11/16/2020 update - I am working on Chapter 15, promise. I am actually working on Chapters 15,16, and 17 at the same time, and therein lies the problem; gotta get them all outlined and fleshed out a bit just to make sure the bricks are laid straight. Sorry for the delay, I hope to have at least one chapter posted by the weekend. Peace, misscyn
A/N This chapter beat me up. Just extremely difficult to get the dialogue even close to right. A recap as far as a timeline goes, at the end of this chapter it's Thursday evening. Leif is expected back in Atlanta on Friday, reading lessons are Sunday night, and time will move forward until Rhett is scheduled to return from Nassau by the end of the week.
Chapter 13 did not post correctly for about a week due to technical problems with this site. It is an important chapter in this story. You might want to check and see if you've read it before you go on to Chapter 14 (which is a HUGE one, for me at least six thousand plus words wahoo!).
I know it's hard to wait for Mr. B - imagine how his wife and children feel waiting for him after his many, many trips. Always waiting, always saying goodbye too soon. Hmmm …. see you at the bottom of the page.
Chapter 14
General Hampton extended his arm and Scarlett tucked her hand in the crook of his elbow as they made their way down the porch stairs and across the lawn to the garden walkway.
"Wade's a fine young man," he said. " Fortunate for you both Charles didn't marry his cousin."
Scarlett suppressed an inner smile, remembering Beatrice Tarleton's soliloquy on the negative effects of the Wilkes' interbreeding with their Hamilton relatives on the day of that fateful barbecue. Perhaps she had done the family a good turn by Charles, after all.
"Yes, I think Wade has benefited from my sturdy Irish roots," she replied. "Poor Charles wasn't the strongest, but he had the best of hearts." She had only realized how true this was a few minutes before.
"Irish, yes, but I can also see your mother's family in your features." Scarlett smiled. She always appreciated when Ellen's heritage was acknowledged.
"Such a short marriage and having a child by yourself must have been rather bleak for you," he continued. "I understand you wed Frank Kennedy soon after the war. And now you have been married to Captain Butler for several years." Scarlett nodded, wondering where he'd obtained all his information.
"Eight years," she replied.
"I also understand you have been a businesswoman in your own right since your second marriage - and this hotel is your venture?"
"Yes." she nodded and couldn't help but beam a little at him. She did love this project.
"Pray tell me about it," he said, and Scarlett, glad for a change of subject, happily prattled along.
He asked all the right questions and made intelligent, precise observations. She'd expected him to be a bit more like the old dreamers, lost in the past. Like Ashley, except with courage and a spine. But, no. He wasn't giving up, but he knew changes had to come about. She, like everyone else, had heard how he blended forward-thinking politics with proper respect for the old ways and people. Somehow, this decorous life-long public servant managed to pull such a feat off.
The man was determined to meld the past and present into a hopeful future. She respected that line of thinking. It wasn't like talking to Ashley. The general managed to get on with life and still maintain dignity. Grace and charm, she inwardly added. Rhett could take notes.
"You've certainly made some wise decisions," he remarked after allowing her to go on at length. "On a personal level I'm in the process of trying to regain a portion of the family fortune I lost due to the war, and that is how I came into contact with Mr. Erickson and Mr. Tate. You've chosen some good people to work with - Not Northerners, not Southerners, rather unbiased."
"It was sheer luck," Scarlett admitted. "I met them through my new attorney, Ennis King. I saw his shingle and took a chance. I suppose he is technically a Yankee, although still one of the nicest men I have ever met, and certainly the shrewdest attorney to move to Atlanta in the last few years."
He nodded. "I know Ennis. Fine man. Pity about his wife, and Mr. Erickson's. I think that is one reason they became good friends so easily."
Scarlett felt confused. She made a mental note to ask Tate. Neither one had ever mentioned a wife.
General Hampton glanced sideways at her. "But of course, in regards to the success of your venture, your personal reputation will matter, because you will depend on the good word and the business of all the people in this area, as well as newcomers and travelers."
Oh, dear. A sense of alarm sank in as she considered his words. This is one aspect she admittedly had not focused much on in the last few harried weeks.
