TO MY READERS: I AM SORRY FOR REFERRING TO FANNY ELSING'S HUSBAND AS "TOMMY GALLAGHER" IT WAS SUPPOSED TO BE "TOMMY WELLBURN."
Beauregard Wilkes sniffed the country air, and listened to the birds, as well as his cousin's conversation with Pork, the Tara darky.
"Mist' Wade, you and yo' cousin have shot up tall since you visited us befo'. An' Tara is comin' right along. Miss Suellen, she finally got Mist' Will to let her hire a cook, which is blessed, since cookin' ain't Miss Suellen's uh—"
Wade's laugh was narcotic; Beau covered his mouth, too.
"But what about Dilcey, your beautiful wife" Wade asked. "Doesn't she cook a great deal?"
"Dilcey take my skin off if she heard this, but Pixie Ruth makes the best chicken fricassee in the County. You'll see. Biscuits, too!"
The wagon stopped. "Mist' Beau need me to he'p him down, Mist' Wade?"
"No, he's fine, really." Wade said. "Sees more with his ears than we do with our eyes."
Beau hated, almost as much as his sightlessness, the way people just talked about him as if he were an infant of about three months old. When the candy butcher had came along in the train, he'd asked Wade "what the blind fella would like" and it had been humiliating.
As Beau climbed down from the wagon, he tapped around in front of him, feeling dirt. He heard his cousin's quick breath as Wade also alighted, and then Pork roused up the horses to take them to the stables.
Beau leaned his head aside. "So I know I was here and saw things when I was young, but in the last few visits, I've never really seen Tara, so to speak." Beau took Wade's elbow and they began walking towards the house.
"I've asked a number of people what Tara's like. Uncle Rhett describes it as a red mud pit, Scarlett calls it God's country, and my father goes onto a long history of the great plantations, interspersing it with tales of the death of the Roman Empire, and then tells me about his old place, Twelve Oaks."
Wade's voice snorted in response. "Well, Beau, old blind bean, what can I say. A plantation is like a very, very large farm. And this one has more than recaptured what I think Mother described it once was, getting bigger all the time. We have almost as many darkies working here now as we did when they were slaves, to hear Mother tell it."
"So Scarlett doesn't have to support Tara anymore with the money from the mills?"
"Not in some years. It's quite a nice plantation, I think. Oh, there's Suellen on the porch. I hope Mother's not in the house presently."
"Is that something to worry about? Oh yes, you mentioned Suellen's problems with Auntie Scarlett." Beau smiled. "How do the ladies exist in the house together, I wonder? This is going to be much more enchanting an entertainment than sitting around listening to Father read me "King Lear" while he's in his cups."
Beau heard Wade's breath go in. He shouldn't have mentioned Ashley, Wade was not pleased at all with Ashley Wilkes right now.
"Aunt Sue's waving at us, that's probably a good sign." Wade mumbled. "Not going to hang the son for the sins of the mother. Goodness. Suellen has gotten a bit—"
"What?" Beau asked with bated breath. "As the ladies say, do tell!" But his cousin was silent as he guided Beau a little closer to the house. "If you don't tell me, Wade I shall make loud guesses. Gotten a bit tall? Has she gotten slovenly? Hair fallen out? Pudgy?"
"Hushyourmouth" Wade said in one voice. "Yes, the latter. I'm afraid she was never a stunner, Auntie Suellen, but she's chubby, well more—"
"Buoyant? Large? How large? Is she spitting out Jonah?" Beau was enjoying himself, but he did keep his voice down. "Is she weighing down the porch—"
"Auntie Suellen, how are you?" Wade's voice was quite hearty, and Beau closed his mouth, biting the inside of his lip. Funny, Beau had always thought the epicene fairies and poofs were gossipy, and Wade, for a homosexual, certainly behaved like the ultimate masculine gentleman. He may make a husband yet, Beau considered.
Suddenly, Fat Aunt Suellen was giving Beau a wet kiss on the cheek.
Beau heard the door open, and a small boy's voice. "Mama! I want another tart, Mama. Why that man's wearing black glasses?"
"Billy, why don't you go back inside." Suellen bustled against Beau and indeed she was quite hefty. Beau hoped she would not knock him over.
"Can I hold his stick?" Beau felt small hands dragging the stick away from him, but Beau held on tight. His stick, cut from a lilac bush and polished by Uncle Peter, was his security.
Beau heard a whack, and crying and the little boy ran screaming.
"Wade, you don't have to hit my baby boy. He's just interested." Suellen was indignant, but then she seemed to be recovering. "Why Beau, you look wonderful, and I understand you get around so well with your little stick there that Billy liked!"
"Oh yes." Beau said, trying to smile. "It's just that my stick is very important and I can't have children toying with it."
"I just remember when you were about thirteen and bawling your face off about going blind, and you just handle it so well now!"
Beau bit his lower lip.
Wade's voice came, annoyed. "Beau's fine, and we're so glad to be here. Uh, Suellen. I'll say sorry to Billy later, I brought him a jackknife, I'm sure he'll forgive me."
Beau heard the door open, and Suellen was gaily inviting them into the parlor.
