A/N: Apologies for the confusion with the previous chapter. I hope this one is clearer.

The letter landed with a thump on the desk of Pierre Robillard. He reached for the letter opener and relaxed into his chair to peruse the contents.

XxX

Scarlett grimaced at the smirk on her Grandfather's face. The smirk could have a hundred meanings, none of them good.

Suffice to say, a happy Pierre negated misery elsewhere. He reminded her of a plague of locusts descending on the carcass of a field of corn.

"You seem happy. Who died?"

His smirk widened. "That, my dear Scarlett, is none of your concern." He glanced at the window behind him. "I believe I shall take my constitutional now. My solicitor will be arriving shortly. Kindly ensure that the children are kept out of sight."

Scarlett wrinkled her nose in confusion. "Your solicitor? Why is he coming here?"

His laughter unsettled her. "So many questions. Do not question your elders, child. It demonstrates ill-breeding. No doubt a consequence of you peasant blood."

Scarlett wanted to scream at him but it was no use. He would only hold it against her later. Instead, she waited until she heard the front door close before her hand grabbed hold of an ornate vase. She stroked it gently before lunging it across the room.

It crashed into the corner with a strange echo – as though its target was not a solid item.

"Miss Scarlett What's you doing in there? You'll frighten he life outta ol' Mammy."

The darling face was puckered in annoyance as Scarlett sighed in relief.

"God's Nightgown Mammy, you frightened me. I thought… well never mind. Help me clear this up."

The two women carefully gathered the shards of porcelain. In her fright, she had not noticed that a wallet had been dislodged from its hiding place and it was only when all the shards were cleared up that Scarlett took a second glance at the papers.

"Lamb, don't be looking at those. They'se your Grandfathers'!"

"I'm well aware of that."

She was about to return them when something caught her eye. The writing was rushed and all over the place but there were many references to a 'certain Gentleman'. It was a small detail but she couldn't help the feeling that there was more to this than she had first thought.

She scanned the letters, locating their origin before returning the bundle and securing that the room was set to right.

XxX

It was less than an hour later that Mr Bates, Pierre's solicitor arrived. He was a decent man, well adept at handling his client's moods with only the slightest trace of sycophancy. Upon his arrival, he gave a low bow and was about to ask after the Mrs Thornton's health when Pierre announced,

"You may leave us."

Scarlett gave a small curtsy before quitting the room. She failed to notice the way Mr Bates' eyes lingered on the curve of her hip and her purposeful strut before he turned his attention to his client, once more.

XxX

In another town, far from the States, a man sat slumped by the bar, nursing a whiskey. The barman watched sympathetically, as he tried to figure the nature of the man's woes. It couldn't be money. That suit must have cost a good three hundred at least.

No, it must be woman troubles.

Women were fine creatures, he thought to himself. As soft as silk one minute than as cold as ice the next. He laughed and pitied any man that had thought himself in love with a woman.

XxX

In the week since Henry Hamilton had begun his search, he had solicited the advice from many War Heroes. The description he had to offer was sketchy at best but the men said they would all they could.

It was late evening as he was about to leave the office that someone arrived, begging the opportunity to speak with him.

The man was hesitant but Henry's patience won out.

"I heard you were asking around. Didn't know if I should speak up."

"Well, anything you have would be helpful."

"I saw him you know. I fought with him. He was so focused, he never saw it coming."

"Saw what?"

"The dagger. Slit his throat he did. Poor fool choked on his own blood."

"Who? Christophe?"

"Not him. The other one. Henri something."

"Henri Chevalier?"

"That's him. We were in the thick of it so the coward got away. Didn't even get a proper look at him."

"So you're telling me that Henri Chevalier did not die in battle. He was murdered?"

The silence grew.

"Did anyone else see this?"

"There was a man called Thornton fighting with us. He saw Henri go down but I don't think he saw anyone else."

That was a cause for concern. Hadn't Thornton been the one to inform Scarlett Chevalier, as she was then, of her husband's demise. And then he married her?

He sighed and collapsed back in his chair. "What happened then?"

"Well, Thornton and I both did our best to help but we were in the middle of a battle. Henri mentioned a woman. Something red, Ruby? Anyway, Thornton swore he would take care of her and we managed to drag the body to safety. The next thing I knew, Thornton had begged leave and had gone to talk to the widow. Our superiors saw to it that everyone believed he had died in battle. There's only a handful of us know the real death."

"I see, well this brings new light on this. Don't worry, I won't spread this around but things are worse than I thought." He turned to the gentleman. "Do you have somewhere to be?"

"No sir, ain't got no ties nor lodgings. Since the War, I've been drifting."