They arrived at the gazebo and the general guided her in and waited until she sat on the bench before seating himself in the wicker chair right across. She looked across the lawn and saw Uncle Henry staring at them from the porch. She waved and he turned quickly away.
The general fixed her with his intent gaze.
"I'm going to be frank here, because you were married to Charles, and you're the mother of his son. I am concerned for both of your futures."
Scarlett inclined her head and waited for him to continue.
"I would not presume to discuss your marriage. I'm from Charleston, you realize, and I've known the Butler family my entire life - as well as your aunts." She had assumed as much and nodded.
"Gossip travels between here and there and the captain has always been such a colorful figure - and so it follows that, well, people there pay attention to any news of him. Just like people here do of you.
"Then there's your reputation, which is closely intertwined with that of Captain Butler's. And his social standing has always been rather up and down." The general paused before speaking again.
"I'm aware of how he rebuilt his reputation, and how he didn't bother to try to save yours. I can imagine that he encouraged your - insouciance shall we say - at first. Going back to how he managed to get you out of mourning for Charles?"
Scarlett's face turned pink. This man had respected Charles and apparently did not approve of that bazaar dance so long ago. The general waited for her to regain her mental footing before continuing.
"He courted you throughout the war, and continued to call on you after you married another man. Then he married you not too long after Mr. Kennedy's death."
No sense in arguing with the facts, she thought wryly. But she had to wonder where this line of talk was headed.
"Again, I grew up in Charleston, even though I am a few years older than the captain. His father had high hopes, but that boy was troubled from a young age. Too smart for his own good, and he's always been his own worst enemy, and many times other people's as well."
"Did his father love him?" she asked before she could stop herself.
" As much as he was capable, but he feared him more. When he was young, the boy showed so much promise - a scholar, accomplished, well-liked. He was quite a thespian in school, a theatrically gifted orator and excelled at all the gentlemanly skills. His mother adored him."
'A thespian? He's never mentioned it. That explains all the Shakespeare. As well as the consummate acting skills, not all attributable to poker table tricks.' Scarlett almost missed his next words as years of missing puzzle pieces began to click into place.
She found herself leaning forward, eager to hear more.
"His father, however, thought the focus on arts too soft, and sought to toughen the boy up. As his problematic nature evolved - well, I believe the boy had a recklessness that reminded his father too much of his own renegade paternal figure, and he tried to stamp that out. Mostly unsuccessfully, I might add.
"His father - well, I never much cared for his father, but he was a gentleman. And awful hard on that boy. I think he fully recognized the potential for greatness, as well as destruction, that his progeny possessed. He was dreadfully disappointed by your husband's - proclivities, shall we say. And then there were the scandals."
Scarlett sighed. Not this tired old buggy-ride story. "I know of his history."
He gave her an enigmatic look. "I'm not sure you do."
The general paused as he gazed across the lawn. "He caused several families a good deal of pain. And then after he was thrown out of his home and came back from out west or wherever he was, it got worse. During the war and sometime before he began to speak against our way of life, against honor. I understand some of it, but a good deal of it just seemed like sour grapes. He wasn't accepted by that society, so he rebelled against it.
"He came out on top but stepped on many people to get there. I don't begrudge him the blockading money for the most part - after all, he had the seafaring experience and the boldness it took to do such a thing - but the food speculation - well, let's say I have a bone to pick over that."
Scarlett remained silent, waiting for the point.
"Then," he hesitated for a beat, "there's the misappropriation of the Confederacy gold."
Deep water, here. Scarlett swallowed.
"I know there were questions regarding those funds," Scarlett said carefully. "If you'll recall - and I'm certain you can because you seem to know an awful lot about his past - Rhett had made his fortune years before then. And do remember that he has donated a good bit of money to the Democratic Party."
"I do commend him for that, but he hasn't donated five million dollars," the general leveled her with a look.
"He said it was half a million, and that he had rightfully earned half of that." The words were before she could stop herself.
"I'm sure he did." General Hampton's eyes didn't waver.
