Chapter 24
At his desk, Rhett Butler ignored the man in front of him to write some words down on the page of his books. He could see his hand tensing on the pen, making it almost painful to move it. Yet, he knew his writing was impeccable, and it did not show on his face. At least no more than a disapproving frown.
A deliberate gesture of dominance. It was one that his father had been very fond of, back in his age, And Rhett found himself very irritated at the similitude when the thought came to his mind.
He put the pen down, sighing.
"Mr. McConach. You may take a seat."
Said man looked a bit uneasy at his surroundings, and then Rhett realized the chair in front of him may not be enough. He rolled his eyes, before raising, leaving his own seat to get closer. His arms crossed on his chest as he looked up.
A tall man himself, Rhett had never been intimidated by height. This man made no exception, especially when he knew what kind of person he was. He had had too many people like him under his commands back in the days when he was blockading.
"I'm sure you've guessed why I summoned you."
"I think you don't like very much the idea of me here."
Rhett smirked
"Precisely. You're an intelligent man. I'm sure we can come to an arrangement."
Yet Mr. McConach had a stubborn expression on his face.
"It is the Mrs. that hired me to watch over the children."
A surprising attempt at struggle. He could almost admire that tentative of loyalty.
"And it is the Mr. that tells you your service is no longer required," Rhett retorted. "Tomorrow, you'll leave with the children on the train. But you'll leave them at the next station. My men will make sure of that."
"You won't have to do that. I'll resign earlier than that," The Scot replied, before fidgeting, a malicious glint in his eyes. "yet… I'll need some compensation."
"Of course," Rhett did not even bat a lash. "I should have known loyalty could always be bought. Even for Scots."
The red came to the red-haired man's cheeks.
"Did it work with your wife?"
Rhett's hands clenched painfully, his jaw tightening. The bite was coarse, but it hit him accurately.
"Get. Out." He hissed. "Take your money and go."
The man grinned.
"We'll see each other tomorrow, then. I'm not sure you'd like the Missus to know you've dismissed one of her employees without talking to her about it…"
"Get. Out."
Once his door closed, Rhett sighed, then opened the drawer of his desk.
He looked at the ring, hesitant. This time, he'll make it right, he thought.
Yet, why did the right thing seem so difficult to do? Why did that man's words have to affect him like that?
He knew why. This man was the sign that his wife had been involved in a plot on her own, one plot that did not go along with his own.
He'll give it to her. Yes, on Tuesday morning, when she'll ask him to take her with him.
But the children would leave first for Marietta. They needed to get away from all of this, until Scarlett and he could join them. Then their lives together would truly begin.
He closed the box and put it in his satchel.
He left the room and joined Scarlett and the children, putting a smile on his face.
"Shall we go, dear wife?" He bowed lightly, taking off his hat in half mockery.
Her eyebrow raised and he saw the twitch on the right side of his mouth, a sign of her irritation. Yet she held her head high more than it should and handed him her hand to him like an English princess.
"We certainly shall, husband."
The children looked at them strangely and he was tempted to laugh. He kissed her knuckles, his eyes deep into hers, daring her to drop her act.
But she wouldn't. And he was even more amused by this.
"I've seen Patrick leave your office. Is everything alright?"
"Yes. I just had something to tell him."
She blinked, seeming to consider his answer, then nodded, and he felt bewildered at her acceptance. But then he remembered her challenge and shrugged. She'd give it up sooner than him.
Swiftly, they made their way to Mass, as the exemplar citizens they had to pretend they were.
He stopped, hesitant, his gaze erring on the rosette of the glass window before they entered the church.
He had never been a particularly religious man. Belief did not like questioning, whether it was in a practical sense or not, and he was a man with a lot of questioning indeed. Not to mention paradise and hell were a matter that was used by others to make them do their biddings, and he was not really fond of that whip.
His hand closed automatically around hers as he felt her touch. They moved forward.
So many stares on them, remembering him that nothing lasted. He had charmed all these people long ago, offering them his services when they needed it. They opened their doors to him as it pleased them. How lucky he was to be a man, he thought bitterly. Or else there was no way they would ever deign look at him without him begging them for mercy. Soon, they'll look at him with new eyes when the need would come.
And he had once taken their side…
At his side, Scarlett squeezed his hand.
She was there, more constant than he ever thought she could be. He had to hold on to this. He couldn't afford to get lost in his doubts and fears, that he had build and feed for so long. They were not exactly the same persons as before. The world had often tried them, and he had run away too many times. This time, he would fight the urge to run all by himself, away from his doubts, from her actions and the fears to be betrayed.
He would run away with her. Away from it all, they'll build on a fresh new ground. He felt sure she would agree to the idea. After all, she seemed to have given up her attempt at changing the decoration...
At his right, Scarlett prayed, but he could see in her eyes other words were spoken. Yet words that were more of a matter of habit than of true faith.
He'd show her the cathedral of Paris, its white façade with the statues of the saints looking at them from above, high on their pedestal. He'd see her eyes widening at the towers and their ornaments, the sumptuous rosette of the middle, the gargoyles grinning at them and the gracious colons. And when they'd be inside, she'd see how much more magnificent it was…
When the masquerade ended, they went back to the house and dined. And he wondered lazily for another time what on earth they would have to do with these two additional children that were still in the house.
