Disclaimer: Margaret Mitchell owns "Gone With the Wind" and all its characters. I own a handful of OC's and a story idea. Book-verse. Not "Scarlett" compliant.

Financially, the fundraiser was a success. The thespians gleefully counted the monies that were brought in and knew they wouldn't have to host another shindig like this for at least two years. The guests admired each others costumes, the band played all the latest songs, and the food was plentiful and delicious.

Ella, annoyed with Frankie's and Albert's maneuverings, wound up giving her first waltz to Cousin Beau. What Beau thought of this, no one could tell, because he kept his expression carefully aloof. But except for the courtesy dances she gave to her lifelong friends, she divided her dances between her suitors...

The two suitors had their own reactions to Ella's behavior.

Frankie Bonnell, touchy and unused to having to share his attentions with anybody else, strove to prove to Ella that he didn't care if she paid attention to another man. He danced every dance, Ella or no Ella, and when he wasn't guiding her around the floor, he led the other girls out to dance. That night he danced with Jenny and Virgie, Marybeth and Elsie, and not even the plainest little wallflower could say she hadn't had a chance to dance with Frankie Bonnell that night.

Albert Whiting, on the other hand, was not interested in dancing with anybody else. He was not interested in showing up Ella, either. He waited patiently for his turn to dance with her. And when she was dancing with somebody else, he occupied his time in smoking with the other gentlemen present, or matching them drink for drink.

So he was quite inebriated when the blow fell.

Ella had given him a dance, and afterwards she declared that she was quite in need of some fresh air.

She walked out into the garden on his arm, fanning herself and putting on airs and graces quite foreign to her. It must be said that the heat and excitement of the dance, coupled with the tension between Frankie and Albert, had turned her head a bit.

They sat together on one of the stone benches backed by fragrant rosebushes and Ella fanned herself languidly.

"How lovely you look tonight," Albert said gallantly.

Ella giggled her thanks.

Taking her by surprise, he slipped his fingers through her flowing hair. Turning her face to his, he kissed the fillet across her brow, then moved lower to claim her lips.

Ella's heart gave a queer little jump and yet--how odd, that she had wanted this for so long, some sign of how important she was to him. But she had all but forgotten how she'd wanted him to kiss her. And here he was, without any angling at all on her part.

Her pulse sped up, it felt good to be kissed by him. But part of her mind seemed to have detached, analyzing this new sensation. She had grown used to Frankie's kisses--quick and impetuous. But Albert's was different--slower, more leisurely, more...

"Ella!"

She looked up to see Frankie standing there in front of them. He looked furious.

"I came looking for you--in case you've forgotten, you wrote me down for this dance. But you obviously weren't looking to see me."

Stupidly, Ella opened her little dance card to see if he was right. Albert, however, stood up.

"There's no need to make a scene, Frankie," he said smoothly.

"That's easy for you to say, Albert," Frankie retorted. "Of course, you're an old hand at luring unsuspecting girls, aren't you?"

Albert raised a hand in a placating gesture.

Frankie turned to Ella. "He has he told you about his freshman year at University, about his debts...?"

Ella stood up, irritated by the scene Frankie was making. "Of course he has, but..."

Frankie seemed quite beside himself now as he turned to Albert. "Of course, you're an honorable gentleman. You would never tell her all the details--because she's a lady. But I know what you fought about in that gambling house. Or rather, who you fought about."

Ella broke in. "I'm sure you're wrong Frankie. You're upset and I'm sorry."

Frankie laughed and ugly laugh. "You're such a little innocent, Ella. You believe any blackguard who tells you a believable story."

Albert grabbed Frankie's arm. "You know nothing. You can't prove anything."

Frankie wrenched his arm away. "I have friends who go to U of Maryland...I heard the whole story. How you couldn't pay your gambling debts because you were supporting a mistress."

Ella shrank back, horrified.

Albert looked at Frankie, utterly speechless. Then he turned on his heel and walked away, leaving Frankie alone with Ella.

"Do you see what happens when you lead men on?" He flung at her before he too, turned the other way and stormed off, leaving Ella utterly alone.

She sank back onto the park bench, too stunned, too mortified to react. She could understand Albert's story about the gambling debts--young men must sow their wild oats, they said. But this tale of Frankie's was ugly.

She put her head forward and brought her handkerchief to her eyes. That's all it took. In less than ten minutes, Ella Lorena Kennedy went from a girl with two beaux fighting over her to a girl with none at all. She sighed--maybe it was all for the best. She couldn't dangle them both forever. After all, she was no Elsie Wellburn with her charms and tricks. Was she sad? She was too shocked to feel much of anything at all. What was she going to do now? She couldn't collect her scattered thoughts. And she so wanted to think.

