A pretty rough chapter, I am afraid. After feeling as though I was beginning to get my mojo back, I think I have lost it here – especially after the first section. But I am remembering my promise to my readers – I won't leave a story just hanging. I will finish it. I tried to channel some of Ondine's marvellous ways how she switches mood and story line but I failed.

Thank you to all who reviewed last time. Thank you Agnes particularly. Please – if you have time – let me know what you think of this.

Chapter 14

They ate supper quietly. In an effort to ease the unspoken tension that had arisen from nowhere, he kept her wine glass filled with a white chardonnay that he had had shipped from his recently acquired French vineyard. Ever since the train had screeched into Atlanta, she had reverted to her aloof self. And he was at a loss as to the reason.

"I'm feeling very tired, Rhett," she said, after coffee had been served but before he could offer her a nightcap. "I'm going to go to bed."

She stood up and pushed her chair back but he was quickly by her side.

She looked at him, strangely. "Rhett, you don't have to come up with me. It's not even ten o'clock."

Her words stung him and he stepped back. He levelled his gaze at her, in an effort to read her. "I'm tired too, Scarlett," he said softly. He saw her prickle with irritation and then one of the newer servants, a girl barely out of her teens, entered the dining room and almost knocked into them.

"Please look where you're going!" Scarlett snapped as the girl mumbled an apology and started clearing the coffee pot and cups.

Abruptly, Scarlett walked out and started up the stairs. He stood motionless for a few moments, suddenly flooded with memories of the handful of painful evenings they had shared in the last year, when they had managed to pass a civil, even pleasant, couple of hours together, before it would unravel into spite and malice, triggered by his jealousy or her hurt and she would retire to her bedroom and he would retire to Belle's bed.

He dragged a hand through his thick, black hair as the small train on her gown disappeared from his view. He heard her soft tread across the hallway, jolting the memory of the night of the birthday party and he grimaced. He wasn't going to force himself on her this time. No, not tonight. Not ever again. But what on earth had gotten into her? Where had the woman gone that he had discovered in Clayton County? She was behaving indifferently, coldly to him, the opposite of her behaviour when they had been away. Was she harbouring resentment that he had forced her to leave Tara, earlier than she had been ready to? Or was this the reality and the previous week a mirage?

She came back into view again as she reached the bottom step. She started to climb the huge staircase, hitching her skirts up, revealing a sliver of her ankle. Then, she stumbled slightly and she lifted her gown higher, to the bottom of her calf. He breathed in. He had always found something alluring about the sight of a woman's legs, more so than their breasts. Perhaps because of where they led.

He moved quickly, then, impervious to the servant girl's stare and by the time Scarlett was halfway up the staircase he was alongside her.

She glanced at him and for the second time in five minutes, he was stung – this time by what he saw. The lust, even love, that had been present less than 24 hours before, had evaporated and in its place, thinly veiled anger.

He felt panic but he swallowed it and hoped that his old, blank mask was afixed. Why was he having to wear it again after all the intimacy of the previous week? Had Belle been right after all? Had Scarlett cuckolded him? Had she only slept with him because she needed to hide the paternity of a child?

"You never go to bed this early, Rhett. There's no need to on my account," she said. He hesitated for a moment before he put his hand on the small of her back. She shrugged it off and he allowed his hand to drop to his side.

"I'm doing it for me, Scarlett," he said steadily. He caught her eye, and then he saw her frown. In the old days, he would have shot back a barb but he decided a veiled truth might have more effect. "I've only stayed out late when there hasn't been anybody worth staying in for."

She deepened her frown and shook her head. They walked up the staircase, side by side, and when they reached the top, she paused momentarily and looked down the imposing hallway. He followed her gaze, which settled on his own bedroom door. Oh good God, she wasn't going to suggest-

"Are you sleeping in my bedroom tonight?" she whispered.

He nodded, uncertain whether she was trying to catch him out.

"Do you need anything?"

