A/N - 1/26/21 - I am working on Chapter 22 but it will be a little while longer. Lots of loose ends to tie up, and Mr. B is giving me his usual fit. Also, I have discovered a couple of continuity problems - I had originally meant for Scarlett to ask India to invite Fanny to the next event, not the one in Chapter 21, and that's why Scarlett is annoyed. Sorry about that. I also called Ella's doll by the wrong name in an earlier chapter, and Tate's first name is Hunter, not John. So I am going through and fixing these little details. Sorry, I don't have a beta for this story, but I will be more careful in the future.
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Chapter 21
"The excursion is the same when you go looking for your sorrow as when you go looking for your joy."
Eudora Welty
"The world was my oyster, but I used the wrong fork."
Oscar Wilde
"New Orleans food is as delicious as the less criminal forms of sin."
Mark Twain
"Fanny will be joining us tonight," India said suddenly, just as soon as they were both situated in the carriage. "I told her she could come to the hotel early since we would both be there and she doesn't have a chaperone."
Scarlett looked up, taken aback.
"Well, I invited her right after I talked to you. She didn't have anything else planned, and when she heard I was coming … ." India trailed off. "I assured her you would have done so yourself if you hadn't been so frightfully busy."
Scarlett couldn't help but glare a bit. She had asked India to invite Fanny to the next supper, not this one. And India had known since yesterday and not mentioned it at all? A breach in etiquette like this had to have been made on purpose.
"Well, it's not like it's at your home," India said. "You're opening a restaurant, and you always serve so much food," she shrugged delicately. "I didn't think it would make that much trouble."
Scarlett continued to regard her narrowly. She'd worked out the seating arrangements the night before and the menu looked divine. Babette would have made extra servings of everything, but - still. Terribly gauche of India, not to mention rude and almost inconceivably ill-mannered. And to think she had spent the afternoon getting her gussied up for a potential man interest and a wage-paying position!
"There will still be two hours until the other guests arrive. I'll let you tell Babette there's an extra person," she said after a moment, managing to retain her composure. "And then you can redo the seating arrangement and place cards." India looked a tad peeved but nodded.
"Ashley would have liked to have come but I didn't ask you about him because you said there weren't enough ladies to balance out the men as it is," India said.
"That is correct," Scarlett didn't look up from her lap, still seething a bit.
They were silent for the rest of the trip and exited the coach without speaking upon arrival at the hotel.
Scarlett felt her mood rise again as she gazed at her creation, her hotel, this magnificent structure she'd forged out of an ill-conceived house built with ill-gotten gains. She openly admired the spotless facade, the well-appointed, perfect French Quarter boutique hotel with a new, permanent sign at the beginning of the drive, in tall bronze lettering announcing The Hotel Robillard.
The stucco shone bright white and new, accented with delicate New Orleans style wrought iron and fleur de lis, even the driveway lightened up by the white pea gravel Tate insisted upon. She found herself very pleased that the flowers and shrubs she'd ordered were already planted and displayed. It did not look like the same place at all and the effect was somewhat dazzling, she had to admit. India said nothing beyond a short, whispered 'oh', but Scarlett could tell by the way she stopped in her tracks that she was amazed at the complete transformation as well.
The workers had moved the bronze stag up to the front door, and the lettering on the chalkboard sign hanging around his neck indicated that the guests travel through the lobby for drinks and then out to the veranda for dinner, just as she'd ordered. The gardens were still under construction, and not scheduled to be unveiled until the grand opening, but as the event would be mostly at night it would not matter much.
As she stared at the picaresque scene it conjured a ribbon of memory from her honeymoon, one morning before the unfortunate sigh, when she had managed to get up before noon after a magical night of dancing and drinking - a breakfast at Cafe du Monde with Rhett, looking young and happy and content across from her, mask down for once, kissing her hand, reminding her quite devilishly, yet somehow lightheartedly of the way she'd responded to him the night before … how at one point they'd touched each other in ways so new and raw they had both cried out - she closed her eyes and then opened them again, determinedly. Highly unlikely it was so new for him. And she had no time for that kind of thinking, anyway.
