April 22, 2021 update: I'm still working, peeps! The good news is I have about five chapters going. Bad news, only one is nearly finished, and it needs a good bit more tweaking. All in Mr. B's POV though, so some people will be happy at least. A few more days should do it. I thank you for sticking with me. And I am so relieved that I have the next chapters started as well. I've always had an end game but staring at the blank page is daunting regardless. Looks like that's over for a while, whew. See you soon!

A/N I know readers would very much like for me to hurry along, and it is a long time coming. This chapter is 8500 words and I have tried to speed the action up folks, but I refuse to skew the story with haste. This chapter is actually at least two chapters - I should have split it but since peeps are losing patience I did not out of consideration. Lotsa hours and info in here. Take your time and hope you enjoy!

Inspirations this time around:

Women are often needlessly unkind to one another, simply because they have so little power otherwise. - author unknown

What's left unsaid will kill you. - Chris Lees, Six Word Stories

Chapter 25

"I'm a Southerner and a Georgian. I'll help. Just like when I tried to give money during the war," Belle gave Scarlett a pointed glance. "I wanna help."

Scarlett realized with a somewhat sinking feeling that involving Belle would mean even more contact with the woman, as she could hardly give any information by the way of notes. It would all be word of mouth. Belle's mouth, which was attached to the rest of Belle.

She inwardly girded herself. This woman's knowledge was too valuable with regard to this project to ignore, and she would just have to overcome her personal feelings. She proceeded to give a brief explanation, leaving out any incriminating details, of what she was looking for involving the financial miscreants, high jinks, and general malfeasance during the war and after Reconstruction.

Belle appeared surprisingly willing to help Scarlett's cause, especially when she learned General Hampton would be involved. Dropping that man's name was just like that enchanted bean in one of Ella's favorite old fairy tales; all she had to do was plant it and wonders grew!

She did, however, express concern that she would be protected and that her own part would be completely anonymous.

"I told you before discretion is my business, but all them old customers who I never see no more and who happen to be carpetbaggers and scalawags - those no-good Yankee shysters who took the money and high-tailed it outta here - pretty much fair game s'far as I see it."

It was after eight and lessons were nearly over, and they'd been at it nearly three hours. Scarlett gave her a couple of names and Belle told her what she knew and had heard, Scarlett writing furiously. She pored over her own folders. This liaison was already proving invaluable, but so much work remained left to do.

"We're going to have to come up with a way … " She wrinkled her brow. "A way for me to write down who I want you to remember, and a way for you to remind yourself.

"Perhaps we can work it into the lessons. Can you draw at all?"

"A little," Belle said.

"So I'll draw pictures to jar your memories and then you can draw some back as a type of note-taking until we can get together to talk.

"Thaddeus Deal sold the boots that fell apart," Scarlett wrote the surname with a big "D" and drew a boot with the bottom falling out as she spoke, sounding out the letters as she went. "We want to see if he ties into Brooks Brothers, the company that manufactured the shoddy material."

"Well that's easy," Belle said. "He liked feet. Draw a picture of a woman's foot next to the boot."

"Feet?" Scarlett stared, her mouth slightly agape. "You mean he liked them - in an arousing way?"

Belle nodded. "Lotsa men do."

Scarlett hesitated just a second before painstakingly sketching a woman's foot next to the boot.

"Make the toes a little bigger and the arch deeper," Belle instructed, just for fun. It had been a long night for her as well.

Scarlett made a face but did as instructed before going on to the next name on a separate piece of paper.

"Zebulon Caravan," She sounded out the last name once again. "He built fake railroads with federal money and we think he's also involved in the selling of fake bonds to Confederate widows." She sketched out a gypsy 'caravan', then a train and tracks with a rough outline of a bond beside it. "This is a big deal, many people look to be involved, and he appears to be a ring leader."

Belle leaned forward. "Draw a bowl of puddin' by the train."

Scarlett appeared confused and a tad apprehensive.

"He liked to spread it all over ..." Something in Scarlett's expression stopped Belle from going further. "Never you mind. I'll know what it means." Scarlett finished up the sketch and handed both papers to her.

"And then when you think of something write a letter if you can sound it out and draw a picture until you learn the words."

Belle nodded. "Like I said, I have a good memory. I can get my day man to write down some things too if I need him to, without lettin' on what it's about."

"All right," Scarlett said, satisfied for the moment. "And then if you can get a message to me here if you need to talk, that would work."

She sifted through her notes and made a list of names and pictures as Belle told her what she knew right off the top of her head, promising to contact her as she thought of more. Scarlett considered everything she had accomplished so far, immensely satisfied with the progress although it was really only a start. She was finally getting somewhere, and that's what mattered.

The front door creaked open and jerked Scarlett out of her musings. She recognized her children's voices as well as India's right before Wade poked his head in the door.

"Excuse me ma'am," he said when he saw Belle. Dear God.

Thinking quickly, she said, "Miss Izzy, this is my son Wade Hamilton, and Wade, this is Miss Izzy, a teacher in training," Wade nodded politely before turning his attention back to her.