Not that they were particularly disturbing. Rhett had always liked children, and somehow, he could see Wade and Ella were happy to have them. Especially Wade, for it gave the boy a responsibility that made him feel like a grown-up. But then, it also made him remember little Bonnie.
When Scarlett had held that babe from Maybelle Picard, it had stroked a painful cord in him, bittersweet for it brought back too many memories. Her miscarriage, the miserable days when he thought he would lose her, Bonnie, her accident, her funerals, miss Melly's death after her own loss… And the day he left, with Scarlett telling him they could have another child…
At that time, the idea had been offensive to him, a betrayal to the memory of his beloved daughter, and he foolishly believed she mustn't have grieved the girl very much if she thought of replacing her.
Opening his heart to Scarlett was difficult enough. Bringing a child into this, when their consolidations were still a bit fragile seemed a folly.
She had seemed so soft, though. Tender. There had been a wistful look on her face, and he could see she wanted it.
And he didn't even know if he would want it, with everything it could entitle. If he would ever be ready to open his heart even more.
Taking refuge in the study, he ran through a few books, before pacing and examining his surroundings. He felt surprised at finding a chest under the desk, and it made him even more curious when he found out it was locked.
Another mystery that was associated with his wife, and he did not really like it very much. Though in afterthought he berated himself, remembering he was still keeping his own secrets from her.
He did not like getting stuck like that.
He called Pork and asked him after his wife.
"She be bassing, master Rhett," was his answer.
He smirked. Well, that was convenient. And perhaps an opportunity to move things a little more swiftly.
He knocked, then opened the door of her room.
A light smoke came from the tub, white and filled with an intoxicating scent of magnolia.
She was humming all by herself, like the Antonia of the Monk, a naiad joyfully plunging in and out of the water and sighing with delight as she finally leaned back.
Looking at her, he forgot the chest.
Then, she took notice of him and froze, surprised. The color raised on her cheeks, blooming like a rose before his eyes.
"You shouldn't be here…"
He gave her an amused smile.
"Are you disturbed by my presence, my dear? I thought you wanted us to be how it could have been."
He made the gesture to turn back, but she called him.
"No… stay."
Silently, he nodded and sat on the chair.
Her cheeks were burning red, and he wanted to kiss them to release her from her inhibitions. His prudish, yet sensual Scarlett… Still a bit locked on that cage the society had built for her, but she was learning to open the door.
He remembered that night in the library, and how she answered to his touch, and it set his heart on fire. He remembered her eyes on him, filled with a feeling she did not even repress, nor seemed to know how to control it, though she tried to fight it. He had felt the light struggle, and the surrender at his kiss… And her kisses…
He lit up a cigar and took a puff of it.
"When are we going to send Wade and Ella to Tara, Rhett?"
He stopped.
"You still want to do this?"
"I'll feel… safer if they were at Tara."
"Did you talk to your sister about it?"
"She… told me it would be fine."
It was a lie, he knew it. Suellen had sold her share of Tara, and now Scarlett was confirming what he suspected: she had been the one to pay the deed.
He had to refrain himself from laughing at the irony. He had wanted to put the deeds himself at her feet. But it seemed she had pulled the rug out from under him.
Why she was lying to him about that, he had his suspicions. Well, that, and Olsen's little admissions. She certainly did not want to tell him how she had used the hapless Todd Smith to get them, and she knew he wouldn't leave it to her simply saying she got them.
She could keep that secret for now. He had sworn there would be no suspicion, and he intended to keep that promise. He knew now that she would say it one day or another, and he couldn't wait to tease her about it.
It was a bit of a calm before the storm, but he knew he could control that storm. It would make her realize she had nothing to hide from him, that he would always know it sooner and later.
And that it had no effect on his love. Gone was the resentful husband. Gone the heavy silences when both of them did not dare to say sorry or that they were wrong.
Once they'll see they had nothing to hide from the other, everything would be alright. And they would finally work together, like it should have been.
"You'll make sure they'll be safe, right, Rhett? ... Of course, there'll be Patrick, and Mammy…"
He nodded. "I will, Scarlett. Tomorrow, they'll take the next train to Jonesboro. Everything will be prepared for it."
He had already contacted some of his men to look after the house. Yet, he felt uneasy at her insistence on the man he just fired.
Her shoulders relaxed and she sighed in relief. Then she paused, sending him a hesitant glance.
"Could you… rub my back, please?"
His brow arched, and the corner of his mouth went down in amusement.
"If it pleases."
The cigar forgotten, hastily crushed, he knelt behind her, his fingers almost shaking with anticipation. He felt his heart would break from the restrain he was exerting on his body.
She shivered when his big, dark hands scrubbed gently the smooth skin of her back. He could feel tiny goosebumps on her exposed part, little sensitive nerves that he could reach to make her feel his love. She was at first tense, but soon she melted to his touch, humming and leaning towards him, her head falling backward.
He put his hands on each side of her shoulders and put his forehead on hers, chuckling. His thumbs caressed the soft curves.
"You're not making it easy, dear wife."
"Rhett…"
He raised a little, taking her in.
Her eyes were dark on him, and he felt himself getting lost in it, jumping gleefully in the dark water, not caring if he'd float or if he'd drown. And yet if he let his gaze wander, he was even more lost, to the plumb, wetted lips that were waiting for him to kiss, the pointed chin with the dangerous descent of her throat, leading to soft mounds with hardened pink diamonds adorning it. He wettened his lips, his throat running dry.