For the love of all that is holy. Sweat began to treacle down Scarlett's spine. She didn't want to incriminate Rhett here. Oh, lord, he will surely hate me now more than ever, she thought in utter despair.
She made a last-ditch attempt at backpedaling. "He did tell me that several blockade runners were also responsible for the gold becoming - er- misplaced."
He didn't respond immediately. They regarded each other in silence for a few minutes before he spoke again.
"It hasn't escaped my notice that he only helped the Democratic Party when he was full fat and happy himself; also, it appears to have been accomplished in conjunction with the birth of his child, who has now passed," a kindly, sympathetic look here, "and he hasn't been as active for the last couple of years, but he has helped. I can't say that he hasn't. Perhaps he has made up for what he has done.
"But there are many others who have profited and not given a thing back."
"During Reconstruction Captain Butler introduced you to a faction of society that made him a great deal of money for a while, Carpetbaggers, Scallawags, and radical Republicans; he has since renounced such associations, but you didn't, at least not for a while."
"General Hampton -"
"Hamp," he smiled, but it didn't reach his eyes.
"I had lost all my remaining few friends when I married Rhett and he became a Scallawag of a sort himself. It was difficult for me to walk away from people who were friendly to me, if not exactly who I wanted them to be - when I had no one else.
"And I'm sure you have heard that I am no angel. You spoke of the foraging. I feel that I can tell you this - during the war I swore to keep my family alive and safe and fed no matter what I had to do - lie, cheat, steal, or kill. And I've done pretty much all of it."
She felt a moment of remorse at disclosing this much. However, if you can't tell a Confederate general that you shot a Yankee soldier dead, who can you tell?
"Oh, I know about you." He clasped his hands in front of his chest and raised his eyebrows.
"The convicts," he shook his head while she hung hers. "I've spoken at length with people in the party and in the community.
"Not sure you see yourself very clearly, my dear. You have been ruthless, yes. Made some very poor decisions a few years back, but you were a woman, not even a woman on your own, because you were weighed down by taking care of your folk. The only businesswoman in Atlanta when you bought your mills."
Other than a certain brothel owner. At least he hadn't mentioned Ashley. Thank God.
"Some of the men are too beatdown still even seven years later, and women too. But women are tougher in many ways. You're a prime example of that. One reason I choose to speak to you so directly is that you are a woman who takes action.
"I certainly don't condone all of your choices, but I do feel few options were available, and you showed spunk. You were dauntless and intrepid, and those are qualities sadly lacking in today's world. We still have starving women, starving children, now there are no schools to speak of and we are in a post-war disaster. We could use more women like you."
Scarlett smiled wistfully in response. He wondered if she knew how her slight aura of pain had softened her features and somehow made her even more beguiling.
"I want to thank you, General - Hamp. Nevertheless, I don't really know what you're after here," Scarlett said haltingly. "I am sure you have heard that Mr. Butler and I aren't on the best of terms. He - we did lose a child and we haven't been the same since.
"I'm also sure you know we are leading mostly separate lives now. Certainly you have been told that Mr. Butler does as he pleases and lives his life mostly in other towns and places."
A nearly imperceptible move of his head.
"But he's prominent in my children's lives. I'm not going to work against him. He has my - loyalty, to a point."
"He's still my husband." She met his eyes stare for stare. "I don't want to hurt him. And I fear that I have revealed too much."
He looked at her directly then. She got the distinct feeling she had passed some kind of a test.
General Hampton sighed.
"My lady, I am afraid that desperate times call for desperate measures; however, I do feel I have been overly candid with you so far, and for that, I apologize. But I cannot stop now.
"As far as I am concerned Captain Butler is a disreputable profiteer, no different than any other self-seeker who used the war in an opportunistic manner."
In some ways that may be true, but you don't know him, she thought. He's an extraordinary man.
"I don't see much honor in his behavior, and I just don't care for the way he does things. Case in point, for all his commanding officer's praise, the fact is he joined the Confederate Army on its last leg, after he'd made his money, just to be able to say he did. And it appears that he has left you, and Charles Hamilton's son."
