Chapter 11

Sorry for delay. No real excuses. So many of us have children and yet still manage to post. I just have a pretty full on life at the moment but am determined to get this finished – for those still reading. I have a couple of breaks coming up in the next 3 months…so hopefully I will find time to write the last 2 chapters.

Dixie – if you are reading, I think you are right. I think things would have moved along quicker than they are here. Chris OHB – I need to read your new story. As well as catch up on others that I have missed.

Will tucked his girls up in bed, whilst Rhett did the same with Bonnie and Ella. Then, when Will left the room to go and change out of his working clothes for supper, Rhett read some Brothers' Grimm to the four girls, who took a macabre fascination in the wolf who ate Little Red Riding Hood and made Rhett tell the story twice. Bonnie was the last to finally surrender to sleep and when she did, he kissed both of his daughters, took one last look at the miniature blue-eyed version of his wife, and blew out the five large candles that sat on the mantelpiece. Scarlett had been right. Bonnie seemed perfectly at ease, sleeping in the nursery, and the thought that she was no longer wholly reliant on him, gave him a brief pang of melancholy.

He trod quietly out of the room, opened the gas lights in the hallway as far as they could go, and left the door sufficiently ajar so that a large band of soft light filtered into the nursery. Then, he walked back across the hallway to where he imagined his wife was still dressing. He placed his hand on the door knob, ready to turn it, but then stalled. He needed a drink before he engaged in conversation with her again, and he wanted a distraction. He was acutely aware of the effect she had on him.

He walked down to the ground floor, and, upon finding the parlour empty, made his way to the dining room. His hosts were already there.

"Rhett!" Will said, smiling, as he entered and handed him a glass of wine. Suellen stood next to her husband, taut and suspicious. He glanced at her and he saw that she tried to smile. It came out more as a grimace. Was she hostile to all their guests, or just him?

"They finally fell asleep?" Will asked.

"It took a fourth story. Well, it took Bonnie until the fourth. The other three shut their eyes halfway through the third."

Will grinned. "They've had a busy day. And on not much sleep."

"I hear it's going to be the same tonight. Scarlett was telling me about the midnight feast they have planned."

"I'm hoping they'll sleep through it," Will said and then chuckled. "They're too young to understand about alarm clocks."

"Is Scarlett going to be long?" Suellen asked, the tone of her voice unable to mask her irritation.

Will rolled his eyes. "It's not even half past seven, Sue. Give Scarlett some time."

"I was only asking, Will, because, if she's going to be late, I'll ask Sally to keep the food in the oven."

Rhett glanced at his sister-in-law. She was a strange creature, more aloof, more acidic than he remembered.

He arched his eyebrows and looked at her. "I don't think she'll be too much longer, Suellen."

She shrugged and he thought he saw her blush. She didn't know how to handle men in the way her sister did. She looked down at her glass and, awkwardly, shifted her weight from one foot to another. He saw it as his cue to change the conversation.

"I'd like to come out with you, tomorrow, Will, and see a bit more of Tara. I haven't spent much time in Georgia's countryside. My family grew rice in Charleston. I expect the landscape is quite different to South Carolina."

"Not too different. The colour of the earth is different and that's about it. But you are welcome to come out with me. We've allowed a lot of the fields to fall fallow but I want to start ploughin' them again. For vegetables as well as cotton."

"Scarlett mentioned that you were diversifying."

"Diversifyin'?"

"I'll go and ask Sally to keep the food warm for another fifteen minutes," Suellen said, abruptly.

Will winked at Rhett. "You'll have to excuse my wife. She gets bad tempered when she is hungry."

Rhett smiled. "So does mine."

Suellen shot her husband a disdainful look, then drained what remained of her wine and put the glass on the dining room table. She took a couple of steps towards the doorway, but then stopped, as clattering heels descended the stairs.

A few moments later, Scarlett entered the room.

"Hello, darling," Rhett said. He walked towards her and, at the last moment, decided to kiss her on her cheek. His hand fell down from her shoulders, towards her waist and briefly rested on the small of her back. She looked up at him and a coy smile touched her lips. He wondered if she had felt his pulse quicken when he touched her, but dismissed the idea. She had always been obtuse when it came to him.