"What do you want, Scarlett?" He whispered, his voice hoarse. "What is your dearest wish?"
"You know my dearest wish…"
"Say it…"
She smiled sheepishly.
"You know the things with wishes… If you reveal it too soon, they may never happen."
He snorted.
"And you, Rhett? What is it, that you want?"
He blinked, then caressed the roots of her hair fondly, gathering the erring strands.
"It seems a bit unfair to ask me that when you wouldn't answer my question."
She huffed. Her nose wrinkled irresistibly.
"Oh, don't pout, Scarlett. You know it never worked with me."
It was a lie. But it was better than to say every day he had to refrain himself from saying yes to every one of her demands.
"And what did work with you?"
He did not answer. She did not expect him to. Yet she felt the disappointment all the same. She sighed frustratingly and looked away, straightening as she scrubbed her arms with the soap. Then she smiled.
"Do you remember, Rhett?"
"What, my dear?"
"One day, in New Orleans. I think it was our first day there. The day had been hot, and yet you dragged me mercilessly from shop to shop…"
"I seem to remember it was you that insisted to see it."
"Maybe. I remember my feet were sore, and there was you, rambling about the history of the place…"
"Which you never cared to listen…"
"… and there were all these colors, all these houses… It was so different, so exciting!" She smiled softly. "I remember the smells of beignets, lightly powdered with sugar… All these people, dark-skinned, light-skinned, talking oh so scandalously, and you laughing with them…"
"Scoundrels tend to like each other very well."
"And yet even then I knew you were different. You still set yourself apart. You liked them. You knew who they were. Yet you were not totally like them."
"And what makes you say that?"
"The way you talked about them. There was always this… distance."
She leaned her head backward, her eyes rising to meet his.
"Just like the distance there was between you and me. For all your talks about how we were alike, it was always there."
"No. It had never been like that," He said softly. "These scoundrels had no power to hurt me."
"I thought I had no power to hurt you."
"And it was better like that."
Was it? She seemed to ask, her thin, arched brow questioning him.
"I don't absolutely know. I was happy, you know? In a time when it's been too long since I've ever been happy. You were showing me things I had never seen…"
And I intend to do the same, he wanted to say. Let me take you. Let's run away together. Say it. Say it, say it, say it.
"And you were so… nice. Charming."
"I can be. Nice. Charming."
She laughed lightly. "A pirate can be nice. That doesn't mean it's in his nature."
"Ouch."
Yet it was the truth. He had never considered himself as someone nice. Kindness had never served him. To children, it had always been easier. Children never asked how much money they could have. Children never act as if they cared for you, only to leave you behind once they had what they wanted.
"I remember that day. After all this excitement, you brought me to our chambers, taking me in your arms because I couldn't walk anymore. I almost thought you had made me walk all the way just so I would accept it."
"I most certainly did. You always were too stubborn for your own good, berating me when I wanted to take care of you."
"I had almost forgotten how it felt like, to be taken care of by someone else."
"Oh, believe me, I know."
"And yet, here in these chambers… The bathtub was huge and I felt abashed by this. You laughed at my expression, saying it looked like I had never seen a tub in my whole life. You ordered a bath and took off my clothes… The water was tepid, and yet it felt soothing on my skin. You began to rub my back…"
"Like this?" He began once again the soothing gestures.
"Mmmm…" She nodded. "It was just what I needed, and I did not know I needed it."
"You were so tense, love. It felt like scrubbing a ruffling cat."
She hummed.
"Then, you would hold me."
"Do it, Scarlett. Do it," He presented her with the back of his hands, her hands so tiny in his. "My hands are at your commands."
She touched it with anticipation, then intertwined their fingers.
"You would… put your hands around me… Like that."
She crossed his arms around her shoulders, her chin resting on his forearm. So close, the vapor caressed him like a lover's caress.
"And what did you feel, Scarlett, when I did that?"
She hummed, closing her eyes.
"Warm. Safe…"
"You hadn't felt safe for a long time, have you?"
She looked at him intently, a hint of white teeth scraping the tender flesh of her lower lip.
Don't worry, darling, he thought. I am here. I'll protect you.
Will you? She seemed to ask him, before blinking and nodding with a content little smile. Yes, you will.
They stayed comfortably in this position, and he buried his nose in the crook of her neck, savoring the sweet scent of it. He kissed the spot with his open mouth, his desire growing and growing. She sighed, her back arching. Their arms slipped on her body, and he stopped them at the breasts. His thumbs massaged it, testing softly the tenderness of these perfections who fitted so rightly under his palms. She gasped.
"And then…"
She timidly led the right arm lower, then stopped, flustered. He understood her meaning, before she even managed to mumble an ashamed 'I shouldn't'. She let out a 'oh' as he laid his open palm on her sex, the tip of his fingers grazing at the opening.
A satisfied sentiment of possession came to his heart, raising like the rale of a panther in his chest, begging to be let out.
He drew light circles on her with his fingers, ruffling the little hair in there.
She bit her lips, trying to refrain the moan from leaving her pretty mouth.
"You think too much."
"You talk too much," She protested, but with this came the moan.
He smirked.
"Oh… and what are you going to do about it?"
Her eyes opened wide, and he did not have time to react, for she turned back to him and pulled him by the collar. She kissed him. Kissed him fiercely, with a need that echoed with his own. He gathered her against him, with a grip so strong, she fell with him, leading them backward.
