Chapter 32

Death had decidedly its moments, and Scarlett realized it as soon as she escaped a house on fire and found refuge in Pansy's little housing. With an ecstatic and crazy moment of relief, she realized she was alive and kicking, at least for another day. For once in what seemed forever, no rule written or implicit could apply to her. She felt free, for the first time in her life. No one could stop her, no one would try. No one could suspect her anymore, and every proof against her would be dismissed as a sign of madness. She could run wild if she wanted it, and just the fact of knowing it was somehow the most exhilarating on earth. She was remembering her first weeks of honeymoon with Rhett, when she was introduced to so many things in a so deliciously free manner. It was a time when she could forget for a moment she was Scarlett O'Hara Butler, mother, sister, and wife. She was a being with no burden, for a time, a very irritating being, Pansy commented with a vexing disapproving frown, and she could go wherever she wanted to go, whenever she wanted to.

It was almost in an afterthought she urged Pansy to go to the police office as planned, her mind not being numbed enough to see that her death could be useful to their plans.

"Death might be the only way out". Until then, she did not understand that it did not necessarily mean her actual death, but the fact that people thought of her dead. And indeed, it proved to be the solution to quite a lot of problems.

Then, there was the fact that suddenly everyone seemed to love her and praised her, even better than her previous dreams of being called "Lady Bountiful". Everyone seemed to remember all her good deeds finally, and added to that such fantastic things her vanity and confidence, which had been wounded over and over during all these years, found a great delight in it. It was also with a guilty pleasure she found out Rhett, who had been so praised at her expanse, was beginning to be vilified in an intriguing turn of the tables.

For a time, she could forget everything and just be. She could be whatever she wanted, and no one could stop her. Not even Pansy, Aren, Patrick, and Todd. In fact, Patrick seemed to find it amusing, while Todd admired her openly for finding pleasure in such a desperate state. They couldn't understand the feeling of restraining themselves over and over and being judged for every slip.

Pansy and Aren… it was more complicated. But somehow, they seemed to understand, and that fact made her realize, by a sudden instant of empathy, they may have faced a similar thing, perhaps even worse than her with the status they had.

Yet, in two or three days, all of this lost all its novelty soon enough and left her with longing and sorrow she had concealed until then. Then it broke entirely, when, pushed by her vanity that wanted to hear the sumptuous speeches in her honor, she dared to come to her own funerals. Well disguised, with a scowling Pansy at her side, she listened to it gladly, until Suellen's part awakened an upsetting feeling in her. She dismissed it. After all, it was Suellen. Always making a scene.

The worst came when Rhett stood up. She had hiccoughed, shaken at first by the vulnerability in him, surprised not to have seen him before in the crowd. But when she saw him, her heart went out, calling him and she cried for him. She wanted to reveal herself to him, to stop these wicked words that were said about him, about them and take him into her arms. She wanted to tell the truth, to protect him from harm to the risk of forgetting all the risks that could happen was she found to be in fact alive.

She was about to.

And then he destroyed her coffin, cursing her forever.

Literal as she was, especially with such a shock, she took it by the letter. He hated her. No love was left in him for her. She was dead, and the only thing that was left for her was an intense hatred that made sure he would try to kill her if he knew.

It was with a new frenzy she became even wilder. But the deed was done. She was beginning to remember everything. She was remembering her running in the house, trying to get everyone out. She was remembering their cries, her worries for the children left in Tara, for that land she loved so much. Worries for that man she loved so much, and who left her with a shattered heart and a deep uncertainty in her future. She was remembering the chest hidden in the study, the plans she had slipped in it, which urged her to take it, hurting her feet in the process on some sharp object. She was remembering Patrick and Aren coming to her rescue when the ceiling was beginning to fall on her. She was remembering her heart racing, her blankness of thoughts, as if her body had taken control to find a way to survive and she had lost consciousness all the way, her feet aching and her hands hurting from gripping the handle of the chest so much.

When it was broken, it all came down.

All of his words, all of her words came back to her, and she couldn't hold them back anymore.

She realized in fact she never was really free, for the moment it was established she was alive, some would come after her and those she cared about the most.

She had to go back to Tara. She had to find a way to get back to her life, to save it.

But before that, there were things she had to settle. For once in her life, she had to do the right and moral thing for others than her own folks in a quite immoral way.

Well, she had to admit scaring that old crow of Mother Superior by playing ghost was fun as well as it was useful. It was an act of sweet revenge for looking down on her. And she very much appreciated the statue Rhett commanded in her memory. Yet, it seemed it was only for pretend, for soon enough the act ceased, and he reverted to his bad ways and cursed her once again.