"Yes. he comes back to keep up appearances, but, yes. He left me. And Wade feels it, very keenly, as well as Ella."
The general frowned.
Why she felt the need to defend Rhett she had no idea, but she forged on anyway.
"Mr. Butler does have a sense of honor, it's only somewhat … ." What was the word Ashley used? "Convoluted. It also can be rather hit or miss at times."
"I'm not sure hit or miss honor is much better than no honor at all," he countered.
Scarlett's lips turned up in a bittersweet smile. "It has its moments."
There was a conversational pause as she steeled her nerves for what lay ahead.
"Never matter," he waved a hand at her, as if they were discussing something no more paramount than the current price of lace tatting. "No one is looking to prosecute him for treasury gold. He's too smart, covered his tracks too well. The federal government gave up long ago. And perhaps he is the prodigal son of the South, although I have strong doubts as to his absolute sincerity.
"I want to talk to you about something else, and I'm afraid we have gotten off track. I am not on a witch hunt for your husband. My point is that between what you have done and what your husband has done - forgive me - but you don't have much reputation left. However, you are in a spectacularly interesting position from my point of view."
He shifted in his seat and leaned forward.
"We are in the midst of yet another crisis. You have to know that during Reconstruction vast amounts of money have gone missing over the last several years. The railroad crisis alone - with all the destroyed railcars and tracks - cost a fortune, and lost another one is misappropriated funds. As you are well aware, railroads are still inoperable in many places after hundreds of thousands of dollars have been spent, and lost, repairing them.
"Louisiana's carpetbagger governor made off with a full million dollars in public funds. Radical Republicans let it happen and made it happen, in many other cases as well.
"This money came from southern states, and southern states can't afford to lose it. The thieves are out of power, or at least most of them. Yet the governors, the Democrats, are being blamed. The Democratic Party needs someone to study the records. We have looked and looked, but there's something eluding us. We just can't find all the holes. And the holes we can find are fairly large, yet we don't know exactly where they go.
"Mr. Tate and Mr. Erickson tell me you are quite excellent with figures," he continued. "Something of a mathematical prodigy when it comes to ledgers and spreadsheets.
"You are in a position to help us and I am in a position to help you. You have had social connections to the very people suspected of misuse of public funds, waste and corruption. Even if you no longer associate with these people, society remembers that you did, and it is not helping you. But if you were to help find these missing funds, and that leads to recovering them for the Democrats and local government - that would go a long way to repairing a great deal of the damage to your social standing."
Scarlett sat, stunned silent for a moment.
"What exactly would I be doing?"
"Your role would be reconstructing financial enigmas and getting to the root of where the money went and who took it. If they haven't left the country, the government can track them down. And millions have gone missing. If we can recover even a portion, and it is clear that you did much of the research and groundwork - well, that will help your position mightily."
"I would be helping to catch people who I was once known to associate with as friends. " It wasn't a question.
"Yes, but if we present it as a fact that you befriended them in order to catch the thievery - " his voice trailed off.
"Are you asking me to pose as a post-war spy?" Scarlett felt somewhat aghast at the very idea.
"I don't think there will be any posing," he said quietly.
Crickets began to sing in the ensuing silence. The errant lightning bug danced around their faces as they regarded each other in the approaching sunset.
"We can't pay you. There are no funds. Now, if we could recover some of the missing funds it might be possible - but it would help your public image if you offered your services free of charge.
"And as I said before, I need the face of a woman - an attractive, successful woman - in this campaign. To encourage other women to work, to own businesses. Too many are still at home, suffering without financial security whatsoever, waiting for a man who doesn't exist to save them."
She gripped the edges of the bench slightly. "I'm not sure I'm qualified."
"And I'm willing to take a chance that you could do this regardless. You're skilled in this area, and you've proven you can do anything you set your mind to. Consider your latest business venture as proof of that." Scarlett could not doubt the earnestness of his demeanor.
"Beggars can't be choosers. We don't have time - the trail grows cold - much time has passed already, and men struggling to support families can't often work for free. We can't hire anyone, and we've gone through the paperwork, the ledgers and books, the records already. We feel we need a new, eagle eye to fine-tune the search. Someone who knows people and may have heard helpful things. And it would serve you as well."