And with the covered bathtub full of water with them.
"Great balls of fire!" She cursed as they fell the torrent of it run on their bodies.
But the scoundrel laughed and laughed.
"OOoh!" She pestered at their surroundings. "Look at all this! All this water…"
"Oh, come on, Scarlett, where's your sense of humor? You look like a kitten splattered in water."
His laugh rang still in her ears, intoxicated as he prevented her to leave and took her into his arms. "An adorable kitten…"
She hummed pleasantly, rubbing her cheek against his wetted shirt, the fabric so thin she could feel the pleasant scratch of the dark hair on his chest.
"See. I made you purr…"
"Ooh!" She hit him lightly.
"How fast you can change from purr to hiss, my dear."
Pushing with her forearms, she looked at him with a frown, before it turned to an attempt at a seductive smile.
Which was working more than it should.
"And you, Rhett… How can I make you purr?" She whispered huskily.
He felt himself hardening against her, his heart beating almost like it wanted to leave his chest.
"Oh, darling, don't start anything you won't know how to end."
"You're afraid. But what are you afraid of?" Her fingers patted lightly his chest, like a kitten getting easy on his master. "I can't hurt you anymore, can I?"
Oh, you can hurt me more than you know, he thought. My heart is raw in your hand, darling, and it feels every sharpness of your claws. It has always been.
Yet, he felt that making her completely aware of that fact would make it worse. It was a vulnerability he did not feel at ease to show her. He was beginning to. And that was maybe what made it so difficult.
He caressed her cheek, his hand almost shaking.
He was about to kiss her when the door opened with the shriek of Prissy.
"Oh! Oh!" The servant cried as he leaned his head back on the wettened floor. "How am I gonna clean all it?!"
Scarlett giggled and Rhett soon followed.
"I believe you will have to ask the others, Prissy. Now hand us some towels. Your mistress will be cold if she stays like that."
The girl swiftly left the room. Scarlett sighed, sitting and looking down at him with eyes full of joyful laughter. Her hair was wet, drops of water gathering at the tips, a dark, glinting curtain setting them apart from the world with the smell of rosewater and magnolia.
Sweet.
He cleared his throat.
"I believe, my dear, you will have to raise," He said, before waggling his eyebrows. "Or maybe you want to show me what you've learned through these new readings of yours."
At this, her cheeks burned red and she did so, her hands on her breasts to prevent it from dangling. He laughed at the irresistible spectacle before him, before sitting back and raising. Prissy handed them silently towels while he took off his wetted shirt and shoes, smirking about his wife's not so subtle attempts to take a peak.
As he was about to leave her room, he turned towards her, his hand on the threshold and a smirk on his face.
"By the way, dear," He said. "Be quick about your changing. I'm taking you to the house I've talked to you about."
Her eyes lit up in delighted surprise. Her mouth dropped out a little, like another thing. "For the orphanage? So soon?"
"What can I say? I've been busy," He replied, before innocently pointing out. "Your towel slipped, dear."
She looked down, then scowled, before throwing at him the first thing that came in hand.
Which was said towel. He laughed as he closed the door.
The employees of the house did not seem very amused to see him all wet around the house, but then he did not really care.
Soon enough, they were on their way, her body pressed on his at each bump of the road the buggy had to meet. They chatted easily, companionly, and he felt a soft joy at seeing her leaning on him.
Then he stopped. They had arrived. He helped Scarlett out of the buggy and examined her expression.
For the moment, it let nothing out. The facade was classic, acceptable. Nothing out of the ordinary.
Then they entered and she saw the space, the rooms. He could see the ideas come to her head swiftly, like a fascinating mechanism he wanted to study.
"Oh, that's the thing!" She cried when the visit was done.
He delighted in her excited expression, her eyes like a magical green light as she went from side to side, commenting, suggesting improvements, furniture, curtains…
It made him remember the building of the house with fondness. Except for one thing that he could not help but remark on.
"That's surprisingly simple for you."
"Is that meant to be an insult?"
"No, it's actually… quite nice."
"You really thought I would fill this building with colors, cushions and heavy furniture? Fiddle-dee-dee, Rhett," She waved her hand nonchalantly toward him. "there will be children in there. It'll be ruined in an instant."
"That did not stop you last time."
"I think we already talked about that," She teased. "I actually always thought you liked colors. During the wars, you were always bringing me things so bright…"
He chuckled.
"Oh, so you thought you were accommodating my tastes? I'm not sure I appreciate that thought."
She stopped, a sneaky smile raising at one corner of her lips, a finger teasingly tapping them.
"And mine. Well… alright, I admit I was mostly thinking of mine."
He shrugged good-naturedly.
"I wanted you out of the black, darling. At that time, anything would have been good to me."
"And you succeeded in it," She smiled teasingly. "But actually… I think you had a time when you liked colors very much… Now, you can admit it to me."
He laughed. "It may be right. Every day, I would see people with dull colors. Grey, black, brown, beige… You have no idea of many shades of grey I have seen, and how painful it was. I was sick of it. So I may have overdone it."
"Not to mention that when Atlanta was attacked, you came to me with a white immaculate suit."
"Well, wasn't I your knight in shining armor, that day?"
"You mean to tell me you changed especially for me that day?" She shook her head, amused. "You're too much, Rhett."
"All for you, my dear," He winked. "Though pity for me, you hadn't remarked this at the time. I was disappointed, you know. I took great care in choosing that suit."
