Chapter 5: Gossip, Scandal, and Irish Whiskey
Fans stopped in mid-swish, and a ripple of excited murmuring ran through the hall. The chaperons' corner was in tumult when Rhett and Scarlett reentered the makeshift ballroom with Rhett's arm wrapped possessively around her waist. Talk began to spread like wildfire among the crowd. They whispered to each other about Rhett's scandalous reputation and took note of Scarlett's wrinkled dress. There was unchecked speculation about how she had always seemed defiant to polite society as they took account of her hair that seemed just a bit out of place. The couple was not dissuaded by the talk circulating about them, and Rhett took full advantage of his purchase by dancing with Scarlett all night.
Scarlett O'Hara was in her element, out on the floor in an apple-green dress with dark-green velvet ribbons dangling from her bosom and tuberoses in her black hair. They had led the reel, and then Scarlett basked in Rhett's attention during a waltz. Being in his arms was like being encircled by the sun on a warm spring day. He warmed her through and through, and she had spots of pink on her cheeks.
Surely those cheeks would ache in the morning from all that smiling. She paid no mind to the world around her, the gossip buzzing about the room, and the spiteful eyes directed at the couple. Rhett's focus was on her, and she didn't want to look away from him for a moment.
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By morning Scarlett was no more apologetic about her conduct than she had been the night before, insisting that she hadn't done anything inappropriate.
"Oh, dear, what does it matter?" wailed Pittypat, wringing her hands. "I just couldn't believe my eyes, that awful Captain Butler, making you so conspicuous. And he's a terrible, terrible person, Scarlett. Mrs. Whiting's cousin, Mrs. Coleman, whose husband came from Charleston, told me about him. He's the black sheep of a lovely family - oh, how could any of the Butlers ever turn out anything like him? He isn't received in Charleston, and he has the fastest reputation, and there was something about a girl—something so bad Mrs. Coleman didn't even know what it was -"
Melanie would hear no bad spoken about Captain Butler after he sent a note that morning with her wedding ring enclosed.
The Confederacy may need the lifeblood of its men but not yet does it demand the heart's blood of its women. Accept, dear Madam, this token of my reverence for your courage and do not think that your sacrifice has been in vain, for this ring has been redeemed at ten times its value.
- Captain Rhett Butler.
Scarlett's jealousy had immediately been stirred that Rhett had taken the time to retrieve Melly's ring, but not her grandmother's necklace. She was still prickling a bit, then sat in stunned amazement at Melly insisted Captain Butler be invited to the house for Sunday dinner. Scarlett could only shake her head in bemusement that Rhett had accomplished the impossible, but she knew it had not been Captain Butler's refinement that had prompted so gallant a gesture. It was that he intended to be asked into Pittypat's house and knew unerringly how to get the invitation.
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Ellen's letter came only two days later and ran over three pages long, reproaching Scarlett for her "recent conduct." As she sat reading it, Scarlett was no longer defiant but suddenly aware of the seriousness of the situation. Bad news traveled fast, and apparently the news of Scarlett's indiscretion had traveled the 25 miles to Tara.
Pitty had recognized the writing on the letter and sat across from Scarlett, looking like a terrified child. Ellen had written that she had known Rhett for a long time, but his reputation could not be ignored. She wrote that Rhett was a bad character who would take advantage of Scarlett's youth and innocence to make her conspicuous and publicly disgrace Scarlett and her family. Ellen said she had considered calling Scarlett home immediately but would leave it to her father's discretion, who would be coming to Atlanta the next day to talk to Captain Butler.
"I fear he will be severe with you despite my pleadings. I hope and pray it was only youth and thoughtlessness that prompted such forward conduct."
Scarlett could not read any more of her mother's disappointment.
Her father arrived the next evening, and Pitty was so overcome that she refused to come out of her bedroom, leaving Melanie and Scarlett to face Gerald alone. As always, Melanie was infinitely loyal. She did not stray from Scarlett's side and successfully drew her father-in-law into conversation. However, as soon as dinner was over, Gerald insisted on talking to his daughter alone so he could fully convey his disappointment to her.
