Mature, adult content warning for this chapter. Not because it's graphic or particularly descriptive, but because of the themes, and the tone.

Love? Do I love? I walk
Within the brilliance of another's thought,
As in a glory. I was dark before,
As Venus' chapel in the dark of night:
But there was something holy in the darkness,
Softer and not so thick as other where;
And as rich moonlight may be to the blind
Unconsciously consoling. Then love came
Like the outbursting of a trodden star.

~Thomas Lovell Beddes, "The Second Brother"

The Chief of Police was waiting in the drawing room, an air of gravity overshadowing his usual affability. Rhett greeted him cordially and showed him into the library, where they remained closeted for an inordinate amount of time.

Scarlett wished she could hear what they were speaking about. She was left with no time to speculate, for an unusually dense stream of visitors filled the afternoon. Several members of the Old Guard arrived simultaneously under some pretext or other regarding the charities Scarlett was involved in, but really, Scarlett realized, because they had heard something. Something connecting the Butlers to the murder on Marietta Street.

It was clear what they had heard had not satisfied their curiosity, and it was equally clear they were hoping to draw her out. Mrs. Merriwether was the most direct, Mrs. Meade the most evasive in her questioning, but it was obvious even to Scarlett that the secret would remain a secret only so much longer.

Social ruin was a very likely outcome of her decision to house Thad, but somehow, she could not bring herself to care.

She served the venerable ladies tea and slices of Elsa's excellent German cakes. Cake recipes served as a topic for animated discussion – especially of interest to Mrs. Merriwether, who was trying to infuse more variety into the selection of her bakery.

'Chocolate cake is always a favorite,' Mrs. Meade observed, delicately nibbling on a spoonful. 'You should have Scarlett's cook give you the recipe for this one, Dolly. It is quite good.' Their eyes darted around as they spoke, following the servants, hoping for any sound, movement, or sight that would tell them more about what was going on.

It was a while before they gave up regally and left, giving no indication of hurry, stating they would be sure to return soon for more cake.

Thomas Whiting, Scarlett's new manager, also arrived with the books for the store. If he had heard similar rumors as the ladies he gave no outward sign of it. After having gone over the books, Scarlett pronounced herself satisfied with the state of affairs at the store. Sales for the quarter were holding steady and even improving slightly over last month, which was more than one could ask for in this recession. Once again, she congratulated herself on her choice of manager, despite his youth and lack of experience. He'd seemed like an excellent salesman when he had interviewed for the job, and that was exactly what he had proven himself to be. And his numbers were clean and precise – even her swift mind rarely spotted a calculation error.

"You've done well, Thomas, as usual," she said. Praising others did not come naturally to her, but lately she'd been making a conscientious effort to be kinder towards her employees.

He looked at her with round, adoring eyes. "You know I always do my best for you, Mrs. Butler."

Scarlett laughed. Here was another case of what she, from the lofty heights of nine-and-twenty, thought of as a youthful infatuation – conveniently forgetting she had contracted what she'd believed to be a mature and deathless love for Ashley at a much younger age.

Thomas had never overstepped the bounds of propriety with her, but his obvious devotion was soothing to her vanity, especially when contrasted with her husband's coolness. She sighed. It had been two hours since he had disappeared into the library with the Chief. If only she could be a fly on the wall ….

While she was showing out Thomas, Rhett and the Chief re-emerged from the library and disappeared up the stairs. Scarlett debated on whether to follow them, but decided against it. She doubted she'd be allowed to be present for the interview, and she would have a chance to ask Rhett about it, later.

The last visitor of the day was Dr. Harrison, who arrived just before dinnertime, and was delighted to hear his patient was doing so much better. He had to wait to see him until Chief Parker finished interviewing Thad, but then pronounced him well on the way to recovery. He recommended his staying in bed for another few days, but felt hopeful he would have no residual ill effects from his injury.

The Chief left Officer Jones behind 'to guard the house', stating he wanted both Thad and Rhett to stay indoors for their own safety until further notice. It was still not clear, he said, if Thad or Rhett himself had been the intended target. No longer needing to stay close to the invalid, the young officer accepted Scarlett's invitation to dinner after the Chief had departed. Scarlett ordered a room to be prepared for him.