"Mother, there was no one home and Uncle Peter thought you might want us here with you and so he's waiting with the carriage outside. Aunt India wanted to come in and show Beau around."

No one home? Oh, yes, she had given Dilcey and Pork the day off. They were probably back in their quarters and Peter just assumed the house was empty.

Scarlett's minor irritation gave way to slight panic as she thought of India. "We're having class, Wade, you all need to occupy yourselves somehow, and don't bring India in here."

He nodded. "Beau's spending the night so she'll be on her way home shortly."

"What about school tomorrow?"

"It's Easter break, Mother." Ah yes, her cheeks pinkened a bit at her memory lapse. Wade stepped further into the room.

"Aunt Pitty wanted to know if perhaps Uncle Ashley and Aunt India can come to tea Thursday when General Hampton calls. She said I have to ask you tonight because they would like to know and I can tell Peter to relay the message before he leaves."

Scarlett made a face. She might need to talk to Hamp and Ashley would be watching. And would she want India in her new home? Not really.

"You mean so India can tell every busybody in town for the next week." He gave her a blank look.

"I'll think about it, I will. They keep asking. But we're having a big to-do here on Saturday night before the grand opening, the general will be there, and they'll be invited as well. The invitations will be hand-delivered tomorrow, you can go ahead and tell them that." Wade appeared somewhat appeased by this answer.

"Also, Mother," he hesitated and glanced at Belle again and Scarlett nodded a tad impatiently. "Have you noticed how Ella is acting around Mr. Tate and Mr. Erickson?"

"What do you mean, how she's acting?"

"She's seeking them out and pouting and being quite - sassy." He had the grace to look embarrassed at this assessment but managed to square his shoulders and hold his ground.

Scarlett thought of herself at Ella's age and smiled. Her father and all her male relatives when they visited had indulged her the same way Leif and Tate were indulging Ella, and it was some of her favorite memories as a young girl.

"She's never been the center of attention, Wade. They're young, nice-looking men and they're making a fuss over her and she loves it."

"I just don't know if it's proper and if she won't end up disappointed …"

"Let her have this, Wade. Ella has so few people, not any family on her father's side at all. And now you have the general, and Tate and Leif spend time with you too," she admonished. It wasn't like Wade to be selfish, but she knew her children were missing Rhett and Melly's attention even after all this time.

"Well, she gets attention from Uncle Henry and Uncle Ashley," he countered.

"Uncle Henry and Uncle Ashley hardly count as -" she started to say 'young, nice-looking men' but caught herself. "Well, they're not new and exciting like Le - Mr. Erickson and Mr. Tate."

"But Mother," he gave her an earnest look here. "What's going to happen when they leave like -" and his voice drifted off. Scarlett turned toward him sharply. Like Rhett. 'When they leave like Rhett' is what he'd started to say.

"When they have finished their work here," he amended. "And her heart gets broken?"

Scarlett felt her face stiffen as she mentally cursed Rhett for the thousandth time.

"I'll look after her Wade, don't worry. It's not your concern. I will take care of it." He appeared doubtful. "I will make sure she doesn't get her feelings hurt, Wade, I promise."

He nodded as he turned to go, then turned back around. "It was fun yesterday, on our picnic and flying the kites."

"Yes," she smiled back, hoping he wouldn't mention who they were with in front of 'Miss Izzy.' "Yes, I had a lovely time."

"And you were still smiling last night. I'm glad you had a good evening, you seemed so happy when you came home." Oh, those big brown eyes and that sweet, sweet face.

"I know Uncle Rhett thinks you're most beautiful when you're angry," he continued as he took a step backward toward the door, "but I think it's when you smile."

God bless Wade.

"Are you trying to finagle something from your poor old mother, my dear boy?" she gave him a sideways smile and dimple.

"No ma'am," he said simply, and the look on his face was so pure and sincere tears threatened to fill her eyes. "I'm proud of my beautiful mother. I always have been."

"Come back here," she said, standing, and kissed him on his forehead as he stopped in front of her. "I won't be able to reach you soon," her voice sounded suspiciously close to breaking.

"I'll bend over," he said shyly.

"You're a good boy, Wade Hampton Hamilton, and you remind me very much of your father tonight," he ducked his head at his mother's words. "I have to finish up here if you will watch after your sister before we leave."

Scarlett's eyes followed Wade as he turned back around. "Go show Beau and India around. Keep them busy," she said pointedly. "I need to see Ella for a moment, send her to me."

He nodded to her guest. "Excuse me, Miss Izzy," he said.

Wade left the door cracked as he exited.

"Was his father a good man?"

She jumped a little at Belle's voice. She'd almost forgotten she was there.

"Very much. He was Melanie Wilkes' brother and as much a gentleman as she was a lady. I didn't appreciate it when I had him," she examined the top of her desk as she spoke. Appears to be a pattern.

She heard a noise and glanced up to see Ella in the doorway, and motioned her in.

"This is Miss Izzy, and this is my daughter, Ella," she said as Ella ventured into the room. "She's working with me. We are having lessons, Prissy too. You need to find somewhere to be quiet and mind your brother."