He breathed out quietly and said a quiet prayer to a god, he had long ceased believing in.

"I've already gathered what I need and put it into your bedroom," he said, softly.

She let out a quiet laugh. "When did you manage that?"

"When you obviously weren't looking."

Her eyes darted back down the staircase, lingering on the dining room door and then back up to the hallway which led to her bedroom. She turned and walked quickly towards her bedroom. He followed, suddenly anxious about what was going to happen. She opened the door and then grabbed his hand and pulled him roughly in. She shut the door quickly and for a brief moment, he thought the brazen, insatiable woman from the past week had returned. He needed to take back control of the situation, have her as malleable as she had been in the last seven days. He leaned towards her, his lips hovering above hers. But she side-stepped and immediately walked to her dresser, pulling at the pins in her hair and breathing heavily.

Then, she spoke.

"What is it with this house?" her voice, a hoarse whisper. "I feel as though everyone is spying on me. On us. Every time I have looked over my shoulder, either Rosa or Ruth have been there, watching me. Especially when we were putting the children to bed. And that new girl, Lily or Molly whatever her name is…I felt she couldn't stop looking at you this evening. And it unnerved me. And even Dilcey! She's been giving me strange looks…"

Was that what had been troubling her? The strange looks? Rhett wanted to laugh at the absurdity of his wife but looking at her flushed face, he felt it would inflame the situation. He shrugged his shoulders instead, retaining his blank mien.

"Fire the lot of them, if you wish. I don't care."

"Don't be silly, Rhett. If it's not them, it'll be others. Atlanta's full of them. They're all the same. All the same!" She stood up, her thick, velvet hair, tumbling down her back and paced over to her large walk-in closet. "I bet they're all gossiping about us. Every single one of them."

He sighed. "Darling, they have always talked about us. And you always told me you didn't care what people thought about you. What's changed?" He reached for his cigar case and pulled out a cigar.

"And now they will know we are sharing a bedroom again. Oh God! This is so embarrassing!"

So that was it! She was embarrassed! He bristled at her double standards, anger washing over him. She hadn't been embarrassed when she had thrown him out of her bed. When she had forced him, so obviously, to take over another bedroom of the house. She hadn't been embarrassed when she had been mooning after Ashley. In full view of his wife and the rest of the Atlanta Old Guard. He shook his head and lit his cigar, in an effort to calm down. She could be a frustrating bitch at times. And an irrational one.

She emerged again, clutching a nightgown and wrapper but still fully dressed. Her green eyes were wide, alive with passion – but none of it was directed at him. Her jaw was set hard and square, ruining her beauty. "I hate the way every one scrutinises my life. My businesses. My marriages. Even my children! It's none of their concern. I don't care what everyone else does in their lives. Why are people so interested in mine?" she said. She kicked off her satin slippers, one flying up and landing near his feet.

"Why? Because their own lives are dull and they have nothing else to talk about," he said.

She scowled and turned her back on him. In the old days, nay, less than a fortnight ago, he would have walked out, leaving her with some quip to seethe over. But that was before the birthday party. The nights after. Tara. His feet wouldn't move. She had bewitched him again.

She walked over to the mantelpiece and poured a glass of water. She drank it, avoiding meeting his penetrating gaze and then she reached behind her back and started to unbutton the back of her gown. He noticed her fingers trembling as they meticulously loosened the dress. He wanted to help her, to touch her, but her mood was bitter. He didn't want her to lash out at him and so he positioned himself on the bed, still watching her. Looking for the signal that she wouldn't rebuff him if he tried to seduce her.

"They do have other things to talk about," she finally said. "What about…what about India! What about gossiping about her failure to catch a husband and leeching off her brother for all of these years? Or better still, what about Archie? He murdered someone! Murdered someone!"

A wry smile formed on his lips. Her memory was obviously failing her but he didn't think now was the time to call her out on her own murderous tendencies. "That's boring in comparison. It's so binary. Adultery is far more interesting as there are always several sides to the story. Besides, which, you must be the only person they know who has been married three times. And once, with your husband barely in his grave."

