Thank you for all your reviews – especially Alison, Guardian Spirit and Julia. Thank you also to Aditi who gave me a gentle nudge to get the next chapter posted (my husband has been complaining that I have been neglecting him a bit too much in favour of fanfic hence the slight delay in getting this posted). So the nomad returns in this chapter (Julia – hope that makes you happy!) and this is the first of three chapters that brings down the curtain to Act II (only one more Act to go after this). I never expected this story to get so long (too long?).

The next chapter is almost written so it won't take me quite so long to update. I have to say that I struggle sometimes with trying to broaden my vocabulary – Dixie Cross has probably the best vocabulary on this site. I am in awe! Forgive me therefore for repeating descriptions (how many words really can you substitute for "large"?) and perhaps over use of the word "just" and "even".

Chapter 21

Although she would never have admitted it, Rhett's pending arrival had left Scarlett enervated although to the outside world she maintained a collected countenance. She conducted her business in a sloth like daze, and barely registered what any of Hugh, Emma or Mary said when she was at the store nor what the children told her at the end of the day when they sat down to eat. She was preoccupied, lost in her own thoughts, and found herself foregoing her recent routine of spending the afternoons with Ella and instead choosing solitude in her bedroom where she could pour over the books of both the store and the mills.

For the first time since her re-emergence as a vaguely respected member of Atlanta society, she even declined an invitation from the Old Guard – admittedly only for afternoon tea with Maybelle and Fanny – and then, at the last minute, on Wednesday, feigned illness to escape her sewing circle duties – just in case her husband was in Atlanta earlier than expected . When she thought about Rhett, she felt bubbles of anticipation rise in her stomach and even caught herself biting her fingernails. But even more embarrassingly, she found herself checking her reflection at every available mirror that graced the house and the store whenever she passed them, even though she really shouldn't have cared what she looked like for her husband.

She was scared of him – scared that he would hurt her by further rejection and she knew that if he even breathed word of another woman, it would likely destroy her. She was also scared that she would end up breaking her resolve to see him and that somehow, possibly, maybe, she would not be able to resist the urge to touch him, kiss him and God forbid, if she had had too much to drink, invite him into her bed. She knew she still loved him but there was no way on earth, she kept on telling herself, that she would repeat her October or April declarations or let that love manifest itself. She had to keep her distance to retain her sanity – and avoiding him was her best defence. Oh dear God, why did he have this unnerving habit of reappearing every time she had just got her life back in order, threatening to turn it all upside down again? His timing was always irritatingly impeccable. Was it only death – either hers or his – that would release her from such a threat?

For a couple of days she kept the contents of Rhett's letter to herself but on the Tuesday evening, when Wade was asking Scarlett if he could go swimming in the nearby creek on the upcoming Sunday with Beau, Raoul Picard and Tommy Whiting, she told him that it wouldn't be possible because he would be in Charleston.

"Charleston?" asked Wade, looking inquisitively at Scarlett. As far as he could remember, he had never been further than the Georgian countryside where his mother's childhood home was and where his cousins lived. He had vague recollections of Scarlett telling him he had been to Savannah and Charleston when he was a baby but he had no memory of any actual visits.

"Yes, Charleston," replied Scarlett, matter-of-factly, twisting her fork amongst her food but not picking any up.

"Who's in Charleston?" He was utterly confused. The only person he knew who had been to Charleston was his little sister Bonnie and his stepfather.

"Your great Aunts for one. You remember Aunt Eulalie, who came at Christmas, and Aunt Pauline, don't you?" She paused, watching the recognition of the names register on his soft face. "And, well also your Uncle Rhett and his mother. He wants you – and you Ella…" She turned her gaze to her fidgeting daughter, "He wants you both to go and stay with him in Charleston for a couple of weeks." Scarlett had Ella's attention now that the revered name of her stepfather had been mentioned and her eyes began to dart around, excitedly.

"Hooray!" she exclaimed shrilly, clapping her hands, her little body reverberating with unadulterated glee. "When Mother? When? Tomorrow?" She got off her chair and made for the door and then twirled around shouting, "Uncle Rhett's coming! Uncle Rhett's coming!" and clapped her hands together again.

"Ella!" said Scarlett, sternly, "Please come and sit down and finish your dinner. I haven't said you can leave the table yet." Reluctantly, Ella obeyed and retook her place at the dining table.