"Oh, did I hurt your poor little pride?" She teased. "Good."
"You cruel woman."
"Oh, you deserve every bit of it!" She berated him lightly. "I was scared that day, you know."
"I've heard it. You screamed terribly so I thought my ears would never recover. 'Quick, Rhett, quick! Hurry!' I almost thought you would take the reins from me."
"I almost did," She sighed pleasantly, before winking at him. "But I have to say… You were very handsome at that moment."
"And I still am," He waggled his eyebrows.
Her mouth pursed fondly.
"You conceited man."
"King, you mean."
Her pointed chin raised in defiance.
"Who crowned you?"
"You, my dear."
"My fault. You will never let me live this down, will you?"
"Never."
"Pirate king!"
"Oh, you know, the thing with pirates…They're not trustworthy. You might never know when they might do something… completely unexpected."
"Don't I know that!"
She laughed, the musical sound echoing in the room pleasantly. He pressed her against him, the fabrics of her dress a soft, whispering pressure on him.
"I could snatch you. Make you my prisoner, to wait in my cabin for my biddings…"
Her eyes gleamed.
"Fiddle-dee-dee, won't you love that, me being your prisoner."
"Oh, don't tempt me that much."
She put a finger on her chin as a jest, her lips stretched mischievously.
"But I'll think… With a little bit of time I could manage to take the keys from you and run away…"
"Oh, you think you could escape me?"
"I think I could try. But then… I'll be bored so!"
He roared in laughter. "So you'll run back to me just because you're bored? That's pleasant to hear."
She batted her lashes. "Didn't you want the truth?"
"Oh, no, that's not the truth. Not even the half of it. You would run back to me because you love me."
She pouted, her hands settling between them.
"It's not funny when you can see the truth that clearly."
"The truth isn't meant to be funny."
"And why ever not? If it was, then it'd be easier to share it!"
"There are things you can't laugh at."
Yet she did, and through her laughter, she told him she loved him, her eyes dancing, telling him 'and you, why can't you?'
Too soon, darling, he thought with amusement as he took her hands in his, caressing her mount of Venus with his thumb before kissing it.
"Are you laughing at yourself, my dear?"
"A bit, maybe. But mostly at you."
"At me. I didn't know I was doing anything to be laughed at."
"It's in your face," She said simply.
Swiftly, she stole a kiss from his lips, then escaped his embrace.
He chuckled.
He watched her getting closer to the curtains, her fingers gripping the fabric firmly. She ranted a little about it, as if it held any interest, and he went closer, pressing his chest to her back. Silently, he put his hands on her shoulders. She froze, then looked at him with pleading eyes.
"Rhett… What could lead people to force others to do something unbearable?"
He paused.
"That's a difficult question you ask. I have my own idea. But I think you can find your own. Why did you hire convicts, Scarlett?"
"Convicts are no children. And I never asked them to…"
"No, they aren't," He shook his head softly."Yet they were mistreated all the same, and you did not ask yourself if they could die in their post, did you?"
She faltered a little.
"No. I guess I did not. I was… so afraid to lose it all," In a moment of insight, it seemed clearer. "Maybe I did not want to see it. Maybe I wanted to believe it'll be alright."
"When we are afraid, it can be almost impossible to see that others are suffering. It can also be impossible to consider them as a person even."
She nodded.
"I did not consider them as persons. I… could not. They deserved it, I believed. They were convicts. They had done terrible things. I could not even understand your remarks, Ashley's, or even Archie's."
Sighing, she leaned back.
"Oh, Rhett…" She asked, her eyes bright with anguish. "Am I a bad person?"
Oh, no… He wanted to say. You are an extraordinary woman. My woman. And I see now I hadn't helped you that much to realize that. Did not help you that much to improve.
But no. It was no use to blame himself like that. It would not help her.
Damn it, Rhett Butler, he thought. You know what you should do. But then why is it so difficult to do so?
He took her gently in his arms, putting her head on his chest. The beats of his heart were slow, and he felt appeased by her proximity. His hand caressed her hair, gathered in a nest that he wanted to take off to comb the locks with his fingers.
"A bad person would never question themselves like that. They would not care. No. You're not a totally good person either, and I am not. The things we do, it's because it helps us in a way. Yet, we're not bad either."
"Then how to distinguish the good people from the bad?"
"Feelings. Care. I think you know, I tend to believe there are no truly good people, no truly bad people. Only circumstances. And yet, if I had to define who bad people could be… I'd say they are people without feeling, who don't care about anything but themselves."
"Yesterday, I went to the orphanage. And it's strange. The first time, I thought everyone but the children was terrible, cruel. Monsters. I was determined to do anything in my power to change it, and in time to make them pay. Yet, there was also this feeling of powerlessness. What could I do? Had I really the power to change all of this? Was I ready for the consequences? And then… there was one of the nuns. She thanked me. That was my first doubt…"
"You realized they were not all monsters."
"Yes. But I decided not to think of it. There was Wade, with me, telling me I had to do something."
"You wanted to make him proud."
"I did. And I felt I was right to do so. But yesterday… I saw them care. I saw them try to help, to comfort the children."
He sighed and kissed her hair.
"Maybe they do. Maybe they don't."
She raised bewildered eyes on him.
"What do you mean?"
"Hadn't you thought that maybe they wanted you to see this?"
