Stole four words from that piece of trash Scarlett
This whole chapter is Rhettcentric I want ot give everyone both sides of the story that's the greatest thing about fanfiction we get to go where ever we like. Enjoy
Yes part of this was on NETWORK54 but I was tired of virus's popup's and the lack of format options so I ceased. There is another story that I may post here once I finsh this. I really liked that one but only made it thorugh two chapters so I may flesh it out here.
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Deciding to read the whole of the journal Rhett settled in with a glass of brandy from the small drinks cabinet the room had been so thoughtfully supplied with.
The baby kicks constantly, I expect to wake each morning and find bruises covering my abdomen. We are settled at Hampton Court and won't be moving again till after I give birth. Bertie is quite the nervous father. I told Renee only this morning 'could you imagine how he'd be if this was his child. He is like a mother hen with a chick. He worries over what I eat, what I feel, if I am comfortable. It's paradise to have someone fuss over me again. I once resented Melanie's fussing, but now I realize how much I treasured that feeling on well cared for contentment.
This will be the first child I've ever brought into the world without her there. She came to me at Tara, though I hated her then. She was the first person to hold Wade and Ella and Bonnie. I need her, God Lord I need her so. I miss her. Rhett was right in so many ways about so many things, but never more so than when he spoke of Melly as the only completely kind person he'd ever known.
Tomorrow is daunting to me. Tomorrow Bertie is to present me to his mother. His mother, Her Majesty Queen Victoria. The Queen of England. The prospect makes me sick to my stomach. Bertie told me there is one main reason she chooses to allow me to be presented. My belly. The Queen believes the gossipmongers and has decided that the child I am carrying is her illegitimate grandchild fathered by Albert, The Prince of Wales. Bertie tells me he's tried to convince her, but she's refused to listen.
How will I curtsey, Good Lord I'll look like a sinking ship; going down with full sails unfurled
Last night I dreamt of Rhett and I woke to find the space next to me empty. I miss him constantly. I miss his large hand cradling my stomach as I began to fall asleep. I miss him kissing me and taking the opportunity to lay his hand on my stomach. He'd never simply ask me if I'd allow him to feel our baby move, he always took an opportunity when it presented itself.
I wish he were here with me. I'm afraid and it disgusts me. I'm not afraid of the actual labor. I've done it before and know what to expect, but I've never had to give birth among relative strangers. I feel so alone. I care Bertie, I indeed find myself caring deeply for him. But he isn't Rhett and it's Rhett I want now.
He's been married nearly five months now to a woman who isn't me. Is he happy? I hope so. I gave him so much misery that he deserves whatever happiness he can find. I only wish he knew we were going to have a child, no one in the world is a better father then Rhett. I hope it's a girl. I couldn't bear to have a son grow up to look and be as Rhett is. I would feel my loss of him all that more keenly.
She had wanted him to come, but pride and fear had kept her from him. That and the letter sent by Anne. She had been sad and missed him. She'd been pregnant among strangers when she could have been safe with him. He would have been there by her side, caring for her and Ella. If only he'd know she needed him. She had been frightened and where had he been? He glanced at the date at the top of the entry. By then he'd discovered Anne's duplicity and was drinking himself into a constant stupor at the Landing. Nights passed where he didn't sleep, he just sat on the porch drinking Whiskey and smoking cheroots. He'd study his small ambrotype of Scarlett and occasionally he'd take out the photographs he'd had taken of them during their marriage.
The most often studied was the portrait taken in Matthew Brady's studio in New Orleans. In that portrait Scarlett sat on a straight-backed chair while he'd stood just behind her with his hand causally resting on her shoulder. It was a pose that he meant to show the world that she was his, to have and to hold for the rest of his life. Then if he were truly drunk he'd take out the photographs of Scarlett and the children. He found it hard to look at those, if he had know that both Ella and Bonnie had been gone it would have been impossible. The portrait of Scarlett and the girls was one he'd had done for Scarlett's birthday when Bonnie was about four. Scarlett was posed in the center, sitting on a tuffeted stool. Her skirts were spread out around her and she looked every inch the proper young matron.
A smile touched his lips, thinking about that photograph. ' That just proved looks could be deceiving', he thought. The girls were arranged one on either side of their mother. Ella, looking anxious, and disliking having to sit still for so long, and Bonnie. Bonnie had a secretive smile on her lips. Rhett couldn't penetrate her thoughts. What she'd been thinking about during that portrait? There was a question that would never be answered.
He read on. The next entry was in a hand so rushed for a moment he thought it wasn't hers. It only took the first two lines to reveal why he hand writing was so cramped and scrawling
I was received. I don't think I'd be welcome in more than a handful of homes in all the South, but here in England tonight I was received by her royal majesty the Queen of England, Victoria., by the Grace of God, of the United Kingdom of Great Britain and Ireland, Defender of the Faith". She blessed me. Bertie says that is something worth having, as his mother is the symbolic head of the Church of England. I am now officially a widow. The Queen of England commiserated with me on my widowed state. She is Europe's most famous widow. Bertie says that every morning his father's clothes are still laid out on his bed even though he's been dead since 1861. Bertie says his mother blames him for his father's death but has never elaborated on why that might be so.
