Thank you once again to those who read and review this story. You are the reason why I continue writing!
I hope you will like this chapter!
Chapter 20
The fire burned around her, bright, hot, and stingy, but it was her mind that hurt the most. It was her heart that was in pain. Questions came to her restless mind, without an answer to be found. Where were the children? Were they safe? What was going to happen to them if she couldn't get out? Was there even a way out? She could see through the windows that they were waiting for her to leave the house, like hunters waiting for a vixen to escape her smoky den. Rhett was not here… Rhett was not there! And now, he would not come, he had left. Why had he left? Did he not love her anymore? Had she been in the wrong? She had the sense something terrible had happened, a cut on an already bleeding wound.
Why was it happening? It had never gone so far before. Why now?
I'll keep you safe…
Yes, he had said that. But where was he?
And when I love thee not Chaos is come again.
Here was chaos. And she was damned if she tried to escape it, damned if she stayed.
Death might be the only way out…
No, no, no, no….
Yet the words stayed in her mind, and somehow, they made a sense that her fuzzed brain could not entirely grasp now.
She kept running, the flames grazing the hems of her nightgown. She escaped her bedroom and ran down the stairs, her feet cracking on a sharp object that left her bleeding. She turned back but another explosion forced her to continue her flight. The study! She needed to get there, before deciding anything. There awaited her answer, no matter what it was. But as she opened the door, she felt the hard embrace of death.
She screamed.
"Shh… Hush, dear, now. It's over."
With a startle, she opened her eyes to the half-darkness, barely lightened by her lamp. She blinked until the borders seemed clearer to her. Relief filled her heart in recognition and she leaned on the massive figure that was her husband.
"Oh, Rhett," She whispered, almost to herself. "You've come back! I knew you would! I knew it was true..."
She put her arms around him, her nose cold on the warm smoothness of his neck.
His body was stiff against hers. She had felt it startled at her touch, and then a slight flicker, like a candle blown by the wind. She looked at him, a confused questioning on her mind.
He was eyeing her speculatively, almost warily.
"Where are the children?"
"In their beds. You are safe, now," He repeated. "It was only a dream."
He caressed her hair in a soothing, absent-minded way, and she was almost sure he wasn't even aware he was doing so. He seemed to be thinking deeply, a frown on his forehead.
"Is there something you're not telling me?"
She hesitated, trying to read the emotions in his eyes, but finding none.
"I don't think so. Nothing you don't already know."
"Humor me."
"I…" She wettened a bit her lip, feeling a little apprehension. "I… I haven't eaten yesterday?"
His dark brows raised, almost to the roots of his hair. Whatever reply he had expected, this had not been that.
"By God, Scarlett, what?" He scowled. "Why on earth haven't you eaten?"
"Don't swear."
"I'll swear if I want to!" He continued, his brows arching. "You infuriating woman, I would never have thought I would have to remind you to eat!"
She shook her head.
"You don't have to! I just… forgot."
"Forgot?" He scoffed. "What else have you forgotten, uh?"
"Please, don't be mad."
"I'm not," He shook his head as if offended by the mere idea. "I'm…"
"Worried?" She looked at him closely. "Is it so hard for you to say?"
It seemed to make him pause as he gazed back at her.
"It's not. We're friends, aren't we?"
"Yes. Friends."
He nodded quietly towards her, before leaving the room. He came back minutes after with a tray and one of their servants holding another. She raised an eyebrow at him but let him do so. She was tempted to smile at the exaggeration. She humored him, taking a few pastries and a coffee under his watchful gaze.
"Scarlett…" He said as she ate. "I've noticed something. There's an Irish giant in the house."
Ah yes. Patrick.
"He's Scottish."
"My dear, I don't give a damn," He retorted. "Where on earth does he come from?
If she flinched by his choice of words, it was soon appeased by the quizzing stare Rhett was giving her, and the quirk of the brow that drew an uneven line on his forehead.
"Well, you said so yourself. Scotland, I guess."
"Don't play the fool with me, Scarlett, and don't take me for one. What is he doing there?" He leaned in, concerned, putting a hand on hers. "Is it because of what happened to Ella yesterday?"
Her eyes widened at this.
"You know of it?"
"Ella told me. Did you really think she would keep such things like a charming … 'prince saving her from evil' from me, who knows her since she was born?"
"No. Of course, not," She put back the tray, before raising her eyes on him. "Oh, Rhett, I am so ashamed!"
His look softened.
"Why ashamed, dear?"
"I should have known. I should have paid attention."
"You were not the one charged with looking after her at that time."
"I am her mother."
"That, you are, and you're doing… good," He nodded, as if amazed by the admission. "Yes, you're doing good."
She could not help but scowl.
"Since when do you think I'm doing good as a mother?"
"I have eyes, Scarlett," He retorted. "I may not have been very convinced of your maternal instincts before, but I'd be a fool to want to stay in that opinion now."
The prepared vexation dropped as he said that, like a balloon that had been pierced.
"Oh."
"You love your children, Scarlett, and they love you."
She looked at him, a question in her eyes that he did not answer to. She tried to tell herself it was alright, that she already knew. Yet, the images of her nightmare were still on her mind, though fading away a little, and with them the emotions and thoughts.
She let him go for this once, let him leave as the tray was taken back, and prepared herself. She took news and gave orders for the other child that was settled in one of the numerous rooms, then left.
India was already waiting when she arrived later at Uncle Henry's, and they both raised expectant eyes on hers.
"How very unusual," Henry finally commented. "If somebody had told me this would happen, I'll never have believed it."
"Let's get on with it," India scoffed at this.
She looked through the papers, reading them once. Then twice.
"You're sure this is the surer way? You promise you'll protect it?" India asked again. "Even from your husband?"
Scarlett nodded.
"I do," She said. "It will unsettle people to know that someone bought it anonymously. Only Uncle Henry, you, and I know I am the one buying it. And Ashley, of course. They will leave you alone once the word is spread. Which, if you play it right, should not take that long."
Fenton will certainly be glad to think he was in the secret as well, she thought. He would think she was doing it for him. That she trusted him.
India stared at her for a long time with a lingering doubt, before sighing and signing. Then she leaned back on her chair, a weary look in her eyes.
"I suppose I have to thank you," She said after a moment.
"You don't have to," Scarlett said. "I do it for Melly."