He dropped his hand and took a step away from her, allowing his eyes to drink her in. She had teased her hair into a softer updo and was wearing the blue dress that she had been clutching earlier. Now that she had it on, he knew that he hadn't seen her in it before. It looked at least five years behind the current trends but it was refreshing to see her in an evening gown that hid her cleavage and didn't cling quite so much to her body. It left more to the imagination. His imagination.

Will handed a glass of wine to Scarlett. "Thank you, Will," she said. She took a sip and then said, "I hadn't realised that everyone was waiting for me. I'm not late am I? It's only just half past seven."

"No, Scarlett. You're fine," Will said.

"It took rather longer to get ready, this evening."

"Of course it did. Your husband is here!" Will said.

Rhett glanced quickly at Scarlett. "No, no. I just couldn't decide what to wear. Nothing to do with Rhett being here." She let out a nervous laugh but didn't look at him.

"Well, now that he is here and I finally get to meet the famous Captain Rhett Butler, I propose a toast," Will said, his Cracker drawl more pronounced than usual. He lifted his glass and Rhett did the same. "To our families. And may there be more opportunities for gatherings like this."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~R & S~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

They were back in the bedroom and, almost as soon as they stepped over the threshold, Scarlett retreated to the closet. Rhett threw his jacket and cravat on a chair and then stood still for a moment as he wondered how to play this. He knew that, despite all his earlier, inner, protestations to the contrary, he wanted to sleep with her. She was his drug, or, as Belle often said unkindly, his poison.

"Scarlett, can I help you?" he asked quietly, after she had been in the closest for a few minutes.

"I'm fine, thank you," she said, a little bit too quickly to be convincing. He heard a muffled curse.

"How? You can't unlace yourself." He started imagining his fingers on her stays – in a bygone age, he had almost always undressed her at bedtime, from the very first night of their honeymoon when he had dismissed the temporary maid he had employed for their stay in New Orleans.

"I can, Rhett."

"Really?"

"Yes," she said, sounding as if she was gritting her teeth. "Really."

He took a deep breath as he tried to block out the memories and went over to the bag he had brought with him from Atlanta. He rummaged around for his toothpowder and toothbrush and then went to the basin in the corner of the room and brushed his teeth. Then, he washed his face with some soap and discretely splashed some eau de cologne.

As he finished putting his toiletries away, she emerged. She was wearing a high necked gown, in a heavier cotton than she usually wore, but he could still make out the contours of her body, her breasts, her remarkable waist which, even after carrying three children, was still smaller than most other women's. She avoided making eye contact with him and, instead, she began to rifle through an old, cedar oak chest which was at the foot of the bed. She pulled out a couple of old blankets from it and threw them onto the floor. Then she gathered the three scatter cushions from the chaise longue and threw them on top of the blankets.

"I'll make up a bed on the floor for you," she said, taking two pillows from the bed, still refusing to properly look at him. She knelt down and arranged the soft furnishings on the rug that was near the fireplace.

He looked on, vaguely bemused.

"Don't worry, I can sleep in another room or even out in the stables…" he said.

She shook her head vehemently. "No. You'll have to stay in here. Sue doesn't…" She paused briefly, bit her lip and lowered her voice. "I haven't told Sue that we sleep…. separately in Atlanta and I would rather that she didn't know."

She bent down to arrange the cushions, whilst he continued to look on. So, rumours of their estrangement hadn't quite spread the twenty miles or so to Tara and it surprised him. But what surprised him more was the fact that she was willing to share a room, if not a bed, in order to keep up pretences. She could have come up with some excuse, any excuse, if she had really wanted to and she would have known that he would have gone along with it. But she hadn't.