Ella greeted Belle prettily and nodded at her mother, still hovering, this time around Scarlett's desk. She wore a spring green frock which was quite lovely with her eyes and her hair, arranged in dark coppery ringlets all over her head in a highly fetching manner and tied back with yellow velvet ribbons. Prissy's work, apparently. Lord knows India didn't do it.

"Mother?"

"Yes?" Scarlett kept her eyes on her paperwork. She needed to re-copy her notes she'd taken from Belle as some were illegible.

"I wanted to tell you, well, I didn't like my dessert tonight very much at Aunt Pitty's," Ella said, twisting her hands in her skirt.

Scarlett glanced up, waiting for her to continue and trying to control her impatience, aware that Belle was watching carefully.

"It was tapioca," Ella said as if that explained it. Her eyes drifted over to the box of Leif's pralines nestled on a side table near the window. Scarlett suppressed a grin.

"Did you eat the rest of your supper at Aunt Pitty's?" she asked with feigned nonchalance as she continued to sift through her work.

Ella scrunched her nose.

"Yes, even the, um, even the unfortunate vegetable course," she said.

"I don't know that a vegetable course is unfortunate, Ella. Perhaps unappealing or unappetizing would be more accurate words to choose."

"It was unfortunate for me," Ella returned in an offhand manner so reminiscent of a certain former blockade runner's pattern of speech that both Scarlett and Belle looked up sharply.

"Stewed cabbage and beetroot with onions," she shuddered lightly.

"That is an unusual combination," Scarlett agreed in a diplomatic tone. "I imagine your entire serving was pink."

"Yes," Ella's face turned a little green, her face nearly matching her dress.

"I recall a similar dish often served at Aunt Pitty's when I lived with her some years ago," Scarlett replied, still in a conversational tone. "'The beets were always quite large and the cabbage overcooked."

"Yes," Ella said, eagerly leaning forward. "You understand, then."

"Did Wade manage to enjoy the vegetable course?" She knew she was dragging it out but Ella was too amusing with her maneuverings.

"He tried, well - we have to try. If we don't, Aunt Pitty goes on about how we need to be grateful and that time during the war when all you all had to eat was a stringy old rooster and you were so very thankful for it," she barely contained her eye roll. "And we didn't want to hear about that again."

Scarlett pressed her lips together, the mirth threatening to bubble up inside. How well she remembered that rooster. With effort, she recomposed her face.

"I'm so very sorry you didn't like the dessert," she said in her most conciliatory manner. "Perhaps tomorrow's fare will be better."

"Yes," Ella said, obviously deflated, her eyes drifting back to the pralines. Scarlett decided to take pity on the child.

"Is there something you would like, Ella?"

"Oh," Ella breathed, her face lighting up as she stepped nearer to the desk. "I was wondering if I could have a praline? I know Mr. Leif brought them to you as a gift," she said hurriedly, "so if you don't want to share I understand."

Oh, foot. As much as she wanted to hoard the rest of the pralines, she didn't need Belle knowing a man was bringing her gifts of candy.

"They're for everyone, Ella." Scarlett acquiesced, albeit reluctantly. "You still need to ask so you don't eat too many, but yes, you may have one. Take one to Beau and Wade. India won't eat them." India deplored sweets. Unnatural creature.

Ella fairly floated to the side table. Scarlett watched as she carefully picked up the box of pralines and wax paper squares.

"Miss Izzy, would you care for a praline?" Belle's eyes widened and she glanced quickly at Scarlett.

"I'm sure she'd love one, just put it there on a saucer with the tea service," Scarlett said, trying her best to sound gracious. "Perhaps you can ask Prissy to bring us some hot water when she takes a break from studying. We are out."

Ella carefully selected the largest praline and set it down on a saucer next to Belle as requested, all but skipping out of the room with the box.

Scarlett sighed and opened her desk drawer, pulling out a crystal decanter. In for a penny, in for a pound.

"Since we don't have any more hot water for the tea, would you like some brandy with your praline?" She couldn't very well expect Belle to choke it down with nothing to drink. Besides, she could use a toddy, as long as the day had been.

Belle nodded and held her cup forward, and Scarlett filled both of their cups at the same time. "Is this the way fine ladies take their evenin' tea?"

Scarlett shrugged. "I have no idea," she said, completely without guile, and Belle struggled to contain her snicker.

"Your daughter is darlin'. Both of your children are," Belle said, a tad hesitantly. "I seen 'em before, from a distance o'course, at the park once and walkin' downtown. Never up close."

"Thank you," Scarlett managed to return politely. She was not thrilled that Belle had now met her children, but there was no sense in bothering over it. She wondered for a moment if she had ever met Bonnie, but quickly pushed that idea out of her mind. It would only lead to heartache.

"I didn't put Wade up to that, you know." Belle glanced up at her tone. "Wade, what he said before, about me. I didn't ask him to say those things."