All these nights, she wanted to see him, for real, not these stolen moments when she could slip in his room, taking the place of the charwoman and look after him. It was not enough to kiss his brow and caress his cheek. She wanted him to put his arms around her so she could comfort him and take that burden that seemed to lay on his shoulders. She wanted his eyes to open, and the blood to leave it, the anger to disappear. She wanted to be comforted by him to tell and be told that everything would be alright.

He hated her and she loved him. It hurt her, but she knew she deserved it. But he was also her strength and she needed him, and even the knowledge of his hatred was not enough to stop her. So she would fight for him, for their children. And he would never know.

Yet, the children… With everything that had happened, people were pulling them apart and it tore at her like wild horses quartering her body to pieces. Was Rhett's hatred affecting the children as well? She had been so sure he would take care of them…

In a moment of self-depreciation that was still unusual to her, she told herself she was to blame for it, she was misery to them all, better off dead. Yet, her pull to life and her own practical sense were even stronger and she realized she could do more while being alive.

Could she make the children grieve so, worry so, if she could avoid it? Could she really abandon them, leaving them thinking she was dead?

She had to fight for them; fight for him because she loved him so and could not bear to see him like that. She would be the shadow that looked after them, sheltering them from people that wanted them harm.

That's when she decided, along with other schemes helped by a skeptical Pansy, to publish her story in a newspaper. This would be the indirect way, she realized after a rare deep reflection, to make them see she was alright, and she loved them, and she would try to see them whenever she could. It seemed crazy, quite haphazardous. Yet it worked, and Pansy found her way in Uncle Henry's home, enough time so that Wade be aware of it. It allowed them to communicate in some way.

Only their little family knew what it meant. Only they could understand. And even if Pansy was out of Henry's house, the deed was done.

It stopped for a time, for finally, she found a way to go back to her home without attracting much attention.

It was thanks to a talk with Pansy, that she realized things that could be of use to her. Pansy's family, to be precise, and while the knowledge of Pansy having been the child bearing the keys of her deceased mother had come back to her a few days after she hired her as a mammy, she had not been aware of her links to the gypsy world. When the name of Mammy Jincy and of that gypsy that had predicted her future (she learned she was called Brunhilda) not so long ago came to her ears, she felt it was fate.

Or at least a very bad joke.

The world was so little, she had thought with a newfound amusement. Soon enough she negotiated to travel with them, from Marietta to Jonesboro, and left instructions for Todd to follow. Aren came with her, and it was at that time she learned he had been part of a circus at a time, an assistant to the magician in place. Illusions had no secret to him, and he fitted in this world as if it was a well-tailored glove. Well, that could be useful, she thought.

And then there was Patrick, who had resolved to follow her everywhere, and who was welcomed with enthusiasm for his impressive height. He was soon labeled the "Irish Giant", despite his protest that he was a true Scot, and not to be confounded with that other people.

She visited Melly's grave one last time and left.

And so began her travel back to home. Yet, the travel was much more than what she had expected at first.

These men and women, former darkies and outcasts, that she had been raised to consider as children that had to be gently taken care of, that needed guidance… Now, she deeply realized it wasn't so, and that when she was the one needing guidance, they provided it with a strength and an intelligence she felt herself lacking. It was with a newfound humility she adapted to their ways. They provided her with a disguise, darkened her fair skin so she looked like a mulatto, and showed them the trick that would change her voice.

With them, she learned to hide better, and to that, she remembered also her own tricks as a Southern Belle. With the urgency of her situation she focused on that in the same way she had once for obtaining money.

Had she reflected on it, she would have also realized another event had pushed it, and it was when, almost arrived at Morrow, a Southerner and his friends accosted their group and tried to make light of the women in it. Feeling another's arms around her and being insulted was even more hurtful when she realized these arms belonged to one she knew, and who once had been her beau.

The event was hopefully cut short when members of the bureau came to protect them, but even if she tried to dismiss it as a little accident, the impact stayed.

This thing was like a stone crushing her memories, those of the men she had been raised with during her childhood, who petted her, flattered her. It broke like shattered glass, the cracks cutting her deep. She wanted to scream, to deny it, to say it wasn't her fault and that it was in the past. Yet it kept cracking and cracking, and she began to question everything. Her Pa, that had only whipped a darky once and apologized after doing it. Her soft-spoken mother… Them and their soft voices, and slow moves, and debonair attitudes. A doubt, a terrible doubt came to her, and she couldn't shake it.

So she continued to learn and hoped. Soon, she would go to Tara, and everything would be alright.