"But Mother, when?" she persisted, before she shovelled some chicken into her thin lipped mouth.

"Friday." Scarlett took a sip from her glass of lime cordial. "He's coming on Friday at eleven o'clock and will then take you both back to Charleston. Minnie is going to go with you. Do you remember Mrs Butler? You met her…she came to stay here for a week, when Bonnie…after Bonnie had her accident." Had her children met her? She couldn't quite remember. Everything had always remained blurred from that dreadful time. She had been told that the children had stayed with Melanie and Ashley in the days after the accident but she couldn't remember that fact herself. Perhaps they hadn't met her, after all.

"I think so," said Wade, nodding his head slowly. "She was a very handsome lady. And kind. She gave me some candy and she bought me some books."

"Well, you're going to stay with her and your Uncle Rhett for a couple of weeks. If you want to, that is. And you can also see your Aunt Eulalie and Aunt Pauline when you are there."

"Are you coming, Mother?" Wade asked quietly, his large innocent eyes begging a thousand answers to a multitude of questions that remained unasked.

Scarlett didn't look at him but stared down at her plate of uneaten food. "No, darling. I can't go. I've got the store to run and things to do in Atlanta. I can't up and leave on a whim."

A silence fell as Wade digested the falsehoods his mother told him. Then, he said, "But Mother, you could ask Mr Elsing, and Miss Emma to look after the store. Couldn't you?"

"Hmmm?" Scarlett murmured vaguely.

"Mr Elsing and Miss Emma can look after the store. I heard you say to Uncle Ashley on Sunday that Mr Elsing is doing a real, fine job with Kennedy's now and that Miss Emma was a Godsend."

"Did I say that? I don't remember," Scarlett lied. "Anyway, I can't go. Not really, Wade." She didn't dare meet the searching eyes of her son. It was always so much easier to stretch the truth, she had learned, if you didn't look at anyone.

"Mother?" Wade asked.

"Hmmm?" Scarlett picked up her gaze and turned to her daughter. "Ella, I want you to finish the food on your plate. Then you can get down."

"Mother?" Wade repeated, not quite allowing Scarlett to escape from his questioning.

"Sorry, Wade. What is it?" beginning to lose patience with the plethora of questions. Usually, it was Ella who wouldn't stop interrogating her.

"Is…well, I was wondering…is Uncle Rhett going to live with us again?"

"Alright Ella!" chastised Scarlett, thankful Ella was providing her with a means of escape. "If you're going to play with the food on your plate, rather than eat it, you can go to your room. Now. Go on. Go and get ready for bed. I'll get Minnie to come up in five minutes." Ella's eyes smarted with tears at Scarlett's raised voice and she jumped down from the table and left the room before any fell, leaving her mother alone with her brother.

"Mother?" Wade continued.

Scarlett then turned to her son, hesitant. She had no real idea what he understood about her marital situation and they hadn't discussed it since that one conversation back in April when he had asked her about divorce. "Wade, darling. You know, even if people love each other, sometimes they need to spend some time apart. I'm not sure whether Uncle Rhett will ever come and live here again with us but he loves you and Ella and that is important. But, you don't have to go to Charleston if you don't want to. I just thought it might be fun to spend time in another place."

"Oh, I want to go!" exclaimed Wade. "And I want to see Uncle Rhett." He paused and Scarlett could almost see the cogs turn in his head. "But… I want you to come too, Mother." He looked into his mother's emerald eyes, trying, and failing, to read her. "I'll miss you."

"Oh darling," scoffed Scarlett, emitting a sarcastic sigh. "You'll have so much fun that I suspect you won't think about me at all."

"Yes I will," he said solemnly. "I know I will." Another silence fell. They continued eating and Scarlett could tell by the slight frown on his face that her son was in deep contemplation. After he had finished his food and put his cutlery down, he looked at his mother again. "Mother, does…well, I know that you love Uncle Rhett because you told me so but…he does love you too? Doesn't he?"

Scarlett took in a sharp breath. She hadn't quite expected such a direct question from her son, even though they had been dancing round the exact status of her relationship with his stepfather for over eight months, probably longer. She knew he had not been immune to the acidic friction that had dominated her relationship with Rhett after Bonnie had died. She turned to him and thinking of the various different types of love that existed between people, said, attempting to be truthful and not misleading, "I think he loves me in his own way. But he doesn't love me like he used to." And as she said those words, reminding herself that her husband's love was spent, she felt a familiar sense of anger rise within her – anger that she had been left to try and explain their relationship to the children, anger that she had been left to face the whispers and gossip, and above all anger that he had dared to fall out of love with her and not even give her a chance at happiness, a life together. "You know, Wade, you'll have two weeks with him. He'll be able to give you a better explanation than I can. You should ask him."