Belle snorted lightly. "No, I don't imagine you did, seein' as how he's here by accident." She lowered her eyes and toyed with the edge of her notebook. "Though it's no secret Rhett Butler thinks his wife is beautiful."

"Well, it's news to me," Scarlett replied without thinking and then chuckled at how like Ella she sounded. She couldn't help but wonder how much such an admission of Rhett's sentiments cost her former rival.

"So he thought you were most beautiful when you were angry?"

Scarlett raised her eyebrows at the question. "Yes, and then he managed to keep me that way as often as possible, until it wasn't amusing anymore."

Remembering then exactly who she was speaking to, Scarlett squared her shoulders and set her chin as she cleared her throat. "Do you have any questions before we move on to the next lesson?"

Another knock at the door and she hurriedly put the decanter back in the drawer, glancing apologetically in spite of herself at Belle. Good lord, Scarlett thought. I should have had Pork stay and man the door. We're going to have to find somewhere else for classes sooner than I'd thought.

"Pardon me," India said as she stuck her head through, glancing at Belle. No turning back now.

"Come in, India," Scarlett said with barely concealed dread and a growing sense of doom.

She noticed India's hair was still in style from the night before, although she'd freshened it up, and she'd worn the supper dress once more. And it appeared, on closer inspection, she had either left her cosmetics on from last night or applied them again, very lightly and tastefully, sometime today.

"India Wilkes, this is Miss Izzy," she said. "She's a teacher in training."

"Oh really," India said, interest lighting her face. "Which school?"

Caught, Scarlett replied quickly. "It's not around here. She's teaching cracker children to read out in the counties." Oh, dear. Perhaps she'd replied a little too quickly.

An uncomfortable silence ensued. Scarlett envied Belle's impeccably blank expression.

"Well," India said after a moment, breaking the weighty pause, "I wanted to thank you for inviting me to the supper, and loaning me this" - she slid a box Scarlett assumed contained her jewelry across the desk, "and the other - things."

She paused and Scarlett nodded. "You're welcome," she returned somewhat automatically. "Was the evening fruitful?"

"Mr. King has offered me a position and I have accepted," India said, as regally as possible.

"Oh," Scarlett said, delighted her plan had worked. "When do you start?"

"In a week. I told him it would take me a few days to ready and prepare."

Hesitantly she continued. "I also wanted to talk to you about last night, about the seating arrangement, and -" she trailed off, glancing pointedly at Belle. Obviously, she wanted to speak to Scarlett alone.

"Excuse me for just a few minutes," Scarlett said to Belle, rising from her seat. She stopped to open another desk drawer and pull out her petty cash box before following India into the lobby.

"I want to explain to you why I placed you the way I did," India started without preamble as they seated themselves in the lobby chairs right outside her office door.

"I felt pretty and like I had a chance to have a nice night and there were new, unattached gentlemen here," India gestured toward the veranda, her eyes wistful.

Her expression hardened slightly as she turned back to Scarlett. "But I know how you are. So I seated you with a blank spot. Because whatever man I put there would be yours for the night, if not the rest of the table."

Scarlett smirked but held her tongue, not without effort. It wasn't a 'blank spot', the place card had read 'Mr. Butler,' but she decided to let that point pass for the moment.

"Scarlett, when we were young back in Clayton County you took all the beaux, not just Stuart. Before you came along I actually did get some attention, but after you came home from Fayetteville - did you realize, even think for a moment, when all the boys were fawning over you and Cathleen Calvert, that meant the rest of the girls were going without attention?"

Scarlett examined her hands in her lap as she thought for a moment. "No," she said finally. "No. I just saw it as a competition, one I could win, and so I did."

India nodded. "I wanted you to experience it. What it felt like. I wanted you to know how it was to be a belle at the same time you were one, hogging all the boys."

Scarlett sat up straighter at the term 'hogging'. "Well, it isn't as if my beaux never spoke to anyone else. I could only dance with one at a time." Also, you dressed like an old woman and bored them to death.

"Yes, and when the dance with another girl ended they shot right back over to you," India snapped back. "You came down with a bad cold one weekend the winter before that last barbecue at Twelve Oaks - the only time you were ever sick - and we were all absolutely overjoyed."

Scarlett's eyes flashed, but India met hers straight, undaunted. She started to tell India it wasn't her fault that the boys preferred her - and furthermore, one could hardly call it 'stealing' when all she had to do was smile at Stuart once and tap his arm with her fan, and he'd left all thoughts of India behind - but then, out of nowhere, Scarlett pictured her little Ella as a wallflower at a future dance, while some more sought-after girl gained all the male attention. It wasn't a pleasant thought.

"Fine," Scarlett said. "I suppose I understand," she smiled in a sickly sweet manner. "Too bad for you the general showed up and derailed your little plan."

"Yes," India drawled. "Too bad."

Scarlett fluttered her hand imperiously in dismissal and opened the cash box.

"Onto the present. You'll need a proper wardrobe for your new position." She counted out a hundred dollars and held it out to India. "This would cover several full-day dress ensembles of good quality, complete with shoes, a coat, and underthings." She'd spied India's ragged petticoats and scuffed, worn-out boots more times than she cared to count. "You can go to my modiste on Argonne Avenue and tell her I said there's a rush." Scarlett ignored India's frown.