"You mean they pretended?"
"Maybe."
"That's terrible."
"Indeed," He nodded. "I'm not saying it's not genuine. But I do believe you want to believe it is, that the situation is not that difficult."
"And why would I want that?" She sneered. "I'm sure you have your own idea about it."
"Oh, Scarlett. Don't be so defensive. I'm not blaming you. That's a burden you were not prepared to bear, and I'm sure it made you think of many things you wanted to forget," He pressed her harder against him. "I know what it is, to want to run away from a difficult situation."
She snorted. "Of course you do."
She froze. "Sorry."
He shook his head. "No. Don't be. You're right. I know my fault."
She faltered.
"Maybe it is. Maybe I want to think that it's not that bad. But it does not work. I still think we have to create that other orphanage."
"No. Because you see there's a need for it to change."
She hummed, and he felt her nose on his neck, her face moving until her lips pressed on him, stretched on a smile.
"So, this is how it should have been? You comforting me over my problems?"
"Us supporting one another through the difficulties. And it's not only your problems. That's how it should have been."
That's how it will be, he thought.
"It's actually quite nice."
"It is."
"And you?" She said, raising her head. "Am I allowed to know your thoughts and comfort you as well in this relationship?"
He smiled. You already do, he thought.
"Of course," He said. "Though at that moment, I don't see for what matter you'd have to comfort me."
She smiled.
"I love you."
A fierce emotion came to him. His embrace tightened, but his throat ran dry.
She blinked. Was it a hurt expression in her beloved face?
"Can't you say it just to pretend?"
Oh, he could do so much more than pretend.
"I love you, Scarlett."
More than I ever loved anyone. More than anything, more even than himself.
An idea came to him, that she knew already this and wanted him to admit it to her on his knees. He felt the fear rushing to him like blood in his veins, an automatic answer he could not shake off easily.
"I believe we understand one another more than we say we do," He finally said.
She looked back at him expectantly.
"I hope we do," She examined him closely, a hint of apprehension in her eyes, then cleared her throat. "Well, for the orphanage, it's better that we do."
His shoulders relaxed, but he cursed himself for it.
She turned away, and he felt her absence from his arms keenly.
"Thank you, Rhett."
"You don't have to thank me."
He took a step forward and held his hand towards her, hoping she would see how much he cared in his eyes.
"Come on, Scarlett. Let's come back to the house."
She bit her lips. He did not call it home. Yet, at his gesture, she let out a little smile and answered accordingly.
He squeezed her hand and led them back to Peachtree Street.
When they came back, Prissy was shrieking at the children, complaining that the masters would be coming and would not be happy about them "runnin aroun' like dat and tearin up their clothes". Another servant tried to appease her, but without success.
"Oh, Wade Hampton, you're in a sorry state!" Scarlett cried, dismayed as she saw them. "And you, Ella!"
A sorry state, indeed. Wade had more than a foot of mud on his pants, and his shirt was ripped on the right side. Ella was half-covered in filth, and Billy… Well, it was difficult to see the difference between his clothes and his body with that the thickness of it.
Only Caroline was immaculate, certainly because she had only been the witness of it.
Certainly, Ella had been pushed in a puddle, and the boy had jumped to protect her, if Rhett had to take a guess.
The little girl lowered her head, her foot twisting a little on the floor.
"Sorry, mama… But it's Wade that began."
"You little liar!"
Scarlett's foot stomped on the floor impatiently.
"Well, Billy, Caroline," Rhett intervened, amused. "Certainly you have seen something."
Immediately, Billy answered.
"Mister Wade did this."
Yet, Caroline bit her lip, upset.
Scarlett crossed her arms, frowning. Rhett chuckled, putting his hands on her shoulders who jumped a little at his touch.
"Oh, come on, dear, it's alright. They're children. They just played a little roughly."
"A little too roughly," She scowled, before she took notice of the afraid expression on Prissy's face. Her eyes softened. "You'll help Prissy to clean it and repair it. All of you!"
"But…" Wade protested.
"No but. I won't have any children of mine not knowing the cost of what they have on their backs. Now, go clean yourself. You're really in a sorry state!"
Wade tried to look at Rhett for support, but the man shrugged, encouraging him to go with the other. He huffed, his little cheeks puffing a little, but followed nonetheless.
Finally, Scarlett turned towards her husband, her eyes flaring.
"Have you anything to say about it?"
"No. I agree…"
Her brows almost raised to the roots of her hair. She faltered like a crushed balloon.
"You… agree?"
He laughed at her bewildered expression. "I do not always disagree with you, my dear. I can see when children need discipline, and what you suggested was actually quite adequate."
"Oh."
"Missus," Prissy cleared her throat, her voice still a little trembling. "A package came for you. From the tailor."
At this, her eyes brightened, her steps light as she went closer to said package. There was excitement in these emeralds, and he felt curiosity at the content of it. Not to mention her hands shook a little.
"What is that, my dear?"
"A surprise," She answered in a sing-song voice, before shoving him lightly with her hip when he tried to approach.
"Are you going to tell me what this is all about?" He relented.
"I can only say it's for the ball," She said with the same tone.
To his amusement, her feet were tapping on the floor almost like for a dance. His gaze went up, traced the pattern on her lilac dress with pleasure.
Abruptly, she turned towards him.
"Oh, Rhett, I so want to dance!"
He raised an eyebrow at her.
