Vignette 2
"The cost of oblivious daydreaming was always this moment of return, the realignment with what had been before and now seemed a little worse. Her reverie, once rich in plausible details, had become a passing silliness before the hard mass of the actual." -Ian McEwan, Atonement
When she told Aunt Pitty of her plans to return to work, the old woman burst into a fit of theatrics, nervous hysteria and all, until she had predictably fainted on the settee. It required multiple sniffs of her smelling salts for her to come to, though it did nothing to soothe her frayed nerves. Then, she told Frank and his eyes narrowed, for once looking neither meek nor spineless—he despised her—disillusioned from the southern belle airs and finally saw her for what she truly was.
He looked at her with as much malice as Suellen, which she noted as tragically fitting.
It did not matter, however, that she had fallen from the graces of her husband for there was only one man whose high opinion she craved. The Old Guard and all around her could berate and belittle her as much as they wanted, it did not matter; the memory of Ashley alone was enough to comfort her through all judgment. She would see him again and soon she would have no regrets.
Rhett, on the other hand, was wondering what had possessed him to ever make such an offer. He wished to end her suffering and in the same breath, he had wreaked upon his, destroying all obstacles and sending her off to her precious golden knight. The moment he pulled up to the mills, he considered not returning and leaving her with the repercussions, a petty act to soothe his own hide. But this torture was entirely self-orchestrated, and she had been so miserable, thus he could not be selfish as he wanted. He was tied to her, she was in his blood, and it was terrible and excruciating, but, against all reason, he still wanted her.
The door opened and he steeled himself for her scathing happiness.
"How was the little gentleman today?" he called out, not daring to face her, fearing the very look he wished to be bestowed upon him, though was forever preordained to an undeserving sop of a man.
"He's fine," she mumbled, and he immediately looked at her, bewildered by the sullen look on her face. The expression with incongruous with her upturned features which were sculpted to simper and flirt, rather than the frown which remained fixated on those pouty lips.
"Indeed? Did something happen?"
"I'm not quite sure what you mean."
She sat beside him, her conflict even more apparent up-close and he clicked his tongue in jest.
"I'll admit, I expected you to be more excited to see your esteemed Mr. Wilkes. This is not the face of a woman in love—"
"Stop it, Rhett. I can't deal with your meanness today."
"Ah, something did happen."
"No," she replied obstinately.
He laughed and casually tossed the reins to the floor, reaching into his pocket for a cheroot. This carriage was going nowhere until he discovered what had caused such a mood and not even her becoming fits of rage could inspire him to do anything but.
"Rhett, please," she whispered, and such a pleading tone took him off-guard and softened his harsh defenses. Scarlett was not one to beg and they both knew it; it was beyond her nature and would smother her pride, yet here she was exhibiting it to the one man who was bad enough to hold it over her head. He recognized her plight, however, and took her hand despite her initial protests, and kindly asked:
"What happened Scarlett?"
His voice, honeyed and inviting, drew her to him and she reveled in an indulgent sort of comfort that she hadn't been privy to in so long. It was this sort of kindness that she had needed after her day and the sort that she had not expected to come from Rhett Butler of all people. Her heart warmed for him slightly and, perturbed, she drew her hand away and looked down at her fingers.
"Oh, it's just that Ashley is so hateful…"
His eyes flashed, though his face was the picture of indifference, and he wished to laugh at himself and the whole pathetic affair. How did a scoundrel such as himself become chained to this disinterested woman?
Ignorant to his turmoil, Scarlett continued, impassioned. "He said the most horrible things! Nonsense about how I disobeyed Frank and belittled their stupid way of avenging me. Why, I did not ask for them to be foolish and gallivant with the Klan!"
"Indeed, my dear," he replied, far too agreeably.
"And oh, he has the gall to lecture me about you! How superior he was, talking about how you coarsen and harden me. I felt like a child! Even you do more to protect me than those damned fools!"
And he would do so much more if only she would let him.
"This is a new development," he replied. "Never have you spoken ill of your dear Mr. Wilkes."
As if forgetting her earlier melancholy, her voice rose, bitter and resentful, and she spat, "He's neither mine nor dear. How could he say this to me?"
Irritably, he put out the smoke and laughed at her. "For two people who supposedly love each other, it is baffling how little you see eye to eye."
At that she remained silent, her body instinctually desiring to lash out at him for challenging her precious love, but her mind could not ignore the truth in the statement. Feeling the world shift beneath her heels, she grew breathless, a flurry of emotion stirring in her body, and it was as if she were plunged into a tub of scalding water.
"Rhett," she uttered, almost in awe. "Take me home."
Author's Notes: I did not want to dawdle on the Ashley business any longer than necessary.
Regarding updates, they will be very scarce for I am very, very busy. I will try to write whenever I can, but I managed to do this because it was already half-written and is much shorter (and easier to write) than Age of Appetence.
Truckee Gal: Funny how you mention Nat King Cole because his music is used heavily in the soundtrack of the movie ('Quizas, Quizas, Quizas' and 'Aquellos Ojos Verdes'). The second one is strangely fitting since it means 'Those green eyes' in Spanish and I haven't realized that until now.