Yet it was the next night that the other women began to talk, the event reviving their memories. They talked of masters never telling them they were free until a man of the Union came. They talked of masters raping, and cutting their slaves. They talked of bloodhounds chasing them as they tried to escape. And she couldn't make them stop, and her whole life was cracking under her eyes. She wanted to put her hands on her eyes and ears like a child, not to think about it as she learned to when she was hungry and lonely, with the need of so many people to satisfy. She didn't want to think about it because it hurt so, and because the words of others, the behaviors of others and her own were ringing back to her and she couldn't stop it. Mother always said darkies were like children. Father and his outbursts, his tender heart. Ashley telling her slavery was better and more honorable than the work of convicts. Her attack at Shantytown, and the revenge of the Ku Klux Klan, Ashley, Frank, Dr. Meade and Uncle Henry in their troops. The cold pride in the women's eyes, and the way they said it was done to protect them.

How many people, dark people, innocent and guilty, had been killed that day? All because they wanted to make a point? All because she was attacked? Her fault, but was it hers only? Oh, at that time, how she had mocked the women that said they had been attacked, thinking they wanted their men to die for them to avenge them? She had been no better, but she never asked for it! No, she didn't!

What have they been fighting for? Where was the good side of the fight, the bad? It was all so mixed up and she couldn't find out an answer. She almost felt relief when finally the journey ended.

They said goodbye to her joyfully on the road of Tara and she ran home, a little girl running to her mother for comfort. Yet, that mother was changed since the last time she had seen her. Or was it? The fields of cotton had been severely reduced, the façade wasn't as white and clean as it had been. The land was wild, the pines invading. What had Will been doing? Had it been on the way of such disaster the last time she was in there? She couldn't remember quite now, could only remember the sorrow she had been in.

It did not come into her mind that while security had been found in Atlanta thanks to Rhett and her own savings, Will did not have the same fortune, and could not bear to tell his problems and be helped by a woman when he thought he would one day be able to raise back. And there was also the problems of keeping the employees working, and his invading pain in the leg, that was hindering more and more his movements. Of that he had never disclosed, and she had stayed blissfully unaware.

Her heart on her throat, she opened the door and found her dearest Mammy, who looked at her with wide, tearful eyes, paling as if she had seen a ghost.

"I'm home," Scarlett had said, wearily. "I've come home."

The wide eyes had been soon enough replaced with her disapproval glance, and she realized she hadn't had the time to clean herself and was still very much looking like a gypsy.

Yet, the fact that Mammy had recognized her even in such a state… It gripped her heart, filling her with love, and she let herself be pampered, the cloud being broken only when Mammy said she was going to reveal to Rhett she was here.

No, he mustn't know, Scarlett urged. Not now, when everything was all uncertain. Not now when it was all dangerous, and men would try to take what was theirs soon. Not now when her ears still rang from his words and his hatred. She couldn't face him. Not yet.

Oh, that day on the stairs, she had shot in the dark, telling him she knew he loved her still, and she thought she had seen some glimpses. Yet how could she be sure? Nothing had ever been really sure about him, and she didn't want to get hurt anymore. What if he had indeed played with her?

Oh, then, why had he looked so crestfallen?

But if he loved her, why had he cursed her? Why had he destroyed her coffin?

After so many misunderstandings, could a happy ending be ever possible? And if he knew, would he still love her, or another of these would come between them again? She couldn't risk that. Couldn't risk her heart anymore. He had run on her once, telling her that, and now she understood. She had enough of the anger, enough of the sadness. She only wanted peace, even if it did not seem reachable.

Mammy was going to do this anyway, yet was only stopped when Scarlett, exhausted, fainted on her, tears running down her cheeks.

Hopefully, the children were away, and she almost thanked Uncle Henry for that, even if there was still the pain of knowing them apart and away from Rhett.

No, she couldn't trust him. She could only trust herself. So she worked and worked, and finally convinced Mammy.

That was when Scarlett realized another thing was wrong, and her caregiver begrudgingly told her.

Prissy had locked herself with the orphans in the cellar, and would not leave it.

It was with painful persuasions and long talks she realized her servant, that had been so useless and foolish in the most crucial parts of her life, deeply cared for them, and would never let them go out of her sight.

But then who was she to judge? What did she know exactly?

She shrugged it off wearily, then she planned her next steps. And added quite the fantasy.

Playing ghost had worked for her, it seemed. People were naturally scared of ghosts, for it remembered them everything they had done wrong, all their losses.

Tara would be her own haunted house, and once she managed to contact Aren and Todd, she bullied them until they agreed to give her some material for it.

It was a distraction and it would give them time, hopefully giving some apprehension to their enemies so the ultimate confrontation would be in another place.