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

It was Thursday and Scarlett had spent the morning and half the afternoon at the store. It had turned into one of the hottest days of the year and by half past two, she felt sticky, uncomfortable and suffocated by the humidity. And she also felt bilious, as though she was drowning under a sea of nerves.

"I'm going to head home now, Hugh," she said as she passed him serving a customer. "I'll be in tomorrow. Would you mind coming in a bit earlier please to help me deal with the Johnson delivery? It's due in shortly after seven o'clock." Two months ago, Hugh would have resented such a request but now he was eager to assist her. Jeanie had left Scarlett's employment only a week before but his youngest was sleeping through the night and equilibrium had been restored to his household and his marriage. And he knew it was all down to his boss's generosity.

"Yes, Miss Scarlett," he said as he mopped the perspiration from his brow. "I'll come in at seven."

Pork was waiting for Scarlett as she exited the store, and as she got into the carriage she took out her fan from her reticule. She felt a headache coming on and closed her eyes, thinking that she would bathe when she got home. Only one more day and then she could relax and not be constantly looking over her shoulder. She knew that Rhett was almost certainly in Atlanta by now but so far, she had managed to avoid seeing him and, even more importantly, he had avoided being seen. She felt sure the old battle axes would have been queuing up to tell her if they had seen him and so far his name hadn't crossed anyone's lips.

"Pork," she called out from the open window of the carriage which was allowing a welcome breeze to ruffle the still air. "Please go down Marietta Street and then onto Peachtree rather than down West Market Street."

"Yes'm," Pork replied and she felt the jerk of the reins as he changed direction. She leaned back into the cushions again. Even though it was not the most direct route, she would avoid passing the National - and she wanted to stay as far away as possible from that place. Just in case.

As she swayed from side to side with the movement of the carriage, Scarlett started thinking about tomorrow. Minnie had been packing the children's clothes for the last couple of days and was over the moon to be going to Charleston. Minnie's sister was working for a family there and Scarlett had promised her she would have enough spare time to visit her. Mammy, however, seemed dejected and withdrawn and went about her duties silently and Scarlett sensed that it was because the task of accompanying the children to Charleston had been allocated to Minnie. But Mammy was getting old and besides, Scarlett wanted to keep Mammy close to hand - it would be a long and lonely two weeks and her feelings of exclusion and isolation would only be exacerbated if Mammy also disappeared.

Pork turned onto Peachtree Street and Scarlett cursorily looked out of the window. She saw René pass her in his cart, no doubt making deliveries for the bakery, and she waved at him but he didn't see her. Then, she stretched languidly, yawned and bent down to loosen her shoes that had begun to rub her hot and tired feet. She sighed. She was only a couple of hundred yards from home and with home came the relative security of her wrought iron gates and surrounding walls. She could be tucked away - away from prying eyes and unwelcome visitors. Only twenty four more hours in her self-made prison and then she would be free.

She heard Ella before she saw him. Her daughter's unmistakeable, excited, joyous squeals and overzealous babbling could only mean he was back in town. She surreptitiously peered out of the window, obscuring her face from full view and when her eyes rested on his figure she swallowed hard and quickly leaned back into the carriage. There was no doubt. Rhett was in Atlanta and he was not just in Atlanta but he was on Peachtree Street. And somehow, he had managed to locate her daughter and was walking towards her house – with Ella's hand clasped firmly in his and Ella's governess trailing behind.

Scarlett's practiced cool demeanour from the last few days vanished and in one of those rare moments in her life she felt waves of panic crash over her. Her eyes narrowed and her forehead wrinkled, incredulous at the audacity of her husband. Why couldn't he have gone about his business quietly and without fanfare rather than walk down one of the main Atlanta thoroughfares in broad daylight for everyone to see, including Mrs Meade and Mrs Merriwether whom Scarlett had spied on the other side of the road? Rhett Butler never did anything quietly, she thought. Was this latest foray his attempt at humiliating her completely, just when everyone had seemingly accepted his absence from the marital home? As she passed the stepfather and stepdaughter, she tried to sink even further into the cushions, wishing that she could disappear. She heard Pork's cheerful greeting as they trotted past the pair, "Hello Mist' Rhett, Miss Ella," and then they left them behind in the dust kicked up by the horse and the large gilded wheels of the carriage.