"I'm going to see this fine Captain Butler who makes so light of me daughter's reputation." Gerald said, "But in the morning - There now, don't cry. Twill do you no good at all, at all. 'Tis firm that I am, and back to Tara you'll be going tomorrow before you're disgracing the lot of us again."
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Rhett looked down at his hand, then his opponent. "I'll raise you 15."
The lieutenant nodded and added his bet to the pot, "call." He placed his cards down, his face a beaming smile, "Four of a kind!" he exclaimed, jumping from his chair.
Rhett shook his head at the young man. He almost felt sorry for taking the man's entire paycheck. Almost. He casually laid his cards down and leaned back in his chair.
The soldier glanced at Rhett's hand and fell back into his chair, the wind knocked out of him. Rhett had a flush.
Rhett propped his foot against the empty chair beside him and took out a cigar.
"Captain Butler?"
Rhett looked up from lighting his cigar to see Gerald O'Hara standing beside him, "Mr. O'Hara," Rhett said, standing and offering his hand to the older man.
"Butler, I want to know your intentions towards my daughter." He said unfalteringly in his Irish drawl.
Rhett was a man rarely surprised by what life had to offer, but his poker face disappeared, and his eyebrows drew up suddenly at Mr. O'Hara's directness.
"Well, Mr. O'Hara, maybe we should discuss this over a good bottle of whisky," Rhett said, sitting back down at the poker table.
"Don't try to dissuade me, Butler. You've made talk about my oldest an' caused quite a ruckus in my family. Now I need to know what you intend to do about it."
Rhett examined the man in front of him. A few years older than Rhett, Gerald O'Hara had a full head of white hair and eyes that would pierce the nerve of a lesser man, but Rhett Butler had faced a father or two in his time who had much more reason to demand to know Rhett's intentions.
"I assure you, Mr. O'Hara, I have no need to dissuade you. I just humbly suggest we clear up any misunderstandings over a friendly bottle of fine Irish whisky."
Rhett had correctly calculated Gerald's weakness, "Aye, 'tis none finer, my boy! Nothing as smooth as whisky from the homeland."
Rhett got up and garnered a bottle of Belle's finest Irish whisky from the bar, then sat with Gerald at a table in a relatively quiet corner. "Now then, Mr. O'Hara; tell me how idle gossip has brought you all the way to Atlanta?"
Gerald took a hearty sip of his whisky and leaned his elbows on the small table, "We heard you and my Katie Scarlett were seen returning from a compromising position."
Rhett shook his head slowly, "Mr. O'Hara," he said, looking the Irishman straight in the eye. "I'm sure you've heard of my reputation and past indiscretions, but I can tell you very honestly, sir, my reputation is the only reason anyone questioned my and Miss O'Hara's innocent stroll outside at the bazaar."
Gerald O'Hara examined Rhett closely, looking him up and down, possibly thinking he would intimidate Rhett into an admission of guilt. When Rhett remained calm and returned Gerald's piercing gaze openly, the Irishman slammed both hands down on the table, "I knew you to be an honest man Butler! Me Katie Scarlett is a spirited girl, and I of'en worry she'll find trouble, but I believe she's avoided it this time." He leaned closer to Rhett and smiled warmly, "Now then, didn't I tell you Irish whisky was the finest to be had?"
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Scarlett sat in her bedroom window long after Pitty and Melanie had gone to bed. She wondered what Rhett would tell her father; surely, he wouldn't tell him the truth! She knew he wasn't a marrying man; he'd told her that plainly enough (and his reputation unquestionably pointed in the same direction), but hopefully, he wouldn't outrage her pa so much that Gerald would call Rhett out. Worried and unsure, Scarlett was gazing out the window when she heard a familiar sound in the distance. She listened closely, but when she couldn't make out the noise, she began fiddling to open the window.
The street with its over-arching trees was softly, deeply black under a dim star-studded sky. The noise came closer, the sound of wheels, the plod of a horse's hooves. And voices. Suddenly she grinned for, as a voice thick with brogue and whisky came to her, raised in "Peg in a Low-backed Car," she knew. This might not be Jonesboro on Court Day, but Gerald was coming home in the same condition.