And for Rhett. For Ella. For Wade.
"But I want to," India said reluctantly, before sighing once again. "All this hatred, I've gathered against you… It all comes to nothing now. What's the point? I have no reason now to continue so."
She looked at her in disbelief.
"How unexpected."
"Don't expect anything more."
Scarlett couldn't help a smile. "I wouldn't dream to."
And there, the atmosphere in the place became somehow lighter.
The two women nodded in understanding, and India left, the check in her hands, her shoulders visibly more relaxed.
And yet, Scarlett stayed on her chair, waiting.
"Scarlett?" Henry finally asked. "Is there anything else?"
She looked at him for a moment, then decided.
"Yes. I want to modify my will."
The old man looked at her, surprised, but decided not to dwell on that for the moment. He could see she wasn't ready to.
"Alright… I'm going to take the papers…"
"Yes, do," She urged him. "I need some time to think. And write."
"Take your time."
When she saw he was gone, she took one of the blank papers left on the desk and a pen. Her hand traced the first words with urgency and she contemplated it, astonished.
"My dearest Rhett…"
Oh, fiddle-dee-dee! She was beginning to be all morbid and dreary!
Yet, she continued writing until her heart ached and tears spilled on her face. Until the feelings reappeared and she was left breathless once again.
"If we ever miss each other again…"
Yes. If. Not when. It was no certainty. Rhett's love was a certainty. She had to hold on to that. Even if he did not want her to know.
Yet, she did know now.
She was being foolish. She looked at the letter, tempted to burn it. Yet, the idea of the flames eating it gave her shivers.
She signed instead.
When Henry returned with the paper, she felt strangely calm as she dictated what she wanted and he noted it down. He looked at the writing a moment, bewildered, then stared at her.
"Are you sure, Scarlett?" He said, "Is there something you're not telling me?"
She faced him with a determined gaze.
"Rhett is the only one I can trust. He is my husband and I love him. I know that if something happens, he'll be there to protect my children and take care of them."
"Yet, it is a bit early to think of such things," He commented. "And people talk, you know… Is there…?"
"People do like to talk!" She snapped. "Yet, what do they know of us? What do they know of him? Of me? Bonnie died when she was only a girl. It can happen. It's been a year now and… I thought I should have done much earlier."
"You've grown up. Alright," He sighed. "But if one day you want to talk…"
"Yes, I know."
"You're my nephew's widow. You were my niece's friend. I may not have agreed to all you have done, far from it. But it'd be insulting their memories not to care what happens to you."
"I know. And I thank you. Yet, I know what I'm doing."
"You know I could care for Wade…"
"And separate him from Ella? From Rhett? You know he's been there almost all his life! He's been… He's been a father to him, even when no one expected him to. My Rhett may be a lot of things, but no one can accuse him of being a bad father."
She leaned in, eyeing him with a warning.
"I hope I can trust you to protect my interests and that of my family if something happens."
The lawyer looked at her with a scowl.
"You know I am a man of my word."
She nodded. "I know, yes."
She nodded once more, gathering the papers of the sale in her satchel. She then gave the letter to Henry and told him to leave it with the will. Then, her matter over, she went home.
She frowned as she saw the vast amount of food on the table, from roasted chickens, mashed potatoes, and spicy stews with fishes remembering her their honeymoon to New-Orleans to heavy cakes filled with chocolate mousses and delicate pastries powdered with sugar. It all tickled her nose with the monstrous temptation of easy satisfaction. She glared at Rhett who shrugged and whistled.
Ella and Wade were very well-groomed. The little girl was almost jumping with excitement, but her son was more reserved, almost wary.
Then, finally, the infamous guest arrived with a flourish. He presented Scarlett with a big bouquet that made her almost fall and dropped on his knees as he saw Ella.
"Oh, what do I see there? A little princess!"
Ella blushed, the redness almost becoming on her cheeks, as it accentuated the green of her eyes, bright and soft.
"My lord!"
Rhett chuckled.
"Oh, I've heard you've saved Ella from a terrible monster."
"Oh, yes, he did, Uncle Rhett!" The little girl said brightly. "And then he gave me back to mama, and we went home with Billy!"
"Who is Billy?" Richard asked, confusion in his eyes.
"An orphan boy Scarlett took a fancy to and invited to our house for a few days."
"And where is he, that orphan boy?"
"He needs to rest. The poor thing had been quite beaten up," Scarlett intervened. "I don't understand this. How can people even think of harming a child?"
Richard smiled and raised a glass at her as it was offered to her, and with his air, she could have almost thought he was innocent. The rest of the introduction was silent, as Wade said barely the minimum.
They settled around the table. Scarlett scowled as she saw Rhett's gesture at Prissy, urging her to fill up her plate more. Yet, she did not say anything. It was Rhett that led the conversation, and gripped with a silent worry, she did not find in herself to appreciate his tales and topics.
Uneasy over Richard's speculative gaze on her children, Scarlett sent Ella to sleep once the meal was over, and then turned to Wade.
"Wade, dear, would you mind playing for me?"
Sending them both would only make that damned peacock suspicious, and she didn't want that.
Richard smiled, before turning towards her husband, his hand reaching towards Scarlett.
"Rhett, would you mind terribly…?"
Her husband smiled back, and there was something in his eyes that unsettled her.
"No, of course."
She looked at him, baffled, before accepting to be led by Richard to a wider space.
Wade dropped on a note, surprised, yet she nodded towards him and he continued.
She could not deny Richard Fenton was a good dancer. He certainly knew the steps, and his feet were light. Yet, she did not feel at ease with him. She did not like his hands on her body, at the limits of the decency, and yet claiming too much than she could bear.
"I've dreamt about it since the first time we met. Though it came earlier than I thought. I'm glad your husband invited me."
"Oh, so a dance was all you had in mind?"
He let out a sharp laugh.
"Oh, no, sweet sultana. What I have in mind is so much more… and you know it."
She dropped her gaze demurely and bit the inside of her mouth until she felt the blood coming through her cheeks.
"I think I know," She said softly.
And you're not about to get it.
Yet, he interpreted the look in her eyes like a challenge.
"Soon…"
"Soon," She repeated.
The dance finished and she bowed slightly towards him.
Still on his seat, Rhett was looking at them speculatively.
"Your wife is a delight, my dear Rhett."