As soon as Pork stopped, Scarlett hurried into the house casting a quick glance in the direction they had just come from. She could see the discordant pair in the distance, Rhett dwarfing Ella in height and girth. They were getting closer and she calculated that she had less than ten minutes before they would be knocking on her front door.

She didn't have time to go upstairs to change out of her plain fawn day dress or re-pin her hair into a less severe style and instead, she took a quick glance into the vast mirror that dominated the crimson hallway and scrutinised her reflection, despondent at what she saw. She looked tired and overly pale, sallow even and she had the beginnings of dark circles under eyes because she had slept so badly for the last five days. She pinched her cheeks, hard, and then pinched them again. She didn't want him to make any snide comments or question her as to whether she had been missing him. If only she could dab a small amount of rouge on her cheeks, she thought. But he would know and his conceit would automatically assume it had been done for his benefit and she didn't want to give him that satisfaction. Besides, she rationalised, her pot of rouge was on her vanity, a good number of stairs away – she didn't have time. Instead, she brushed her hair with her fingers, dragging some curls down and then inadvertently pricked herself whilst rearranging some pins. She then went into the parlour and waited.

She picked up a newspaper to try and distract herself but her hands shook and so she put it down. She then started plucking a couple of dead buds from the vases of flowers that were scattered around the room. Anything to make her look busy, she thought. Anything to make it look as though she wasn't waiting for him, for them. She looked at the clock, methodically ticking in the corner. It was almost three o'clock and she had been in the house six minutes. Even with Ella's little legs slowing down the pace, she knew that they would be here any moment. She ran through what she would say to him silently and then she whispered the imagined conversation out loud, trying to get her words just right. It should take less than five minutes to dismiss him, provided she could get Ella out of his clutches.

The doorbell rang. She could see from her position in the parlour that it was them. "Mammy, don't worry. It's only Ella and Miss Brickston," she called out, deliberately omitting the name of their companion. She wanted to deal with him on her own and without any servants overhearing the content of their conversation, even dear old Mammy.

"Mother!" exclaimed Ella, as Scarlett opened the door. "Uncle Rhett's here already!" Ella's eyes were wide with glee as she stood holding his large, tanned hand in her small, pale one. She was almost dancing on the front step, so happy did Ella seem to be standing with her stepfather.

"So I can see," Scarlett replied, trying not to look at him.

"We met him in the park!"

"Hello Scarlett," he said as he made a move to kiss her on her cheek. She stepped back, opening up an awkward gap between them. She didn't want any contact with him. She had to remain distant – emotionally and physically.

"Hello Rhett," she said politely before turning to Ella's governess who, Scarlett had no doubt, would spread the story of the absent husband returning around Atlanta before the sun had set - if Mrs Meade and Mrs Merriwether had not already done so. "Miss Brickston, you can finish early today as it is the last day before the holidays."

"Thank you, Mrs Butler," she said in her haughty, condescending tone. Scarlett turned to watch the middle-aged spinster enter the house to collect her belongings before she exited quickly.

"Aren't you going to invite me in?" Rhett asked, once the governess had closed the front gate.

Scarlett didn't answer. Instead, she turned to her daughter. "Ella darling. Please can you go and ask Dilcey what we are having for dinner and perhaps see if you can help her bake a cake or some cookies." Ella, oblivious to the iciness that was suddenly hanging between her mother and stepfather, ran indoors and towards the kitchen. Scarlett stiffened and continued holding the front door, blocking her husband's entrance.

"I don't appreciate you coming here, Rhett," she said when she heard the door to the kitchen slam shut. "You can come back tomorrow at eleven o'clock. As you said you would." Rhett's eyes went up in their familiar sardonic crescents.

"You're looking rather well, Scarlett," Liar, thought Scarlett, knowing that she looked wan and drawn. But she could pretend otherwise, if he was going to play games.

"It's amazing what losing a husband does to you," replied Scarlett coolly.

"Indeed. And what losing a wife does to you too."