"Then might I offer you a place to stay and a meal? It won't be much but at least you'll be warm and dry?"

"Be much obliged sir."

"No, indeed, it is I who am in debt to you. Might I know you're name?"

"Joseph sir. Joseph Michelson. Happy to make your acquaintance."

As the men shook hands, a bond was formed between two generations. Neither would have envisioned the depth of friendship that would grow from that first meeting.

XxX

Over the next few days, Henry occupied himself by writing to all the former leaders of the Confederacy, seeking information on the true matter of Henri's demise. It painted a grim picture indeed.

The idea that Thornton had arranged his rival's death was instantly rubbished and the fact that he had married Scarlett was put to a matter of coincidence.

Scarlett's letter opened the avenues of investigation further and it was agreed that Joseph should be dispatched to the North to source it out. He left willingly, keen to work for the woman, whose name he now understood to be Scarlett.

XxX

Scarlett was in the library, catching a brief moment of respite. Pierre had revealed that he had included his daughters in his will and had named a decent sum for them to live off. Of course, it did not bother Scarlett that her sum was reduced. She was content to know that when Pierre passed on, her Aunts would no longer be her dependents.

Thank heaven for small mercies.

Henry Hamilton had proved to be a great correspondent. She enjoyed hearing that their agreement had been acted on and that Willy was doing wonders with her store.

He had also received a letter from Suellen, gloating over her husband's success but also to inform her that she was once again with child. This brought a modicum of pain to Scarlett but it wasn't long before she brushed it over and once more set about her day.

XxX

They were standing side by side, his arm lovingly around his bride.

A sumptuous feast made up the wedding breakfast. All were decked in their finest – even if their finest was slightly careworn.

He turned to his wife, a smile lighting up his face.

"Happy Scarlett?"

She smiled, her eyes widening as he touched his lips to hers and pulled her body closer to his own.

"Rhett what are you doing?"

"A husband can't embrace his own wife? Fie, Mrs Butler." He kissed her soundly. "Mrs Butler." His hands lowered to the small of her back. "Mrs Butler."

The air, so light and fresh, turned cold. A shadow arrived, casting the lavish celebrations in darkness.

A shrill laugh ran out. "She was never yours. She will never be yours."

He turned to his bride and his heart fell from his body. She lay so peaceful in his arms. He touched his fingers to his face. It was ice cold and still…

Laughing hysterically, the creature swamped towards them and scooped Scarlett into his arms, the guests began to panic. The sumptuous feast turned to rot and decay and Rhett was left alone.

Always alone…

He woke up, breathless and heartbroken. His hands searched the sheets to find that he was the only one in the bed.

"She's not here. She has never been here!"

Since their meeting in Savannah, Rhett had been on the path to destruction. He prowled through cities, drowning his sorrows, bedding whores and gorging on the delights that were readily on offer.

Some nights, he tried his hand at gambling. But his heart wasn't in it and he lost more than he won.

That night, he took a good look at himself. His eyes were puffy, his features bloated, his jowls sagged.

The figure before him was as frightening as the phantom that haunted his dreams.

It was time for change.

No more, would he pity himself. If ever he was to claim Scarlett as his own, then he would need to resemble a man worthy of her.

His first task was simple, getting back into shape. That meant no more alcohol, rich foods and loose women.

With that in mind, he rushed to the bathroom, to be violently ill.

XxX

When he woke up, he was in his own bed. How?

"Do not move Mr Butler. You have been very ill."

His response was a pitiful croak.

"You have suffered a severe case of alcohol poisoning. With the rate you have been drinking, I'm surprised you're still alive."

Thank Heavens for small mercies.

"I suggest bed rest. I'll prescribe you with a tonic. I'll come by tomorrow."

The next few days were tough for Rhett. Confined to bed, he had plenty of time to think about the choices he had made to arrive at this point. None of them were good.

There were so many times when Rhett had felt like he'd been on the edge of getting what he wanted, only to fall at the last hurdle.

The dreams didn't help. They taunted him with vision of what could be, only for bitter reality to remind him that he still had to achieve his goal.

He found himself thinking about Scarlett. She had been ravaged by war, pillaged by poverty and betrayed by those who should have cherished her.

Himself included.

Yet she kept on going. He had once remarked nothing would stop her waggon; however he had underestimated her tenacity and resourcefulness.

Something he would never do, again.

For now, all he could do was rest and plan for the inevitable reunion.

A/N: Well, there you have it. I hope you all like the increased Rhett activity. Someone also remarked that they did not want Rhett and Scarlett to be together; however I believe they were meant for each other.

But that won't be for a while.

Joseph Michelson is of my creation.