As they crossed the lobby she noted with satisfaction that the new marble floor shone spotlessly, with no signs of construction dust or hoodoo rituals. Dilcey had done well. Newly upholstered furniture in cream, pale blue and green fabrics delivered and arranged to perfect appointment against the light walls, featherweight draperies and Impressionist paintings hung. She pointed India to the kitchen, leaving her to introduce herself as well as inform Babette of the additional guest, then headed to the veranda where she could see the long dining table set up.
Maybe she was crazy, but it did seem lighter, completely unburdened by the past. A sunny, pre-party atmosphere pervaded, and if she didn't know better the overall ambiance did seem quite jovial.
After stopping by the office she made herself busy as the tight schedule demanded. Scarlett stepped into the kitchen to assess progress. Babette and Dilcey, as well as the serving girl hired for the occasion, appeared involved in food preparation, but under control. India had already wandered off.
"I apologize for the extra guest -" she started, but Babette waved her away, smiling despite the heat in the room making her forehead damp with sweat and her hair, pulled back in a neat and simple chignon, frizzed a bit. "It will be fine. I prepared plenty, I'm used to running a restaurant kitchen." Scarlett sighed in relief. She didn't need to offend the chef right out the gate.
She found India sitting down at new chairs in the lobby, working on the seating chart while Dilcey came out of the kitchen to put the finishing touches on the table. Scarlett checked with her making sure the selected wine had been brought up from the cellar and the appropriate wine glasses polished. Scarlett walked through the veranda inspecting the table, checking the place settings and linen.
India interrupted her as she scrutinized the silverware. "I've redone the seating arrangement and place cards," she said. "Wasn't that much of a task for so few people."
Scarlett nodded absently and started to say something when the beveled-glass French doors swung open and Leif walked in.
Oh my. Scarlett struggled not to stare. His tall and impressive form dominated the doorway, his shoulder-length hair pulled back in a ponytail, black broadcloth jacket over his arm juxtaposed against his white shirt, which was accentuated by a dark blue silk waistcoat embroidered in tiny lighter blue paisleys to match his eyes - those blue, blue eyes, framed by dark blonde and thick eyelashes that curled up, just the tiniest bit, at the ends. Why, a man has no business with eyelashes like that, she thought, her mind going back to India's pathetic colorless ones that she could practically count.
A matching cravat hung loosely and rather rakishly around his neck, the first few buttons of his shirt undone, and she could just barely make out the golden curly hairs of his chest showing against his freshly tanned skin from their morning in the sun.
Good lord, that man is tall! She thought about Ella on his shoulders earlier in the day - she'd indeed been up in the sky! Her eyes followed his large hands at the slight dusting of golden hair on his fingers, still somehow elegant; he was certainly at home in supper wear, his muscles rippling beneath his shirt and across his broad shoulders and beefy upper arms.
Scarlett visibly shook herself as she remembered where she was and who she was with - but as she turned to India she saw the woman was staring Leif up and down as well, from his long legs to his substantial chest to his arrestingly beautiful, yet supremely masculine face - and had not noticed Scarlett's ogling, thanks be to the saints.
"Mr. Erickson," She said, more breathily than she had intended, "this is a close family friend, India Wilkes. We are somewhat related by marriage, and my children call her Aunt India.
"India, this is my business partner, Leif Erickson, who will of course be joining us tonight."
India nodded, still speechless for a moment before recovering herself and answering gracefully. After a few pleasantries, Leif excused himself to go over the details of the evening with Scarlett.
As they strode out on the veranda, he spoke. "You are most breathtaking this afternoon, Mrs. Butler," he gave her a sideways glance, the corners of his mouth turned up. "As I am sure you are well aware."
"Why not as much as you, Mr. Erickson," she teased, tossing her head. "I believe your dress is prettier than mine, and I just don't know how I should feel about that."
Their laughter trailed through the room as they traveled across it. Leif stopped her before they went out on the veranda at a table set up near the door, topped with the wine selections for the evening. Once again she felt impressed by his good taste and apparent extensive knowledge.
They went over Babette's menu for a final time, satisfied with all the choices, although it would be a little late to change anything much at this point. Leif excused himself to retrieve the aperitifs for the before dinner interval.
The devil's in the details, she reminded herself. Scarlett took a stroll around the table to check the positioning of china, silverware, and glasses, before stopping and silently cursing that sly India. She'd moved everyone around and put a place card with Rhett's name on it next to hers, instead of Leif's.