Dinner was a friendly affair, with Dilcey and Pork bustling about, and everyone in a strangely festive mood. Even Elsa the Cook seemed caught up in the general air of benevolence and managed to look neutral instead of sour. It was the first time in months, Scarlett thought with nostalgia, that the whole family was together again. Her eyes wandered to Rhett's face more than once, drinking in its animation, and wondering what had caused it.

Was it too much to hope he was looking forward to being alone with her, later? She colored at the thought, and hoped he wouldn't notice.

Dilcey had taken over Prissy's nursing duties, and carried a tray to Thad. From the broad smile on her face it was obvious that she, too, was rapidly falling under the boy's spell. The most difficult thing, she reported severely to Scarlett, was to convince him to remain in bed. To relieve his solitude, Wade and Ella camped out in his room until bedtime, listening with glowing places to his tales of adventures. They both groaned when Dilcey shooed them off to bed.

'One more story,' Ella insisted. But Dilcey insisted as well. Scarlett tucked them in, reading them their now-traditional bedtime story. And gradually, a calm descended on the Mansion on Peachtree Street.

~~oo~~

She heard his footsteps before he opened the door, and turned a slightly pinkish visage towards him. She was wearing a velvet green wrapper lined with gold over what she hoped was a becoming silk nightgown. Who would he be? The fey, punitive Rhett from earlier this morning, or the jovial Rhett he had been at the dinner table? Or someone else entirely?

He had a small bag in his right hand, that Scarlett recognized as the one he had kept in the back of his dresser. He smiled as he looked around, a strange smile that gave away nothing of his mood. 'Candles?'

She held his gaze bravely. 'Mother always told us it's important to mark occasions.'

'And this is an occasion, Mrs Butler?'

'I'm not sure yet," she replied, shooting for flippancy, yet shaking on the inside. She wasn't ready. She cast about for a neutral topic. 'What did the Chief have to say?'

He sighed, and settled himself on the opulent settee across from the bed, dropping the bag on the floor next to it. His large hands searched for, and lit, a cigar before he replied.

'He did have new information, for once. Apparently, one of Belle's girls recanted her original story. She had told the police she had found the back door of Belle's house unlocked, when she first tried to open it after the shooting – which means anyone could have walked in from the outside and committed the crime. Now she is saying she lied – it was locked when she tested it, and she opened it herself with her own key. She apparently had a special client with her, a regular client, that she had some…. attachment to. She was sharp enough to understand a locked door would make him a potential suspect.'

'Ah', Scarlett replied, unsure if she wanted to be introduced too deeply into the inner workings of a brothel. Curiosity won out – curiosity, mixed with a sense of foreboding. 'Is the back door usually locked? Or only at certain times?'

Another thought struck her, an exceedingly uncomfortable thought. 'And who has a key?'

'It is usually locked after midnight,' Rhett replied. 'Girls who have a…..late client with them are told to go down with him to open the door, and then lock it behind him. As for who has keys - Belle has a key, as do all of the girls that live there – currently there are ten. Apparently, all are accounted for." He paused and gave her a searching look before he continued. 'I have a key as well.'

Scarlett winced with mortification at the reminder, but proceeded with determination. 'Have you checked if you still have it?'

Had she looked at him then she would have seen a gleam of admiration on his face. 'I left it in Charleston. I wasn't anticipating needing it, since I only planned to stay briefly, and would be sleeping here. That I would be sleeping here ….' he gestured to the bed, 'I would not have anticipated.'

She walked to the window, pushing back one of the ostentatious red brocade curtains in a futile quest for fresh air. Outside, there was nothing but darkness.

'How many girls were there that night? How many had ….clients with them?'

'Seven girls were there, four had overnight clients that were still with them at the time of the shooting. The doctor that examined the girl estimates the time of death to be around 3 am.'

'One of the …..clients… was Ashley.'

He started in surprise. 'Scarlett…."