He watched her as she plumped up the pillows on the floor. Then, it struck him and his stomach involuntarily turned. Had he missed an opportunity, over all these months, these years of their semi-estrangement? If he had accompanied her to Tara before, would she have also wanted him to sleep in her bedroom? What if he had taken her to his mother's house in Charleston? What would have happened then? He had always assumed that she would have insisted on separate bedrooms and so he had never suggested a trip to Charleston, to save himself from his mother's awkward and perceptive questions. Had he been mistaken all along? Was he, too, partly responsible for the mess of their relationship?

He instinctively ran a hand through his hair as she took a second sheet and another blanket from the chest and threw them on the floor. He knew she was no longer angry with him for hitting Ashley. If she had been, she wouldn't be making such a fuss about the makeshift bed; she would have dumped the linens in a pile and told him to get on with it. She tucked the final side of the blanket in, under the rug and then stood up. It was only then that she properly looked at him, and as he caught her eye, a faint colour rose to her cheeks. He could tell he was making her uncomfortable – was his lust so evident? – and that wasn't his intention. Not really. Because when she was uncomfortable, she retreated and he didn't want her to retreat. He wanted her to want him. And she had wanted him on that night of the birthday party, hadn't she? And the subsequent night? And the night after that? It hadn't been mere compliance, submission. He had tasted it in her kiss, in her sweat. She had wanted him.

"Of course, if you would prefer to sleep on the chaise longue, then you can," she said, the tone of her voice unexpectedly shy. "I just thought-"

"I could always sleep in the bed, Scarlett. It's big enough for two people," he whispered. He hadn't quite intended to articulate his thoughts at that moment, but it was becoming increasingly difficult to ignore the effect she was having on him and the words carelessly tumbled out. He sharpened his gaze, watching for her reaction.

He thought he saw her hands briefly tremble but his eyes could have deceived him. She said nothing, she didn't move.

He caught his breath and felt reprieved. She hadn't heard him. But then, as she turned her back on him, she said quietly, "You mean, with pillows down the middle?"

He swallowed, aware of the precariousness of their dance. One wrong step and whatever hope he had been carrying in his heart since the night of the birthday party, might be extinguished forever. He had to tread carefully, he reminded himself. He wanted her to come willingly to him.

"Yes. Exactly," he said. "With pillows down the middle. A fortification."

"Fortification?"

"A barrier, Scarlett."

"Oh…well…" Her voice trailed off and he saw her bite her lip. She looked intensely at him and he wondered if she could read his depraved thoughts. But for all her alleged worldliness, she was surprisingly innocent. Then, she cleared away what sounded like a nervous tic. "No. I mean, unless…unless it's very uncomfortable, I think it would be best if you slept on the floor. Or the chaise longue."

Best? Best for whom? He forced a smile.

"As you wish, my pet," he said. He picked up a newspaper he had already read, walked over to the lone chair and sat down. He opened the paper and pretended to read but his eyes never made it past the bold print of the headlines; his focus remained on her.

She cast him a furtive glance and then moved across to her vanity, sat down and unpinned her hair. Waves of ebony curls cascaded down her back and then she started brushing them. It had always turned him on, had so often been a prelude to their love making, even if she had been too naïve to realise.

Abruptly, he stood up, pricking the bubble of tension that had suddenly blown up around them.

"I'm going to go and check on Bonnie," he said. He felt dangerously close to losing his self-control and he didn't want to do that again. He had to get out of the room. Away from her.

She stopped the brush mid-way down her hair and caught his eye in the mirror. "Rhett, she's fine. We would have heard her if she was awake."

"All the same, I'd prefer to check on her. I want to go outside for a while, anyway."

She stared at him and then shook her head, ever so slightly. "You're always…"

Always what?

He waited. There was silence and then, she started brushing her hair again.

"I need some fresh air," he mumbled quickly. He grabbed his cigar case and closed the door quietly behind him, without giving her an opportunity to respond. It was only when he had left her presence that he realised he hadn't been breathing properly. He gulped a couple of times, filling his lungs with oxygen, and then crossed the hallway, towards where the children slept.

Nothing appeared to have changed since he had left them before supper. The gas lights outside the door were still burning brightly, the door was still ajar. The nursery emanated a peacefulness and for a moment he hesitated entering the room, lest he should wake a light sleeper. But then, curiosity got the better of him and he pushed the door and stepped inside the room. The four children were sleeping, soundly.