With Fanny attending Scarlett had no dinner companion and thanks to India an empty seat next to her. She'd hoped that as business partners hosting the event together, Leif would sit at the head of the table and attend her. Instead she'd be left staring at where her wayfaring sometimes-husband would not be sitting.
Scarlett struggled to keep her face composed. India knew damn well Rhett wasn't expected and she didn't know when he would return to Atlanta - hadn't she made that clear the demolition day on the sidewalk? And India had the nerve to commit such an ugly, vindictive act, on today of all days.
This is probably for the better, she tried to tell her sinking heart. Still a married woman, didn't need the potential gossip, Leif being so attractive and unattached. For Wade and Ella's sake, that is. She found that as far as she herself was concerned, she cared less and less what people thought.
That India, though. She was about to get worked up again when Dilcey came around the corner. Dilcey took one look at her, eyes flashing, color climbing, and a knowing look came over her face.
"Miss Scarlett, I wanted to tell you that the cleanse went very well," she said. "I could tell it was working by the way the smoke blew about, and then things got real quiet in the way that they do when bad spirits leave. But I do believe with all my heart that we got rid of some bad spirits and meanness."
Scarlett nodded distractedly, still staring at the 'Mr. Butler' place card. If she moved it now it would put the entire seating arrangement off, and then India might mention it, which would be embarrassing; but if she didn't move it, also embarrassing. Dilcey's eyes followed hers.
"Oh I forgot to tell you," she said, in an obviously contrived casual manner. "You cain't get mad here in this place no more."
Scarlett's eyes flew to hers. "Do what?"
"Since I did the cleanse. You cain't get mad. No fussing, no fighting, no yelling."
"I must have forgotten to mention it before," Dilcey displayed a deceptively innocent face here.
"You can think what you want in your own head, no way to control that, but you can't argue with another person." Dilcey leaned over and flicked an imaginary dust fleck off the tablecloth.
"No fighting. No harsh words or raised voices."
Scarlett raised an eyebrow in haughty inquiry.
"They haven't gone far. They could come back and they'd be stronger this time."
"What in the devil are you talking about, Dilcey?" Scarlett's nerves, already on alert, began to fray. Dilcey gave her a patient, though slightly - just ever so slightly - condescending look.
'Those bad feelings came from you and Mr. Butler - and so they are wiley, sneaky, conniving little meanness-makers what brought those spirits in," she said. "They're just waiting for you to go on and mess up like they know you will so they can get back up in here and be their nasty selves."
"That's preposterous." Scarlett drew herself up and attempted to level Dilcey with a look. "Mumbo-jumbo, to the letter."
Dilcey shrugged. "Can you afford to risk it?" She gestured around the hotel and property. "Can't you tell that this place is happier?"
"Well, it was happier the first day I started to tear it apart," Scarlett snapped back. "Just how long do I have to behave myself?"
Dilcey appeared to ponder this. "A year or two, I'd say, maybe longer."
"A year or two?!" Scarlett struggled not to screech; may not have succeeded.
"Or more," Dilcey added matter-of-factly. "They're strong, because you two are strong. Too strong." She gave her a reproachful look. "Y'all pulled them in tight."
"It's only been a couple hours, Miss Scarlett. Spiritual-world speaking, they ain't hardly got around the corner."
Scarlett nearly choked back her reply. Would Dilcey use her unfortunate marriage and events against her? A black rage filled her as her eyes flew open wide and her mouth as well …
"Nuh uh," said Dilcey, one finger raised. "Don't go bringing trouble around, you can't afford it, as we said. If they sense a door open they'll come back. And they'll be angry. " She shuddered. "You don't want that."
"Well, what am I supposed to do?" Scarlett asked, in a bewildered tone that almost caught at Dilcey's resolve. "I have a temper - always have - and people are going to make me angry, Dilcey, this is a business and people will be here all the time and suppliers cheating me and workers loafing around and how am I supposed to … "
"Chop some wood," Dilcey said in a firm tone. "That's what Pork does when he gets worked up and mad. Just go out to that woodpile 'round back and chop some wood."
"I know you know how. I saw you do it at Tara." With that Dilcey headed back inside.
Scarlett trailed behind her, her thoughts a tangled mess of irritation. Chop wood? Had Dilcey lost her mind? And when and why was Pork getting so angry?