"Yes, I dare say she's a better actress than I would have thought she was."
"So are you, husband dear," She muttered through gritted teeth to his ears only as she reached his side.
Why are you looking at me like that? She wanted to scream. Why aren't you looking at him?
Abruptly, Wade demanded to be excused, visibly upset. Scarlett nodded, half wanting to follow him. Yet, she knew she had to stay a little more.
"You've certainly charmed Ella," Rhett commented laconically.
"I'm glad of that success," The English lord said. "She's a sweet girl, with pretty eyes," He looked into hers as if to give a deeper meaning to his words. "Though your son doesn't seem to like me very much."
"Wade is still a boy, and very shy. He's not at ease with strangers."
"I shall try harder, then," Richard said with a charming smile. "See, Rhett, I've heard a mother's heart is gotten through her children. Rascal as you are, my friend, would you subscribe to that theory?"
What? Was he such a fool?
She was about to berate him when Rhett roared in laughter.
"Well, no matter what, it certainly would not work with this one. You'll find it hard as a rock."
"Rhett!" She scolded, before turning to Richard. "Excuse me, my lord, I need to go see my children."
He had a new light in his eyes as if he had understood something. There was almost a pity in it, and she couldn't bear it. It confirmed him in his idea of her as a victim, and even if she knew the utility of it, that did not mean she liked it.
"Of course."
She left the room and closed the door behind her, but did not go straight to the nursery. She felt too nervous for that, too filled with a heavy emotion that she felt she couldn't impose on them. She paced a little, gave orders to the kitchen, then came back. But as she was about to open the door, words came to her from the other side and she froze.
"Are you still sure that charming wife of yours holds no interest for you anymore? I would be sad to lose a… friend over such an affair."
"Ashes stay ashes, Dick. It takes more than charms to keep my interests. No, do whatever you want, friend. At least try to."
Ashes stay ashes.
Ashes stay ashes.
The cold grew in her, hard and gripping. And yet it burned, it hurt like a knife in the heart, where the doubts had been instilled.
She waited a few minutes, then called for tea and coffee to be served. She entered back into the room after composing herself. She felt cold, she felt fake. But at least she knew the hurt would not be shown on her face.
She was silent as they talked, and Rhett sent a surprised glance her way. When came the time for goodbye, Richard kissed her hand too long a time for it to be entirely decent. She looked at him leaving and turned away.
"Scarlett?" Rhett called her. "Is everything alright, dear?"
She could not even bear to meet his eyes.
"No. Not now, Rhett."
She stormed from the room and joined the nursery, where she settled angrily between the children as they played together.
They looked at her with surprise but said nothing. As Ella raised to take a pastry in the kitchen, Wade turned toward his mother, biting his lip as if it hurt to ask it.
"Mother? Do you still love Uncle Rhett?"
She blinked, her anger diminishing.
"Why, yes. Why do you ask?"
"Then why did you dance with that man?" His eyes were confused as they raised to meet hers, confused and almost hurt. "Or can someone love two persons?"
She sighed.
"Darling, it can happen," She put a soothing hand on his cheek, caressing it lightly as it tensed. "But it's not my case. No matter what, my heart belongs to your Uncle Rhett. Now, until my last breath. As it belongs with you, and Ella."
"Then why? I don't like that man, Mother. I don't trust him. I don't… think he's a good man. I don't like how he looks at you, and how he acts."
"I don't like it either."
"Then why do you let him? Why do you act as if you liked it?"
She sighed.
"One day, Wade, you will realize that sometimes some persons are better close to you than far. Even if you have to lie."
His little face distorted in a confused frown, and she felt hopeless at dismissing it.
"I want to understand it now… but I can't. I don't understand why you have to do this. Why Uncle Rhett…"
He stopped.
"What, 'why Uncle Rhett?' What do you mean?"
He shook his head, conflicted.
"I swore it!"
Ashes stay ashes.
What did words mean?
"Oh, fiddle-dee-dee, Wade Hampton!" She snapped. "You know how I hate it when people are keeping secrets from me."
At the word "hate", Wade's body stiffened, then cowered. Scarlett softened. She saw his fingers fidget on his pants, his eyes becoming bright as if he was about to cry. She took them with her hand, innerved by the nervousness of the gesture, and the way it clenched as she did.
"But I don't hate you, Wade," His head snapped in her direction, then he relaxed. His fingers timidly spread, and she intertwined them softly with hers. "No, never you, my precious boy…"
"Mother?"
"Yes?"
"I love you."
"I love you too," She said softly "You, Ella, and your Uncle Rhett… you are the most important things for me.."
They stayed a while, looking at their intertwined fingers.
"Do you want me to read to you?"
His soft brown eyes stared back at her with a pleading.
"No… Can you... give me a hug, Mother? I…"
She looked at him quietly, before opening her arms.
"No need to explain. Come, my brave boy."
They stayed in each other's embrace for a few minutes, before another body slipped under her arms, and obliged Wade to step back to give her some space. Scarlett was first tempted to chide Ella, but seeing her sheepish grin, she chuckled instead and welcomed her.
"Mama…"
"Yes, Ella?"
"Are you angry with me as well?"
"Why would I be?" She said. "You're my sweet little girl. This is not at you that I'm angry."
She looked at her children, so strong, and yet still so young.
"Mama was worried, so worried. And when I'm worried, I can say bad words and can be mean. But that doesn't mean I don't love you. Never."
"Love you too, mama…"
She cuddled against Scarlett, and her mother put her arms around her more closely as Wade slipped away, feeling another important urge. Relief filled her over that little form in her arms, too little for her age, and yet here and warm.
"Mama…" Ella said after a moment, fidgeting. "I want to go to the orphanage."
"Why, Ella?"
"Billy… he told me a lot of things."
She frowned.
"Ella, you're a little girl, and I'm your mother. I want to protect you."
"But mama…"
"Listen to mama, my sweet-heart. Please. I wouldn't bear it if something happened to you. There are evil people, darling…"
"Like the one that wanted to take me?"
"Like that one," She nodded. "Go see Prissy and Patrick, Ella."
She grinned, showing her crooked teeth at her, and Scarlett felt a painful squeeze of her heart.
"I like Patrick. He's a new one, but he has a funny accent and he tells funny stories and he looks like a bear."