She pivoted round and looked at him. Her eyes flashed with annoyance but her jaw had softened. "That wasn't my fault," she said.

"No?"

She shook her head. "I would have been quite happy to wait a while. Or never get married again. Yes, that's right. I didn't even want to get married again. It was you that wanted to get married quickly. In fact, I do believe you would have married me the day of Frank's funeral if you could have."

He smiled at the truth in her words. "Well, yes. You're probably right," he conceded.

"Exactly! If only I hadn't got married again! I could have led a quiet, discrete life."

He ignored the slight. He knew she didn't really mean it.

"And a tedious life," he said.

"There's nothing wrong with a tedious life," she snapped back.

"And a poorer life."

"I didn't marry you for your money! I don't care about your money."

He raised his eyebrows. She was lying.

"And no Bonnie," he said.

"No Bonnie?" She paused then. He had arrested her thoughts. The fire in her eyes sparked again and then dissipated.

"Although, I don't suppose we had to be married to have Bonnie," he teased, in an effort to bring some levity to the argument, failing to stop a smile crease his lips.

"Rhett!" she admonished, quickly turning away from him, but not before he saw her blush. He looked in the large mirror that hung on one wall and saw that she was smiling, too. That was the sign he needed. She wasn't going to push him away.

He stood up, bridged the couple of feet between them and pulled her to him. She didn't resist. She was his pliant wife again. He kissed her on her nose and then spun her round.

"Now, darling. Let's get you out of this gown so we can go to bed."

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Over the next few days, he moved the rest of his possessions slowly back into her bedroom but, mindful of his wife's sensibilities, he did so out of view of the servants and out of her view, too. Otherwise, he went about his daily business like he always had, except he made two changes. He didn't once grace the threshold of Belle's establishment and he was always back at the house by no later than four o'clock. But whilst he went out every day, he noticed Scarlett significantly curtailed her excursions and, if she did leave the house, she did so occasionally, first thing in the morning, and only went to the store. Apart from Melanie visiting two days after their return, as far as he knew, she entertained no callers. It was as though Scarlett was under siege again but this time the enemy was Atlanta's citizens themselves.

Exactly one week after they had left Tara, he took the children out to the park. Scarlett had failed to be persuaded to join them, alleging that she felt nauseous and tired. He had intended to take the children to Aunt Pittypat's after the park, but Ella had dropped her ice-cream down her dress and screamed that she wanted clean clothes until he capitulated and took the family home. When they arrived back, the elder children scampered upstairs but Bonnie stayed with him. The house was gloomily quiet and he would have thought that Scarlett was in their bedroom but for Mammy correcting him. "Miss Melly is 'ere. She an' Miss Scarlett, dey in de parlour."

He handed a reluctant Bonnie over to Mammy and asked her to be changed into her riding habit so that they could take her pony out later, and then he walked towards the parlour.

His hand was poised to knock and pull the handle down, but something made him stop outside the room. He glanced over his shoulder – he despised eavesdropping and didn't want to be caught being a hypocrite – and then he put his ear to the door.

"I've gotten mighty tired of hearing people criticise you, darling," he heard Miss Melly say. "And this is the last straw and I'm going to do something about it. All this has happened because people are jealous of you, because you are so smart and successful. You've succeeded where lots of men, even, have failed. Now, don't be vexed with me, dear, for saying that. I don't mean you've ever been unwomanly or unsexed yourself, as lots of folks have said. Because you haven't. People just don't understand you and people can't bear for women to be smart. But your smartness and your success don't give people the right to say that you and Ashley – Stars above!"

He stepped back, as he digested her words and her tone. He had been fairly confident that Miss Melly had chosen to disregard Archie and India's accusations against Scarlett but now there was no doubt. What a sweet, misguided fool she was!

He pressed his ear to the door again. "I know you mean well, Melly. But really, I would just prefer to stay here until it all blows over. I don't want to visit anyone."