Just then Tate walked in, looking way too handsome and dashing himself.
"What's wrong?" he asked, taking in her high color.
Scarlett thought for a minute. "I think I've been hoodooed," she grumbled. He raised an eyebrow.
"Cheated. Out of my dinner companion. And out of my temper!" her eyes flashed a bit before she took reign over them.
"I'll be your companion for the moment," he said with that easy charm of his, holding out his arm. "Come with me. The - er - fiddlers - I believe they called themselves have arrived, and you need to go over the selections for the evening."
Scarlett shot him a sideways glance - his normally tousled hair slicked back, lively eyes shining, dressed in black and white evening wear, except for yet another loosened cravat showing that touch of chest hair again, his own darker than Leif's and seemingly somewhat silky straight. She looked away quickly, not quite sure it was without notice. She was still a relatively young woman, and these two were absolutely torturing her.
It didn't take Tate long to smooth her feathers and besides, Fanny and Ennis would soon be arriving. Scarlett busied herself with going over the spirited Cajun musical selections with the fiddlers, as well as other finishing touches. She'd planned what started out to be a simple supper, but had somehow become more - and she could feel her anxiety rising. India alone would report to most of the town, but now there was Fanny, who was much more well-liked and connected. Every single member of the old guard, and polite society in general, would know the most infinitesimal detail of this night.
As if she knew Scarlett's thoughts, Fanny arrived, very fetching in a rose-colored gown and Scarlett gave her an abbreviated tour of the premises. Ennis walked in right on time and Scarlett introduced him to both India and Fanny. Her guests made small talk as well as making over all the changes, nearly gushing in their flattery; it managed to improve Scarlett's mood mightily. Leif and Tate appeared - cravats in place, thankfully - and the evening commenced.
The guests enjoyed the music and aperitifs, sparkling repartee' abounding. After further introduction, Ennis and India became almost immediately immersed in conversation, to Scarlett's satisfaction - not that India deserved a pleasant evening's company, but Ennis certainly did.
As supper time approached Scarlett discreetly pointed out to each gentleman the lady he would escort to dinner, and therefore serve throughout the meal. Leif gave her a questioning look. Due to India's seating arrangement, Fanny would have two escorts and Scarlett, none. "I'll explain later," she murmured, sweeping out onto the veranda ahead of the rest of the party.
The guests found their places by the names on the place cards and everyone sat down. She saw Leif hesitate as he read her errant husband's name next to her, before smoothly moving to Fanny's left, with Tate to her right, and Ennis next to India on the other side.
Which left Scarlett with the dread empty space next to her at the head of the table. She lifted her head and smiled with the tiniest bit of discernable effort; buck up, she told herself; wasn't she used to being alone by now?
Just as she opened her mouth to speak, to make Rhett's excuses again, as she had time and time again - when would it ever stop? - a masculine, Charleston-cultivated voice rang out across the veranda; and she knew, with a near-joyous quickening of her breath, that her calvary had arrived.
"My sincerest apologies, Mrs. Butler," General Wade Hampton III stood in the doorway, giving way to a sweeping bow before he approached the table. "My previous engagement unexpectedly fell through, but do rest assured that I rushed to get here."
Scarlett rose quickly to approach him, snatching up Rhett's place card as she did so and crumpling it in her hand.
"No apologies needed," she replied, smooth as whipped butter. "I have your place right here," she indicated the seat next to her with a wide sweep of her arm.
As she turned to sit down she met India's eyes and allowed a small yet triumphant twist to her lips. You are foiled, India Wilkes.
Leif cleared his throat lightly, and she met his dry, mirthful glance before re-composing her face and gracefully taking her seat once again - tossing the ill-fated place card under the table as she did so.
She scanned the table just once, lit up on the veranda in such a lovely manner by both gas lamps and candles. This was her element. And she intended to shine.
Scarlett turned on every bit of her belle-taught charm and her natural wit, honed to precision by marriage to Rhett. She sparkled and beamed, deferring to the men, complimenting the women, laughing that bright, tinkling laugh, drawing them all in.
Everything she had been as a young woman, now refined, intelligence sharpened, yet softened by the natural grace and kindness she'd seen in Melly, and tempered by the hard lessons the war and experiences in humility had taught her; and, almost as a bonus, already enhanced by the self-education she had so recently embarked upon.