"If you have any money left, order Aunt Pitty a new dress or two. Uncle Henry's been making her scrimp again," Scarlett sniffed. "Saving for old age, he says, when she's already old as Methuselah."

"I won't take it," India crossed her arms over her nonexistent chest and literally stuck her nose in the air.

"You will. You can't afford to embarrass yourself or your family. Mr. King is from Boston and won't be impressed by your shabby gentility. Nor will any of his well-to-do clientele."

India huffed and re-crossed her arms even tighter. "No. Absolutely not."

Scarlett thought back to her conversation with Belle. There were so few ways for women to earn money. Not all were suited for owning businesses, and the ones with gumption enough to try to start one often had to depend on help from men not unlike Rhett, who were only interested in making high profits and interest or - things other than business - with them.

"I might as well tell you - and you might learn of it any matter when you go to work for Mr. King, because I plan to have him handle the legal aspects of it.

"I've been putting back a small percentage of profits from the store and my other holdings - a very small percentage - for some time for Bonnie, since she was born, actually." A frown clouded her forehead. "I'd always put money back for Wade and Ella, in trusts. It didn't seem right that I wouldn't do the same for her, even if her father is wealthy and still alive. This money is from me, what I did myself, for her.

"But then she died. I didn't stop putting the money back, however. I haven't known exactly what I wanted to do with it until just now."

The idea gained momentum in her head as she spoke. India watched her curiously.

"I told you General Hampton is in favor of women going to work, taking part in commerce. I could loan women money who are interested in joining the workforce or starting a business. Women who need just a little help, in the form of a grant or loan. It's harder for - us - to get loans from the bank."

Scarlett's mind became set.

"So consider this the first action. A grant, or a loan. No interest. I'd appreciate it if you wouldn't mention what I'm doing to anyone else. I want to keep it a secret for now."

India spoke slowly, weighing her words. "If I take it, it will be a loan, and I will pay interest."

"Half a percent, then."

"One percent."

"Fine. And don't consider it charity. Consider it your way of helping me get started doing something," Scarlett paused. "Something I've wanted to do for a while."

India regarded her.

"Why are you doing this for me?"

"I think I just explained it."

"Yes, but why are you doing it for me," she emphasized, "all this, the job, everything last night, the hair and jewelry and … enhancements. And after everything that happened before …" India's voice drifted off.

Oh, all the past and all the ugliness. She thought of her day in the sun with Tate and Leif and the children, and how she had felt so very young again, like she had with her friends growing up.

"I'm doing it for Stuart," she said, her throat doing that constricting thing again, damn it. "He was my playmate long before he was your beau, and before I 'stole' him from you," she said. "But then he was your beau again, and perhaps that's where he should have stayed.

"And he would want me to help you. Because of our friendship," she emphasized, "mine and Stuart's, not mine and yours," which is nonexistent. "And perhaps you did the terrible things you did to me, because you loved him so much, and hated me for taking him from you for a period of time you might have cherished."

India regarded her again for a long moment, then nodded tightly before starting to rise.

'Stop," Scarlett said. "There's something else I want to say. About Ashley."

India's face became immediately more guarded as she sat back down slowly.

Scarlett took a big breath. "For years I enjoyed and sought out his company too much, but you need to know, there was never anything physical to it. I did have feelings for him. He reminded me of the past, I'd talk to him and the old times would come back, and I'd feel lighthearted again, like there was beauty in the world, like there was hope.

"I had this vision of how things used to be, and he helped me conjure it up. Even after everything changed, I suppose I never had much imagination, and I still used that vision to escape, long after it was in any way accurate. Of the beaux you spoke of, and the parties and fun and lightheartedness. Our faith that our world would always be there."

"I know," India interrupted.

Scarlett paused and made a motion for her to continue.

"Melly told me when she passed. Melly told me you two were drawn together by your memories, and that it made you both feel happy and young to see each other, to be in each other's company. And if there were residual feelings of romance, they'd never amount to much." She gazed at her hands as she spoke.

"That you loved your husband and Ashley loved her, and after she died, to just ignore it, and it would eventually pass. It was merely a distraction and an escape from the dreariness and pain of all that had gone on. "

Oh Melly. Scarlett fought back the emotion that threatened to engulf her. She'd have to deal with India's words later, in the privacy of her bedroom, when this flesh-eating harpy wasn't in front of her and her husband's mistress wasn't waiting on the other side of a door just a few feet away. Still, she wasn't finished.

"That day at the mill had cascading consequences that hurt me and people I care for," she unconsciously touched her stomach, "immeasurably. And he was only comforting me after he upset me talking about the past, how it's gone, all the beauty and grace. And he wouldn't stop talking about it, not even when I asked, and it made me think of all the boys who died, India. Those boys were my friends.

