Just to point out before anyone gets on the history train Albert did have children I am just bumping their dates of birth to a later date. If I can re-write Scarlett what's alittle thing like the British Royal Family.
"I'd wondered where you'd gone. I'd hoped you would make something of that heated exchange I just witnessed."
"No, I think that I shall just have to brave out the rest of the week till we bid Mr. Butler a fond adieu."
"What about the bebe?"
"You're her father, that is the only truth the world ever need know."
"Scarlett, you may one day have to answer questions for your child as to who here father is and more importantly where he is? What then?"
"I'll worry about that when the time comes, if I spend every minute worrying about what will come I won't be able to enjoy what I already have."
"But you love him."
"I also love Strawberry Trifle but I'm not willing to throw away my sanity and self respect for it."
"Be serious."
"I am. You are my child's father, the only one that matters to her. She loves you and so do I."
Bertie took her hands in his and after clasping them together kissed them gently, in a gesture that had nothing to do with showmanship. "I wish that so much could be different, for you, for me, for us."
Scarlett was so intent on their conversation she hadn't noticed Rhett leave his seat and his subsequent approach to the dais where her table was.
"I've never heard you talk like this, don't Bertie, please. There is no changing, no going back, just ever forward."
"I do love you, as best I can."
Rhett turned and walked away from the picture the Prince and the woman that he...how did the Prince really feel about Scarlett. Perhaps before the week was out he would be able to answer that question.
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After dinner began the entertainments. British house parties were long elaborate affairs. Masque's, parlor games, and of course recitals. The ladies would play the piano or harp. Some would recite pieces of poetry. Scarlett would have to perform several times on the piano, arrange games, and divide the guests into teams for charades, which were extravagant dumb shows using costumes, props, and settings.
They would hunt and shoot during the day. The prince had secured a boar for a pig hunt at the end of the week. Tomorrow was a fox hunt in the morning to be followed by an early lunch in the Marble and granite pavilion at the edge of the great lawn. The afternoon would be a time for naps, bathing, and for the Prince and the gentleman he hoped to make business alliances with to confer.
It was painfully long and drawn out, but necessary. The Prince needed these people, the nobles and the new men. The British Royal family had lost a good deal of their political pull in the last 150 years. Bertie was determined to slowly draw power back to the crown. Hence the Ton would have to leave at weeks end overwhelmed by a blend of pleasure and hospitality.
The rest of the evening seemed to drag on for hours. Scarlett had wished Bertie a good evening at around 1 A.M. She had politely begun to direct the Prince's guests upstairs by commenting that their maids and valets had been dispatched to their rooms to help them prepare for bed. The foxhunt would be early in the morning so many of the guests were grateful to make their final bows to the Prince and bid him a pleasant night. The Prince bid her goodnight by kissing not one but both of her hands, slow and sensual with her palms facing up. Scarlett flushed with what the assembly took to be excitement but what was in fact embarrassment. Though she enjoyed the Prince's attention as well as the protection and privilege of being his closest companion, she found it disconcerting that Rhett was here tonight and might think that she was another man's mistress. The Prince leaned forward and brushing her ear with his lips whispered if she would be so good as to have a tray sent to his formal study so that he and Lord Robert could closet themselves for the rest of the evening.
Scarlett entered her rooms. The fire had been well laid and still burned brightly, illuminating the room. Distorted shadows danced on the walls. Before the fire Renee her ladies maid dozed on a settee. Scarlett smiled faintly. Renee was no Mammy, but at the same time she was no Prissy. She was neat, organized, and non-intrusive. She knew about Bess and was fairly sure that the Prince was not the father of her Mistress' child, however; she kept her opinions to herself.
"Renee."
"Madame", Renee got to her feet gracefully but quickly. She colored a dull red at having been caught at ease by Scarlett.
"Good evening."
Renee bobbed a curtsey. "Good Evening Madame. How was your evening?"
"Fine, very uneventful."
Renee began to unbutton the silk covered black buttons on the back of Scarlett's dress. There were 30 of them each button looped through a loop of jet cording. The buttons were slick and required much of Renee's concentration.
"Renee?"