He went down the creaky stairs and saw, from the old grandfather clock in the hallway, that it was only half past ten. If he was in Atlanta, he would be settled in for the evening at Belle's by now. Or, at least, he would have been, prior to the birthday party. How fickle he was, he mused, and how quickly the wife substitute could lose her allure, when the real thing threw him a few crumbs.

The front door wasn't locked and he quietly opened it. Will was sitting on an old rocking chair, nursing what looked like some coffee.

"Too early for you?" Will said, as Rhett met his gaze. "You strike me as the sort of man who doesn't normally retire until much later."

Rhett smiled at his intuition.

"Tara's quite a place," Rhett said, as his eyes scanned the vista, the hills lit up by the moonlight. He took a cigar out of his case and offered one to his brother-in-law. Will took one. "You've got a beautiful home."

"I hear your home is quite somethin'. According to Suellen, at least four times the size of Tara. Although, I am not quite sure how she knows considerin' she's never been." Will's eyes twinkled in mirth.

Rhett chuckled. "She – you – you're always welcome and then you can see what a monstrosity the house is. I gave Scarlett free reign on the design of the house and, believe me, I won't make that mistake again. Scarlett seems to think that big is better, which isn't necessarily so."

"So, you're not a fan of your house?"

"Oh, as a house, it suffices. It's well built and doesn't let in the elements. As a home it's diabolical."

A quizzical look briefly washed over Will's face and then it was gone. He shrugged his shoulders. "I'm sure it's elegant in its own way."

Rhett snorted. "Elegant? It has as much elegance as a whore's bedroom."

Will looked uncomfortably at Rhett. "Well…I…"

"Anyway, Will, I think Scarlett still thinks of Tara as her real home."

Will visibly relaxed. "She certainly has a soft spot for the place. Mind you, she did fight so hard to keep it."

Rhett nodded.

"She married Frank, so she wouldn't lose it."

Rhett nodded slowly, again. He sensed Will knew a lot more about his history with Scarlett than he would ever let on.

"Thank God you didn't give her the money!" Will said, suddenly, and laughed.

"Give her the money?"

"She went to you, first, didn't she?" Rhett stood still and stared at Will, hoping he did so with a blank face. The memory of Scarlett's humiliation in the jail was not particularly pleasurable. He had wanted to help her, he just hadn't been able to – at least, not without risking losing all his money.

Will must have sensed that he had gone too far, because he stood up and walked the three steps over to where Rhett was leaning on the balustrade. He patted him on the back. "I wasn't trying to pry. Rhett. But I mean that if you had given her the money, then she wouldn't have married Frank and I wouldn't have married Suellen. So I have a lot to be grateful to you for."

"I have a lot to be grateful to you, for, too," Rhett said, wistfully.

"Me?"

"Well, if you hadn't married Suellen, I am sure Scarlett would have come running back to Tara after Frank died. You closed that option. So she was more malleable to accept my proposal."

"Why wouldn't she have accepted your proposal? You were one of the most eligible bachelors in the South."

Rhett fixed his eyes on Will. He sensed Will knew the answer to his own question. There was an uncomfortable silence as Rhett inhaled on his cigar. Then, Will broke the pregnant pause. "Do you fancy a whisky, Rhett? I sure as hell do. It's been a long day, but I bet not quite as long as yours."

"Thank you."

Will hobbled towards a small table at one end of the veranda, upon which there was a bottle of whisky and, conveniently, two glasses. He poured them healthy measures, returned to his rocking chair and handed Rhett a glass as he sat down.

The front door swung open and Suellen suddenly appeared. "I'm turning in for the night, Will. Can you make sure that you check in on Nora before you come to bed. I don't want her falling out of bed again. She'll break an arm or leg next time."

"Yes love," he replied.

"Good night, Suellen," Rhett called out as she turned her back on the men.

"Good night, Captain Butler," she replied curtly, without looking at him. He smirked at her reversion to his formal address. So long as he was at Tara, he was going to have to bite his tongue, as far as she was concerned.

