The ticking of the clock in Scarlett's main room was echoing in Scarlett head keeping time with the pounding of her heart. She slowly stood to face Renee who refused to meet her piercing stare. The color drained from Scarlett's normally pale features till she was the same color as bleached ivory.

"Renee, for the love of God what could you have done. Just tell me, please."

Renee licked her lips anxiously. "Lord Robert was here earlier, while I was making up your bed and straightening up."

"When?"

"Over an hour ago."

Scarlett closed her eyes willing the throbbing in her head to cease. "What did he want?"

"He needed the key to your study and I…"

"Scarlett!" the Prince yelled.

"Oh God," Scarlett moaned softly before hurrying into the study she shared with the Prince. She found him studying the splintered remains of the bottom drawer of her delicate writing desk. It was immediately apparent that someone had taken one of the heavy brass candlesticks from the mantle and repeatedly brought it down on the drawer till it splintered and gave way. The offending candlestick lay discarded just to the left of the desk.

The Prince was flabbergasted by the amount of damage done to an almost priceless piece of furniture "Scarlett, what was in your bottom drawer?" Then the recollection of the only item Scarlett attached enough significance to that she kept locked up no matter where they were staying came immediately to his mind. "Rhett?" he questioned no bothering to clarify what item he meant.

She shook her head "No, Lord Robert convinced Renee to unlock the door to the study so he could enter through my rooms. I suppose he couldn't slip through your rooms as easily."

"I've never asked you before, but Scarlett, what do you write about?"

"Everything," her voice took on a panicked tone, "we need to find Lord Robert and my journal."

He kissed her quickly on the cheekand spoke to her, trying desperately to sound far more assured than he really felt. "I'm going to take several of the men of my guard who I trust. We'll find his carriage and I will get back that journal."

"Bertie, I'm so sorry."

"It's not your fault. No one stopped Lord Robert because I'd made sure he'd always be allowed into the wing I'm quartered in. This only happened because I was a fool, you were just an innocent bystander."

He smiled at her and she tried to return it but failed. Bertie left without another world leaving Scarlett alone with the ruined desk and her rising feelings of panic. This was all her fault, no matter what Bertie said. What had ever possessed her to write down everything that had happened over the last year and a half? Bertie had bought her that journal to help her cope with her feelings on the loss of Ella and the dissolution of her marriage to Rhett. She had written about that, at first. But as the year had passed she'd written about her feelings toward Bertie and how it was safe to love him and be loved in return because he could truly love her like a brother with no alter motives.

Looking back on the remembrances of some of her entries Scarlett's stomach tightened violently. She'd written about Bertie's feelings toward men, she'd written about Bess and the fact she was Rhett's daughter and not Bertie's. She'd written about pretending to be a widow living under a different name. If that journal were delivered into the wrong hands she would have to flee England with Bess. More than that Bertie would never sit on the Throne of Britain if the truth about his predispositions were discovered. She could have single-handedly, with one slim volume of conversations and revelations destroyed herself and brought down the British monarchy.

The chiming of the clock momentarily caught her frantic attention. It was only 1 o'clock; Lord Robert couldn't have left more than an hour before. He would have had to pack his things and have them brought downstairs. That alone could have taken at least a half an hour. Really how much of a head start could Lord Robert really have over Bertie? Bertie was on horseback and he was one of the most avid hunters in Europe, he sat a horse better than nearly any man. He'd find Lord Robert; he just had to.

An hour earlier

Rhett closed the door behind the arrogant bastard who'd thrust the leather book into his reluctant hands. Absently he traced the raised tooling on the leather cover of the book. He wanted to think, that despite the image he project to the world at large, he was above reading what was obviously something private belonging to Scarlett.

But perhaps if he just paged through it he couldbetter understand what Scarlett had been through in the last two years. She was so different. Now she was more self-assured and poised around him. She wore a mantle of sadness about her that was nearly visible. She was a woman now; he could no longer taunt her with remarks about her childishness. She'd proven that she could stand on her own in any situation and make a life for herself and he wanted to know about the path that had lead her to that point.

Hating himself for this lapse in judgment Rhett sat on the sofa in front of the fire and opened to the interior cover page of the book. There in Scarlett's meticulous copperplate hand was her full, very full, name. Katie Scarlett O'Hara Hamilton Kennedy Butler. Below her name was the date a little over a year and a half before.

Felling guilty but determined none the less, Rhett opened the journal to the first page and began to read.