Mammy was suspicious of all these strange people coming and going to the house, and even more disapproving. Once again she threatened on telling everything to Rhett. But what could Rhett do? Perhaps he was far away now, unreachable. Perhaps he had gone back to Charleston, to his roots. He couldn't do anything for her, and she couldn't afford to wait for him, she told herself. She couldn't afford his anger at seeing she was alive, couldn't afford not to know if he still loved her enough to face what he surely would see as a lie and a betrayal.

It kept her from sleeping at dark, running in her mind and hindering her to sleep. If he loved her, he would have seen, she justified herself. If he wanted to find her, he would have, for now that she was at Tara, she could see she had not been the most discreet ghost ever. It wasn't only her meeting with the Mother Superior, who she knew had spilled her misadventures to the world. It was also in the visits to his room, where she once left a handkerchief.

She had wanted for him to find her, she realized. She had wanted it, but he hadn't found her. And he hadn't found her because he did not love her anymore. Because he hated her. Proof was that it had affected her poor children, and she was to blame, once again.

It was heavy-hearted she revealed everything with Mammy and made her promise not to tell anything. And it was with the same heavy heart that Mammy, even if she knew it was wrong, accepted. Yet she did help and gave advice, especially when Scarlett once was almost wounded by a scared speculator coming to the land at night to have a first sight of it.

Yet, it contributed to the legend and soon enough, the neighborhood was talking of ghosts wandering around the house.

And then Rhett came to Tara, with Wade and Ella by his side.

She was forced to move from her room to the attic, yet at least, they were there!

He was there! Certainly, it had to mean something! And even if he was mostly drunk every night, he did not seem angry (though he had always managed to hide it so well, so who could know?), and how well he treated the children!

And how heartfelt was the reunion, by night, with the children! She had embraced them fiercely, telling them how sorry she had been for worrying them so. Making them promise not to tell Rhett had been hard, especially to Wade. If Ella could understand it like a game, Wade was more conflicted, and he let out he had already been keeping a secret from her because of Rhett.

Well, it did not matter, she decided. She was not curious. Not in the least.

And it was then that, without meaning to, she admitted she was apprehensive of Rhett's reaction, and Wade made her promise that if he found a proof he wasn't and still wanted her, she would reveal herself to him.

Without she meant to, hope filled her heart when she had tried to push it away, and she almost forgot she had other reasons for not telling him. But how could she explain to Wade such things without him being afraid?

No, she had to protect him from that aspect of life, when she couldn't about her relationship with her husband. And it gave him hope, and how could she crush it?

Numerous times, she was almost caught. Many times, it was because Wade or Ella treacherously called Rhett when she was there, and she was forced to find a good hiding spot for him not to discover her so soon.

Then, there was that time when, lounged on her chair with that damn kitten Ella adored, he woke up to it hissing at her, and she had to hide in the wardrobe, watching him through the holes petting it back to calmness.

She clung to love like a lifebuoy and that hope stayed. And most of the time, not being able to move, she stayed in the attic, rummaging around to fill her frustratingly idle hours.

So many things were happening, and she was like a prisoner in her own house, forced to even hide to mourn her beloved Mammy, when she wanted to scream for it.

Oh, Mammy! So strong, so caring! She so terribly needed her, and how could she let her go?

Yet she had to, and Mammy's words rang to her mind until she was forced to accept it. It was a poor comfort to have stayed with her until the end, when she wasn't even able to attend her funerals and gave her the grave she deserved?

And then, there was this terrible, terrible book.

Jane Eyre, by Charlotte Bronte.

It was a book Suellen had bought, for she had always loved reading scandalous love stories, hoping to be the heroine that would snatch the man in the end. The story of a governess, in love with her employer, an employer that sounded so much like Rhett sometimes she wanted to cry!

By God, she wasn't going to be the madwoman hidden in the attic while her husband frolicked with a mealy-mouthed ninny who wanted to take her place in her bed and in her children's hearts!

The book finished, the pages concerning the horrifying scenes of love torn apart, it was with an impulse she decided to reveal herself to him, and to hell the consequences.

Yet he was there, in her room. With a fast woman. Not even a poor orphan girl with a terrible childhood and qualities that made her remember painfully her beloved Melly.

Oh, she could have killed him! She could have thrown everything until it hit their heads, both of them, and buried them besides that Yankee deserter. Why, how he had buried her so quickly! Oh, a great love, he had talked about! Great love, my foot!

Yet what happened next… Oh, what happened next! Her anger could not even resist it, outnumbered by the longing and the sorrow, and the feeling of him by her side. It did not resist his power, that strength that radiated from his body when she so deeply needed him!