Scarlett winced, before pushing Ella back softly, encouraging her to raise.
"Go to him, sweet-heart. I'm glad you like him."
She watched her go cheerfully, humming to herself, and was almost envious of her carelessness.
"I'll go with you, Mother."
Wade had sneaked at her side, his arms crossed and a serious expression on his face. Yet, she could see that even if he tried to act older than he was, there was still that childish vulnerability that made her think he was not ready to enter the world.
"Wade…"
"I'm almost a man, now!" He protested. "You and Uncle Rhett, you are acting as if I can't see, nor hear anything! But I do! And I want to help!"
She was about to put him back into his place when he insisted, raising bright eyes at her and putting his hand on her arm.
"Please, Mother… Aunt Melly… I know she would have wanted to do something."
She felt herself wavering.
"You're so young…"
"Aunt Melly, she said it did not matter how young you are. If there's good to be done, it has to be done. And if you have the opportunity to see the truth for yourself, you have to take it... I want to see it, Mother."
"You are just like her," She sighed, before nodding. "Fine, you can go."
"And I'm like you," He said with something that almost looked like a smirk.
She blinked, surprised.
"Fiddle-dee-dee, Wade!" She scoffed. "You're cheekier than I thought."
His head lowered, but as she ruffled his hair, she could see the smile had widened a little.
"But you love me anyway. Right?"
She nodded fondly.
"Oh, very right, my boy."
She kissed his forehead lightly, wondering at his evolution.
"Mother…" He added after some time. "What if we took the rest of the food with us, so they can eat it?"
She stopped, uneasy, and then she remembered Tara and all the soldiers that came and went. She remembered her nightmare, her uncertainty.
"I think they already have some, Wade… I'm not sure it'll be appreciated…"
"Some, but not enough. That's what that boy had said to Ella."
She looked at him closely. "Tell me about it."
He did, and she gripped the fabric of her skirt, trying to push back the memories once again.
She hesitated over calling Patrick. Yet, the boy was still in the room, and she didn't know if Rhett would stay that long in the house before supper. He was not even in sight as she called the servants and asked four of them to follow with the rest of the food packed carefully in baskets.
When in the orphanage, Wade was reserved, at first, almost shy. His eyes went on the other children's rags, on the dirty faces that were looking at the food with hungry eyes, and she regretted having taken him with her. She put a hand on his shoulder, about to suggest him to go when he surprised her with the determination in his glare. He took her hand and led her forward, and she gestured at the servants to put the plates on the tables and serve it.
She felt numb seeing the way the children rushed to eat it, some not even minding their manners and taking it with both hands. It filled her with memories she had wanted to forget, and she squeezed Wade's hand a little harder, before leaning on his ear.
"Stay there, my boy. I'm coming back."
There, she turned to the sisters leading the place and demanded words with the Mother Superior.
The woman stood still as she lashed out on her, all her memories and uncertainties taking shape into a rageful reprimand. She could see her eyes flashing in indignation, and when it ended, she seemed almost to the point of exploding like an angry frog.
"I will not let myself be insulted by a fallen woman who dares to tell me what to do with this establishment," She said. "By the laws of God…"
"By the laws of God, no one should be allowed to grow hungry," Scarlett retorted. "And it is the fallen woman that tells you that. I'm glad my sister became a nun and told me the truth about it, or else I would have stayed with a bad taste on my mouth about what our God and our religion demand from even vulnerable children under their charge."
The Mother Superior froze, and an angry blush raised to her forehead.
"Don't ever dare to try to scold me like a child!" Scarlett scoffed. "Or else I can evoke other matters that question me, and that I intend to investigate in there."
Then the saintly woman froze, then took her arm firmly, a hard warning in her eyes.
"You have no idea what you put your foot into, madam."
"Then, we'll have to wait and see. Do not underestimate me… Madam. Or else I'll make sure your life becomes a living hell. And yes, I have very much the means to do so."
The Mother Superior released her grip, white as snow, before crossing herself. Scarlett left the room, feeling very much satisfied with herself as she sashayed through the corridors.
"Thank you," She heard at her side.
Surprised, Scarlett looked at a young girl with a veil, staring at her with admiration, before she turned away swiftly. Another looked at her with the same gaze, and she wondered how long the situation had festered like that, without people doing anything, or even daring to.
It somehow made her sad and angry, and she felt less satisfied. She joined Wade, and she felt surprised and proud at seeing him so open and talkative. A little group of children had gathered around him as he told a story, and she realized, astonished, that it was her own, the one she was telling night after night.
As he saw her, he stopped, hesitant. But then she smiled and sat by his side, and continued it.
They did not go through it, as the clock already announced the time for supper. Somehow it was hard to say goodbye to all these little faces, and she found herself promising to come back on the morrow.
Can you see it, Melly? She thought. You can be proud of him. You taught him good. I hope you are glad. I hope you are proud.
She took his hand and squeezed it.
"Promise me, Mother," He said as the doors closed behind them. "Promise me you'll do something. You and Uncle Rhett."
She nodded, taking strength from this tiny hand. "I do, Wade," She said. "I promise it to you."
They went home silently, with the weight of that new promise.
She raised an eyebrow with the number of plates on the table. Yet, she gritted her teeth and said nothing, her anger taking form into heavy eating that amused Rhett, much to her irritation.
Then, she followed the children in the study as they insisted she continued the story, though her heart was not in it.
She scowled at the baskets filled with pastries that had been settled on every solid plane surface, filling the air with an air of sweetness that sickened her soul.
Yet it did not stop her from taking one. For revenge. She settled herself between Wade and Ella. Rhett still did not say anything and seemed content in sitting in the chair near the door, where he could have a better sight of them.
She released an irritated breath of it, before turning towards Ella. Her gaze softened.
"Well, my sweet," She said. "Would you mind telling us what happened the last time?"
"Oh, yes!" The ginger-haired girl replied cheerfully. "Robert left and then there was a peacock and he made Solene sad!"
"He did not make her sad, silly," Wade rectified with a fond smile. "He just made her remember something."
"That wasn't a very nice thing to do!" Ella pouted. "That wasn't happy memories he was making her remember!"
"It was, in a way," Rhett commented, eyeing his wife carefully. "It was the memory of friendship. A lost one, but a happy one, mostly, if I understood well.
She gripped the fabric of her skirt before raising her eyes.
