"Daddy," Bonnie demanded. Her chubby hands clutched Prissy's skirts.
"No, Miss Bonnie, ya cain't…"
"I want Daddy!" she repeated. Never in Bonnie's memory had a request for her father's presence been denied.
"Your daddy is busy, Miss Bonnie. Your momma's baby is comin' and Mammy tole you dat you have to play in the parlor like a good girl."
"No!" Bonnie replied. She sagged against Prissy, holding herself upright on the maid's skirts. Her head was thrown back to look up at the insecure nanny. Mammy was the voice of authority in the nursery. Prissy had been shouldering some of those duties since Wade's birth, but Miss Scarlett's first two children had been soft, pliant creatures - especially compared to the iron will of this pint sized replica of her mistress. Prissy had no aptitude for command, but she was the only adult, servant or otherwise, currently available for this nursery duty.
Miss Scarlett was having her baby. Captain Butler had been stationed in the upstairs hallway since dinner time, deaf even to the pleas of his cherished firstborn. Mammy was with her mistress, as was Scarlett's sister Suellen, heavily pregnant herself. Lou had been pressed into service but Prissy was not allowed anywhere near the childbed. After riding to fetch the doctor from Jonesboro, Will had retreated to the barn. It was too cold to send the children out, so Prissy had been put in charge of keeping all five of them shut up in the parlor with the pocket door firmly closed against the possibility of any cries from upstairs being heard by delicate ears. At least it was Christmas Day, and the abundance of new toys which had been opened - thanks to Rhett's extravagance during his visit to Atlanta - was plenty to occupy the older cousins. It was not, however, enough for Bonnie.
"Now, Miss Bonnie," Prissy pleaded, trying to loosen the sticky fists from her dress. "Ain't you got all those new presents just this morning?"
Prissy succeeded in wrenching her skirt from Bonnie's tight grasp, but the child did not obediently toddle away to the pile of presents that were adequately occupying her half-siblings and cousins. She flailed her arms against Prissy's skirts, giving vent to her rage in full-voiced screams.
The turmoil of the house during Scarlett's labor was utterly incomprehensible to the two-year-old. Her daddy had not stayed by her side to play with her new toys, in fact almost all of the adults seemed too busy for her now. There was only Prissy, and as Bonnie had spent the last six months with the girl she was quite bored with her. Prissy was not any fun, not like Daddy, nor was she any good at comfort, unlike the soft and cozy expanse of Mammy. Silly Uncle Will had not been seen since breakfast. Even sour-faced Aunty Sue had been glimpsed only in passing, as she heaved herself up the stairs.
Bonnie had been quite happy to play with her gifts for a time. In fact, she might have gone on for the evening, content with her dolls and tea set, had not Ella received the best present of all. It was a doll nearly as big as Bonnie herself, with black hair just like her own and a green dress like their mother might wear. Bonnie wanted to play with that doll. When Ella would not relent and Prissy would not make her, Bonnie had had enough of this separation from the one person who always gratified her wishes. Bonnie wanted her Daddy, and she was done with being forced to stay in the parlor.
Since their arrival at Tara, Bonnie had on occasion repeated her disgust that her mother had grown "fat," but been otherwise uninterested in the idea that she would have a baby sibling. Given the very circumspect way in which this news was relayed to her, she had not connected the change in her mother with the pending arrival. She had come to understand that a new baby would be delivered to the house like a present, and as she had determined that she did not want this present, felt sure that Daddy would send it away. She would have only to ask.
But now she was asking, now she wanted her daddy, and Prissy would not get him and there was no one else to come to her aid. Frustrated and helpless, Bonnie beat her short arms against Prissy's skirts. Her round cheeks had turned bright red and her thick, short black lashes were spiked with tears. She kicked out with one leg and it connected with something.
"Ow!" Prissy yelped. She bent down and tried to wrestle her arms around the little girl. "Miss Bonnie you got to stop this," she pleaded ineffectually.
Bonnie thrashed, pushing at the unwelcome embrace. When Prissy did not give up, Bonnie threw herself to the floor to escape from the encircling arms. She screamed into the worn carpet, kicking both her legs now and pounding her fists against the rug. She would have her daddy! Someone must get her daddy.