"You didn't lose me, Rhett. You left me," she said. Then, annoyed that she had allowed her bitterness to reveal itself, she said, "The children will be ready tomorrow. Now, if you'll please excuse me…" She went to shut the door but Rhett stepped forward, his broad, muscular body making it impossible for her to close the door any further. His eyes flashed with amusement. She relaxed her grip on the door and casually took a step back. He was much stronger than she was and she didn't have the energy to fight a battle she knew she would lose.

"So, what have you been up to?" he asked, leaning on the doorframe and placing one hand, nonchalantly, in his waistcoat pocket. Why was he prolonging this conversation? Why couldn't he just leave? She didn't want to be standing on her doorstep talking to this man, for all of the Atlanta busybodies to see.

"Not much. Just planning my future," she said icily.

"A future without using my money, I've noticed. You haven't touched it, have you?"

"No. I haven't."

"I never would have thought I would see the day that Scarlett O'Hara would turn down lucre just to prove a point. A pretty futile point too."

"What point do you think I am trying to make, Rhett?"

"That you don't need me, of course. As you told me."

"The store is doing rather well at the moment thank you and you're right. I don't need you or your charity. And I am certainly not going to be bought by you."

"No – I guess I lost my chance at buying you a long time ago." Scarlett's face registered a vague look of confusion. Was he referring to their meeting in the jail or his attempts at buying her love throughout their courtship and marriage? He spoke softly, as he looked calmly and almost kindly at her, "Scarlett, it's not charity and I certainly don't want you to think you are beholden to me if you use the money. I want you to have it. I think I owed you…"

"You don't owe me anything anymore Rhett," she snapped. Then, more quietly she added, "And neither do you own me."

"Actually, in law I do. A wife belongs to her husband. But, it's a moot point. As you and I have both broken the law and don't really live by the rules of society, I won't claim a stake on you. Your…erm…next husband might not be so accommodating." She looked at him and wanted to hit him, to wipe the smarmy grin off his face.

"I'm never getting married again, Rhett."

"I have a sense of deja-vu coming on."

"What?"

"I've heard that protestation before Mrs Butler."

"I intend to stick to it this time."

"Yes. I suppose I might just have managed to put the final nail in Scarlett O'Hara's marital coffin."

"Well then, until tomorrow," she said. He didn't take her hint though and continued to stand propping himself up against the door. Please, she thought, this is all too painful. If I don't see you, it doesn't hurt so much. I can get on with my life, try and forget you, try and live without you, try and live without thinking what might have been. Once again, she attempted, in vain, to close the door.

"How have you been, Scarlett?"

"How have I been? What sort of a question is that? Really Rhett, is this the Spanish inquisition?"

"No, it's a ….friend who wants to make sure you are alright. I have a vested interest…."

"What interest? I don't think anything that is going on in my life should concern you or be of interest to you. Unless I agreed to a divorce or died. Those should be the only things of interest to you. And I don't intend to do either. Well, not for a good many years anyway. Is that why you've really come back? To try and talk me into a divorce? If you have, you're wasting your time. You know I won't give you one."

"So you've said. Repeatedly. I had forgotten how stubborn you are. If I really felt the need for a divorce, I know how I could get one. Whether or not you consented." He smiled broadly, flashing his brilliant white teeth and then he raised his eyebrows, in his familiar, irking way. "Anyway, Mrs Butler. Are we going to continue conducting this illuminating conversation on the porch or are you going to invite me in? This is still my house. At least technically. So I think I have a right to spend a few minutes in it."

Scarlett shook her head in exasperation but realising her attempts to exclude him were not winning, she opened the door, fully, and allowed him to pass her.

"Five minutes. You have five minutes in here and then you must leave. That should be plenty of time to discuss the children and their vacation with you," she said.

He brushed past her, put his hat on the intricately carved, ebony stand that furnished the hallway and made his way to the parlour. He stood on its threshold momentarily, as his eyes took in the vast change to the room since he had last blessed it with his presence. "She wasn't joking," he said under his breath and Scarlett, her senses alert, heard him.

"Who's she?"

"Never mind," he said quickly, realising his error and he entered the newly decorated room. He sauntered over to the windows and felt the fabric of the drapes between his fingers and then he walked over to the fireplace and ran his hand along the mantelpiece that had been stripped of its gaudy surround and replaced with clean, white marble. Then he pulled up a chair and sat down. "I'm impressed," he said finally and Scarlett, who hadn't realised she had been holding her breath, exhaled deeply.