The buggy came to a stop in front of the house, and Scarlett heard her father say, "Now I'll be giving you the 'Lament for Robert Emmet.' 'Tis a song you should be knowing, me lad. I'll teach it to you."
"I'd like to learn it," replied Rhett, a hint of buried laughter in his flat drawling voice. "But not now, Mr. O'Hara."
Scarlett smiled, despite herself; they must be on amicable terms to be coming home together at this hour and in this condition.
"Sing it I will, and listen you will, or I'll be shooting you for the Orangeman you are."
"Not Orangeman - Charlestonian."
"'Tis no better. 'Tis worse. I have two sister-in-laws in Charleston, and I know."
With no further warning, Gerald, who was hanging on the gate, threw back his head and began the "Lament," in a roaring bass. Scarlett rested her elbows on the window sill and listened, grinning unwillingly. It would be a beautiful song, if only her father could carry a tune. It was one of her favorite songs, and, for a moment, she followed the fine melancholy of those verses beginning: "She is far from the land where her young hero sleeps, and lovers are round her sighing."
Scarlett laughed happily, watching the two men below, relieved they had chosen a bottle over pistols. Rhett heard her, and his gaze flew to hers. Despite the fact that he was bracing her father and practically dragging him toward the door, Rhett gallantly bowed his head in her direction.
She came back from the window and grabbed her wrapper, rushing down the stairs to open the front door before Gerald's singing woke the house and the neighborhood. When she unlocked the door in the wavering light, she saw Rhett Butler, not a ruffle disarranged, supporting her small, thickset father. The "Lament" had evidently been Gerald's swan song for he was frankly hanging onto his companion's arm. His hat was gone, his crisp long hair was tumbled in a white mane, his cravat was under one ear, and there were liquor stains down his shirt bosom.
"Your father, I believe?" said Captain Butler, his eyes amused in his swarthy face. He took in her dishabille in one glance that seemed to penetrate through her wrapper.
"Bring him in," she said, faltering, embarrassed at her attire.
Rhett propelled Gerald forward. "Shall I help you take him upstairs? You cannot manage him. He's quite heavy."
Just imagine what Pittypat and Melly cowering in their beds would think, should Captain Butler come upstairs! She thought, "Mother of God, no! In here, in the parlor on that settee." She exclaimed quickly.
"The suttee, did you say?"
"I'll thank you to keep a civil tongue in your head. Here. Now lay him down."
"Shall I take off his boots?"
"No. He's slept in them before."She could have bitten off her tongue for that slip, for he laughed softly as he crossed Gerald's legs.
He walked out into the dim hall and closed the door, then picked up the hat he had dropped on the doorsill.
"What in heaven's name happened, Rhett?" she whispered.
"I believe your father wished to inquire about my intentions toward you."
She rolled her eyes, "Yes, I know that." She snapped peevishly, "How did the two of you end up in this condition?"
"Well, after I explained to him that I fully intended to make you my mistress, he felt the need for a few drinks." He said evenly.
"Rhett, you didn't!" she exclaimed loudly, infuriated at his forwardness.
Hushing her, he said, "No Scarlett, I told him exactly what I'm sure you did, that nothing happened and I was a complete gentleman. I simply thought the lie might go down a bit better with some whisky."
"You're a terrible man, Rhett Butler!" She whispered loudly, "Bringing my father home in such a condition, then saying such despicable things to me!"
Rhett couldn't help but smile at Scarlett's Irish temper. It had been months since he'd seen her eyes flash angrily, and he couldn't deny to himself that it excited him in a perverse way.
"My apologies, my dear. If I had known you'd be this angry, I would have left your father on the barroom floor."
Scarlett's mouth puckered in anger, but she had no retort, "Oh! Just get out of here!"
Rhett laughed with no care of waking the house, "I will be seeing you Sunday at dinner," he said and went out, closing the door noiselessly behind him.