Inspiration:

But that's the nature of a charmer - to make you think you've made tracks. Charm is the worst. And you can't deny it, and you can't pretend that it's not there and it's not happening. It's a dangerous element, charm. - Angelica Huston, discussing her 17-year relationship with Jack Nicholson

A/N: Sushibear144 got this back to me in half a day this time. We need a moment of silence to honor her awesomeness.

Here's the second chapter this week, as promised. I am trying to make it up to my readers for not posting in October. If you are just finding this chapter on a scroll you may have missed Chapter 46, which I posted three days ago, so check for it! Email notifications are messed up. See my notes in the last chapter. Thank you to all who read, review, and PM me. I simply adore you :)

Disclaimer: I own nothing with regard to GWTW.

Chapter 47

Rhett entered Belle's sitting room shortly after 8 am, without fanfare and using that infamous Indian-like gait, and found her on the sofa, a book opened on her lap. As soon as she spied him, she hurriedly closed it and tucked it into the cushion beside her.

"What are you doing here, Rhett? It's so early, and after the other night, I didn't expect you to return for a long time," she shook out the lacy sleeve of her brightly-colored wrapper and ran a hand over her sleep-mussed hair. "If ever."

"I know. I meant to catch you off guard, and it looks like I did." Carelessly, he reached in between the cushions and retrieved the book. He saw that it was a reading primer, and frowned when he read Ashley Wilkes's name written on the inside page in cursive.

"Where did you get this?"

"It's Phoebe's," she returned quickly, almost too quickly.

He gave her a sharp glance but did not pursue that particular subject, another being the purpose of the visit.

"I wanted to ask you about the note," he seated himself with grace, the book still in his hand, "and the person you had to deliver it to my wife's guest house last night."

"Can you not even say good mornin' before you start with all the questions?"

"Pardon me, my dear." He leaned over and gave her a perfunctory kiss on her cheek.

She smiled. "Well, do I stink?"

"Not today. Where's your lover? Perhaps I should give you a few hours." He returned her smile in as deprecating a manner as he could manage. It was no secret that he didn't care who she slept with. Never really had.

"You know, you don't smell like you used to, either, since you stopped drinkin' and smokin'." She leaned forward and breathed him in. "You smell of oranges and lemon verbena." Her brow creased. "You smell of your wife."

His eyes narrowed. "Now, how would you know what fragrance my wife prefers?"

"You told me once."

"I don't think I did."

"Well, someone did," she said, picking at her sleeve.

He let it go for the time being. "The delivery, Belle."

She shrugged. "She was available, and I thought if anyone saw her it would be a good cover."

"Is that so?"

"Yes."'

"Don't insult my intelligence. Or your own."

She had to grace to appear just a tiny bit chagrinned.

"What do you know, Belle? Why did you send the note to me, at my wife's guest house?"

A slight twitch of consternation crossed her face at his repeated use of the term 'wife'.

"First of all, the driver got confused and dropped her off at the wrong place, it was supposed to go to the big house. As far as Archie, I just know he's been in town sniffin' around, asking questions about Scar-Miz Butler and her goins-on of late." She smiled like a snake would smile if it could. "I thought you might like to know."

"Why would I want to know?"

"He caused you trouble before, as I recall."

"He caused my wife trouble."

She frowned again. "Yes, but you always want to know about your wife every time you visit, even when you try to act like you don't." The smile returned, sickly-sweet this time.

Rhett narrowed his gaze, letting it fall to the primer again. There were folded papers stuck in it, in the very back. Carefully he removed them. He rifled through the homemade alphabet drawings, each letter with examples drawn on every page.

'B' was for Birds and Butterflies and Baubles; the 'baubles' being an emerald necklace that bore a startling resemblance to one he'd purchased for Scarlett, right down to the jewel-encrusted clasp.

He rifled more quickly through. At 'P' there was a picture of Prissy feeding Pigeons in the Park.

All depictions were in a certain style of drawing he'd seen before, and the words were written neatly in a heartbreakingly recognizable and blockish child's print.

The thoughts flew through his mind, connecting. The primer, the drawings. Prissy taking reading lessons. Phoebe, as well, a friend of Prissy's, who worked for Belle; Phoebe, who walked with a slight limp.

