He'd had no idea. He certainly had realized that food hadn't been abundant at Tara while he was battling it out in the trenches, but he had been sadly ignorant of the truth. Perhaps he should have asked Melanie, for she would have known, but no Melanie would likely have seen that as betrayal to Scarlett. Mammy would have known as well, but she wouldn't dare confide any matters like that in him of all people. Hell, she'd probably confide in Belle Watling before she would confide in him. Well, no he doubted that she would ever lower herself by talking with a person with Belle's reputations, in fact the thought of it was enough to cause him to start to chuckle.
But the truth was that Scarlett had starved. She hadn't told him, hadn't mentioned much about that missing span of time, other than glib assurances that they had done just fine, thank you very much. But now watching as she greedily scraped her plate asking for more food until he was concerned that she would explode, or at very least become violently ill, because he was certain that no body that small could process that much. And yet their was a wildness in her eyes a she hovered over her plate shoveling the food in her mouth like a field hand, barely taking the time to breathe between bites, all done in a very unladylike manner. She had been changed, and not just strengthened as he has previously thought.
Finally he commented on her eating habits, mocking her for her over indulgence. ""You eat as though each meal were your last," said Rhett. "Don't scrape the plate, Scarlett. I'm sure there's more in the kitchen. You have only to ask the waiter. If you don't stop being such a glutton, you'll be as fat as the Cuban ladies and then I shall divorce you."
But she only put out her tongue at him and ordered another pastry, thick with chocolate and stuffed with meringue. He wished that there was a way to undo the damage that had been done, but surely with some time she would grow accustomed to having the food she needed and she would lose that horrible vacant hunted look that he could still glimmering in her eyes.
She did seem to be enjoying the access to alcohol. It was obvious that she had not had much of an opportunity to drink much other than the brandy that Aunt Pitty had kept for medicinal purposes. It didn't take much drinking before she was tipsy and giddy. He loved to see her like this, it was as if she were a child again. She would giggle and sing, and she was much more receptive to his intentions once they were back in their suite at the end of the night. Well, she wasn't exactly receptive, but neither did she resist. She was very languid once plied with enough champagne and sweets. And he very much enjoyed holding her and caressing her and kissing her. And she would occasionally respond with quiet sighs that certainly did not loathe him. The alcohol made her much more welcoming. She would smile up at him, and very timidly at hims run the tips of her fingers across his cheek.
But even stuffed to the point that she sometimes went, nothing drove away that trace of fear in her eyes. Even drunk to the point of stumbling, it still remained. Surely after time, surely she would get past that. Once she was used to being taken care of and not worrying about money and where her next meal would come from she would be fine. The worry about her could not escape him.
He loved to take her shopping, for she looked so lovely in the dresses that she tried on, and for moments that look was masked by the joy of having new and pretty things. He watched her with an irrepressible grin as she tried on dress after dress. It was amusing to let her have her say, only to end up laughing at her atrocious taste. She had a penchant for ostentation. If he had allowed her complete say she would have ended up looking like a madam of a high priced whore house and not a lady. Not that she was ever going to really be a lady. That was something that he loved about her. She was as brash and brassy as he had ever been in his youth. There was something about her that was wild and untamable. And he loved that about her, how could he not. She was a free spirit.
Her eyes glowed and at times it seemed that the smiles and laughter reached inside and doused that flame that fear had fed. And in those moments when the pinched cheeks filled out, when her narrowed eyes opened full, that he could see just how breathtaking she really was. She wasn't a conventional beauty. There was nothing conventional about who she was. But the beauty was real all the same. When all convention fell aside she took his breath away, not that he ever let her know just how stunning she was.
He loved to lie in bed next to her and watch her as she peacefully slept. Her brow was smooth, and her ebony lashes fanned across her creamy skin. Her lips would occasionally open and a faint sigh would escape her lips. She looked like an angel when she was sleeping. Of course, sleep was the only moment that anyone could ever equate Scarlett to an angel.
So he was shocked the first night that she had woken him with cries. Her legs and arms thrashed about the bed, and her tears had soaked his chest where her head had been resting. She was literally shaking as he woke her, and she clung to him desperately as a leaf clings to a branch when a violent storm blows through.
He had held her and brushed the hair away from her face that the tears had helped to hold to her skin. She whimpered and sighed and muttered incomprehensible things as the tears continue to pour out. And again he wondered just what had happened in that period of time that they had been apart. He had even asked her at one point, but she refused to speak about it. She had told him in very simple terms that it was none of his business and that she would not talk about it. And that was something that he could appreciate, because there were things that he had gone through during his stint in the CSA that he didn't want to tell anyone about, but he wondered that if she would tell him, then perhaps it might allow her to heal.
But he pressed her no further on that issue and only pretended that it did not exist. Like the matter of Scarlett's infatuation with Ashley, he merely set it at the back of his mind and tried to forget about until those moments when she woke him with her terrors. He hid those worries and concerns and assured himself that Scarlett would be none the wiser. She was generally quite oblivious to all but herself. She would never know what he did not say.
And just as he did some of the most horrifying experiences of his life from her such as the battles at the end of the war when he knew that the cause was already lost and gone and they were fighting for nothing, he did his deepest feeling from her as well. She would never know that he loved her. He would never tell her. She would never know about his feelings of jealousy concerning Ashley for it was even hard for him to admit to himself. She would never know about the nights that he had spent worrying about her while they had been apart. At least in that respect, he had had good reason to worry, apparently. But nor would he tell her about the nights that he had been dreaming about making her his.
The most difficult thing about being married to her was that now there was no where to run when his feelings overwhelmed him. He would taunt and tease her until she screamed and ranted, ordering him out of her presence. He didn't have the escape of leaving her at Aunt Pitty's house and fleeing to his hotel room. Now when he went to bed at night, she was beside him. And just as much as he pleasured in finally claiming her as his own and knowing the Ashley knew that she was now his, he dreaded that she would learn of what was hidden in his heart. For it is only possible to live beneath the mask of a gambler for so long. Eventually the truth would be revealed.
And so there was an odd tension in the room as they fell asleep at night. He had assumed that once she was his, that this incessant flood of thoughts would stop. He had thought that the only way to rid himself of his feelings would be to claim her, but that plan had failed him. And now he was trapped in a marriage with a woman who didn't love him, but that he loved with all of his heart. And he could never tell her.
He only hoped that she would learn to love him, that somehow she would switch her allegiance from the woolly-headed Wilkes to her husband. He only hoped that she would love him as much as he loved her.