of you." Her hair had worked its way loose and as he spoke a couple of tendrils fell into her eyes. Scarlett pushed them back with an air of vulnerability. "In any event, you have had the opportunity to be a belle of the ball on so many occasions. Don't you think it should be shared around from time to time? I wouldn't have thought that you would mind Maybelle leading a dance for once. She's very fond of you."
He dropped his hand from her face and Scarlett shook her head lightly. "No. I guess not. When you explain it like that, I don't mind. Not really." And then she added, "Well, I guess I might mind a bit but only a little bit," she said grinning.
He smiled warmly at her. "You wouldn't be Scarlett O'Hara if you didn't mind a bit." She let out a low laugh. He was right.
She looked at the door to her bedroom and was about to take her leave from him but then he continued, his eyes looking at something in the far off distance. "It did bring back a lovely memory – that dance at the bazaar when we met for the second time." So he had thought back to that night too. "And, no one dances as exquisitely as you do." Where was he going with all these compliments?
"Rhett, I've always wondered – did you know I was going to be at that bazaar?"
He started laughing softly, but not in a nasty way. "You'll never stop fishing for compliments, even if you have to look back years to find them."
"Well, I was just curious..."
"It's so long ago, Scarlett. Maybe I sensed that you might be there but I don't believe you knew you were going to be there until the last minute, did you? But I had my spies." She opened her mouth to say something but then shut it. She sensed that it might spoil the moment – whatever moment they were having. He moved closer, close enough that, even with dim light, for once she could make out his dilated pupils from the irises in which they swam. He was studying her and she was looking at him, returning the intensity of his stare and briefly, she wondered if he was going to kiss her. Oh dear Lord, what was happening between them. One minute they were at war and then the next...was it all just some sort of test? And then, to her surprise, she found herself hoping that he would take her in his arms and repeat his actions from the night before. She felt her heart race and she hardly dare breathe in case she somehow ruined it all. No man had ever made her feel like he did, no man had ever made her feel close to how he did – one minute she hated him with so much passion and the next, she just wanted to be in his arms, feeling and returning his feverish kisses...she had to somehow get a grip...
"Good night, Rhett," she said finally, breaking the trance. He had always had an unnerving habit of being able to read her and she certainly didn't want him to read any of the thoughts she had been entertaining a moment ago. She leaned in to kiss him good night – a chaste peck on his cheek – but then thought better of it. So she just turned on her heels and started walking towards her bedroom.
"Good night, Scarlett." She had a desire to turn around and see if he was still watching her but she resisted the urge. Finally she heard his footsteps move in the opposite direction, down the hallway and just as she entered her bedroom, she heard him open the door to his and then in synchronisation, they both closed their doors.