"Yes," She said finally. "But it made Solene thinks. She had so few friends, so few people with whom she felt at ease to talk to."
"Oh, is she shy?" Her daughter asked, cocking her head with surprise.
Scarlett shook her head, amused. "No. But it happens, sometimes. Sometimes, you can feel like you can say everything to people. Other times you don't feel like it. Trusting someone can be hard. As for Solene… let's just say she was not a very nice girl, and the others did not like her very much."
"She must have been lonely."
"She did not like the other girls very much, I bet," Rhett smiled. "She must have been too willful for them."
She ignored his intervention.
"It made her think, and yes, at that time, she felt lonely. And then she remembered Mary was still there, and she was still smiling at her. She realized she had depended on her presence more than she thought. And with that came another realization: that she had depended on another presence as well, but that one was harder to accept now. Especially with what she had heard about him now."
"Who?" Wade asked, curious.
She raised her eyes towards Rhett, finally. There again, she could not help it. Why did the story always have to always turn back to him?
"Robert," He said, and it looked as if his throat was dry.
"Yes," She nodded. "The peacock saw it and asked her about it. She denied it, and the peacock seemed to believe it. But maybe it was because he wanted to believe it. She knew after all he wanted her to break his spell, though she did not know yet how he intended on doing that. All she knew was that it was certainly a price higher than what she wanted to pay.
"'You are better without him,' he said. 'Love would have made everything harder with such a man. He is a very complicated one. I doubt you could handle him, poor woman as you are. He'd want more than just a girl. He'd want a seer, a dancer, a player. He'd want a girl, then a woman, then a pet. He'd want a warrior, but that would be ready to take the clothes of a lady and play the part…"
"That makes a lot of things," Ella commented.
"And not a very accurate view on what Robert would want, from what I'd gather," Rhett said quietly.
"Is it not?" Scarlett raised an eyebrow at him. "The peacock looked closely at Solene who had a troubled expression on her face."
"'And then he's not one to settle. He'd go back to an adventure before you can even release a breath.'
"Oh, but maybe Solene, if she loved him enough, could go on adventures with him?" Wade said with a hopeful glance.
She stared at Rhett who let out nothing, then shook her head.
"It's not that easy, Wade. Solene had still her mission to do. And even if she loved him, sometimes you can't go and leave everything. There was Mary, and Mary was not well enough to be left on her own. Mary…" She paused a little. "Mary was resting at that time, so she did not hear the other words the peacock said. For if she had, it would have shocked her."
"How so?" Ella asked.
"'You're better off without him', he said. 'You're better off without love. Sometimes, love does not end up with a happy ending, especially with a man such as him, that is everywhere and nowhere at the same time. You may not be able to catch him, or he may not let you. And you'll end up sad and despaired like the bitter couple."
"Oh, is it another story?" Wade said with a surprising excitement.
She blinked, then nodded. He smiled, and then she realized he did not want it to end. She smiled back and continued.
"Come closer, pretty lady,' the peacock said. 'And I'll tell you the story of the bitter couple.'"
She paused, relishing on their eagerness.
"And... I'm leaving it all there for tomorrow," She said with a cheeky smile. "Goodnight, my loves"
She kissed them tenderly. Ella pouted, but Wade's grin widened as he led her out of the room. Rhett nodded and followed them and she found herself alone for a moment. She felt relief at that, even if his lack of explanation still irritated her. Among other things.
Ashes stay ashes.
She shook her head. She would not think of that or she'd snap. She had to focus on another thing.
Pansy had said she had been writing on journals, she remembered. But which one?
She looked through the pile in the paper basket, but couldn't find any mention of it. All these lines, tiny and yet heavy, words she couldn't grasp, realities she could not bear to read. Which one could it be?
"What are you doing, pet?" Rhett's voice rang in the room, and she met his curious glance. "I never thought I'd see the day when you would look at a newspaper other than to see the state of the market. What were you looking for?"
Startled, she let the pages fall on the floor, her eyes widened like those of a doe caught by a hunter. She looked at every one of his movements, from his putting away a tray with two glasses of brandy in it, to his leaning down lightly to take back the pages from the floor.
"Nothing," She said, though her tone was a little too defensive, and she took back swiftly the papers from his grasp, some of it leaving a tearing sound between them. She put it haphazardly on the basket and returned to her place, crossing her arms as the frustration came back in her mind.
He arched an eyebrow at her strange behavior but did not comment farther. He stood up, eyeing her with caution. He returned to the tray and handed her one of the glasses.
It made her angrier.
She shook her head.
"No, thank you."
The brow raised higher as he put it back. He shoved his fists in his pockets, and she sighed, recognizing it as a sign of his feeling of powerlessness. He settled on the armchair near the door, his long legs crossing.
"You were… strangely docile, today."
"Isn't this what you wanted?" She cocked her head on one side. "Your friend… seemed decent enough."
"A noncommittal comment, that does not tell me your true thought about him," He chuckled, though his eyes did not carry such a lightness. "Don't break his heart too much, darling. He is my friend, after all."
I can't break something that does not exist, she thought.
"And he saved my life once," He added as if in afterthought.
"That's a story you have yet to tell me."
"Perhaps another time."
Or never.
"What do you want, Rhett ?" She sighed, tired of all of this. "Since our very first meeting, this question has never left my mind when it comes to you. And now, it comes again, and I can't make sense of it."
Not with what I've heard from you.
She raised from the couch and took a step forward. Then another.
"Yes, Rhett," She said with a husky voice. "What do you want?" Her hand caressed the underside of her neck, before grazing the places she mentioned, her eyes daring him. "Do you want him to… seduce me, touch me? Do you want his hand to caress my skin, from cheek to bosom, until it goes on my hip settling there as his lips meet mine? For his… bare body to be on me as he…"
There were daggers in his eyes and an angry frown on his forehead.
"Stop it, Scarlett."
"I don't understand you!" She snapped, taking a pastry on one of the baskets and throwing it at him. He dodged it easily, his hands gripping painfully the armrests. "One day you say one thing, then you say another! One moment you can't bear to say we're friends, then it seems like it's the only word that comes through your mouth. And then… And then…" Ashes stay ashes. She threw another pastry, that left a brown mark on the wall."And I… I can't bear it! Do you want me to fall in love with him?"