She turned back around to face him. 'I saw him that morning. In one of the girls' rooms.' She drew a deep breath. 'I don't think he noticed me.'

'Yes.' He acknowledged. 'The estimable Mr. Wilkes was indeed there that night, and will no doubt be questioned intensely by the police if he hasn't been already.'

Scarlett smirked mirthlessly. 'Do you know how long he's been a client there?'

'Does it matter?'

'Not really," she shrugged. 'But I want to know.'

He seemed to debate with himself, and then shrugged. 'The honorable Mr. Wilkes has been a client of Belle's for years. We'd even occasionally run into each other. Odd, is it not?He was there because his wife wasn't allowed to have any more children …and I was there because he had convinced my wife to kick me out of my bed.'

He didn't look particularly perturbed, which frightened Scarlett more than if he had become loud and angry.

Misinterpreting her downcast expression, he said, softly. 'Don't judge him too harshly, Scarlett. It was a difficult situation for any man to be in and not be tempted.'

'I don't care about that," she said, heatedly. 'Except when I think about Melly knowing. Ashley can go to Halifax.' It should have stung more that Ashley had been amusing himself with prostitutes while at the same time implying she should remain chaste for him - but all she could muster was a strange, impersonal pity.

She turned back to practical matters at hand. 'So unless someone stole your key from Charleston and brought it here – which isn't likely– the remaining suspects are the seven girls, and the four clients. And maybe the three girls that were out. And Belle, if you can believe she would shoot at her own son.'

'And me,' he said, softly. "If you can believe I would try to shoot my own nephew under such foolish circumstances, and use my key - re-locking the door behind me after I am done. Not to mention sneaking in and out of the house in the middle of the night in a storm.'

Scarlett rolled her eyes. 'I know you didn't do it.'

'Such faith,' he mocked. 'The Chief is looking into everyone's alibis. But honestly, Scarlett, I'm tired of detective work. I had other things planned for this evening.'

The look he gave her left no doubt of his meaning.

She flushed again, suddenly terrified. She still wasn't ready. 'Shouldn't we wait?' she asked, uncharacteristically timid. 'It's…' she stopped, suddenly unable to continue.

'Yes," he prompted, with a sudden, maddening grin. 'You were saying, Mrs. Butler?'

'You can go to Halifax too,' she muttered darkly, her timidity temporarily forgotten. 'Excuse me for wanting the first night we spend together after such a long time to be, well, special.'

Some of the mockery left his face. 'Come here.' When she didn't comply, he pulled her to him, lowering himself back onto the settee and settling her onto his lap. 'I don't need the bridal suite of the National, or a Parisian nightgown, or even these candles – much as I admire them – to make this a special occasion for me, Scarlett.'

She looked up at him warily. Warm sentiments from Rhett Butler were usually followed by barbs.

But he surprised her.

'Let's not overburden tonight with expectations, that usually makes for disappointments. We need to get to know each other again, and this is as good a place as any to start.' He started kissing her hair, a soft spot behind her ear, and then her neck. She shivered at the touch, but was unable to relax in his arms. Despite his attempts at reassurance, she felt the burden of this night bear down on her. What if this was her last chance – her only chance? What if she failed to please him, this husband who was intimately acquainted with scores and scores of wanton girls, in many states and on several different continents?

How terribly inexperienced she was, she thought, and she didn't even have alcohol to sustain her like last time. He would laugh at her. She couldn't bear it.

It didn't take him long to catch on to her misgivings. 'Scarlett,' he said, kindly. 'This is only one night. Try to relax.'

But she still couldn't be calm. When a long series of soft kisses did nothing to soothe her nerves or her stiffness in his arms, he lifted up her chin, and smiled into her worried green eyes. 'All right Scarlett. I admit it. It is frightening to be together after all this time, and I am nervous, too.'

There was a boyish look on his face, part impudence, part hopefulness, and part, she now saw clearly, anxiety. 'What a pair we make,' he whispered against her lips. 'I was a lot more nervous on our wedding night. And,' he, continued, grinning rakishly, 'that didn't turn out so badly, did it?'

And when he pulled her to him again, they were both smiling.