The other children, used to their own siblings and, for Wade and Ella, used to Bonnie's especially volatile temper, ignored the little drama playing out in the center of the room. Wade was magnanimously sharing the train tracks he had received. Susie Benteen had found a length of twine that had tied a parcel and been missed in the hurried clean-up earlier that day, and looped it securely around a new doll from her Uncle Rhett. The trussed-up doll had been lain across the train tracks and Wade and his cousins were in the middle of an imaginative, exuberant hostage negotiation. Ella's attention wandered back and forth between the game and her own new doll, the nicest present she could ever remember having received. So accustomed were they, and so wrapped up in their own play, it did not even register with the four children when their youngest relative's screaming finally died away. Prissy noticed, breathing a sigh of relief when her obstinate charge finally fell asleep. Unwilling to wrestle the sturdy little girl onto the couch and risk waking her so soon, Prissy let the child be while she took up her mending basket and seated herself in a comfortable chair.
Bonnie was having trouble breathing. Her teary screaming fit had her all out of sorts, short of breath in her lungs and congested in her nose. But she had to find her daddy. Tara's hallways were not nearly so long and dark as her own home back in Atlanta, but she did not know which door was his. It was dark enough that all the doors looked the same. Mammy had warned her about the dark, and she really meant to listen, but this was far more important. Besides, Bonnie wasn't afraid of anything. Hardly anything.
Mammy had not deigned to share all the details with Bonnie about what bugaboos looked like, but she had seen the sea monsters in Wade's book about pirates. Probably they were not very different, although bugaboos lived in the dark and not the ocean. When she found Daddy, she would not have to worry about the monsters, and so she must hurry to find him before they found her.
But every breath Bonnie inhaled seemed not to be enough. Looking down, she saw the bugaboo. It had sharp claws it used to hang on to her shoulders and big thick legs which were crushing her chest into the floor. Black wings sprouted from its back and pressed against her nose, so that she had to breathe through her mouth but with the monster sitting on her, she simply could not fill her lungs.
Bonnie screamed. She used all the meager store of air in her chest to power her voice. When the monsters came, she couldn't make them go away on her own. She needed Daddy; now, she really needed him.
Rhett had spent most of Christmas Day cramped in a small, under-cushioned chair across the hall from the door of their bedroom at Tara. Will had offered to share a drink or a cigar with him in the kitchen, but Rhett had flatly refused. God damned propriety, which insisted husbands had no place beside their wives in childbed, was bad enough. He would go no further from her door than the width of the hall.
Will had discreetly left a bucket by Rhett's chosen station, but there were nearly as many cigar butts on the floor around it as there were inside the tin receptacle. For most of the day, Rhett had been deaf to the world outside that closed door. Lou and Suellen had emerged from time to time on errands, but the noise of their passage was curiously muffled. He was not even aware of Bonnie's extended tantrum, so thick was his concentration on Scarlett's closed door.
The piercing scream of her nightmare, though, shattered the stillness of the entire house. His stomach lurched painfully at the sound, but he hesitated a moment at the top of the stairs. The bedroom door was still closed, and Rhett went swiftly down to the parlor.
Rhett stepped into a curious tableau. The older children had stopped their quiet play to gape at the force of Bonnie's cries. Prissy was kneeling next to the little girl, and a long white thread stretched between her and a nearby chair. Rhett saw an indeterminate piece of discarded clothing on the seat of the chair, a mending basket on the floor. Bonnie was shoving away Prissy's attempts at comfort.
"Leave her!" Rhett barked, too urgent to be kind. His intelligent mind knew he could not blame Prissy for Bonnie's bad dreams in broad daylight, but his instincts reacted as forcefully as they had when Lou had made the mistake with the lamp. Prissy scuttled away and Rhett scooped his daughter into his arms.
Cradling Bonnie against his chest, Rhett took a seat on the sofa.
"Hush now, darling," he whispered, smoothing his large palm over her tangled curls and gently brushing away the tears tracking down her red cheeks. "You are safe. Daddy's got you. Hush, now."
Rhett murmured his gentle reassurances over and over, keeping an even, matched rhythm in his voice and the hand that rubbed her narrow back. Bonnie's screams quickly subsided; more gradually, her breathing slowed and tears ceased to fall. She wrapped her arms around Rhett's neck, and he felt dampness against his skin where she buried her face.
"Couldn't breathe!" she cried.