Ever the pragmatist, Scarlett said, "but I want everyone to frequent my business, not just Southerners."
"That's the beauty of it. You will be catching all the thieves, not just the Northerners. Remember it was Southerners who sold cardboard and used wool boots to the Confederacy during the war."
"Why are you doing this? Why are you asking me to help, when there are bound to be others more experienced?"
He gave her a wry look. "Several reasons. Because you are Charles Hamilton's widow and Wade Hamilton's mother, and because I have heard that you are better than any man around when it comes to figures and catching someone who's stealing from you. Because now that I've met you I want to help you, and from what I believe you can help me. And it will do the public good to see a woman in such a position.
"You need a sympathetic face, and I'll be it," he said this with no conceit whatsoever. "I am going to vouch for you and your establishment. I will stay there when I am in town, which is often, be seen in the dining room, and promote it whenever I can gracefully do so. It will be well-known that I am a friend of your family and closely attached to Charles Hamilton's son."
Scarlett considered his words. It was a fine, if unorthodox offer, and she had no problem with it as such. "So I will study the records and do my best to find the anomalies. What else would you require?"
His lips thinned as he suppressed a small smirk.
"You're going to have to behave yourself. Try not to step on the Old Guard's toes and do anything too outlandish."
Scarlett nodded, blanching when she remembered Governor Bullock at her crush. Of much more immediate concern were the words she'd had just that morning with Mrs. Merriweather, the very mainspring of the Old Guard. Oh, and teaching the town madam to read, in her home, on Sunday and Wednesday evenings. Can't forget that. Still, she had come too far to backtrack into the constant awareness of social reprisal she had lived with before. Even if she'd ignored it anyway then, her conscience added.
"I'll be pleasant and polite, but I'm not pretending about my marriage, and those people are not ruling my life," she said firmly. "I am my own person now."
"But I do know how to play their game," she allowed after seeing the general's slightly taken aback expression. He smiled. She thought of something else.
"You know my husband will find out what role I am playing. He is still a big part of the Democratic party."
His eyes twinkled.
"I'm thinking it will be a burr under his saddle, and it won't put me out to put him out. I'm a gentleman, Mrs. Butler, not a saint. I will allow myself to derive a minuscule amount of pleasure while serving in the public interest."
"You're taking a chance with your reputation on me, General Hampton. Surely you know people think I'm just awful."
"I wholeheartedly believe such a risk will pay off in one way or another. I'm seen as a progressive, Mrs. Butler. I am working both sides without being branded a Union sympathizer. In the end, we will all have to live together."
He stood up to go. "Good, then. I will give you time to consider my offer. I think I can help you, while at the same time you help our people."
She rose and he extended his arm once again.
"Whatever your answer is, I want you to know I intend to call on Wade Hampton once a week while I am here in Atlanta for the next month, and each time I visit after that. My interest in his well being is entirely genuine, and not predicated on your acceptance.
Scarlett breathed a sigh of relief. "Thank you, General Hampton. I am a bit flustered, I have to admit. I didn't see this coming, and I certainly didn't expect for you to be so forward-thinking."
"You adapt, or you die, Mrs. Butler. Surely you know that better than anyone."
"Call me Scarlett, Hamp," she said, dimpling and giving him a sideways flirty stare. She needed to play the belle at least for a moment during such a social event. They both chuckled in companionable silence as they left the gazebo and strolled toward the house.
She looked back on the conversation, his kindnesses, his requests, and subtle maneuverings, (as well as the outright manipulative tactics, so very skillful upon reflection), but also his concern and dedication which somehow now encompassed her little family. He'd given her a great deal of information, but he'd managed to extract plenty from her, as well.
'Why, he knew Rhett didn't steal five million dollars, and he probably knew what he did with what he did take,' she thought. 'He just needed me to verify it.'
She glanced sideways at this venerable, eminent soldier of too-recent lore. For a moment his handsome facial features contorted with what appeared to be worry and when the twilight caught him he looked every bit his age.