He loved her! He loved her! He told her he did, and she knew he did. He only did that because he thought it would make her appear!

Why, how fervently he had…

She blushed, remembering it, the burn deep on her cheeks, making her feel hazy.

Oh, but then the moment was ruined when she heard him talk about Olsen trying to burn the house.

What kind of foolishness had he planned? She thought, dismayed. How could he even think of it so easily? Of course, she had to do something!

Which brought her here. In a very old inn that once had been a luxurious place, sitting lazily at the bedside of Hugh Olsen, waiting for that scoundrel to wake up.

Sighing, she put a hand on her head, feeling this time the loss of her long hair keenly. She had always been proud of it, for they were shiny and thick. Yet, she soon turned it so finally it wasn't so bad. After all, everything was better when a hat could cover it.

He could keep the braid. No, indeed, with the trick he had pulled, attracting these men to Tara so they could burn it, he did not deserve her going back to him! He that had had such an obsession with her hair, pulling it, threatening when she wanted to add lovely accessories to it that he did not approve! In fact, it was his fault, gripping so hard her braid, so she was forced to cut it! How could she leave the room when every time she tried, he pulled?

Well, he could keep that obsession and go to Halifax if she cared! Did he not respect her at all? Did he not respect her home?

It was with that mindset she stayed, and it did not come to her mind that it was only momentaneous due to her anger, and that in fact she very much intended to come back.

She sighed once again, bored by the waiting of the old man waking up. Couldn't he make it quick? She hadn't much time in the world! And these clothes were so big and unflattering on her she thought she would scream.

Then he finally did, and his eyes widened at her sight. He gripped his cover like a child in front of a nightmare and she almost smirked at it.

"You…" He stuttered. "You're dead! It can't be!"

"Oh, don't you remember, my dear Olsen?" She simpered silkily. "You killed me. Now, it's your turn."

At this, the man paled, and she heard his breath ragging. Then nothing. His eyes went dull, squinting. Lifeless.

She blinked. Closed her eyes, opened them again. Yet, the scenery had not changed.

Surprised, she checked his pulse, as Aren once taught her to do. Nothing.

She wanted to laugh, the pistol trembling in her hand.

Well, that was too easy. A heart attack. She left the room, shock in her like ants over her body, but with an excitement that was a bit similar to when she left the house in Peachtree Street.

Saying killing did not affect her in any way for she already did with a Yankee deserter and a man that was trying to kill her was one thing. Yet actually doing so was another, and it did not come to her mind that, had it happened differently, she would have had much more difficulties to do it.

She dusted her gown and left the room. But as she did that, she saw at the opposing end of the corridor Lord Richard Fenton. Lord Fenton who was supposed to be in jails, courtesy of hers.

Oh, why wasn't he there? Why did bad things have to happen once she thought she was safe?

He did not see her yet, but soon, he may. Or did he? She wasn't quite sure now.

Swiftly, she left it and joined Todd downstairs as he was sipping some liquor that tantalizing looked like good brandy.

Seeing her, he bowed lightly with a grin.

"My lady…"

"No time, Lancelot," She hushed, softening her interruption. "It's done. And.. I've seen Lord Fenton."

"What?"

"Go ahead and meet me at seven. I need to distract his attention. He's up to something, and I must know what. If I don't appear, tell the others. And…" She hesitated. "Tell Rhett."

If something happened... No, she wouldn't think about it.

He stared at her, suddenly alert, then nodded, and escaped.

Well, he was not the kind of gentleman to stay and fight for a lady in distress, she had learned, despite his wishes to appear so. Yet, she knew she could count on him to tell the others if she did not appear.

She considered her options. No matter what, she'd have to face Richard, she realized. She needed information, especially when Rhett did not seem to be including his presence in that little crazy plan of his. So she waited and sipped in Todd's glass, until finally, two men asked her to follow them. She nodded calmly and raised, and they took her by the arms. She was forced to follow to a tiny, dark room, and not even her attempts at making light of the situation made them crack a smile. And she was supposed to have no sense of humor!

They released her and left the room and she wanted to curse at them, but then she stopped.

On a desk was sat Richard, looking at her with a frown and set jaws. On the corner, there was a dark-haired man she remembered from the ball and she almost cringed. Yet, she knew she had to play another role. She had to try, at least. The role of the naïve, stupid with love woman had always pleased Richard after all.

"You. There." He stated, trying to appear nonchalant, yet failing at doing so.

She looked at him, affecting her best expression of surprise, then jumped with a cheerful cry in his arms, her hands at the back of his neck.