When he heard the door click shut, Rhett turned to Will. "I don't think your wife likes me much."

"Good, old fashioned jealousy, Rhett. She's been hung up on Scarlett's, or rather your, wealth, ever since Scarlett wrote tellin' her she had married you."

Rhett flinched, and then laughed. Bitterly. "Getting your hands on my money, would require being married to a depraved scoundrel like me. I have a feeling that Scarlett would tell your wife that the trade-off wasn't worth it."

Rhett felt Will look at him, but he didn't meet his eyes. "Women, eh?" Will said.

"O'Hara women. As Erasmus would say, we can't live with them, can't live without them," Rhett replied. Which was definitely true about Scarlett. He had tried living without her and it had been hell. He had always had to come back.

"Well, between you and me, Rhett, I think I could live without Suellen but I couldn't live without Tara. And my wife's not so bad really. Her bark is much worse than her bite."

~~~~~~~~~~~~ ~~~~~~~~~~R & S~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

When he returned to the bedroom, he had half hoped that she might still be awake. He wanted to talk to her, he had a number of burning questions that the three glasses of whisky had made him feel ready to ask but she was already sleeping.

He stripped down to his underwear, lay on his temporary bed and closed his eyes, but sleep evaded him. When he finally fell asleep, he slept lightly and badly and he awoke with a sore back and neck. He tried to fall back to sleep but after twenty minutes or so, he gave up.

He sat up slowly and then turned to look at the bed.

Unexpectedly, Scarlett was awake and she was looking at him. She turned away when he caught her eye and fell back onto the pillows. Then, she grabbed the sheets and pulled them up even higher, around her face.

"How long have you been awake?" he asked, softly. He could see the clock on the mantelpiece. It was only half past five.

"About half an hour or so." There was a pause and she shifted her body so that she was lying on her side, looking down at him. "Did you sleep well?"

"I've slept better."

"Yes. Yes. Of course." She paused briefly, then continued. "I'm sorry, Rhett. Maybe tonight, you can…I mean, perhaps tonight…"

Tonight, what? he wanted to ask but something made him stop. This wasn't like before. This was new, virgin territory. He hadn't seen her for almost seventy-two hours before he arrived at Tara and he had expected a battle, a full scale war, even, but it had failed to materialise. They had sparred a little, initially, but her animosity towards him had fizzled out. And she had wavered, hadn't she, when he had made the bold suggestion that he sleep in the bed?

He sat up on the floor, grabbed the shirt he had thrown over the back of a chair and put it on. Then, he put his trousers on. He refused to look at her, whilst he got dressed, lest his body gave away his real feelings.

When he finally did turn around, she was still positioned on her side. She looked at him, puzzled and then exhaled. "The household won't get up for another hour at least," she said.

"And?"

"Well, I just thought that…."

He waited for her to continue. She didn't.

"You're becoming intolerably bad at completing your sentences, Scarlett."

He expected she coloured, but he couldn't see in the dim light. She huffed and turned over. "If you're going to go down to the kitchen, please be quiet. Not everyone will want to be up at this hour."

"I'm going outside, Scarlett. There's something rather beautiful about seeing a place stir from slumber. I may even borrow one of Will's horses and go for a ride."

He heard her sigh again.

He bent down to put on his socks and shoes – he would put fresh clothes on when he returned and after he bathed – and then stood up and walked to the door.

"You're always trying to run away from me," she said, just as he put his hand on the door knob.

He turned slowly round. She had flipped sides, and was watching him once again.

"I…run… away?" he repeated.

"Yes! Every time. Always."

The accusation irked him and he felt his hackles rise.

"Since when?" he said.

"You…you wouldn't understand."

"Try me."

She narrowed her emerald eyes and glared at him. But she didn't say anything.

"You ran away from me, Scarlett. Or should I add amnesia to your many defects?" he finally said.

"Oh…you! I didn't run away from you!"

"No? That's an interesting summation of Thursday night. I return home from being out and you have left. And taken the children with you."

There was an eerie silence between them, until she finally capitulated and spoke. "I needed some time alone."