"One of the reasons I had so many beaux - the hogging, as you called it - was that it allowed me to spend time with these boys who had been my childhood friends. You know I never played with girls. So he made me think about them, those boys, and how they were gone, and how they had died, and I started crying, like a lost child, and he tried to comfort me, as he would have comforted a child."

She fixed her eyes on India.

"So I understand you were still angry about Stu. And perhaps you did think I stared at Ashley too much, talked to him too much, perhaps even flirted - and, perhaps I did. And it wasn't right, so you think I deserved what you did to me that day.

"But he was your brother. Your brother. He was a good brother to you, within his limitations. And he deserved the benefit of the doubt even if I didn't.

"Which I think I did," she added quickly. "But that's not the main point, however. He was family. And you and I are family, by certain extensions. So I am requesting that you treat people who are your family, which includes me, and Ashley, as such. Not because of the loan, but as a result of this conversation."

India nodded, having the grace to look ever-so-slightly chagrined. She opened her mouth to speak but Scarlett shushed her.

"That's all," Scarlett stood up."I've said what I wanted to say."

India stood up as well. She divided the bills in half and tried to give one handful back.

"Take it," she said. "I'll not need this much. Take the money for someone else."

"No, no," Scarlett said, shoving it back. "You'll need every penny." India made as if to push it toward her once again, and Scarlett pushed back, but India wasn't giving an inch.

"Good God India, just take it," Scarlett gave a final shove and moved quickly out of the other woman's reach.

"If there's some leftover after you and Pitty then indulge yourself in something that - lifts your spirits. It might do your sour disposition some good."

India snatched the bills without a word and huffed off toward the kitchen.

Feeling disheveled both from the struggle and the conversation, Scarlett returned to the office, straightening out her dress and blowing a loose lock of hair from her forehead. She heard a rustle when she opened the door and couldn't be sure but it seemed as though Belle had just sat down when she approached the desk.

"Pray excuse the intrusion." Scarlett settled back into her chair.

"She should use ground clove," Belle said, not looking up from her practice sheets.

"Pardon?"

"For her eyebrows," Belle continued. "Ground clove is a better shade for light-haired girls. And it thickens better'n elderberry juice for thin lashes and eyebrows."

"I would have thought you used more - commercial preparations."

"Sometimes men wanna be with women who look natural, like ladies," Belle said, looking up. "Sometimes those married men I talked about before would really just like to be with their wives."

Various emotions played across Scarlett's face as she took in the words.

Watchin' that woman's expressions is fascinatin,' Belle thought. It was like one of those moving picture flipbooks, the only kind of book she had ever been able to appreciate.

"And she needs to eat an extra biscuit or two every day. Gal's way too skinny."

Before Scarlett could even open her mouth another knock sounded. For the love of all that is holy.

"I think we might have better luck with the privacy at my sportin' house," Belle deadpanned. "I got rooms built just for that, ya know."

Scarlett shot her a look. "Come in."

Leif opened the door, impossibly handsome as always, dressed smartly in an obviously expensive dark gray silk suit and with his hair pulled back, which put his impressive bone structure on display. He wore an appropriately apologetic expression on his face.

"Pardon my intrusion, Scarlett. I was riding by and saw all the lights and just wanted to check in. Babette went home a while ago."

Leif's bright blue eyes traveled to Miss Izzy but did not linger after a polite nod. Belle's eyes widened slightly at the sight of him. A small smile tugged at the corner of her mouth before she turned her eyes down again quickly, covering one side of her face with her hand, which did not go unnoticed by Scarlett.

"You look nice," Scarlet blurted out before she could stop herself. "Have you been out?" She blushed slightly at her forwardness.

"I went to night mass to light a candle for Finn," he said. "I try to do that on Sundays."

"Didn't know you were Catholic."

"I'm not, raised Lutheran, actually, but I had a grandmother on my father's side who was a secret Catholic and took me to mass," he smiled. "You can come with me sometime if you'd like."

Scarlett's eyes widened and she didn't answer, taken aback. After a beat, he continued.

"I usually pass by at night to check up and lock everything again. I don't think it's safe after dark anymore, now that this is a bonafide hotel. I'll have staff here next week, but for now, I think someone should stay with you when you're here." His face was full of concern.

Scarlett remembered herself and made introductions, referring to Leif correctly as her investment partner, and Belle, again as a teacher in training. She noticed Belle hardly gave him a passing glance and merely nodded in reply.

"We are finishing up here," she addressed Leif once again.

"All right. I will go through one more time and then take you and Prissy and the children home. I sent Uncle Peter on with Mrs. Wilkes. Of course, I can also take -" he turned to Belle and Scarlett spoke quickly.

"Miss Izzy has her own carriage waiting for her and Phoebe," she assured him. With a smile and a nod, Leif headed out to make his rounds of the property.

The two women packed up and walked out of the office, and as they passed the crate outside Scarlett noticed Belle looking at it.

"Yes," she said in a low voice, "we are expecting Rhett home soon, probably about two weeks. We'll have to suspend lessons while he's here, but before then, are you familiar with Inman Park?" Belle nodded.