Surprised by that reaction, he pushed away a little, blinking. If he had been expecting fear, she certainly disappointed him. Even worse for him, she disconcerted him.

"Oh, my love, I…" She said.

His brow was raised in an attempt to taste the humor of it, yet his eyes were blazing.

"Oh, so I am your love, then?"

"Of course you are," She said with a smile that did not reach her eyes. "I thought you were in prison, my lord. I was sorry to hear it."

"No doubt you were. And if you're not, you will be."

She fluttered her lashes lazily, working on her dimples like a fool.

"I'm not sure I understand you, my lord."

He turned away from her, pushing her from him, and she could see he was trying to gather his thought by putting the desk between them. She had to stop it.

"I say you played me a mean trick, my lady. Fortunately, some unfortunate little scoundrel could be found to replace me in that jail you wanted to put me in."

"A trick? Me, wanting you in jail? My lord, I think you misunderstood," She lied with a concerned face, contouring the desk and putting her hand close, so close to his. "Oh, I was so distressed! My house was burning down, and I couldn't find you!

He wavered.

"Yet, you did not wait for me."

"I was so afraid, I think I fainted a little, and when I woke up, I kept running and running…"

There. Doubt creeping at him. She would soon have him!

"And… how do you explain these papers you put in your box? That pretty box you made me buy?"

Her eyes, alert, came to his face and there was a pleading light she did not have to feign, for she truly was fearing what he might do. She needed to get the control back, and quickly.

"Pansy! Oh, I knew she was working against me! She's always been an insolent little negress. And she's always been working with those that did not like me in Atlanta, like India Wilkes or Dolly Merriwether. She must have kept the papers for herself and sold it to Rhett so he could get that petroleum, and I'm sure he was the one to put it there! He always did rummage through my things…" She pouted. "They knew how I love you so, and all of them, they wanted my name and yours by extension to be linked to that scandalous affair with that… Watling's shameful house! You know how they dislike foreigners in my country…"

She winced at the word, feeling painfully disloyal to the one she claimed the friendship of and who helped her so much. Yet, it was her skin she had to save, for how could she try to protect those she cared about if she was dead? And then, Pansy was safe, and she knew how to hide better even than herself! Why, she was far already!

She tried to reassure herself of that, but she couldn't. Her glimpse of that other world that had been so close to hers, yet very much separate and hidden to her sight was still needling at her like a bee's sting.

"Please, you have to believe me! I never did anything to betray you!"

She imagined it was Rhett she was facing, and the tears glinted through her lashes with a desperate, loving glow that fascinated Richard and flattered him so he felt himself filled with masculine confidence. He had the power over that silly, handsome woman, and oh, what could he do with that power?

Yet, he had to affect a most indifferent state, so she might give a little more than that. He wouldn't be the one to be caught, after all.

"And where is… that insolent little negress of yours?"

"Oh, I don't know," She said quickly. "You see, I was in such a fright I fled without inquiring about it. And when I woke up, I ran and ran and took the next station to Jonesboro, where I knew I would be safe."

"And you did not try to reach out to me?"

She looked at him innocently, her mouth half-opened and eyes wide like a goose.

"Oh, but Richard… You were so drunk the last time, I thought…"

Embarrassed, the English lord waved it off, a nervous glance toward his companion. "Oh, I know, I know…" He said. "Interesting. Plausible, if you squint. I've always known women were such silly things, and their words meant nothing when their lives were threatened by something as obvious as the cut of a knife or… the burning of a house. You see, I would gladly like to believe you, sweet deceptive sultana, yet I fear to. And you see, I shall have my revenge, and now that I see you, and Rhett so weak in that farm of yours… I'm thinking you should be the perfect way for making him suffer before I shot a bullet between his eyes. Then we shall see if your love for me ran that deep as you claim."

She blinked. She had not thought about it. But indeed she had run eagerly to the lion's den.

He looked at her eagerly, trying to see the hurt and the suffering in her eyes like a ravenous bird of prey, and she did not let it show.

"You know my dear," She suddenly remembered Rhett saying her one night, after a dizzying ball in New Orleans. "some people tend to believe there are two kinds of persons in the world: the hunters and the preys, and that it can be seen at first glance. Yet, they tend to forget in their overmuch confidence that some are just playing the preys to attract the biggest prize. But surely, you know this, my pretty huntress?"

Rhett… Rhett would certainly be angry with that idea that was growing in her. He might want to find her. Yet, he had the children with him. He couldn't just leave them. And he'd been trying to attract these men to her home… She had also the right to be angry. And most of all, she had the right to do something to prevent these men from destroying what was hers.