"Why?" He heard bitterness creep into his voice and he tried to check it. "You can easily avoid me in Atlanta. You've been doing it for years. It's amazing how little time a married couple need actually spend together if they don't want to. Even less when they don't share a bedroom."

"I just needed to be alone."

"And so you decide to come to a house, full of people?"

He expected her to flounce, dramatically, and turn away, but she didn't. "I wanted to come home…I mean, I wanted to get away from things."

"Things. Or me?"

"Things! Gossip…people…."

"Me."

"Alright, Rhett! Yes! You. In part."

Her honesty didn't hurt him but it made him hesitant. He stepped towards her, cautiously. He wanted to get a better look at her face, try to look into her soul. Try to read her. As he had been failing to do for the last week or so.

"Why, in part, Scarlett?" he asked softly. She didn't say anything. "What other things were you trying to get away from?"

She sat up, suddenly, brought her knees to her chest and narrowed her green eyes at him. "Are you sorry you hit Ashley?"

Why the hell did every conversation they have, revolve around that man?

"Are you sorry?" she said, again.

"Sorry? Good God, no."

"You're not sorry?"

"Why should I be sorry for hitting the man who has single-handedly ruined my marriage."

"But you hit him because I, apparently, looked at him in a certain way? And even you know that's ridiculous."

He sighed. She was exasperatingly blind at times. "I didn't hit him because you looked at him in a certain way."

She frowned. "That's what you said, though. You didn't hit him because I looked at him in a certain way?"

"Oh, Scarlett!"

She squared her jaw. "Then, why did you hit him!"

"I hit him because I love you!" He said the words before he had had a chance to think but now it was too late. He couldn't blame alcohol this time.

He saw her mouth open and shut as he wished the ground would swallow him up. She would hold this over him. Forever. God, he was doomed.

"You love me?"

He shrugged, trying to appear nonchalant but knowing he was feeling anything but. His heart was racing, his stomach was lurching. He really did want to leave the room.

She wrinkled her forehead. "I thought you had. On that night." She was speaking softly, the words falling out, quickly, jumbled. "The night of the birthday party. I thought you told me that you loved me. But in the morning, I mean, after you left our…my….bedroom, I couldn't remember. Not clearly. Everything was a blur. I wasn't sure if I had dreamt it. I knew that…well, I knew what had happened between us, but I couldn't remember what you said. Not clearly. And every day that went past, I became less sure. I became less certain of you. I thought you might have said it, just because…well…you know, so that you could go to bed with me again. And all the while, I hoped…I hoped…"

He edged closer towards her and saw that her eyes had filled with tears. He could have reached out and touched her, stroked her face as he wanted to do, but he held back. Somehow, he sensed that the next few moments might save his marriage.

"You hoped….what?" he finally whispered, aware of a lump that was suddenly stuck in his throat.

"It doesn't matter what I hoped!"

"Oh, yes. Yes, it does."

He sat down on the bed but still he didn't touch her. He needed to hear what she had to say, without awakening her with sexual desire.

"I hoped…" Her voice trailed off.

"Goddamn it, Scarlett. Finish the damned sentence."

"I hoped that you did love me!"

He breathed out a couple of times as he allowed her words to sink in. Something had shifted between them. He had sensed the movement, from the moment she had started kissing him back on the stairs, the night of the party. He had been right. She had kissed him back. He could see that clearly now. He had just been too scared to believe it.

He looked intensely at her. The tears she had held back, now started to spill. She wiped them away with the back of her hands and then gathered the sheets and pulled them up to her face and buried her head in them.

"Why did you hope that?" he said, when her body had stopped juddering. "So that you can manipulate me, like you have all your other husbands and beaux?" He knew his words were unkind but he had to be sure.

She pulled down the cotton mask from her face. "No!"

"Why then?"

"Oh, Rhett. Please."

"No. I'm not going to please." He caught her chin with his left index finger. "Tell me, Scarlett."

"Because…because…I just did."

"Not good enough."

"Alright! Alright! Because…because I think I love you."