All the while she made sure to set her own ego aside and never lose sight of her two most important objectives for the night: to interest people in her hotel, and to play Cupid when she could.
Leif caught her gaze and raised an eyebrow at her, bemused. She realized he had never seen her full-on at work - perhaps just a taste, at their business dinner, but not like this, all out and all in. She sent him a pointed and fleeting smirk. This was her talent, her show, and she would always be the master of it. In addition, General Hampton played perfectly off her skill, the two of them working quite well together.
And then - there was the food.
Dilcey and the hired girl, both dressed in white, started with the terrapin soup au absinthe, followed by an appetizer of frog legs Provencal, then salade paysanne followed by pan-seared speckled trout and a Cajun remoulade, an absolutely superb duck confit and kumquat coulis, blanched asparagus, as well as several other vegetable dishes and then, Scarlett had to look twice - gelee-stuffed oranges! - as a palate cleanser! Stupendous!
Babette must have brought the citrus fruits with her from New Orleans, Scarlett thought. Not to mention that she must have been up all night. Not a simple supper.
It would have been less than decorous to rave - but she could tell by the facial expressions and general enthusiasm that her guests were enjoying the courses immensely. Meanwhile, Scarlett's mind whirled with the possibilities -
Duck, catfish, trout, and crawfish! All could come out of the river at Tara! It would be even more beneficial than she had first thought. That swampy back forty should be full of turtles and bullfrogs. She needed to buy that Slattery swampland as well, and then the wild pecan groves, as well as the trees her father had planted, could supply a good bit of the pecans for pralines.
If Solange did as well as they thought it would this would provide an opportunity for the folks of Tara and even neighboring plantations to make money - they could pack everything in barrels and put them on the eleven am train in the brand-new refrigerated car, then delivered fresh and ready for preparation by 5 pm! Of course, the transport would be costly, but only from Jonesboro to Atlanta, and she might be able to get a better rate if she did it every Friday …. She also had the huge icehouse Rhett had built for her for cold storage. That's it, she thought. I have to get to Tara this week and talk to Will, no more putting it off.
So engrossed in her thoughts Scarlett nearly missed Fanny's next words, only catching the end.
" … so grateful to Scarlett for the last-minute invitation as next Saturday's garden party at the Merriweather's is canceled due to Dolly being indisposed indefinitely - poor dear has been working herself to the bone in that bakery and her back's not what it used to be - which leaves the weekend quite empty of social engagements, and this time of year!"
Of course, I had no invitation to that party, Scarlett thought before she realized the more important point - this meant nearly all of Mrs. Merriweather's social circle would be free of social obligations for the day. Perfect.
"Oh, Fanny, that is just terrible," she gushed. "And it is spring, and such lovely weather! Why, everyone will want to be out and about." She gave Leif and Tate a significant look. "Our grand opening is coming up and we're just planning our first official supper for the very same day - I'm sure it would be no trouble at all to include the guests whom Mrs. Merriweather has canceled -" and now for the coup de grace -
"Would you mind helping me get the list together and send out the invitations?" Scarlett gave her most winning smile.
"Ah, Fanny, could you help our Scarlett out?" Tate winked. "Yes," Leif said, quickly picking up the gauntlet. "Yes, how charming of you to come to our aid," he gave her that quick, flashing, absolutely-lethal-to-a-woman grin, his eyes quite apparently mesmerizing her. Tate lifted Fanny's hand and kissed her knuckles. Fanny's gaze moved from Leif's eyes to Tate's lips on her hand slowly, as if drugged. Scarlett bit back a laugh. Full assault from both sides, their considerable male appeal combined - who could resist?
"Oh, why yes," Fanny said, completely flustered. Scarlett pretended to drop her napkin to hide her victorious expression. We are quite a trio, she thought. The Three Musketeers of Atlanta.
Ennis wrinkled his brow in wry amusement while India looked a little askance and a lot envious. General Hampton appeared quite amused, his eyes dancing around the table, landing on Scarlett just as she straightened up. That man doesn't miss a thing.