"Darling! Where is your fighting spirit? Where is my sister that faced Sherman? We need to put a stop to all these…all these… filthy lies once and for all. How dare people say these things! How dare they! I have packed Archie off with a large flea in his ear, I can tell you, and he has left town. And as for India! The vile thing! I have told her never to put foot in my house again and that if I heard her breathe so vile an insinuation I would – I would call her a liar in public!"

"Oh Melly," Scarlett said. She sounded miserable, Rhett thought, no doubt, because she knew her sister-in-law's loyalties were misplaced. He knew – and Scarlett knew, too - that she was all of those things that people whispered about her, even if Miss Melly was blind.

"I've made up my mind, my dear. I should have said something a long time ago."

"But you can't turn out Ashley's sister!"

"I can! And I have! You're my sister, too, and the best sister a woman could ever wish for!"

Immediately, he heard Scarlett burst into tears, real tears.

"There, there, my darling. You're not going to have to do this on your own." The comforting words only triggered further, powerful sobbing. He heard Miss Melly speak again, but Scarlett's wailing hid what she said.

He smiled, malevolently. Good. His wife was suffering. He wanted her to feel guilty, to feel pain. Only then might she come to realise how he had suffered over the years. He knew he loved her, knew he couldn't help loving her but he wouldn't have been human if there wasn't hate buried amongst his emotions, too. She had got away with her adulterous thoughts and actions far too lightly and for far too long. If she was going to avoid becoming an outcast she needed some penance. And maybe the shame she felt might finally release her from her infatuation with Wilkes. That, and sharing his bed again.

He smirked again and licked his lips. Then, he tiptoed quietly away, back upstairs to the nursery.

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Rhett noticed that Melanie was as good as her word. Every evening, he gently pried Scarlett as to what she had done during the day and every evening she relayed him with details of some outing she had accompanied Melanie on. He heard, too, from his well-placed sources that Melanie often accompanied Scarlett to the store in the mornings as well and that Melanie had cut Mrs Elsing dead when she had made a snide remark towards Scarlett that she hadn't agreed with.

Gradually, Scarlett began to emerge from her malaise and even accompanied the family to Joe Picard's third birthday party, albeit shielded by him and Miss Melly. Over a month had passed since the night of Ashley's birthday party, and although the whisperings and gossip hadn't completely died down, the scandal no longer appeared to be at the forefront of people's minds. Rhett was reasonably confident that in a few months, what had been presented as fact, would be eroded into mere speculation and rumour. And that would suffice.

One afternoon, he came home earlier than he normally did. His mind had been preoccupied on Scarlett since he had sat down at the bank at nine o'clock and, after failing to take any interest in the meetings he had lined up for the day, he had decided to cancel the last one and, instead, attempt to coax her out to the theatre that evening. There was a production of The Taming of the Shrew that he thought she might enjoy and it had opened to rave reviews.

He pulled up to the house on Peachtree, dismounted and handed the reins of his horse to Pork. He heard some voices that he recognised and, on looking up to the porch, he saw Doctor Meade being shown out of the house by Mammy.

"Good afternoon, Doctor Meade," he said as they passed each other on the paved path. "Has Bonnie been under the weather?"

"Good afternoon, Rhett." He paused ever so slightly longer than might be natural, as though he was gathering his thoughts. "I didn't come to see Bonnie. Scarlett called for me."

"Scarlett?"

He frowned. What was wrong with her? Admittedly, she hadn't been sleeping well and had seemed lethargic over the previous two weeks but she hadn't mentioned that anything was ailing her.

"Indeed. I suggest you go up and see her right now. Although she might be asleep."

"What's wrong with her? She didn't mention to me that she was unwell."

"She's not unwell. She's just quite tired at the moment. But that will pass. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have to go. Good day."