"You…you like it?" she asked, her own guard temporarily down. He had only ever praised her beauty and her business acumen, nothing personal where she had had to exercise choice and taste.

"Yes, I do," and there was nothing on his face to suggest he was telling her anything other than the truth.

"Thank you."

"It's…elegant…Scarlett," he said and then his eyes took on their familiar mocking look. "Who helped you?"

She wanted to lie, claim the refurbishment all for herself, but instead she answered honestly. "I led the redecoration. I mean, I had a general view of what I wanted. But Maybelle shared some of her ideas with me. And René's cousin too. Jack actually recommended some workmen." As soon as she had spoken, she wondered if her honesty had forced her to reveal too much. Something flickered in her husband's coal black eyes that she had not seen since the long ago days of her infatuation with Ashley. Surely…no…absolutely not. She must have misread him, she thought. Rhett couldn't be jealous. Not when he had so manifestly discarded her because he didn't love her any more.

He sat looking at her and she felt herself getting hotter under his gaze. Awkwardly, trying to break the ice that was beginning to form around them, she said, "Mammy said that at least one room in the house doesn't resemble a bordello. Although I am not sure how Mammy would know what a bordello would look like!" Scarlett emitted a nervous giggle as Rhett smirked.

"Very true," and he smiled at her. "The only thing I would say is that it looks slightly incongruous in this house when it is juxtaposed against the rest of the whorish décor."

"I'll get round to the rest of the house when I have some time," she said. "Or maybe…well, I have thought about moving but I didn't want to unnecessarily unsettle the children. The gossip…about us…seems to be a lot less from when you left in October and I think if I moved, people would… it might stir everything up again. Anyway, Uncle Henry recommended I stay here for Wade and Ella's sake. For the time being."

"Seems sensible," he said and he looked at her again. She felt his gaze rest on her face and then linger on her bosom and she returned his stare, properly taking in the fresh sight of her husband. He had lost even more weight from when she had seen him in October and he was as lean in her mind as that day she had first laid eyes on him in Clayton County. He looked almost…perfect…except there was something missing in his eyes, his twinkle, his – what would he have called it? His joie de vivre?

"So, about tomorrow," Scarlett said, trying to steer the conversation back to a neutral topic. "They are both excited about going to Charleston and I have asked Minnie to…"

"God, Scarlett. I don't need Minnie. Mother has some servants…"

"I want her to go, Rhett. It will be strange for the children – being out of Atlanta, away from me and it's hardly as if you have been much of a presence in their lives for the last year or so." Since Bonnie died, she almost added but managed to refrain herself. "I want Minnie to go in case…well… I am sure that there are going to be times when you have other things to do and need to be on your own."

"My mother will be there Scarlett but as you wish. It really isn't necessary though."

"I do wish and I beg to differ about the necessity of it." She moved gracefully across the wooden floor towards a chair that gave her a view of the front garden and sat down. "I don't want you overly spoiling them Rhett, so that they come back thinking money grows on trees. And I don't want you criticising me or making odd remarks about me, about us…"

"Scarlett, please. Have I ever done that?"

"I don't know, do I? You took my daughter away from me for three months and heaven only knows what you said about me. You've always told me what a bad mother I am so why shouldn't I worry what you will say to Ella and Wade when they are hundreds of miles away from me and I can't defend myself."

"Do you really think so little of me that I would…"

"Yes," she interjected and as she looked at him, she thought he looked hurt. "No. I mean…sorry Rhett, I don't know what to think. But I know in the last few months I have tried really, really hard to develop a better bond with my children and I don't want you with your jeering manner to undo all of my work. Or even some of it."

"Scarlett, I wouldn't poison your own children against you."

"Didn't you do that with Bonnie?"

He didn't say anything but just looked at her, certainly hurt but perhaps also, Scarlett wondered, embarrassed. He then sighed and rubbed his temples between his right hand, stretching his swarthy skin taut. "I never said anything bad about you per se but…" He cleared his throat, as though he was about to make a confession. " I think it's probably fair to say that I didn't do anything to put you in the best light either. But Scarlett, please don't worry. I have plenty of positive stories about you to relay to your children and I will stick to them. I won't touch on us or your failings."

"Thank you," she said simply and momentarily she felt her eyes tingle with tears. She stared out of the window, hard, and the moment passed.