"Yes Madame," replied Renee distractedly as she freed each button.
"Anything worth hearing?"
"Madame?"
Scarlett smiled though Renee could not see it. "Gossip, everyone knows that those under stairs know everything that happens at a house party. Sometimes before it happens."
Renee sighed. She loved to gossip with Madame who would leak small tidbits of gossip to Renee who would in turn nonchalantly mention it downstairs. The other servants were always slightly in awe of Renee's connection to the Quality. Some of the other house servants ventured the opinion that Madame could not be considered Quality. She was not noble or even European. She was American and clearly the Mistress of the Prince of Wales. Renee defended Scarlett like a Pit-bull with its only pup. Scarlett had been overwhelmingly kind. She always inquired after Renee's family and her health. She was patient and never raised her voice. Scarlett was a lady, whether she had a title of not.
"They say there's a terribly handsome American here, a guest of John Morland's. It's been suggested that Madame knows the gentleman."
Scarlett nodded. "I was acquainted with him, in America. He was a houseguest at my nearest neighbor's engagement party. Although I hadn't seen Rhett in some time."
"They say he's not married."
"Who are they?"
"Ah, Mister O'Reilly that'd be Sir Morland's valet who is also acting as valet to Mr. Butler, that's the American's name isn't it?"
"It is."
"There's also talk that Princess Alexandra is talking about residing with the Prince."
"In the same house?" questioned Scarlett.
"Yes Madame. Some of her staff has said she'll go as far as appealing to the House of Lords to order Prince Albert to do his duty by her. She wants a child."
Scarlett was quiet, deep in thought. Alexandra hated her. She had at least been able to hold her head high when it was whispered that the Prince preferred men. Then at least the fault in their union lay squarely on his shoulders. But ever since Scarlett's arrival and the birth of Bess rumors flew. That the Prince simply wasn't attracted to Alexandra, the whey faced Norwegian. That the Prince loved his Mistress and that he was laying the foundation of a plan to annual Alexandra and send her back to Norway. She was already 32 and still a virgin. Albert had never touched her so that in case of an annulment he could sight the marriage not being consummated as grounds. Alexandra may have thought of taking a lover; that Scarlett could not say for sure. Albert said that she really couldn't because then she'd be ruined and if he could prove he wasn't the one to deflower her then Alexandra would be a ruined Princess. A ruined Princess was simply not a valuable commodity on the international marriage market.
Was Alexandra a threat to Scarlett's secure position, perhaps. But Scarlett wasn't going to dwell on the implied threat of Alexandra's plans. Whatever happened she knew that as long as she had Bess she'd be happy.
"Renee, the peach silk china gown if you please."
Renee's lips pursed ever so slightly. She was both amused and scandalized by Scarlett's nightgowns. The style of nightgown Scarlett favored hadn't been in fashion since the 1820's. Scarlett had seen the style displayed on a mannequin in Petticoat Lane while riding in Bertie's carriage near the end of her pregnancy. Petticoat Lane was London's used clothing district. She had been so taken with the form of the gown. So simple and comfortable. It had tiny puffed sleeves and a gathered neckline that could be loosened or tightened with a bit of silk ribbon. It had a low neckline that would be ideal when she was nursing. This time no matter what she intended to nurse her child herself. No wet nurse would nourish her child. Scarlett intended to experience everything that came with motherhood even the simple act of giving her child substance.
She'd adored the style of it and told Bertie so. He asked if she wanted the gown but Scarlett shrugged daintily. Love the gown though she did the idea of wearing a used piece of clothing was slightly repulsive to Scarlett. A week and a half later Albert presented her with several large bow bedecked boxes.
"A present for moi?"
"Oui vous méritez un cadeaux." (Yes you deserve a present.)
Suddenly Scarlett was transported back to the time during the war when Rhett would come with presents for her. Her eyes began to tear a little but she swallowed her sadness.
Bertie took her hand. "You are safe, you and your child are well, and you have a friend. Whatever there was before can no longer be. Let go of it Scarlett. Let go of the past and live in the present."
"You are a wise man."
"I'm also a generous one. Open your boxes and tell me if I picked well."