But she jumped when she felt a soft hand on her shoulder. Peering over the top of her handkerchief, she saw Jenny Whiting. Of course! Jenny was Albert's cousin. She'd come to yell at Ella, no doubt. Well, Ella would get her say in first. But when she looked more closely, there was no condemnation in Jenny's eyes.

"Have you come to say that you told me so?" Ella mumbled.

"No. I've come to say I'm sorry." And Jenny sat down next to Ella.

"You? What have you to be sorry for? Albert is furious with me. He walked right out of this garden. I should apologize to him--I guess." She had momentarily forgotten Frankie's accusation. "I'm not sure of anything anymore. How did you know where I was?"

"I talked to Albert."

"So is he still here?"

"No. He's gone home."

They sat in silence for a little bit.

"Ella, I want to apologize for the way I acted last winter..."

"Oh Jenny, please don't. I should never have held a grudge. Especially against you--my oldest girlfriend."

"Please let me finish. In fact, I wanted to bury the hatchet right after it happened--the very next day, even. But I guess I was ashamed."

"You--?"

"I was just so jealous..."

"Of me?"

"Of course of you. You had two beaux and I had none. I was lonely and jealous. There. That's the bald, awful truth."

"Jenny, are you joking? With that blond hair and those baby blue eyes? If you don't have a beau right now it's because you haven't found somebody you really care about."

Jenny folded her hands in her lap. There was somebody she really cared about and it was Beau Wilkes. She'd admired him from afar for as long as she could remember. But she had never told anybody, even Ella. And he was so maddeningly aloof! "You're a better friend than I deserve," she said.

Ella slipped her hand into Jenny's. It was like a balm to her spirit that Jenny had made this gesture. And Ella never could bear strife and discord for very long--she loved people and wanted them to love her.

oOoOoOo

Beau Wilkes watched from behind one of the bushes as Jenny Whiting sat next to Ella and the two girls reconciled. Then he swore under his breath and turned to walk away.

He had been achingly aware when Ella left the ballroom with Albert. Then he had been startled to see Albert return a short time later, exchange a few vehement words with Jenny and Joe, then leave abruptly. Not long afterwards Frankie Bonnell left, also.

Beau had gone in search of his cousin—although what he planned to do, even he didn't know. But he was certain Ella would need somebody right then. Somebody who cared. He would come to her rescue. He would…

Then he had to stop short when he saw Jenny beat him to it. Why, under the stars, did she have to choose now to make up with Ella? Tomorrow would have been just as good. But at least she wasn't another man. Beau took whatever comfort he could from that thought…

oOoOoOo

Meanwhile, Marybeth had troubles of her own. After Wade, Beau and the other gentlemen had finished sampling the refreshments they joined the ladies in the hall. Wade sought her out immediately, waltzed her around the floor, and brought her punch. But he seemed distant, like he was holding her at arms' length. Once when they were dancing, she swayed provacatively against him, but he took a nimble step back and away from her.

Marybeth was hurt by this. Was he angry with her? Why should he be?

After suffering through nearly half the dances in this manner, she demanded he take her out for air. And when they were alone by the banister of the veranda, she confronted him.

"Are you angry with me?" Marybeth asked Wade.

"Of course not," he answered, a little confused. He had switched to drinking water after he'd seen her at the ring earlier, but he was still a bit tipsy.

"Then why have you barely talked to me all? And now that we're alone, you've barely touched me?" She was hurt and indignant.

Wade gave a short laugh and kissed her on the top of the head. "Did you think it was because I was angry with you? I could never be angry with you."

"Then why--?"

"You really don't know?" He smiled wryly and took her hands in his, kissing one and then the other. "Oh, Marybeth, I don't think you know just how--well, how tempting you are right at this moment. And...then...there's something I'd like to ask you. Not tonight, not with me in this condition. But I'm going to ask you--before too many more months go by--and I want everything to be decent and right between us..." He slid his hands up her bare arms and murmured in her ear. "It's taking every bit of self-control for me not to..." he sighed. "Never mind. I've said too much. But rest assured, whatever I feel right now towards you, it's not anger."

Marybeth looked at him, all her loving heart showing in her face. This was the first time Wade had mentioned their future together. She was too afraid to speak, afraid the spell would be broken...

"And don't look at me like that, Marybeth--you only make it more difficult. Come on," he offered her his arm and grinned. "Let's go back to the dance. And I promise to talk to you to your heart's content—or until you tell me to shut up."