"So, do you want me to bring them back to Atlanta…"

"No," she cut in. Seeing him once, so soon after he had left her, was hard enough. "I think if you put them on the train with Minnie, that should be fine. Please wire me and let me know what time I should expect them and I will have them met at the train station."

"Fine. I can do that."

Scarlett stood up. He had stayed for over five minutes. His time was up. "Anyway, I think that covers it. The children will be packed and ready at eleven o'clock tomorrow. I expect I will be at the store so I won't see you…"

"Is the thought of seeing me so abhorrent that you would miss saying goodbye to your children?"

"I'll say goodbye to them. Just earlier in the morning. Now, if you don't mind…"

"Yes. Of course. I can see you want me out of your presence. And I will grant you that desire, Mrs Butler."

He stood up and bowed mockingly in front of her before he moved towards the exit. She followed him and watched as he picked up his hat from the stand. Then he stood still, looking around the hallway and the rooms leading off it. "I always thought this house was beyond redemption but if you do to the rest of it, what you have done to the parlour, it might just be habitable. Still a monstrosity from the outside but…"

There was a knock at the door and both Scarlett and Rhett turned towards it. From the stained glass window, the shadow could only have been a young man. "It's Wade," Scarlett said as she walked across the carpet to open the door. "He must have finished school early for the holidays."

"Hello Mother," he said before his eyes quickly located his stepfather hovering in the background. "Uncle Rhett!" he exclaimed and, despite his advancing years, he ran towards him and hugged him. Scarlett felt herself go rigid. Why were her children so fond of this man who had broken her heart into a thousand pieces and not merely broken it but stamped on it, too?

"Wade, your Uncle Rhett was just leaving. He'll…"

"Oh but Mother! He can't leave now. Not yet anyway. I want to show him Red Hunter."

"You can show him tomorrow. There isn't…"

"Mother, there won't be time tomorrow. I want to show him now. He's so beautiful," said Wade, turning to his stepfather, "But Mother never lets me ride him. Even when we went to the picnic on Sunday, I had to ride Mr Chips."

"I'm sure your mother had good reason," Rhett replied.

"Mother, can we go riding together? I mean me and Uncle Rhett? Now? You promised on Sunday that you would take me out but I'm not going to be here." Scarlett stayed mute, her eyes flitting between her son and husband. "Uncle Rhett, can we?"

"You'll have to ask your mother," Rhett replied.

"That's a first," murmured Scarlett, taken aback that her husband would defer to her judgment with respect to one of the children.

"Mother?" pleaded Wade.

"Wade, I'd rather…"

"Mother, you are always wanting to spoil things!" he said petulantly.

"Wade, don't talk to your mother like that," Rhett chastised. "She's probably right…you have a long day ahead of you tomorrow…" Wade looked sulkily at his Mother. Where on earth had this attitude come from? she wondered. Her sweet and innocent boy was turning into another creature. But she didn't want to appear as the person who always said "no" to fun, especially not when she knew that Rhett would allow both her children a free reign in Charleston.

"Alright Wade. You can show Uncle Rhett your horse and you can go for a ride, if he has time."

"I've finished all my business for the day so I have time. As long as you don't mind."

Scarlett shook her head. "I don't mind. But Wade, I want you back at half past five because I want you to have a bath and then we'll have dinner at half past six."

Wade's disposition changed again back to the meek and eager to please child that Scarlett had always thought he was. "I'll just go and get changed and I'll be back down in five minutes," Wade said, as he started to run up the flight of stairs. When he got half way, he suddenly stopped and turned round. "Mother," he called out. "Can Uncle Rhett stay for dinner?" Scarlett looked at her son and then her husband before she turned back to her son. He was so obviously delighted to see his stepfather that she knew that answering anything other than yes would only precipitate another sullen episode. This was another battle that was not worth fighting.

"I don't see why not," she replied, trying to sound indifferent and trying to ignore the fluttering in her heart. "Rhett? Do you have dinner plans?"

"Nothing that can't be cancelled. It would be a pleasure to have dinner with the children…and you…"

"Hooray!" exclaimed Wade and then wondering if perhaps he was getting too old to display such evident enthusiasm, he quickly shut his mouth and continued up the staircase.

Let me know what you think. I know that commentators on this site often think Wade would be a good mix of Melly and Scarlett and I agree! I have often thought he would grow up to be the perfect husband – striking the right balance between kindness/softness and drive. An A/B personality!