A gay flutter of talk and laughter followed, and the general, after much prodding from India and Fanny, told several amusing wartime stories over the dessert of Creole bread pudding souffle' and creme brulee, served with rich chicory coffee laden with cream, before embarking on the much-requested 'Beefsteak Raid' tale.
It was mid-September of 1864," he recalled, "and we'd been with sparse food rations for some time," his emphasis on 'sparse' told the true story; they'd likely had next to no food at all. "So I mounted my own raid behind enemy lines. We captured nearly 2500 head of cattle and a little more than 300 prisoners."
"That much cattle!" India exclaimed.
"Yes," the general continued. "The nearly two million pounds of beef was a blessing. And kept many more than the ten men we lost in the raid alive." A fleeting somber expression crossed his face.
That was about the time her family and friends were starving at Tara, Scarlett realized. Glad someone was eating well, she thought, then quickly chastised herself for being so uncharitable.
Ever the gentleman, General Hampton gave Ennis a quick, apologetic look. He was from Boston, after all.
"People at home didn't realize it, but during breaks in the fighting we would sometimes socialize, play cards, and tell stories with the Union soldiers." His eyes took on a faraway look. "You have to separate the people from the politics at some points, even in battle. We shared coffee and cigarettes, sometimes even liquor if we had it."
"Hate is a hard thing to understand and fully comprehend. People out there in the world, anywhere in the world, are mostly doing the best they can with the light they have to see with, at any moment in time."
The table grew silent. The former cavalry commander seemed lost in his own thoughts.
"But enough about that," he said, jovial once again. "This is one of the finest meals I have enjoyed in quite some time. Give me some news from New Orleans, Mr. Erickson, and from England, Mr. Tate."
"Tell General Hampton how you stole our chef from Commander's Palace right in the middle of the dinner hour,'' Tate said, smirking at Leif.
Just then Babette, changed into a supper gown from her chef's frock, as well as freshened with her hair refixed, came out to the veranda.
"Mr. Erickson can be very persuasive," Babette said in a lilting voice. Hmm. "But the truth is, I was ready for a change of scenery." She smiled at Scarlett before greeting the guests, each one thanking and complimenting her profusely.
The fiddlers moved outside and started playing again as the guests rose and milled about, continuing to discourse lightly. Scarlett noticed India and Ennis in particular staying close together. The serving of digestif cocktails coincided with the rising of the Pink Moon - the Grass Planting Moon, as Mammy called it. I will see her soon, Scarlett told herself. Very soon.
During a lull when she was momentarily standing by herself the general approached, standing by her side. A cool, pleasant breeze passed through, and the night made for a pretty picture.
"So you are doing some matchmaking here, Scarlett, between Ms. Wilkes and Mr. King, as well as helping him to obtain an assistant?"
"Yes, well, she has helped our uncle at his law practice, and well, they are both shy, and well-read, and nearly the same age," she murmured, not wanting to draw attention to her actions. His reply, however, surprised her.
"I commend you, Ms. O'Hara. I have four sisters who were left spinsters after society outcast them rather unfairly as very young women. I would not hesitate to marry any one of them to a man of Mr. King's caliber," he said gravely. "Any objections to his northern birthplace be damned."
Scarlett's eyes flew to his. It happened before she was born, but still she remembered her Charleston aunts whispering a distasteful tale concerning one of General Hampton's uncles - a well-placed politician - taking liberties with all four of his young sisters, and how Charleston's society treated them afterward. The girls were ruined. Through no fault of their own. No husbands, no children. Lifelong spinsters.
She wondered if that tragic experience was one of the reasons why he had refused to judge her so harshly as others. And why he was so willing to help her socially, as he had done tonight.
"I am staying home from church to work on the ledgers all day tomorrow," she blurted, somewhat suddenly. He took her hand and bowed.
"Don't let me get between you and the practice of your religion, Scarlett," he said, with the ghost of a smile. She got the distinct feeling he knew exactly how little religion she actually practiced. "Although you must be sure to attend services next week. Remember our agreement, no stepping on toes, we must keep polite society happy," he smiled at her in a kindly manner.
Lord help me, she thought. Good thing he doesn't know about all the juju mojo Dilcey's got going on in this hotel - with my sanction - as we speak.
"We will speak soon, Mrs. Butler," he said. "I will be expecting my invitation to next week's soiree," and with that, he made his silent retreat into the night.