He raised abruptly from his chair, fists clenched like he wanted to strike her. Yet, she knew he wouldn't, even in his anger.
"NO!"
The word lingered between them, heavy with the sound of their ragged breathing, and it left her feeling empty and confused.
"Then why did you behave as if you did?"
He turned back and paced, before drinking from his glass and returning to his chair. He said nothing, his finger grazing lightly his mustache as a frown settled back on his face. He had said too much, more than he wanted, and now he wanted to retreat. His mouth was firmly shut, and she knew then that he was contemplating whether he should leave or fight. With a nonchalant air, he took time to take a cigar from his jacket and lightened it, eyeing her as if she were a child doing a tantrum.
At least, he wanted her to feel like that, for then she would have thought he didn't care. But knowing this now, perceiving this intention when other times she had been blind to it, did not lessen the hurt.
She sighed as she fell back on the couch. Her shoulders fell and she felt a little tired.
"Sometimes, you make it willingly difficult for anyone to love you," His face darkened. There was a hopeless in it that made her forgive it all, want to take him into her arms, softly, to kiss his brow, her fingers in his hair as she led his beloved face to her chest. He would hear the beatings of her heart, then, and he would not doubt. And yet... "And I say that as someone who loves you. Sometimes… you ask too much, and let out too little." She could see he was about to protest, so she dismissed it. "And no, don't worry, I don't entertain any false thought of you loving me. I know you don't want me to think that. Yet, it doesn't mean it doesn't hurt."
She dusted a little her skirt, innerved by his blank stare. Had it only been a dream?
She could see he did not like what he was hearing. And yet, she felt it was needed to be said. If anything was to happen again… Oh, love was sweet. But could it erase all the hurt and sadness?
She needed to prevent herself from going through it again.
"I pity her, you know. This woman you want."
Please. Tell me it's me. Tell me that you love me when you know that I'm awake. Stop playing that game.
"You shouldn't."
She chuckled. Of course, she shouldn't pity herself.
"I do hope it's going to change. For that woman. I do hope you'll trust her and she'll trust you. That you won't hold back as you did before. That she'll… know how to treat you and you'll know how to treat her right."
"What's making you so… considerate concerning this woman you do not know? Well, I did not know you liked the idea of me with another woman."
Your lies are getting worse. You're losing your touch, my love.
"I care about you. And I want you to be happy. But one can never be happy if there's no trust, no honesty. One can never be happy when all of this mingle with hurt and false hopes."
"It's strange of you to say so, my pet," He looked at her pointedly, his fingers gripping the cigar almost as if in defense.
"Is it? I've lived with you after all. I know it. And don't tell me you were happy as well!"
"There were happy moments."
"… there were," She admitted with a wistful smile. "And they are not erased by the bad, though now I see there were a lot of them."
She raised her eyes towards him, bright and green and hopeful.
Tell me about you, my love, she thought. Let me know you. I'll listen, this time.
"Why did you marry me, Rhett?" She said instead, knowing he would not answer if she asked now. "Time and time again, you told me you were not a marrying man. And then, when Frank died, you asked me to marry you? That was… unexpected."
"I did not want to wait to catch you between husbands"
"That's what you told me. But that still does not explain it. Especially when, knowing you as I do, me married to another wouldn't have stopped you from coming to see me and trying to have me."
"That's true," He sighed. "I guess I always intended to have you by my side, and marriage seemed a way to bind you to me. I'm not one to share, and I knew by your education and your stubbornness that if you were married to me, there would be fewer chances for you to run away with another man. But I couldn't tell you that. I knew that's what you wanted to hear, and that you would have been merciless with your rebuttal. That was one pleasure I couldn't afford to give you. And then…"
"Then, what?"
"Then, there was war. There was the cold, the hunger, and the loneliness of it all. I didn't know if I would ever see you again, and sometimes… I thought I might not survive. I had been so careless, with my costume and my two guns. Then, I would imagine you, that day when I left you at Rough and Ready, your wide green eyes on me, the taste of your lips… And I would also remember how you stopped me when Wade called you. And when uncertainty was there, I wondered. What if someone was waiting for me? What would become of my legacy, of all my adventures?" He shrugged, taking another guff of his cigar. "I'm quite ashamed to say at that terrible time, married life did not seem quite the nightmare, then. And I could see no one else than you for me."
"You could have come to see me at Tara."
"Could I have?" He stared, then nodded. "I guess I could have. But then… I did not want to get my hopes up. You certainly did not seem very happy when I left. And when you came to see me in jails… I could not believe my luck."
"And I came to ask you for money."
"To trick me for money…. That was what hurt the most. To be reminded that you did not care for me…"
"I did!" She could not help but protest. "'I've already told you so. I almost forgot. About the money, I mean. I was… actually happy to see you, to hear another one of your jokes as if nothing in the situation touched you, that somehow… And then you saw my hands…. You looked so… angry. And I remembered. And then…"
He sighed.
"Our story is one of missed opportunities, isn't it?"
"It is," She swallowed the sob coming at reminiscing all these things. Too many tears had been spilled. She wanted to smile. To be happy. She wanted to forget. "But that didn't mean it needs to always be so. That's why I hope it'll get better. Your story, I mean."
He looked at her intently, and she felt herself squirming under his scrutiny.
"And yours?"
"Mine?"
"What do you wish for, for your own story?"
She relaxed.
"Happiness. I'm a woman content with simple things, really. Oh, don't look at me like this, I know I can reach it!" She chided. "A man I love and the children by my side, all cared for and content. Tara safe and thriving. Would it be so hard a thing to wish for?"
"That seems far from the woman that declared war in front of the stairs a few days ago, so excuse me if I have doubts on that," He replied, before smiling. "What about dancing?"
"I do like to dance," She put her hands on her hips, a saucy smirk on her lips.
He laughed, his lips stretched in a broad grin with the hints of white teeth and tongue.
"You're pretty good at this, and you know it. I swear, the way your hips sway would awaken even the dead."
She could not help the blush from spreading across her cheeks. Oh, he always did love to shock her so with such talks!
"You're not that bad too."
"Thank you for your crumbs, Mrs. Dives."
"Oh, you know you're the best partner I ever had."
"Yes, I know," He said simply. "Have you ever thought of traveling?"