He's toting a weary load. Much more than I am. He's toting it for us all, for all his people. Humbling, to say the least. And yet he was totally willing to bet on her.
"I'll help you," she said on impulse, then immediately calmed as she knew it, in her heart, to be the right decision. "I'll do it. I don't need any more time to think."
Scarlett then thought about the Old Guard, the peahens, all the enemies she made after she and the klan got Frank and Tommy killed, her Scallywag friends, how Rhett sold her out when he was building himself up for Bonnie. She had a moment of sheer panic.
"Do you actually think it will work after all that has happened? To put me back in the good graces, the very bosom of society, but on my own terms?"
The years fell away again as General Wade Hampton III's eyes crinkled with just the tiniest bit of mirth and not a small amount of self-deprecation.
"You're an extremely intelligent woman who has never much had time or circumstance on her side. I find myself in a position of power and, at the present moment, the general populace appears to be under the impression that I walk on water.
"I can sincerely say that, in light of these facts, this strategy has as good a chance as any labyrinthine strategy I've used before, on or off the battlefield.
"I believe in honesty and honor in most all aspects of life, Scarlett. The one thing I learned from that dreadful war, however, " he paused for a moment, taking her hand and looking into her eyes, "is how to turn a battle around.
"When it is done successfully, you actually harness the momentum of your opponent and use it against him. As if it were your own."
Ah. Something like hope bloomed in Scarlett's breast, and gratitude for such a foreign emotion threatened to overtake her.
OOOOooooOOOOoooo
The general took his leave right at sunset with a promise to call again the next week, and as he drove off Scarlett saw Uncle Peter waiting by Pittypat's buggy. She thought of his damp eyes only a little while before and was transported back to that day he quit driving her to the mill because she didn't defend him properly in front of the insulting Yankee women, the ones who had left town ahead of the law. That one from Maine had called him a 'pet.' A name she had come to particularly despise.
Scarlett had not said enough on his behalf, and that probably had hurt him worse. Those women had humiliated this proud man who raised Melly and Charles, who had kept Pitty alive, helped so much with Wade when she was such a young and thoughtless mother; they had humiliated him and made him weep that single tear. She'd wanted their money, their business. Money that may have well been ill-gotten. And so she'd hurt someone she shouldn't have hurt, in the name of greed.
Those women were part of who the general had spoken of - the people who needed to be made to face what they had done, what they had stolen. Not to forget it was the carpetbaggers who levied the extra taxes on Tara and sent her down a road to ruin.
Anger flashed hot in her belly and she lifted her chin. Yes. Yes, she would help. The thieves Hamp spoke of had some comeuppance due.
Peter looked at her quizzically as her expression changed, and she sent him her most dazzling look and accompanying smile, the one that Alex Fontaine said made men feel like she thought they knew more than God Almighty.
It would take an extremely perceptive man, one nearly as perceptive as Uncle Peter himself, to notice how her mouth trembled with the effort.
The corner of his own mouth quirked, and he nodded before looking away.
'Perhaps a little forgiveness,' she thought as her throat grew tight. She couldn't have handled any more than that. If he had thanked her for letting him come to tea she would have fallen apart.
OOOOOoooooOOOOOooo
It was getting on toward nightfall. Peter drove off with Pitty, Henry, and Beau as Scarlett and the children went in for supper. She practiced some French with Ella after dessert and tried to talk with Wade about his literature homework, this time Homer's Odyssey, but he was still too wound up for a calm discussion so she let it go. Later that night as her own excitement wore off Scarlett couldn't sleep with her thoughts going round and round so she tried to read Emma, since Ashley kept asking about it.
What was so wonderful about this novel? The best thing she could see was that Robert reminded her of Will Benteen. Oh, it was amusing in places and Emma was rich and attractive and didn't want to get married; Scarlett could certainly appreciate that sentiment. A part of her wondered if she had been born in a different place perhaps she could have remained unmarried, but no. The Fayetteville Finishing Academy, along with her parents, had definitely concurred that she would marry. Not to mention all the ends she had to achieve, no matter the means she had to use to achieve them usually ended up with the getting of a husband. Or three.