Rhett stood stock still as he digested the old doctor's words, only jolted by the slamming of the iron gate at the bottom of the path. He started walking towards the house and pushed open the door that Mammy had left ajar. The house was quiet, peaceful and sun streamed through the stain glass windows that bordered the large, oak door.

He started up the staircase, contemplating Doctor Meade's words. One of the servant girls – Josie - ran from the shadows of the old grandfather clock, down the corridor and into the nursery. But he heard no sound from the nursery and concluded that Scarlett must have sent the children out so that she could rest.

He thought he heard the heavy tread of Mammy walk across Scarlett's bedroom and then the door opened. She closed the door, muttering to herself and waited for him.

"Is Scarlett asleep?" he asked as he reached the landing.

"Not quite, Mista Rhett. But she need to. Ay jus' bringin' her some food. She doan eat any dinner."

He watched her waddle past him, retreading the steps he had just taken and then he knocked gently and pushed the door open.

Scarlett wasn't in bed as he had been expecting but was standing by the French doors. She was wearing the same burgundy wrapper she had worn on the night of the birthday party and was looking out onto the garden. The doors were wide open and there was a welcome breeze that rippled through the room. He heard childish laughter and then Miss Melly pretending to be General Lee.

Scarlett turned ever so slightly and smiled at him. It was the first time she had welcomed him with a smile since they had returned from Tara. Her face was soft, glowing even, her eyes sparkling with mirth.

"You're back early today," she said.

He walked over to her, slowly. For some reason, his hands had gone clammy and he rubbed them over his trouser legs.

"Is that a problem?" he replied softly.

"No…" she said slowly. She dimpled again. She was definitely pleased to see him. "I…I just wasn't expecting you. Not for another hour or so."

He placed his arms gently round her waist and nuzzled her neck, breathing in the lemon verbena that she must have spritzed on her décolletage. She swayed slightly and then he felt her relax into him.

"You didn't sleep very well last night," he whispered into her ear.

She sighed, contented, mirroring his own emotion. He hadn't had this kind of intimacy with her for ever so long and he was revelling in it. This was what marriage was about, what he had always known it could be about.

"No. I just felt a bit peculiar," she said. A silence fell between them, before she broke it. "And a bit nauseous."

"Nauseous?" he echoed, gently.

She nodded, slowly.

"Was that why you called for Doctor Meade?"

"Yes. I've felt tired, too. I thought maybe it was because of all the visiting that Melly has been forcing me to do. But apparently it isn't."

He saw the corners of her lips turn up into a slight smile. And then he suddenly knew. She wasn't unwell. She was pregnant. She was going to have a baby. His baby.

He held her tighter and rested his head on her shoulders. His heart was racing. This was unexpected. Completely unexpected – although, if he thought about it, he shouldn't have been entirely surprised. He hadn't been careful, hadn't even thought about being careful and now this was the result.

He found his voice again. "What do you think it is, then?" He tried to sound casual, but even he could hear the nervous inflections in his voice.

"Well…" She allowed her voice to drift off. He turned her round so that he could see her. Despite all the sleeplessness of the last few nights, she was radiant. He pushed down the ugly memories of her announcement about her last pregnancy and swallowed a couple of times, trying to keep calm and collected. He studied her face for a sign that she was going to make the same veiled threats she had made when she had found out she was carrying Bonnie and couldn't see one.

She did want this baby, didn't she? Wouldn't she be contorted with rage if she didn't? She had never been able to keep her emotions in check. Especially about pregnancy and babies.

"Well, what honey?" he whispered. God, he needed to know! He needed to know that she wanted another baby. His baby. He felt as though he was standing on the edge of a precipice – if she said the wrong words, the new building blocks of their marriage would be shattered, razed to the ground.

She didn't speak but closed her eyes and reached for his hand. He squeezed her hand, willing her to say words he wanted to hear, not words he didn't want to hear.

He heard her inhale and then breathe out. Finally, she spoke.

"Well, it seems that…we're having a baby."

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Next chapter could be the last. And Belle will make a final appearance.