"Can't you wait tomorrow for this?"
She squirmed under his bewildered stare, feeling like a little girl. He chuckled and took a step forward, leaning toward her frame. His hand twitched with the need to touch her, but unfortunately he had no excuse to do so. Her bun in that nest was too perfectly done, not even leaving any erring strand.
"Your eyes are gleaming prettily, my dear. What twisted plan do you have in mind?"
"Rhett… You've always been an adventurer, haven't you?"
He looked at her amusedly.
"That's an intriguing beginning for a demand. Continue, I'm all ears."
A contagious smile came to her face, and it spread to his.
"Rhett…"
"Scarlett…"
"I've heard there's an Irish pub…"
Rhett's brow went up.
"An Irish pub?"
"Don't be a snob, Rhett!" She said with fondness. "I've heard there's good music!"
She took a step closer, her eyes pleading.
"Oh, Rhett, are you going to say yes?"
His smile widened.
"You, dancing a jig on the table like a true Irishwoman? I'd be a fool not to want to see that!"
"How you do run on, husband… Who said anything about dancing on tables? Really, that's a ludicrous idea."
"Well, aren't you the one who talked about an adventure? Or are you becoming fraidy-cat?"
At this, her temper flared.
"Fiddle-dee-dee, Rhett Butler! I'll dance so hard, I'm sure I will need three pairs of shoes before the night ends!"
"Believe me, my dear, when you'll come to that number, you'll see me joining you for a last dance."
She grinned, and he felt her excitement wash over him like a wave.
"Prissy!" He called. "Tell the children not to wait for us. Their mother and I will tell them goodnight in some minutes. We'll be leaving for the night."
That being said, they went on their own way, he to his chambers, she to hers.
He changed, putting more comfortable clothes, then grinned. From one of his drawers, he took two masks and slipped them in his pocket.
It intrigued him when she entered the chamber of little Billy, but he did not enquire. He would have the answer in time, he knew. There was something she wanted of the boy, and he could see it had to do with Ella's incident. And her little rant from yesterday confirmed it.
Then, she went to see Wade and Ella as they waited on them, already in their nightclothes.
He looked at her as she explained them.
"But mama, why do we have to go?" Little Ella asked, upset. "Are we being punished?"
"Oh no, sweet-heart..."
"It's your fault," Wade scolded. "You shouldn't have followed that stranger."
Ella was on the point of crying.
Frowning, Rhett intervened. "Not that, little man. Your mother is right. You'll be better at Tara. There are many things happening in Atlanta, and it'd be better if you were away from some time. We'll join you soon."
Scarlett looked at him, startled, then smiled gratefully. His heart skipped a beat, but he held on.
"But…" Wade asked, hesitant. "What about Caroline?"
"And Billy?" Ella added, tears at the corners of her eyes.
Scarlett sighed, pondering it. Rhett joined her, putting his hand on her in support.
"They'll join you. Then you will be able to continue all your little games. Isn't it right?"
His wife's mouth pursed a little, but it soon transformed on a grin. "More gently, though. And while still helping Prissy to fix your clothes."
They finally accepted that fate with resignation, and Rhett was able to lead Scarlett outside.
With a grin, he handed them the mask, and put his own. It covered only half of the face, leaving the mouth out.
She laughed.
"You look funny like that!"
"Do you remember the first time we used it?"
"Of course I do!" She exclaimed as she put it on, her eyes twinkling pleasantly, enlightened by the pattern. "We were invited to a masquerade ball in New-Orleans."
"You were sulking because you did not like the song."
"I did not know how to dance this one!" She protested. "It was too… slow. With a strange rhythm, like I'd never heard before!"
"That's because you lacked imagination, but no energy, my dear."
"Well, now, I have both, so you better be prepared, Rhett Butler!"
And from the look on her face, she was prepared to face the challenge. With a grin, he led her to the pub, curious to see her in action.
They shared a light supper of baked potatoes and smoked pork on the common tables, and soon enough people were drawn to them and he took pleasure in that. They were creatures able to jump from one world to another with ease, both of them survivors, both of them with a desire of life too big for their own body. Two chameleons, that yet were not satisfied in the world they lived in.
Then, when the music began and the plates were taken away, he dared her to do what she had suggested to him. He delighted in her offended expression, as if he had doubted her boldness. Yet, it was him that helped her to climb the table.
She raised her skirt lightly with one hand, letting her little feet be shown, daring and immaculate in these delicate black slippers. The other hand stayed on her hip, and she held her head high, defiant to the world.
She was magnificent.
The music rang in the air, swift and joyful, and her feet followed the rhythm, so light it seemed it barely touched the floor.
Around them, some men, attracted by the spectacle, cheered and tapped to encourage her. Some women joined her, but he only saw her, smiling at him cheekily. He laughed at her, and when one of the heels broke, she put it beside him like a trophy, while he handed her others.
"One," She cheered.
And she continued, the table trembling under her feet.
"That woman…" A dark-haired man with brown eyes exclaimed. "She's got spunk! It's like she's got fire in her feet!"
"That's my woman," Rhett commented firmly.
But that threat only got him a laugh and a pat on the shoulder. He joined in it.
"You're a lucky lad."
"That, I am," He said quietly.
"Two!" He heard, before seeing another pair joining the first.
He grinned at her and applauded her, intoxicated with her smile, her moves, her charms.