"Breathe in deeply now, my darling girl. Just like Daddy - that's it, Bonnie." Rhett modulated his breathing so Bonnie's small lungs would be able to match it. "Good girl. You can breathe just fine now, can't you?"
"Sat on me," Bonnie hiccoughed. "It squished me. Couldn't breathe!"
"Hush now. Daddy's here. No more monsters, darling."
Father and daughter sat together for several minutes, Rhett rocking her slowly back and forth. When Bonnie was calmed, Rhett sat her up on his knee, brushing her damp curls off her face. "Now then. Don't you want to play with Wade and Ella?" Bonnie shook her head. "Wouldn't it be a wonderful time for a tea party?" Rhett tried. "With your new tea set, I am sure it will be the most sought-after event in the parlor." Bonnie made no reply, but she stretched her arms out and wrapped them around his neck again. Sighing, Rhett pulled her close and began to rub her back again. Now that Bonnie seemed recovered from her nightmare, his attention was wandering - his concern torn between Bonnie and the progress of things upstairs behind that closed door.
For the first time, Rhett became aware of how a new baby could complicate matters. Bonnie had been first in his heart for so long, elevated there both by his own real adoration for his daughter and as a forceful stopper, capping the frustrated feelings for his wife. It seemed unlikely that Bonnie would peaceably adjust to sharing his attention and affection with a new baby. And, then, there was however things stood with Scarlett herself. He didn't know how that was, exactly, only that their relationship had changed - was still changing. That, too, might be complicated by the new baby, by the inevitable return to Atlanta.
Pressing a kiss to Bonnie's fine curls, Rhett had no doubt of his own feelings. The question was how Bonnie might adjust to sharing her favorite person with someone new; and even with her own mother - if, by some miracle, it came to that. He had been frustrated before, and not long after another similarly hopeful day. How could he hope to keep making inroads into Scarlett's heart, when back in Atlanta they would once again be on opposite sides of her locked door?
Bonnie had begun to squirm in his embrace, her natural energy finally overriding the after effects of her nightmare and her desire to sulk and bask in Rhett's attention. She let go of his neck and wiggled around until she was sitting forward on his lap and could grab at his watch chain. Bonnie tugged the watch out of his pocket and began to toy with it, flipping open the cover, turning it over in her hands, shaking it next to her ear. Rhett braced her with both hands and jostled his knees gently side to side.
"Tick, tock, tick, tock," he recited in a low sing-song. Bonnie shook the watch up and down, almost keeping time with his movements and words. How soon would Scarlett want to return to Atlanta? Once she was well, there would be no reason to put it off. She would be eager to get back to the mills as soon as she had recovered, completely oblivious to renewing the scandal she had touched off in April. Everything would go back the way it had been, only now he was trapped. He couldn't take Bonnie away again and leave the new child behind, not for many months anyway. And if he did go away, with one or both children, he would not be welcome at his mother's this time. In Atlanta, he would be a helpless witness as she threw herself back into her obsession with Ashley Wilkes. It seemed impossible that this fragile new accord between them would withstand that reunion.
"Beg pardon, Mist' Rhett," Lou's breathless voice interrupted him. "Mammy sent me to tell you, you can come upstairs now."
Blank excitement covered all thought. Awkwardly, he thrust Bonnie into Lou's arms. The little girl squawked at this unwelcome change, reaching for her daddy with both hands. The watch dropped and smacked painfully into his knee and Rhett bit off a curse. He hastily unhooked the chain and handed the watch into Bonnie's grasping hands. "Here, darling. Keep this safe. I have to go see your mother, now." Rhett kissed her forehead and added, "Lou will get you some more gingerbread, wouldn't you like that? Go on, Lou, there's still some in the kitchen. Let Bonnie have as much as she wants. Let all the children have some."
Rhett took the stairs two at a time. No screams came from the parlor; the trade of his presence for a treat must have been successful. God only knew what he would have done if Bonnie had made a fit. His wife, his daughter, his baby. Another daughter? The son that Scarlett wanted?
Rhett paused outside the bedroom door, taking a moment to compose himself so that when he entered the room he appeared unhurried, relaxed, unaffected by the momentous event. He stepped through the door and into a familiar scene, differing from Bonnie's birth only in small details: the bed was smaller and less ornate, scattered rag rugs cushioned his steps instead of thick plush carpets.