There had been three women at the guest house that night with Wilkes. Two of medium height, one of whom limped; and a taller woman wearing a cloak and hood, who held herself in a manner he had found, at the time, familiar.

"Belle, what are my—what are Ella Kennedy's drawings doing in your parlor, folded in a reading primer, one that belongs to Ashley Wilkes, no less?"

She appeared nonplussed and shook her head tightly.

"I know these are Ella's. I've been looking at that child's artwork since she was a toddler. And I myself purchased that emerald necklace for my wife."

She continued to study the oversized cabbage roses on her wrapper, and remained silent.

"You know how I dislike having to repeat myself, Belle."

"Mr. Wilkes has been teachin' me."

"With Prissy and Phoebe?"

"Yes."

She was definitely sullen now. Something wasn't right.

"So this is your primer and your set of drawings."

"Yes."

Surely, Ashley Wilkes had not asked Scarlett's daughter to make a set of alphabet drawings for her estranged husband's known mistress. "Mr. Wilkes alone?"

"Not 'xactly just him."

"What exactly are you hiding?"

Belle might not read books, but she could read his expressions, and this one wasn't to be trifled with. "You can't blame Scarlett. Blame me if you want, but not her."

The lemon verbena. He felt the familiar wave of anger wash over him, the sickening rush of betrayal. Damn her.

He crossed his arms and sat back, waiting. Belle sat up straighter before she spoke.

"It was the night I went over there about that settee. She saw me starin' at the primers. She said she was teachin' those girls, and then she asked me if I wanted to bring Phoebe and maybe stay for the lessons. She wasn't hateful Rhett, and she didn't look down her nose at me. She let me have my pride about it. And then that little girl of hers—"

"Ella," he clipped.

"Ella came in with her boy—"

"Wade."

"—and she'd made the pictures for that Prissy, so she made me and Phoebe some too."

"And Scarlett let her?"

She nodded, anxiousness evident in her expression.

"She's not so bad, once I met her. She's tough, but not near as cold as I'd heard. She's got her back up because people hate her. I know what that's like."

"Oh, you're going to defend her now, when you've despised her all these years, because she's your teacher. What would your teacher think if she knew about the girls you market to look just like her?"

"Don't tell her, it would ruin everythin',' ' Belle huffed while he glowered.

"What are you giving her in return?"

Belle's face went deceptively blank, but he was not fooled.

"Information." He scrubbed his hand over his face and gave a derisive laugh. Scarlett had listened to every word he had ever said, all right. "That note was for her, not me."

Belle visibly withered under his gaze.

"Tell me everything you know. And not just the gossip this time."

He listened intently as she spoke, only interjecting here and there to ask a question. When she finished, he fought his mounting frustration, as well as a strong desire to ask for a drink of whiskey.

The conflict must have been evident to the woman who knew him so well. "You got no real reason to be mad at me for wantin' to learn, Rhett. We've known each other for nigh on 25 years. You coulda helped me, but you didn't."

She went on hurriedly before he could speak.

"Oh yes, I know you helped me set this house up, and I am grateful. But I didn't hafta learn much of nothin' I didn't already know." The furrow between her eyes deepened.

"It kept me in my place, didn't it? You coulda helped me to improve myself, set me up in some other kinda business, one that didn't keep me naked and on my back.

"You liked keepin' me this way. So you could always be the big man. What kinda way did you like keepin' her?"

He ignored the insult with effort, his temper under tight control. Belle had become entirely too insolent in her advancing age and approaching 'retirement,' but he still needed information. "You spoke with the children?"

"Like I said, they came in while I was in my first class at your old house."

His outrage must have been apparent because she hastily added, "They weren't supposed to be there, Scar-Miz Butler was right worried when they showed up, I could tell." She patted his arm. "Don't fret, I dressed nice and covered my hair. They're good children, Rhett."

"I know that,' he said through gritted teeth. "How did Mr. Wilkes get involved?"

"Well, Scarlett got busy with the hotel. Also, she said I had a—an issue that was holdin' me back with the learnin' and Mr. Wilkes had been teachin' so long maybe he knew a better way to help. And he did, Rhett. He says I have somethin' called word blindness, and he wrote a professor at a university all the way up in Boston, who wrote back with methods that has helped me so much."

Rhett nodded, his anger somewhat deflated at the news, though it stuck in his craw that Scarlett and Ashley were the ones, of all people, to help Belle.