She needed to distract their attention. Do something.

No more would she be the helpless cause of people she cared about dying for her. Not if she could help it.

In a sharp moment of insight, she realized that losing Rhett's love forever and never seeing him again mattered less to her than the loss of his life. While the thought of the first hurt like a stinging fire, the second was her own death warrant, and she knew she would not be able to bear it. She'd be the shadow of herself, filled with the memory of a love that was greater than herself, only alive with the love of her children, if there was ever a possible way of seeing them again. She wanted to know he was safe and well, wanted their children to be safe and well, and if she had to endanger herself and lose her life for it, then she'd do it. And if losing his love meant he would not look for her and then continued living, then so be it.

She would write him a letter, telling him she did not love him. She would write a letter, in such a tone, he would think she was still that vain, selfish and cold woman with low morals that had hurt him so. More than that, she'd be the monster he'd be more than happy to be rid of.

It would hurt him, yes, but he would be safe, she thought.

It was with eyes twinkling determinately she faced him, joining her intertwined fingers on the table like a bulwark against that man.

"No. You don't want that."

"Richard…" The dark-haired man intervened, an amused smile on his face.

"No, Adrian… I want to hear it," Richard dismissed it, clearly intrigued by that quietness in the woman he held the whip over. Said Adrian rolled his eyes and left the room. "Then what is it that I want?"

She carefully chose her words, her eyes demurely down yet raising every so often to look at his expression.

"As you said, Rhett is… a wreck. How unsatisfactory the victory would be, without any fight, any chase at all, a weak old man looking after children. I feel sorry for you."

His eyes twinkled in the darkness, and she knew she had caught his interest.

"Sorry for me?"

"Of course! You know I care about you. Loving you as I do, know you're a man of… appetites," She smiled lightly to make the dimples appear beneath the demure blush, her eyes fluttering, though with enough fixation that could suggest him that far from being repelled by it, she felt irresistibly attracted to it. "Oh, I wish it could be better than that, for your own pleasure. No, that's not good at all, for a man of talents like you, a hunter of the first class. And then, poor me," She pouted in a charming accusing way. "You think I've done you so terribly wrong, and you think I fooled you, making you believe I was dead after framing you… As if my mind could think of such thing, as if my heart would bear to! And yet it's not enough to hurt Rhett by using me. He already thinks I'm dead. And it wouldn't punish me."

He lifted his brow.

"Oh no?"

She lowered her gaze demurely and took a step forward, her hand going to her chest as if it hurt.

"It tears my heart that you would think I'm guilty of these terrible things you excuse me of. Of weakness, poor woman that I am, I admit it fully, yet duplicity! If you punishing me would make you believe me again, I'll be punished gladly. Don't you think if I still loved him I wouldn't have found a way for him to be with me?" She touched his hand delicately, fluttering her lashes like tiny butterfly wings. "No. I want him to hurt, just like you, so that'd be no punishment for me at all to see him suffer a little more. In fact, I want you to do it…"

He stared at her for a moment, then nodded

"Oh, I suppose you do, you surprising lady," He chuckled, putting a hand on hers. "And that silly Rhett, who told me you were known to be the most hard-hearted woman in all Georgia," And here, there was a regain of interest in his eyes and she almost laughed at it. "Though, if what you said is true… Here you talked to me about hunter and chase…"

She did not dare to raise her eyes, thinking it would reveal the triumphant gleam in there.

"Yes?"

"Do you know hunting to hounds?"

"I could learn to," She flirted with a naïve expression on her face, and his smile widened. Yet, her eyes glinted. She knew exactly what he meant, and this was exactly where she wanted him to be. "After all, I've always loved a good race. But then…" She pursed her lips, her brow furrowing in what seemed like a deep concern. "How could I bear being far away from you?"

This seemed to please him immensely.

"Then so be it," He said. "I give you one day in advance. Try to escape me, pretty vixen. Show me you are worthy of me by providing me a good chase, and escaping my hounds. And when I'll catch you…"

She leaned in.

"When you catch me?"

His eyes glinted maliciously.

"I've heard you in the South had slaves a few years ago… Yes, you'll be my slave. And I'll take pleasure in seeing you on your knees, satisfying every desire I can have. And once it's done, I'll make sure Rhett sees it, and I'll have my revenge."

She refrained from shuddering at the idea. Yet, it seemed like the only way out of this room.

"Oh… I'm very much tempted to be easy to catch…"

He looked at her with superior masculinity, and she patted it to flatter it.

"Oh, but the chase wouldn't be that exciting, would it? It will be your punishment, that and being far away from me, as you claim you love me, and I can see your eyes tell me it."