"And… three!" She cried, this time, the pair of shoes escaping her hands in her eagerness. "Oh!"
She giggled as Rhett caught it, put it down and took off his jacket, joining her. He felt ageless, almost immortal with her by his side.
He tapped his feet on the table from right to left, twisted them, while he took off his hat with both his hand and put it to one side of his chest, then the other. Suddenly, he stopped and put it back on his head with a wink in Scarlett's direction. He continued, almost as if he was walking in place with the rhythm as his guide, his arms swinging forward, then backward.
At his side, Scarlett laughed.
"What's this dance, Rhett?" She cried. "It's ridiculous!"
"Yet, you follow the same steps, my dear!"
And indeed, she did. He pressed her against him and swung with her, their feet raising, almost crossing with their little kicks before tapping the table, making their own music. He twirled her and pressed her back to him. They turned a little, before he released her, twisting his feet a little more, before daring her to do the same. They took turns, trying to see how long it could go, before she turned and turned, a big smile on her face.
"Oh, I can't stop!"
With one cry, she joyfully tripped and he caught her by the waist, one of her legs raised higher than what was totally proper.
Around them came applauds and cheers as they looked at each other, exhilarated.
He felt so alive. This was the life they were meant to have, he thought. Dancing, laughing. Sharing adventures, little and big. Together.
He bowed with his hat held low and she curtsied.
The excitement did not leave them when they went out of the pub, the laughs and talks behind them, and a new song beginning.
"Ah… I told you I would need more than three shoes," She said with a dazzled pride.
"Of course, you did, my dear, and I never doubted you," He drawled pleasantly. "But now you're going to hurt your feet if you continue. And you won't be able to dance tomorrow."
"God's nightgown, Rhett! My feet are fine, thank you! They'll be able to keep up tomor- Oh!"
She cried when he put his arm under her knees, efficiently sweeping her off her feet. She gripped the fabric of his jacket and when he began to walk with her in his arms, she tapped him repeatedly, not even caring to hide the smile on her face.
"What are you doing, you great king of cads?!"
"What does it look like I'm doing? I'm snatching you."
"Fiddle-dee-dee! To our house? That's a strange snatching."
He roared in laughter at this.
The street was pleasantly animated, the lights barely wavering under the soft breeze. No one questioned their masks. They were two strangers in the night like others, hoping to have a little enjoyment before the sunrise.
She hummed, setting herself more comfortably in his arms.
"I like going on adventures with you."
Could she feel his heart beating? Oh, the tender frisson with the idea that she did!
"The night is beautiful, Rhett. Look at all these stars!"
She pointed at them eagerly, and he chuckled at her expression, almost childlike.
"Yet… I seem to remember the stars are prettier at Tara…" She said softly.
"They're the same stars," Rhett commented.
"Maybe," She pondered the question. "Yet…"
She looked at him, then smiled. "No, you're right. They're the same."
As they came to the house, then to the stairs, he put her down, and hesitantly, they climbed silently. His hands were shoved on his pockets as he tried to conceal his nervousness.
Would she invite him in, this time? Could her sideways glances mean she was as nervous as he was?
He remembered that time, after that Night, when he had felt full of anxious energy, wanting to hope, but afraid to do so. He had been ashamed then, and yet defiant. His mind was filled with contradictory thoughts, raising her as either the Delilah to his Samson or the sweet Penelope, ready to welcome her husband back into her arms.
Once in front of her door, as she opened it, she turned towards him, hesitant. He saw her biting her lower lip.
"Rhett… I thought…"
"Yes?"
"As we agreed to pretend…" Her hands fidgeted on her mantle, before she bravely raised her head to him. "Why do you sleep…?"
"Oh…" He affected an air of surprise, but his eyes twinkled. "Were you expecting me to go to your bed?"
She blinked.
"Well… isn't it how you would have wanted to be?"
"How I would have wanted to be is you wanting me to be there."
As if offended, she took a step forward, her mouth pursing.
"Of course I want it!"
He looked down, amused, a triumphant smirk drawn on his lips.
"I told you you would ask me…"
"Oooh! You're insufferable!" She scowled. "I'm not asking you to… make love to me."
Though her eyes gleamed at the idea.
"Oh? That's disappointing."
She huffed and turned away from him, visibly angry, took off her gown and mask and climbed onto the bed, her back still on him. He bit the inside of his mouth, cursing himself. He felt stuck in place, on the doorway when he so terribly wanted to be in.
"So I guess I'm not welcome at the sanctuary, then…"
"Well, if you act like a hound…"
Yet, at her side, Scarlett was refraining herself from smiling, her eyes glinting in anticipation.
"What are you waiting for?" She chided. "The bed is cold."
He blinked, then chuckled. He took off his pants and shirt, his mouth twitching as he saw her head slightly moving, as if she was tempted to look, but did not dare. Looking at her back, he blew the candle on her nightstand and slipped into the bed, savoring the crisp freshness of the sheet on his skin, and the flowery scent of her hair on the pillow.
He gathered her against him, his nose buried in the dark and soft luxury, a feeling of belonging in his heart.
In hers echoed the same as she fell asleep, warm and safe in his arms.
…
And this, folk, is how Charlestone was created.
Just kidding. Charlestone was created in the 1920s. But somehow, the image of Clark Gable dancing it came to my mind and I couldn't let go of it. I hope you enjoyed it!
PS: GWTW and the other litterary works mentioned still aren't mine though.