Scarlett was reclining on a pile of pillows. They must have been gathered from every room in the house, for the bed they shared had not nearly so many. Her eyes were closed, her features peacefully composed; a picture of relaxation, apart from the bright spots of color high on her cheeks. His heart shuddered painfully in his chest. She was beautiful. Across the room, Mammy laid a dripping, squalling newborn on a clean white towel. The lusty cries drew Rhett away from his wife.
"So, Mammy, what have we here?" he questioned, leaning over the child whose legs and abdomen were covered by the towel as Mammy briskly dried the baby. Already, thick black hair stood on end, like a cloud of soft dandelion fuzz around the infant's head, and with no sign of curl to it.
"A lil girl, Mist'Rhett. Another lil Robillard miss."
"A baby?" he questioned, his black eyes shining. "So that's what all the fuss was about today?"
"Mist'Rhett you is bad! You knew 'twas your baby comin' into the world today, yessuh. And a prettier lil thing you din't never see, no suh, not even Miss Bonnie was this pretty when she come."
"Well don't let Bonnie hear you say that, or I'll have to buy all the sweets in Atlanta to stop her crying from the heartbreak. Now give her here, Mammy." Every hair on his arms stood on end with anticipation, though he had learned his lesson after Bonnie's birth and was rigidly holding himself in check until Mammy was ready.
Mammy discarded the damp towel and efficiently swaddled the pink-skinned newborn in a clean blanket. When she was securely wrapped, Mammy lifted the girl and placed her in Rhett's arms.
His breath caught as he stared into the face of his new daughter. It seemed a more narrow face than Bonnie had had, longer or just pointier in the chin. In addition to the unusual abundance of hair on her head, like her sister this baby also had strong black eyebrows and thick lashes. She was calming now, and he could look into her narrow eyes. They were grayish blue, and he wondered if they would be bright like Bonnie's, or turn dark like his own, or if he would at last be blessed with a baby with Scarlett's own fascinating pure green. The small rosebud mouth was just like Bonnie's.
Rhett swallowed around the lump in his throat. Scarlett, for all her threats and bitterness during her previous pregnancy, had said - and done - nothing against this one. Scarlett had given him another daughter. He grinned suddenly, a flashy pirate's grin. And how did the woman in question feel about another little girl, not the son of which she had been so sure?
Cradling the tiny newborn - she would fit easily in his palms, but he held her securely against his chest - Rhett went to his wife's bedside. The doctor was packing up a small black bag on a table next to the bed.
"Your wife and daughter are perfectly healthy, Mr. Butler," the doctor informed him as he clasped the bag shut. "I am told the whole household is an experienced hand with childbirth and your Mammy there is more than capable of seeing to Mrs. Butler's needs. Is there anything more you need from me?"
"Thank you, Doctor." He had already forgotten the man's name. "If Will knows where to find you, I think we will be just fine here."
"Very well," the doctor said. "At your service, sir."
Rhett nodded, plainly dismissing the man. One pointed glance around the room was enough to clear everyone out, even nosy Suellen. Mammy, to make the point that leaving was her own choice, said, "I'll go down and see to the children's supper now, Mist'Rhett. You an' Miss Scarlett jus call if you need anything. Lou'll bring a tray in a bit."
"Thank you, Mammy," he replied, indulging her need to maintain an appearance of authority and autonomy.
When the room was empty, Rhett lowered his arms so he could look down into the newborn face of his daughter. When he lifted his gaze, his eyes caught Scarlett's. Whether she had been truly asleep or just pretending so as not to be bothered, she was alert now. A familiar thrill of fear tickled the back of his neck - just how much might his unguarded expression have given away?
"May I sit down?" he murmured.
Scarlett nodded.
Gingerly, trying to disturb the feather tick as little as he possibly could, Rhett lowered himself to sit beside her. Although his weight depressed the mattress, he moved slowly enough that it did not jostle Scarlett much.
For several minutes they both sat in silence, awkwardly sharing the moments of first acquaintance with their new daughter.
"She'll have hair like yours," Rhett said at last. "It's sticking up just like straw - and straight as, as well."
Scarlett did not answer, although she smoothed one hand along the baby's thick fuzz.
"Cat got your tongue, my pet?" Rhett asked, but the lighthearted impulse failed quickly under a burgeoning fear. "Are you happy about the baby, Scarlett? You said - back in October - that you wanted this baby…"
He saw Scarlett's throat work in a swallow. "Yes, Rhett. Yes, I suppose I am happy."