"Well I never thought to find myself where I am right now. It's only beena week and a half since I first arrived in London with the Princess Helena and met her brother Prince Albert. That is who gifted me with this book. I've had this book for nearly three days but it was only tonight that I worked up the gumption to face these hundreds of empty pages and put to paper the story of how I came to be here. Five days ago I sat in the garden at Richmond, just thinking, missing Ella and Bonnie and Wade and of course Rhett.

Always Rhett.

The Prince of Wales found me, to my extreme embarrassment with tears running down my face. I admit at first we had had little to say to one another. I, the friend and pet project of his numerous sisters' and he the heir to the British throne. He was a gentleman though and gave me his handkerchief, which only caused me to cry even harder. All I could think of was something Rhett said to me when he left me in the house in Atlanta "Here, take my handkerchief. Never, at any crisis of your life, have I known you to have a handkerchief."

Rhett sighed, he remembered being angry with her because she had come home to find him leaving. For a single moment he thought that she finally understood him when she'd said something that summed up the emotions he'd been feeling. He'd told her that he realized the life he'd lived as a young man in Charleston had a value to it that he'd simply never seen till he was much older. Scarlett had looked up her eyes wide and misty from tears and said "It had a glamour to it--a perfection, a symmetry like Grecian art." He had been shocked. It was exactly the sentiment he'd been searching for. Could it be that he'd misjudged her, perhaps he'd been wrong? "Yes that's exactly what I meant, where did you hear that." And from her mouth came the words that drove the final nail "It was something Ashley said once." He'd shrugged and looked away "Ashley, always Ashley."

After that he knew there really was no other way but to leave Atlanta. With the hindsight that comes through time and distance Rhett could finally admit to himself that he couldn't stay in Atlanta after Melanie Wilkes died. He knew that deep, deep within him he did still love Scarlett and had he stayed in Atlanta he could not have stood Ashley Wilkes clinging to his wife's skirts being helpless. Rhett would have shot Ashley Wilkes or Scarlett, or both of them and then himself.

Picking up the journal he continued to read.

Poor Albert I was crying and he is not a man whose comfortable with tears. He held me awkwardly and finally said "What's the worst thing that's ever happened to you." I told him that I had no idea, that so many horrible things had happened in the last ten year that I couldn't find one single thing to put my finger on." He smiled and told me that from now on he was going to ask me that question till I could isolate one particular thing. He did succeed in stopping my tears. Instead I was angry, angry that this virtual stranger was going to bait me whenever he felt like it.

I told him I was none of his concern and he nodded. Finally he asked if I'd like to know the worst thing that had ever happened to him. I shrugged and he took that as a yes. I lost track of time, we sat on that bench together till night came and the moon was high. He told me about the death of his father and the blame that his mother laid on him. He told me about his wife, whom he did not love and spent much of his time avoiding. He told me about himself.

I told him about Ella, how she'd accused me of failing her as she died.

Damn Rhett, how could I know that he wouldn't come. I promised her that Rhett would come because I believed in his words to me when he told me that he loved Wade and Ella and would do anything for them. One day I hope to stand face to face with him and tell him that. She died asking for him. No matter how much progress I'd made winning her heart she wanted Rhett. Why couldn't he forget for a moment how much he hated me. She told me that I had never loved her. That I had never loved her father. She told me the only people ever to love her were Melanie and her Uncle Rhett. Then she told me that even Uncle Rhett hadn't really loved her or he would have come. She even told me that maybe it was because Uncle Rhett was made that Bonnie had died and Ella hadn't. The Doctor told me it was the fever driving her to say those things.

I know better.

I always dismissed Ella as foolish and flighty. But she knew I never loved Frank. I never mentioned him to her, I had nothing to say about him because to me he hadn't been worth remembering. I only spoke kindly of Charles to Wade because of Melanie.

Why did Ella have to die? Why did God take two children who never harmed anyone? Why did the baby I miscarried have to die? Why not me? Why? I miss Ella and it cuts my heart and I cry and can't stop when I open the trunks that contain her clothes. Now I see why Rhett locked Bonnie's room. Now I see why he wanted to strangle me when I suggested giving away her things. Now I see and it's all too late. I can never tell Rhett that I finally understand a small part of what he felt.

Rhett placed the book face down and stared into the dancing flames of the fire. Scarlett really had grown up. When he'd seen her the day he'd arrived she had only told him that she had written him and telegraphed him about Ella. She told him that Ella had wanted to see him, but that was all. She could have hurt him deeply with details of Ella's last words and how disappointed she'd been when he hadn't come. Scarlett could have wounded him and been well within her rights to do so, but didn't.

She loved him and hadn't wanted to hurt him. She had been willing to keep all of the pain of losing Ella to herself rather than burden him. The guilt at reading her private thoughts was now complete.