But Emma didn't have to take care of anyone so she spent all her time watching people, understanding them, but making mistakes all along the way. But never letting the mistakes stop her; which Scarlett could respect.
Emma also played matchmaker by observing people and their mannerisms. Scarlett had been trying to comprehend the inner workers of folks around her by putting herself in their shoes, as Ashley had suggested. Yet there are only so many hours in the day, and how much time does one have to worry about everyone else's personal problems, above and beyond making sure they have food and clothing and a roof over their heads? Somehow, Emma's society seemed easier to move up and down than Scarlett's current one. And much, much more simple. She closed the book and sighed. Perhaps she'd be better off borrowing Wade's copy of Frankenstein.
Her mind flitted about as she closed her eyes. Overall, it had been a very successful day, and there was now a bright shining light in an area of her life that had seemed so dark for too long.
Her thoughts then wandered to the sweet young husband she had never valued, the one who called her Sunshine and gave her gentle Wade, the one who was helping her now with his general; and the other husband who had called her Sugar and lost his life in a misdirected effort to protect her; and tried to understand her a little, but never did; yet saved Tara and gave her Ella, a child proving to be a daily joy and delight.
And then she thought of the man who had both protected and kept her alive and yet confused and tormented her existence, the one who gave her precious Bonnie. The husband who showered her with every monetary thing she had ever desired, the one who used to entertain her with stories, and make her laugh. The one she loved, but never really got to love, or fully experience his love in return; and she cried, bitter tears, because as far as she could see she figured she had never made one of these men a good and happy match, not one little bit.
OOOOooooOOOOoooo
Rhett Butler boarded his boat and headed to Charleston before he began to recognize exactly what was nagging at his subconscious. This feeling of anticipation was uncomfortably close to the one he'd felt when he used to visit her during the war, when he would travel inland for hours when there was not much reason to travel inland.
To see her face and hear her voice, to make sure she was all right. To speak and laugh, to draw from her energy and optimism, however self-centered or short-sighted it might be. To tease and purposefully raise her ire, just to bask in her mesmeric fire and the innate beauty it inflamed. To experience how vibrant, how alive she had been, and, more importantly, how alive she had made him feel.
There was something else, though. He couldn't quite put his finger on it.
If he'd realized that he wasn't numb anymore he would have turned around and headed back out to sea.
OOOOooooOOOOoooo
Don't worry, Hamp doesn't necessarily hate Rhett; he just wants to mess with him as he accomplishes other things. Wink.
That was rather weighty, but onward and upward! Leif next chapter and then some fun! Yay!
I took a few liberties here as Margaret Mitchell herself was a bit of a thespian (writing plays as a child) and I believe these talents are responsible for some of Mr. B's somewhat over-the-top verbiage, (platitudinously, anyone?) so I just gave him a little background in it. Works for me. Also Clark Gable's father thought his son's leanings toward the theater were sissified, and so Clark overcompensated by developing a highly masculine persona. Hmmm. He certainly was perfectly cast.
Thank you for the reviews! As always your comments and encouragements are vital to the development of this story, and so very much appreciated :) Happy Veterans Day, to all those who have served and those who continue to serve, as well as the people who love them.
Fun fact of the day (from Wikipedia):
Here's a bit on the real blockade runner who was accused of stealing millions in Confederate gold. It's said he was the inspiration for Rhett Butler.
George Alfred Trenholm (February 25, 1807 – December 9, 1876) was a South Carolina businessman, financier, politician, and slaveholding planter who owned several plantations and strongly supported the Confederate States of America. He was appointed as its Secretary of the Treasury during the final year of the American Civil War.[1][2]
His merchant firm was estimated to have made $9 million by blockade-running with its 60 ships during the war. Although he was imprisoned briefly after the war and suffered some economic setbacks, Trenholm continued to prosper. In the postwar years, Trenholm acted as a major philanthropist, aiding both blacks and whites in South Carolina. He also served on railroad and bank boards, and was elected to state office again in 1874 and died in office.