"I live there now. I have a guest house at the edge of the property that we can use, you could take a back street to it." She wrote down the address and handed it to her for her driver. "We'll resume lessons there until he arrives. If he goes to you first," Scarlett paused, carefully controlling the emotion in her voice. "Then you get word to me, and vice versa. Agreed?" Belle nodded again, her expression revealing nothing of her thoughts.

The children were playing in the lobby. Ella seemed content trying out the new furniture and jumping up and down the bottom of stairs while Wade was in the middle of indulging his younger male cousin in a game of swordplay with two pieces of long, thin wood they'd apparently found in the few areas still under construction.

They were playing pirates and Scarlett remembered with a smile a favorite pirate book of Wade's when he was small, so small, following her around wanting her to read from it. And when she would stop and read it, he would be so happy, and how Rhett had reminded her of those times and that book on the day he proposed.

Just then Wade fake-stabbed Beau and jumped to the top of the steps, brandishing his sword in victory.

"I am the victor!" he proclaimed loudly. "I have captured your ship and all your gold! I am a great pirate and will travel the world and become even richer! And all the women will love me!"

Very much in spite of themselves, Belle and Scarlett met one another's eyes and immediately dissolved into laughter.

OOOOooooOOOOoooo

"Two ribs fractured and another bruised," Dr. Everett Hawthorne probed Rhett's chest more firmly than Rhett thought was necessary, although he did have the grace to wince at the slight crunching sound. "Judging by your level of alertness, I'd say your concussion is fairly mild."

The doctor, an upbeat man in his early forties and a longtime friend of the Butler family, gingerly palpated Rhett's nose. "Your nose is so misshapen by the swelling I was sure it was broken. But seems to be simply swollen, and bruised, as well. The deep bruising accounts for the bleeding. That forehead wound will close up if we keep it bandaged.

"Just busted up. You're lucky."

"It hurts when I breathe deeply," Rhett rasped. "To the point of nausea."

"Yes, well, broken ribs are extremely painful. More so for you due to your enlarged liver. It's pressing against them." To demonstrate his point, he poked Rhett, again, not gently, below his rib cage to the center of his abdomen. "Feel that? It's your liver, and it shouldn't be right there."

Rhett winced at the pain. "I've cut down on my drinking considerably since I last saw you."

"And your liver has shrunk, but not completely. You need to cut down more. Quit, actually."

"Quit?"

"If you want to heal more quickly and all the way, then, yes. You could have an occasional whiskey, a glass of wine at supper perhaps. That would be it.

"And that wouldn't be ideal. Ideal would be to quit." The doctor moved to pack up his bag. Rhett cursed under his breath.

"For how long?"

Dr. Hawthorne peered at him over the top of his spectacles.

"For a long time."

"Are you telling me I won't recover, that my ribs won't heal unless I stop drinking?"

"Oh, you'll still recover. You'll just hurt more. And for longer."

"Is it too late? To reverse the damage?"

"It's late, but not too late. Again, you're lucky.

"You should stop smoking, as well. It's going to hurt more when you cough because of the ribs. Excruciatingly, actually." The doctor seemed altogether chipper at the thought.

Rhett fixed him with a withering glare.

"Giving up both at once might be a little much."

'Well, you're at increased risk for pneumonia as it is. Smoking could increase the risk even more. You do need to breathe deeply, exercise your lungs as much as you can to avoid that. Which is going to hurt, as well."

Dr. Hawthorne appraised the man in front of him. The usually immaculately groomed Rhett Butler was a sight to see, barefoot and without a shirt, dressed in seawater-soaked pants, sporting five days worth of sea beard, and his hair curling and lopping down over his forehead. A good-looking beast of a man, even in his current state. Possessor of a fine-blade intelligence and a sharper tongue. Self-destructive for the last few years, if not longer. Scary to his enemies. Always been rather vain, perhaps that's the route to take.

"I appreciate that you've lost weight and are physically fit, muscular even. You're still in amazingly good shape, all things considered. Health aside, do you know what your lifestyle is going to do to your looks, not eventually, but in the next few years?"

Rhett swept his arm wide - as wide as he could with two cracked ribs that is - in a mocking gesture. "Pray inform me."

"Your teeth will darken - I'm surprised they haven't already - and your eyes will become clouded and rheumy. It won't be attractive.

"And if you jaundice your liver with continued abuse, your skin and the whites of your eyes will yellow as well to match your teeth. Hepatitis will set in eventually. And you'll gain weight because your systems won't be working properly.

"Of course, not for long. You'll die pretty soon after that. Can't live without your liver. "

Cheerfully the doctor snapped his medical bag shut. Charming fellow, Rhett thought.

"What do I do for the pain?"

"Althea syrup for the cough, laudanum pills for the pain. I will have them delivered this afternoon."

"I need to go to Atlanta."

Hawthorne remained silent. He was aware of the Butler's marital situation, as relayed in confidence to him by the elder Mrs. Butler.

"I need to see my children. Stepchildren," Rhett amended at the look on Hawthorne's face.