"I can't do this no more Rhett. I can't trade with these fools, comin' here lookin' to stir up some excitement they can't get nowhere else.

"There's an ugliness to this life that can only be ignored for so long, and that time's up. I'm in black mud up to my chin." She stood and paced across the room before turning to face him.

"I'm gettin' numb to it all, and I don't have the stomach or the heart to watch these girls grow numb right along with me. Numb is a dangerous state. I'd rather be hurtin'. Hurtin' means you're still alive. "

He knew that all too well.

"But now I got a chance I never had before. I know I'm too old and seen too much to change this life, but I can have a new and different life. And by all that is holy, I intend to have it.

"And I'm doin' so well, Rhett. Real good, Mr. Wilkes says. Why, after I get the readin' down he says he'll work on me with the way I talk, with my eh," she searched for the term. "He calls it somethin' funny, el-oh- "

"Elocution," he supplied, but made his voice more gentle this time.

Rhett Butler had seen laughter and pleasure and even momentary happiness in Belle's face. Hell, he'd even been the cause of it from time to time. But the joy of hope and anticipation for the future; he'd rarely been witness to that particular combination of emotions, and certainly never with her.

He stood up. "It appears that I need to have another conversation with my wife."

"Rhett, I'm askin' you, don't—don't take this away from me, I need it, if I'm gonna start over, I 'specially need this." There was a pleading note in Belle's voice, one he had very seldom, if ever, heard.

"You and Scarlett spoke? About me? About you and I?"

"That first night she agreed to teach me, she said the rule was we didn't speak of you and me."

He gave her a dubious glance.

"And you're telling me nothing at all came up?"

"Well, she asked me why I never learnt to read, and I told her some of my past. It might have slipped out how we helped each other out at first, just as part of the story."

"Did you tell her about—"

"I told her I was pregnant when you met me," she cut him off.

He nodded. Probably why she didn't seem so surprised about what I shared this morning.

"She's asking questions about Annie, Belle. I told you to get rid of her and the costumes. I mean it. Don't cross me on this."

She nodded. "I will Rhett, I swear I will."

He stood to leave and then paused. "Moving across the country, the new business, the reading, and the elocution; are you taking these measures so you can contact the boy?"

A bleak expression overtook the joyous one. "We decided long ago, it would do more harm'n good."

Rhett nodded. "We did indeed." He turned toward the door.

"Maybe one day, though," Belle said, and he turned back around. "Maybe one day, I might feel like I could. When he's grown and settled, and I've changed enough."

He opened his mouth to bring forth a brutal reply, thought better of it, and let out a deep breath instead.

"You'd better think long and hard. He'll be angry, and hurt."

She nodded. "I know. But lies can hurt people, too, Rhett, more'n the truth ever would, even when you think you're protectin' them from it." He could tell by her expression that she caught the pain flash across his face at her words.

"It's your call, Belle. Just let me know what you decide in case—just in case."

"I will. Thank you."

"I need to go," he headed for the door.

"Rhett, about Scarlett and the lessons—"

"I can't promise anything, Belle."

"You never do."

The sun streamed across her face as she turned her head to look out the window. It did her no favors. The tightness in his chest softened infinitesimally. Neither of them was a spring chicken anymore; how many new beginnings were left?

"I'll try not to ruin it," he said, then smirked at her in a way he knew she couldn't resist, and she laughed. "But you know how I am."

That wistful laugh trailed behind him as he walked out the door.

OOOOooooOOOOoooo

Fun facts:

The cabbage rose is a hybrid rose that was first developed in the 17th century by Dutch rose breeders. Its size, fragrance and versatility have made this bloom a favorite in gardens and in flower arrangements ever since. - Bloomnation dot com

A big shout-out to all the folks from ALL over the world who left me notes on Chapter 45, I meant to include it last chapter. Persia, Israel, France, Germany, Hungary, Czechia/Poland, Russia, Austria! Way to represent!

Rhett's keeping his temper admirably under control, isn't he? How long could that possibly last ... .

This chapter was originally at the end of 46, but I split it off when that chapter grew overlong, so it is rather transitional, I admit. The posting of Chapter 48 will not be swayed by my wandering pen or keyboard! See you in a few days, my friends :)