Suppose? What the hell did she mean by that? "Did you really want a boy so badly? You know I don't care about a son. Don't listen to Mammy."
Scarlett smiled. "I thought it would be a boy. But she is beautiful, isn't she, Rhett?"
"She's the prettiest girl in this house," he said swiftly.
Scarlett smiled, but it failed to reach her eyes. "Of course she is," she said softly, and he knew he had said the wrong thing but for the life of him, he could not put his finger on why. Probably it was just the imagined slight to her own vanity, but to provoke sadness - instead of irritation - did not fit with his understanding of his wife. What he had long thought to be his perfect understanding.
Her next words wiped this unsettled question from his mind. "Let me hold her, Rhett," Scarlett said, her voice stronger now, almost her imperious self again. His jaw very nearly dropped at the request. She had never expressed a desire to hold Bonnie. The first time he had seen their daughter in her arms, Mammy had given her the infant to be fed and he had been shooed out of the room almost immediately. But those first moments, after Mammy had placed the newborn Bonnie in his own arms, she had merely watched. It hadn't fully registered with him at the time; he had been too enamored of the new arrival to notice, or to think to offer the baby to her mother; but the action - or rather, inaction - had stuck with him. It had made it even easier to encourage Bonnie's one-sided attachment to himself. After all, her mother hadn't been interested in her from the very beginning. Really, it made it seem like he was doing Scarlett a favor, saving her from the chore of child-rearing for which she clearly possessed not the slightest interest.
"She's my baby, too," Scarlett said, the annoyance in her voice letting him know he had been frozen by her unexpected request for too long. He did not take the bait, but carefully transferred the newborn to Scarlett. He braced his right hand on the mattress on the other side of her lap so he could lean over and look in their daughter's small pink face.
A slight tremble in Scarlett's fingers made her movements seem hesitant as she brushed a hand over the thick soft hair, and stroked a fingertip down one pink cheek. Rhett turned his attention from the baby to the mother, ducking his head and leaning away so he could look her in the eyes. Her eyes were wide, turbulent, and a faint crease puckered the skin between her brows. He was still not sure how to read her. Anything he might have expected from her - disinterest, disdain, blatant misery even - was curiously absent.
"I suppose you have your Princess Alexandra, my dear, unless you have changed your mind."
"No, I haven't changed my mind."
"Perhaps we should send for Miss Melly before we decide?"
"Whatever for, Rhett?"
Rhett chuckled. "Because, my darling, do you even remember Bonnie's given name? Miss Melly might have another name to stick to this child, and we could skip the step of picking one which shall never be used."
Scarlett stuck her tongue out.
"Tut, tut, my pet. You must set a better example for your daughter."
"Oh don't tease me now, Rhett," Scarlett chided. She shifted the small burden of Alexandra in her arms. "Be nice."
"Very well. I shall be nice. I suppose you have earned it, at least for today."
"I'm hungry."
Rhett chuckled. "Of course you are. I'm sure Lou will have your tray up here shortly."
Scarlett relaxed against her pillows, lifting Alexandra a little higher on her chest. She closed her eyes. Rhett felt dismissed.
"Here," he said quietly, "give her to me and get some rest. I'll go check on that tray."
Scarlett hummed an affirmative reply and relinquished the baby to his arms. Rhett slid off the bed and stooped to place the infant in the handmade cradle Will had given them just that morning. It was far less elaborate than the bassinet that had been Bonnie's, still in Atlanta, but sturdy and safe.
He was opening the door when Scarlett spoke.
"Merry Christmas, Rhett."
Rhett paused in the doorway and turned his head. "Merry Christmas, honey," he said, unintentionally brusque. As he shut the door behind him, he blinked his eyes rapidly to clear the moisture that had gathered in their corners.
A/N: Christmas miracles indeed! Thank you all for the reviews! Sorry to Scarlett and all who hoped for her to get her boy. I think another girl should help keep them from going back to their separate corners - each with their own mini-me of the other - how messed up that would be. The baby is named after Princess Alexandra, who seemed a likely namesake in light of Bonnie's given name. I imagine Scarlett liked the glamour and elegance of a royal name. And while she wasn't one for novel reading, she did at least read Harper's Weekly, so probably other lady's magazines as well and Princess Alexandra was quite a popular figure.