A little while later as the party wound up Leif offered to take the guests home in his larger buggy from that morning, returning for everyone else when he finished so that Pork didn't have to come back out. He squeezed her hand briefly as he took his leave and their eyes met, a silent message between them - Hotel Robillard had enjoyed a highly successful first night.
She waited for his return with Babette, supervising the cleanup, accounting for all the silverware, crystal, and china. Scarlett felt so tired she could hardly pick up her feet, wanting her bed, wanting to sleep in on the morrow; although she knew she shouldn't, really couldn't; too much to do.
Still high on the victory, Scarlett laughed out loud as she surveyed the remnants of her first hotel event, the crumpled piles of linen, the empty wine bottles, the trays of dishes and leftovers. A very successful evening, indeed.
OOOOooooOOOOoooo
Fun Facts:
Origin of Buck Up
This idiom originated in the early 1800s. It comes from the word buck, which is another word for a male deer - or a fancily dressed young man. Originally, buck up meant to dress smartly. Dressing smartly had the effect of bolstering a person's confidence and making him or her feel better.
By the late 1800s the meaning developed to its current definition of feeling better despite circumstances.
Apologies for the info overload below but I myself found it interesting:
1867: First U.S. refrigerated railroad car patent was issued. 1868: William Davis of Detroit, Michigan developed a refrigerator car cooled by a frozen ice-salt mixture, and patented it in the U.S. The patent was subsequently sold to George Hammond, a local meat packer who amassed a fortune in refrigerated shipping.
Frederic Tudor (September 4, 1783 – February 6, 1864) was an American businessman and merchant. Known as Boston's "Ice King", he was the founder of the Tudor Ice Company and a pioneer of the international ice trade in the early 19th century. He made a fortune shipping ice cut from New England ponds to ports in the Caribbean, Europe, and as far away as India and Hong Kong.[2]
There were ice houses in Georgia dating back to the 1820s. Google 'An Examination of an Ice House at Old Town Plantation' if you want to know more. The ice came in on big ships in large pieces as noted above and was trucked inland and buried as underground as needed to keep it frozen in these houses. I am assuming in Georgia they imported it during the cooler months and had to dig the houses halfway to China to keep it cool. Local folk stored food in them and, I am also assuming, used the ice. Which would probably not be that clean since it came from frozen lake water. Ugh.
Also, if you google Victorian era menus you will find it amazing the spreads those folks put out! And restaurant menus of the times were nearly ridiculously extensive as well. Without electricity, I have no idea how they did it - but then again, there were the ice houses. Even their picnics were quite fantastically large - I had to scale back for this story, just didn't have the energy haha.
Grim historical truths below -
The story of Wade Hampton III's teenage sisters (ages 13-19) being molested by their aunt's husband James Henry Hammond, (60th governor of SC and later US senator, not related to the meat-packer above), who was confronted publicly by their 25-year-old brother two decades before the Civil War, is sadly, true. Hammond blamed his actions in his diary on the girls acting so 'lovingly' toward him, their uncle. The girls never married due to the scandal and lived with family for the rest of their lives. Reportedly Wade Hampton III, the couples' only other child, was afterward always extremely sympathetic and kind to his sisters and their plight.
I can only imagine he felt later guilt at outing the molester in a time when such happenings were nearly always, without fail, covered up. It took an extreme amount of courage and honor to do what he did, in my opinion and makes him even grander in my eyes. He was a hell of a man; a gentleman, and a soldier. Also, ahead of his time in many ways. I can only hope his sisters felt the same way.
A/N Just so you know, Tate is a younger and sweeter Hugh Grant in my head, as far as accent, appearance and humor, not so much the womanizer aspect. I think of Thomas Haden Church's looks in Sideways for Ennis. Actually dated a guy named Ennis who looked just like him a year or so ago. A beautiful idiot, too bad for me. Leif is just - himself. Sigh.
Much like Rhett's alleged 'way with women', we are often told of Scarlett's charm in GWTW, but rarely see actual proof. Hmmm. Also, India has her reasons for her duplicity. All will be revealed … .
Next chapter reading lessons, and then a certain someone's arrival, right in order, although delayed. Thank you for your reviews and support. This story is dear to my heart and never far from my mind. Please feel free to drop me a line or comment, it truly means the world to me :)