"I thought you and your wife were estranged." Rhett shrugged. "She's still my wife." For now. " And the children need me. I haven't been there in a while. I was planning to leave in a day or so after I've visited here and caught up with my attorney."

"Perhaps if you took a luxury car on the train, and then buggies when you get there, but only to a destination where you'll stay put. You can't ride a horse. You need to rest up and stay in one place. With someone to take care of you."

Rhett contemplated his options. He could go to Belle's when he went to Atlanta, she'd see that he was taken care of. He didn't care to show weakness in front of Scarlett, although why it still mattered he hadn't a clue.

"You'll have to have help with the wrappings." Well, he could always pay someone.

As if reading his mind, the doctor continued. "In the interest of your continued health, you might want to consider laying off the more tawdry local establishments offering purchased nightly companionship. I'd hate to have to treat you for the Pox as well as everything else you have going on."

Rhett openly scowled. The doctor smirked back.

"People talk. Not that you're going to be able to, er, indulge in any of that type of behavior for a good while," he pointed at his patient's ribs. "It would hurt far too much."

Rhett opened his mouth to speak, then shut it. His head had started to throb even more intensely, and he suddenly just wanted this visit to end.

"One more thing. Your mother can't handle these continued shenanigans. Her headaches are getting worse and her blood pressure is high. The episodes are brought on by stress. As a long-time friend of the family, I feel I can say this to you."

Rhett's jaw tightened.

"A sailing accident hardly comes under the heading of 'shenanigans'. "

"You, an experienced and life-long sailor, were out on deck during a lightning storm. For an extended period of time."

"Which is my concern, Dr. Hawthorne. Pray remember your position, and I will remember mine."

Completely nonplussed by his patient's dark tone, the doctor appeared to be busy scribbling something in his notepad.

"You know my father is close friends with General Wade Hampton, who's been in Atlanta for several months on business. They've been corresponding, and it seems he met your wife, and has started to call on your stepson for the past several weeks since his father served in his regiment and is his namesake."

Rhett grunted in response, giving nothing of his surprise at this revelation away.

"Seems particularly impressed with the boy and your wife. Says she is a woman of rare spirit and accomplishment. I think she might be working with the Democratic Party at present."

Rhett wrinkled his brow, although it hurt his head wound to do so. Scarlett involved in politics? Highly unlikely. The doctor was baiting him, he felt sure.

"She is also willfully ignorant, completely unaware and uncaring of the needs of people around her, and she possesses the most atrocious taste known to man. It is quite immaterial to me how she occupies her time."

Dr. Hawthorne tapped his pencil against his notepad before replying.

"You have always been an unconventional couple. Many women have lost their husbands, many men have lost their wives. I see it every day. You still have yours. If you can't appreciate your wife for who she is, perhaps it is time to move on."

A muscle twitched in the swarthier man's cheek.

"As a matter of fact, I have moved on, Dr. Hawthorne, and I don't recall asking you for your opinion on the subject."

"Yet you can't wait to get to Atlanta."

Rhett returned his gaze stare for stare. "I consider this part of our conversation to be finished. By the way, although you apparently find my personal affairs exponentially more entertaining, it might interest you to know, as my physician, that my ribs and my head are killing me at the present moment."

"You must be feeling better." The good doctor picked up his bowler hat and set it on his head in a quite jaunty manner. "The sarcasm has returned."

"I'll leave what pain medication I have with me with your mother. Your ribs need to be wrapped, but you need to bathe first. You smell like a stray dog that's been rolling in dead fish down at the docks.

"I'll give you an hour to get cleaned up and then I'll be back to show your mother and manservant how the wrapping's done." And with that he walked out the door whistling, leaving Rhett cursing a blue streak behind him.

OOOOOooooOOOOoooo

We have a virtual plethora of fun facts this round:

When was Jack and the Beanstalk first written?

1734

Jack and the Beanstalk first appeared as The Story of Jack Spriggins and the Enchanted Bean in 1734.

When were flipbooks invented?

The oldest known documentation of the flipbook appeared in September 1868, when it was patented by John Barnes Linnett under the name kineograph ("moving picture"). They were the first form of animation to employ a linear sequence of images rather than circular (as in the older phenakistoscope)

The latter half of the nineteenth century became the Golden Age of the saloon.

Until the 1870s schnapps was a part of wages in Denmark.

Clark Gable was dyslexic, one reason he never did well in school and dropped out at sixteen.

Personal facts:

My own husband was dyslexic and did not receive any help for it in school. He had a genius-level IQ but was nearly functionally illiterate. Still owned an electrical contracting company for 20 years. Hated to read. I had to read everything to him, for the 27 years we were married. He memorized everything he possibly could to compensate.

My mother, one of the nation's first female physician's assistants, who graduated in 1972, diagnosed my uncle with cirrhosis of the liver when she accidentally poked him beneath his ribs and felt his enlarged liver during a holiday visit in 1974. True story.

Closing A/N this one was a doozy! Thank you for the reviews, they truly mean the world to me. As always, would love to hear your comments and opinions. Peace, misscyn