Scarlett received by the Queen that must have been a moment of triumph for Scarlett unrivaled by anything else. He wished he could have seen it.
Thank God I am due to have the baby in 2 weeks as I have been placed on bed rest. The Doctor that Bertie had retained says that it's necessary. The baby hasn't turned yet so it is going to be a difficult birth. It's too late for it to turn now so Bertie has brought a specialist from London as well as several skilled nurses. Renee says it looks as though I am giving birth to the heir to the throne as I have the retinue of a queen.
I'm half mad with boredom. I read, I embroider…badly, and I've been reading sheet music. Bertie tries to keep me amused but it's hard to amuse a pregnant elephant. I feel like an elephant although I've since been informed that an elephant is pregnant for almost 22 months. I would kill Rhett first than myself if I were in this condition for 22 months.
Queen Victoria has come to sit with me twice, can you imagine what Sue Ellen would say. Perhaps she'd say nothing and just be Pea Green with envy. The Queen brought me hothouse roses that I thanked her for as gracefully as I could. Later I begged Bertie to move them to his rooms. I can't bear the sight of Red Hothouse Roses, not after Charleston. They remind me of Rhett.
She was sleeping; he remembered how pale she was lying in his bed at his mother's house in Charleston. She'd been asleep nearly twelve hours and a part of him wanted to wake her. He wanted to see those jade green eyes open. He wanted to kiss her lips that were slightly swollen from her habit of chewing on them when she slept uneasily. He knew that he loved her, he also knew he could live with her. She said she loved him, but that was today. What about tomorrow or a week from now? What about a year from now? If she loved him and then took that love back it would kill him. The thought of another man loving her, that was a thought that forced a dagger of rage into his heart. Another man kissing her or stoking her ebony curls as she slept, that was unthinkable. If he thought that Middleton Courtney really had bedded Scarlett, the rage inside of him threatened to explode. Ashley Wilkes had infuriated him, but in that case he knew that Ashley would never have gone so far as to sleep with Scarlett. Courtney on the other hand would have taken Scarlett in a heartbeat. He didn't want her but he did. He couldn't keep her with him, but he didn't want any other man to have her.
What had he whispered to her frantically on the beach the day before last… "My Darling, My life. I thought I'd lost you I thought I'd killed you. My darling, my heart, I…then he kissed her. Kissed her again and again and before he knew what was happening they had made love again and again.
It would be so easy to go back to their old pretense at a normal married life. They could return to Atlanta to that tomb of a house or even buy a house here on the battery. They could…He leaned forward to move a ringlet off her forehead. He was reminded of the fairy tale from the Brother's Grimm book that Bonnie had so enjoyed, what was the line that Bonnie exclaimed "Why, that's mother" He looked at her again so pale with her black hair splashed upon her pillow.
It came to him if he closed his eyes and exerted a little effort. "And she thought to herself, would that I had a child as white as snow, as red as blood, and as black as the wood of the window-frame." Bonnie was right, that was Scarlett exactly. He could never see her again. He couldn't let her destroy him and he would only hurt her. It was the coward's way out but he would leave her a note and leave Charleston till Rosemary gave him the all clear.
So instead of waking her and telling her that he wouldn't have to fallen in love with her again because he'd never stopped loving her, he left a note. He wished he had simply faced her; no doubt he would have broken his resolve in the face of her tears. If he had let her stay till the agreed upon date it would have become obvious that she was carrying his child, then he would have never let her out of his sight.
But bed rest, why bed rest? Scarlett had never taken a day of bed rest in her entire life excepting when she'd been sick after she lost their baby. Was she sick, had she been in danger? He picked up the journal and continued to read.
The baby is so heavy at this point I feel as though I can't even stand. Since I can't get out of bed I just lie here and take stock of my woes... I'm dizzy so much of the time that the room seems to spin. My stomach is in turmoil and sometimes I can scarcely breath. Bertie asked me this afternoon if I wanted him to send word to Rhett. I do want him, desperately. But I don't want Anne anywhere near my baby. And this baby is mine. I understand what Rhett meant when he said Bonnie was the first person ever to belong completely to him. I've told Bertie that if I die then he'll have to send the letter I've written to Rhett. It explains everything. I've told him to enclose this journal as well. Maybe it will explain my actions and my heart if he reads these pages. How can I keep this baby a secret? He deserves to know him or her…though I agree with Ella of course this baby is a girl. I wish things were different, if he weren't married I could swallow my pride and beg him to come. Oh Rhett, I need you so. We both do.