"Fiddle-dee-dee, Rhett, you're saying nonsense. With children by my side, do you really think I could afford to think of traveling on my own?" She shook her head. "No, society would never have allowed that. And yet… yes, I always wondered…" She paused, before blinking."Is that an invitation?"
"Is it?" His eyes twinkled. "Well, it's a suggestion. For you. You are young. There are so many things to see."
"I'm sure it'll be easy and fascinating. A life with no root. Yet…"
"Yet, what, my dear?"
She sighed.
"My children have their own roots. You told me over and over that I was not a good mother. It seems recently you changed your mind a little on that. And yet… Oh, it would be so much worse, then, don't you think, if I just took them with me, won't it be like taking their lives away from them? It'll be like… taking Tara away from me. I think I could survive everything. But not that. Tara gone…"
"You're so Irish, my dear," He said as he tucked his cigar on the tray. "I certainly never understood your love for that farm."
"You have Irish roots too, though you always deny it. Tara… Tara is me, my memories, and my innocence. Tara is my father, his rough laugh, and curses, his wild escapes on a horse. Tara is my mother, soft and kind, yet nostalgic and less affectionate than I would have wanted her to be. Tara is Mammy, scolding yet loving. It is my sisters too," She chuckled, fondly. "And all of our foolish fights, petty rivalries. Tara is Wade, barely a few years-old, on four trying to plant crops with me. Tara is… Yes, Tara is also Melanie with her brother's sword, coming to defend me from that Yankee…"
"And Tara is Ashley, valiant and honorable, I guess," He said bitterly.
"Tara was never Ashley," she scoffed at such a notion. "Somehow, when I imagined myself with him, I saw Twelve Oaks . Even when he came and tried to help. I saw Twelve Oaks, that perfect, ancient house, with these people, who were exactly what I wished to be. Good-mannered, gentle, well-learned…"
"Dull."
She chuckled.
"Dull." She conceded. "But it was not reachable to me. And even if it had been, I would have been disappointed. I expected too much of it. You were right about that," SHe paused."Tara is my home. Tara is where I always return, when life unsettles me, and I feel sad and lost."
He sighed, before raising and sitting by her side. His hands were joined in front of him as he reflected.
"This house… This house that I've paid for, thinking it would make you happy… It has never been your home, hasn't it?"
She looked down.
"I'm sorry."
"Don't be," He shook his head. "I'm beginning to understand. And it… never truly was mine, either."
"I tried to. And I was happy too when you let me decorate it, and sometimes, it felt like it…" When she had been sure he would be here, a constant figure in her life, arguing with her and pushing her to her limits at all times, and yet caring. "yet…"
"Yet it was like building and living in a dollhouse, after being deprived for so long and having to be strong for everyone. A dollhouse for a doll."
She shook her head, unsure.
"It was Bonnie's house. She lived all her life in there. But Bonnie was no doll."
"I treated her like that. We did. We were like children fighting over a doll, a pretty one, wanting to have her completely by our side, but not prepared to share. And she was mine, my doll, for I was angry you didn't want to be mine. I took her for my own, trying to justify it by the fact that you wanted her dead…"
Her eyes widened in horror as she recollected it.
"I never…"
"I know that, now. At least, I think I knew that already, even at that time, but then it felt easier to think you meant it. Oh, yes, I know that," He looked at her with a tenderness that gave her hope. "You were afraid. You were a child. A scared child, who had lived terrible things, and that had just begun to take a few steps towards freedom. And yet… I really wanted to have a family with you, pet. That's why it had hurt so much, when you did not want the same. I should have guided you; Helped you. Instead of opposing you at all times. It wasn't… good of me."
She felt her heart squeeze at such an admission.
"Oh, Rhett!" She cried. "We both made mistakes concerning Bonnie. But we loved her… so much. And how could we not? She was… bright, beautiful, willful. Brave and cunning."
"The best of us combined."
"I'd say the best of our innocence combined. Though it makes me wonder how you were as a child."
He smirked and winked.
"I was a hellion. Always doing the wrong thing, talking when nobody wanted me to do so, doing exactly what they feared I would do."
"I would have loved to see that. Though I was not born yet."
"I imagine you," He said with a wistful glance. "Little girl with mischief in your eyes, stomping your feet when something was too long and boring for you. A sweet face when you were being told to be nice, but on further inspection, one could see you were boiling inside. Bursting with life and defiance."
In her mind came an image, and she felt her heart warm from it. On her lips came a wish, though she did not dare say it. It was all too soon. She smiled softly.
"And I imagine you, with your devil may care attitude. Dark eyes twinkling, always looking, pointing. Knowing what they wanted you to do, doing the opposite. But in the end..."
"In the end?"
She paused, wondering how she could go on.
"Didn't that little boy sometimes wanted to be like people wanted him to be? But then, it was too much, too little, and what if it wasn't enough? What if doing your best was not enough to be loved? Was love then conditional? What if people couldn't stand your worst? Then maybe… Maybe that's why…"
"Well, that's certainly a lot of thoughts you put on a poor old rascal like me," He was trying to laugh it off. "Why what, my dear?"
"Why you're always testing. Why sometimes you are gentle, tender, the only one I know I can always count on, and then the next… You have cruel words, cruel gestures and then I feel…"
"What do you feel?"
"Sad. Lost. Unsettled."
There was a light of recognition in his eyes, and she did not quite understand it, not this time. It felt like he had grasped something that had eluded him a long time, and that now what he had heard had given him an answer he hadn't expected. She could not see if it pleased him or not, but the most frustrating thing was not to know what he had understood.
She shook her head, uncertain.
"Bonnie never saw Tara. I… I wish she did."
"I would never have let her go without me."
"You could have come with us. To Tara."
"You would have truly wanted me there?"
"How is that surprising?" She scoffed. "Even when I thought I did not love you, I… I wanted you there."
He seemed to ponder it. And when he did so, he felt so far away she felt ill-at-ease by it.
"It's no use talking about that, is it?" She said warily. "You've already decided you want to go? All these talks about travel… it's also about you, isn't it?"
A corner of his mouth lifted, and there was this mocking flame that had unsettled her so much before, and now that suggested it was the truth. It twinkled like a lighthouse. I am here, they seemed to say.
It felt like a challenge, though. What could he mean by that?
"I will go, indeed."