~~oo~~

When she woke up she was alone in the large bed. Even in the border country between waking and dreaming, her memory was already busy bringing up snippets of images.

She'd mostly forgotten her fears during the long, languid night that followed his confession. He'd kissed her on the settee for what seemed like hours before he'd transitioned them to the large bed. He had taken his time to undress her. He'd refused to blow out the candles, stating he wanted to look at her, over-ruling her inbred modesty with steady determination. His eyes frequently came back to check on hers, searching for who knew what – love? anxiety? lust? He'd allowed her to explore his body as completely as he explored hers, hiding none of the pleasure her touch brought him.

She would never know precisely what tipped the slow, sensual lovemaking into the dark void. It may have been her soft moan when he was poised above her, kissing her neck.

'Mmm …Rhett…'

His entire body had jerked at the sound, and a strange intensity had come into his eyes. He had grabbed her hair with his large hand, pulling her head back, staring down into her face. 'Say my name again.' When she had hesitated, his grip had become harder. 'Say it.'

'Rhett ….' The darkness in his eyes became vaster, and his lips were devouring hers with a savagery that found an echo somewhere in her own body.

'Say my name again'.

It all became a blur then, a string of sounds, RhettRhettRhett and a vortex of sensations that closed over her like the crest of a wave, and pulled her down into the darkness.

~~oo~~

'Rhett!' She was fully awake, suddenly realizing what had been troubling her. She was alone. He had left her again! Just like ….She rose, casting her gaze about wildly.

But he was still there. Standing by the curtain, looking out into the garden.

She sank back into her pillow. 'I thought you'd left.'

She couldn't see his face.

'I admit the temptation was there.' His bland tone gave away nothing. Nothing of what he thought about last night, including her own less-than-lady-like behavior.

He crossed the room back to her, and set himself down on the side of the bed. 'I realize it's not often in life that one gets a chance at a do-over. And this is ours, Scarlett. No, I won't run this time, and if you have any question to ask of me I promise I will answer honestly.'

She looked at him, her tangled dark locks framing her face. Her beauty was almost otherworldly in the faint light, a sea-nymph captured by the webs of the night and pulled into the morning. The question in her green eyes was obvious, even if she couldn't bring her herself to put it into words.

He heard her. "The answer to your question is, I don't know, Scarlett. I don't know if I can feel for anyone what I felt before. I'm not certain I want to. But for what it's worth, I felt nearly dead for a long time. And on this fine morning …..' he looked around the room with the rosy light of dawn creeping through the gap in the curtains …..'I know that I'm not.'

It was a long way from the undying love he'd sworn to her in her dreams, but for the moment, it was enough. 'It was a …. good night,' she offered, inadequately.

He laughed, a genuine, hearty laugh. 'A good night? My, my, Mrs. Butler, if I were a different sort of man, my vanity would be severely wounded by such a mild tribute. Especially after the sounds you made, which were very close to the sounds you made in my …'

'Fiddle-de-dee, Rhett. Never mind all of that. What I meant was…...' But again, words failed her.

'If I'd been brave enough to ask the question, on that other night – what would your answer have been?' he asked, some of the intensity of last night returning to his eyes. 'Would you have said, I don't know, as well?'

She could tell he was waiting for something important, and was desperate not to give the wrong answer without knowing what it was he wanted to hear. She opted for honesty, and nodded.

He smiled. It must have been the right answer. 'It was a good night. The fantasy was more than fulfilled, Scarlett.'

And instead of leaving, as she had half expected, he climbed back into bed with her, drawing her against his chest. 'Now sleep,' he said, laughter rumbling in his chest. 'After all, we didn't get much rest last night.' But it was a while before she was able to sleep, instead luxuriating drowsily in a strange, almost unrecognizable feeling as he held her. Something almost like happiness.

Minor edit alert: Thanks sohhkb to for pointing out I'd not specifically addressed whether or not they used protection - the problem with writing too quickly is that some things are written only in my head! Yes, they used protection, and an unexpected pregnancy is not in the books. Also many thanks to Helen for pointing out some story-flow-problems (and typos) that I tried to address.