Oh, the vain, foolish man! Strutting around like a peacock, thinking he had already won when he had just fallen into her trap!

It would bide her some time to think this through and get him far away from Tara, from Rhett and the children. She would find a way to get rid of this man.

Would she ever get back to the children, to Rhett? The thought was distressing, and she dismissed it, deciding it wasn't the most important matter at the moment. She wouldn't think about it now.

"A day in advance, then?"

Richard nodded, smiling.

"Beginning now."

Slowly, as if carelessly, she raised and winked at him.

"See you soon, my lord!" She said with an affected mirth.

And finally such discussion was over, and she had to think of the next steps. Oh, she had to contact Pansy somehow, if only to make sure to have means to communicate with the children. And Todd, that was waiting for her! Oh, where could she go? Which way was better? Oh, if only the gypsy group was still out there… Was it still there? She had to find out… Maybe…

Oh, why had she told Todd to say anything to Rhett? What if he tried to save her and was killed in the process?

She had to make sure that Patrick stayed near…

"Such a passionate declaration of love," She heard a whisper on her ear as she closed the door behind her. "I almost believed it."

Leaning on the other wall, Adrian was looking at her with bemused eyes.

Weary of her act, she glared at him, that dark stranger. She remembered when she was prospecting new clients, how important to know which attitude would pay off more, and now she was finding out that instinct could also be used in such a context.

He wouldn't fall for her charms as the other did.

"That was an interesting attempt," He continued. "Now, I understand what Rhett saw in you."

She narrowed her eyes on him.

"Who are you?"

"Oh, Hasn't Rhett talked about me?" He said, as if surprised. "That's a shame, for he taught me so many things. But I guess it's not something he wanted his young bride to know. Especially considering who my mother was."

She blinked her eyes, looking at him closely, then the light came to her brain. Now that she could see him better, she noticed that the way he was bearing himself was similar to Rhett, even with the attempt of a mustache that was much thicker than the original. It seemed like someone tried to imitate her husband, but without having the natural charisma and humor as the original. Where Richard had tried and failed to imitate her husband's manners, that man tried to imitate his appearance, and only succeeded in the mocking indifference in the eyes.

And there was also a familiarity in these blue eyes, for they were so alike those of…

Oh, could it be?

"The ward. You are him, right?"

His eyes twinkled in amusement.

"So, you've heard of me? Good. I'm not one to fight women and children. Not if I can ask somebody else to do it. Yet, as a sign of family amity and belated wedding gift, I'm willing to play the game as well."

She frowned.

"Why do I feel there's something more to it?"

"Because there is," A thick, wrathful light came to his eyes for a brief moment, and the amused smirk disappeared at the same time. "I must admit, I was amused by him at first. He's a twisted, foolish man, with means, fortunately. Yet, Richard played a trick that made me lost quite a bit. I have need of him still, but I wouldn't mind if somebody makes him look like a fool and gets rid of him before I have to, so why not? After all, your lovers aren't known to have quite a long life, Rhett being the exception."

She wanted to laugh, remembering with a silly thought that Rhett had talked of a boy, and she had imagined him as such! But there was also the matter that Rhett had always tended to think of most other men as boys, that he, a man of cunning and strength, could look down upon.

"So, I have your word?" She said with suspicion and incredulity. "Until I'm found by Richard, you won't do anything against Rhett, my folk and my home?"

He bowed with a jeering smile that made her painfully remember her husband.

"Though I wonder… won't that dear Rhett try to find you and ruin that little plan of yours?"

"He won't. He doesn't care."

"Oh, really?"

"Or if he ever did, he will not. I'll make sure of it."

He paused, observing her quietly. The determination in her eyes, not even wavering from the pain, the firm set jaws, the chin held high...

"Oh, so you love him that much?" He stared at her as if surprised, then shrugged. "Well, that's disappointing. Very well, You have my word as a gentleman."

"Gentlemen's words mean nothing," She quipped. "Know that if you do, I'll burn the plans and you'll have to dig all of the land to get what you want."

He took a step forward, while she took one backward, eyeing him warily.

"Oh, if they are with you, then I'm sure I can find a way to get them."

"They're not. Only I know where they are. Richard wants his chase. You want money. You need me, and alive."

Almost surprised, Adrian looked down at her, that little woman that seemed so airy-headed at first glance, yet that stood her ground with more gumption than expected for even a man.

"You're either the most foolish woman on earth or the bravest," He commented, before laughing. Well, that would be interesting, he thought as he turned away, giving her a last wave of dismissal. "I guess you better hurry, then. The game has just begun."