Could it be another lie? It had to be, with what she knew, now. And yet, why couldn't she see it now, when she felt she had seen more of him than she had in the years they had spent together?
"And you, Rhett? Where are your roots?" She asked, trying to hide the urgency she felt. "Is it in Charleston, as you thought it would be? Or… did you not find it and that's why it's so easy for you to think of leaving?"
Say it, Rhett, she thought. I would like to hear it from you, your eyes on me. Say that your roots are with mine. Say that you want to stay...
Finally, he seemed to reach his decision.
She felt him raise from the couch, the furniture cracking with the lack of him. She gripped the fabric with both of her hands, trying to keep her composure.
Ashes stay ashes.
She closed her eyes.
"Scarlett…" He said simply, raising, his hand reaching out to her. "Dance with me."
"There's no music," She said spontaneously, unsettled by his demand. Yet, she still took it with a little trembling, faith coming into her heart like a surprise.
"Let's say there is," He said as he held her body against his, his hand softly pressing on her waist. "Let's say it's 'Dixie', and I just paid an awful lot of money to dance with you, shocking all the audience by trying to corrupt a young widow."
They swayed lightly, one step at the time, carefully as if not to make noise. Little by little, she found herself relaxing in his embrace.
"And let's say I agreed to it, shocking even more these old peahens."
One step forward, then two backward. The steps kept getting quicker and quicker as the confidence grew.
He chuckled. "Your eyes would glow, and flash red like some tiny goldfishes in clear green water, and you would tell me that you wanted to dance so much that you would have accepted with the devil himself."
"Well, I did!" She smiled broadly. "You are the devil himself, Rhett Butler, and you know it!"
He chuckled, making her twirl.
"And yet, you're still dancing."
Her laugh rang in the room and she attempted a few steps of a reel, trying to see if he would take the challenge, like before.
"Well, my mother used to say I was like Rose Latulipe."
He adapted himself with almost feline grace, making it seem like it had all been part of the dance already.
"That's quite fitting. Funny how the first time you seem to take interest in anything French other than clothes, it's about Folklore, not classics."
The corner of his mouth raised a little, and he released one of her hands and led her forward, daring her to do more.
"You're such a snob, Rhett," She said tenderly, before shrugging. "Well, it's part of my roots, isn't it? It has to come from time to time."
She twirled a little more, kicked the floor twice with her heels, before returning to his side, putting her palm on the back of his fist. He turned it back, and their fingers intertwined, before he secured her arms on his shoulders, his strong hands leaving a trail of goose flesh as they went from wrist to elbow. He lay them to rest on the small of her back, pushing her lightly against his body. She hummed and put her head on his chest as they swayed a little more.
Her voice was almost shaky as she continued. It was almost a whisper, and he leaned in, as if to hear her better. Her eyes stayed on the crook on his neck, where she could see the tense shape of the veins, feel the heavy raises and falls of his chest and the beatings of his heart.
"Let's say I'm a widow that's still lusting for life. You're a seductive man knowing my secrets and offering me to dance when I shouldn't. I can't hide from you, and I don't like not being able to do so, and yet, here I am, jumping into your trap. And it feels thrilling, like a great adventure. Let's say you come back after, taking the excuse to give some rings back. And you keep on going to see me, offering me gifts that I shouldn't accept, and I'm left wondering. Why does he keep doing so? Why is he playing with me in such a way? What does he truly want? Why do I keep accepting him, imagining myself crushing his heart with pleasure if he declares feelings for me, if I've already decided I wanted another?"
They stopped. Her heart hammered like a woodpecker, and she felt like tiny ants running down her legs. She looked up.
"Let's say I'm a girl, and I'm already falling for you but I just can't bear to admit it."
In his eyes, there was a deep pool of stormy water that was threatening to swallow her whole, and yet, she felt not afraid. Not this time.
"Let's say…"
"Shhh…" She stopped him, putting a finger on his lips.
Raising on her toes, she kissed him.
She felt his lips tremble at her touch, a tremor followed by a slight pressure.
She wanted to cry with joy.
You love me, she thought. You love me. These feelings, so big and so true, they are not mine alone. They are no dream, nor illusion. These words that had been said, they could be trusted. They could be believed in.
"What's this kiss for?"
His lids were still close yet fluttering, his mouth stilled in that position she left it, as if he was still frozen in the moment.
"Because I wanted to." Her eyes were bright as she looked at him. The fire is still burning, my love, she wanted to tell him. There are flames beneath the ashes, no matter what you've said. Can you see it as I do? She went still, waiting. "Someone once told me I need kissing, badly. Yet, there it is. I don't have enough kisses. So it seems I have to take it, not wait for it. And if you intend on going… I guess I will have to take my dose more regularly. If you agree to it, that is…"
The last parts were confused, and to her shame, she felt ill-at-ease, like a fish out of water. She had never been used to demand such things. They had been given to her, even forced on her as a duty. But with Rhett, duty and pleasure had always a wicked way of tangling themselves. She knew she may have had sparks elsewhere, but it was not there that she had warmed herself. And she wanted to show it to him, hoping it might somehow subdue the wariness in his eyes.
"Oh, Scarlett…"
His index grazed her cheekbone softly, following the direction toward her earlobe. She could feel him leaning in.
He was about to kiss her again. She was tempted to let him, with his breath sweet, laced with brandy and cigars. Yet, it was too soon, she felt, for he was still denying publicly that he even cared. Even now he could not bear to trust her, and he was testing her, over and over. She wanted him to stop it. She wanted to tempt him out of his reserve, just like he had been tempting her so many times. She wanted him to claim her as his wife, as he had done once. She wanted him to stop playing with her heart like that, when she was bearing it true for him. She wanted him to lean on her, to be there. How could they love each other if he kept to himself, and when all around them, people were talking about his behavior, hers? She could feel it slipping all away, all the efforts that had been done so that society accepted them again. And he wanted to leave… How could he even think of it, if he truly loved her?
She turned her head softly, her eyes half opened in almost regret. Her cheek grazed slightly his own, and she felt his breath catch as she raised on her toes, her hands still gripping the fabric on his shoulders.
"Goodnight, my love," She whispered in his ear, kissing the junction between the lobe and his jaw. "Goodnight…"
His eyes were dark as the night as she took a step back and let her palms slip to his chest, before falling down at her sides. She turned away swiftly, determined not to be the one to look back.