Scarlett gifted him with a luminous grin and tore into the first box. It was a lilac colored gown. It took her only a second to recognize it as the twin of the dress she'd seen in the shop window a few weeks earlier. "Bertie?" she questioned.
"I bought the gown you fancied and had a dressmaker take it apart to make a pattern. From there she made you a dozen of the same style."
She leaned forward and kissed his cheek. She proceeded to open the others, marveling at the variety of fabrics and hues of the various dresses dress "Bertie, they are wonderful. I love them al."
"Your maid is going to find them awfully out of date."
"I don't care, they are all beautiful and I adore them.
"Madame, which dressing gown will you have?"
She shook her head as though in an attempt to bring herself back to the here and now. Scarlett considered for an instant. Then she laughed, as if it mattered what she wore. No one saw her in her nightclothes save Renee and Bertie. And neither one was going to be enticed by Scarlett's state of dishabille.
As soon as she was in her night attire Scarlett dismissed Renee. She walked into the Nursery that had once been the room's dressing room. She missed Bess desperately, but Bertie didn't like having Bess in the house when there were large crowds of people. He worried about Bess's safety as well as the possibility of someone later recognizing Bess as his 'daughter'. As soon as their guests left on Saturday they would ride for Osborne House where Bess had a nursery fit for an Empress. Saturday couldn't come soon enough. Rhett would be gone and she could breathe easy again. Gently she closed the nursery's door.
Stopping at the bar cart in the next room Scarlett poured herself a small ladylike glass of port and settled herself at her desk in her half of the study she shared with Bertie.
She lifted the corner of the tooled leather blotter that covered her Louis the XIV ladies writing desk and removed a small silver key with Italian scroll work accenting it's top. Bertie had bought the desk for her as a spur of the moment goodwill gift and she'd treasured it ever since. From the locked bottom drawer she removed a heavy maroon leather volume. Her journal before her she recorded the details of the night. How she felt that morning seeing Rhett again after so long. Most of her entries were brief. The journal had been Bertie's suggestion. Indeed he'd bought her the beautiful leather volume that she recorded her thoughts in most nights. He'd told her that it might help her come to terms with the demise of her marriage to Rhett and Ella's passing.
"Will you offer me a nightcap Scarlett?"
Scarlett let out a small cry, dropping the glass of port to the ground. It shattered into a million shards, each glinting wetly in the glow of the fire.
"Rhett, damn it. What on earth are you doing here?"
Rhett had crossed the room in just a few of his ground devouring strides. "Careful there's glass everywhere."
"Because you startled me." She began to stand, mentally preparing herself for one of their verbal sparring matches.
"Wait, you aren't wearing slippers. I'd rather not spend the remainder of the evening withdrawing splinters of glass from your dainty feet."
Scarlett closed her journal before Rhett could draw close enough to read the contents of her soul.
"Book keeping?"
"If I didn't keep track of spending Bertie's servants would bleed him dry."
"I see," With that Rhett bent slightly at the knees and wrapped his arms around her waist lifting her from her seat intending to lift her clear of the broken glass.
Scarlett wrapped her arms around his neck as he lifted her. She offered no resistance to his embrace.
"Since I assume you came through my bedroom to find me here no doubt you know where my bed is?"
"Is that an invitation?"
Scarlett smiled "Invitation to what? I merely hoped you'd bring me to my bed, my feet are cold and no doubt so is the floor."
"How evasive, so very French."
"Merci."
Rhett stood Scarlett on the floor, letting her slid down his entire length on the way. "I see I'm not the only one with cold feet," Scarlett taunted softly.
"What is it precisely that I am supposed to be afraid of?"
"Afraid? Rhett Butler afraid of little ole me? You're right, why that's laughable"
"Where is your Prince Charming?"
"Most likely downstairs, why?"
"Just curious I suppose." His hand continued to rest in the small of her back. His hand was warm but through her nightgown Scarlett felt as though her skin was being scorched.
"If I told you that I still want you, what would you say?"
Rhett's lips curved into a small smile without a trace of scorn. His next words were quiet and full of meaning "Just your name." With those words Rhett lowered his lips to Scarlett's as he pulled her flush against his body.