"Grandma Fontaine is here, yes, ninety-three years young, and so is Alex, Beau. You remember Beau and Wade, of course? They're going to have a big pow-wow with my Will about trading seeds or something, and Grandma, don't Wade and Beau look like handsome young men? Beau's afflicted, of course, but he's still quite a fellow. I think if he became one of those blind beggars, the girls would just shower him with pennies!"
Wade silently led Beau over to a chair and tapped his shoulder, and Beau sat down.
"My God it's like magic." Suellen marveled. "Look how clever Beau is. He knew where the chair is, it's like he's a genuine psychotic."
"I think you mean psychic, Suellen" Alex said, but Beau could hear the smile in his voice. Oh Father, why have you gotten me into this? But Ashley had begged Beau to go with Wade to Tara and explain "the other side" of the story.
Wade was still silent, and Beau tried to be social. "I'm so glad to be here, Mrs. Fontaine, and of course Alex. I've not seen you since my last visit—"
"Or seen anything" Suellen put in helpfully.
"The weather feels wonderful here as opposed to the crowded city."
"I understand Atlanta's really doing well—new hospitals, lots of business coming in. We hope to come to the International Cotton Exposition." Alex's voice was a bit strained, Beau thought. Maybe he's afraid Grandma Fontaine will say something inappropriate. Beau had heard the old woman did that.
Wade piped up. "Yes, the turpentine growth has made for lots of money coming in, and Mother is thinking of expanding into paper mills. and you've heard about kaolinite. We're building a lot of brick buildings in Atlanta now."
Suellen became bored and bustled off to the pantry, and Beau sat still, digesting the experience of Susan Elinor O'Hara Benteen as Wade continued the small talk with the Fontaines.
Beau knew it was selfish to worry about a spiteful, gossipy idiot like Suellen. He and Wade were here on a sort of mission. Wade had discovered that in addition to Ashley Wilkes's imbibing, he'd been keeping company with a rather expensive young woman over by Inman Park.
After Wade had discovered the doctored bills of lading, he'd told Beau that Scarlett would have to be informed. Before Wade could send a wire, Beau convinced him to let them make a personal trip. Certainly Wade had the right to call the sheriff about Ashley's embezzlement, but Wade agreed that Beau could come and present some sort of alternative plan for his father.
What sort of plan? Beau had no idea. Not even eighteen years old, Beau had little imagination of how to get the dream like Ashley out of this terrible mess. Perhaps his father could be demoted to wagon driver, and pay everything back gradually, but it had been nearly a thousand dollars missing!
Had Father changed because of being locked up in the Yankee prison? Perhaps. Ashley had always been, unfailingly, a gentleman, and he'd instructed his son to be the same, but now he was just a wine sodden embezzler.
Beau didn't know what to do. He'd had to raise himself, practically, since Melanie's death, and he'd dealt with his father's foibles for a good decade now. This hadn't been the first young woman to help his father distract himself from the new realities.
Sadly, Beau's blindness had helped rein Ashley in a bit, as the elder Wilkes had tried to go through the fiction of looking after his sightless son, while Beauregard could actually look after Ashley.
Why couldn't Father just go to Mrs. Watling's house to enjoy the inexpensive ladies? Beau had been doing this since his fourteenth year. But Ashley wanted the fantasy of love, he'd been dutiful so long. Beau was vaguely aware that Ashley had been pressured by his family to marry Melanie, so many years ago. Now Ashley was breaking out, at nearly fifty years old.
As Wade and Alex talked about peas, or something, there was a heavy shuffle of feet, and Beau smelled Grandma Fontaine, who perhaps should have changed her bloomers this morning, or this month at least.
"You must forgive Suellen, Beau. I never thought I could accuse a lady of boorishness, but our Mrs. Benteen is quite the exception."
"If she's a lady at all." Beau said, but then he covered his mouth. "Excuse me, Mrs. Fontaine, that was uncalled for, and I think Suellen is going through a difficult spot just now."
"Yes, the county is well aware of that! Your Aunt Scarlett is the Becky Sharp of the South." The old lady laughed, and Beau was distressed that he could detect every ingredient of her breakfast on her breath. However, Grandma Fontaine was a stroll in the park as compared to their hostess.
Suddenly, Grandma Fontaine reached out and grabbed Beau's arm, clumsily. "I'm going to go on a walk, why don't you come along. You don't need tea right now."
Before Beau could respond, the old lady yanked him out of the armchair and began pulling him toward the vestibule, Beau barely having time to grab his stick.
"Grandma Fontaine, where are you going, precious?" Suellen's honeyed tone catcalled after them. "Doesn't little Beau want some tea?"
"I loathe that woman, and Suellen told me once that Scarlett lied to Frank Kennedy, telling her that Suellen was engaged to my Tony, in order to marry Frank herself. As if Tony would look twice at Suellen!"
Before Beau knew it, they were on the front porch, and he felt a bit dizzy. Beau preferred to be guided around by people who walked slowly and let him take THEIR arm, but Grandma Fontaine had not been coached in socialization with the sightless, apparently.
Beau's feet felt grass, and the old lady finally slowed her trot to a canter, and then a walk.
"It's starting to get better here. They've hired some clean living darkies as field hands, and the work seems to be getting along, as well as on our place, not really a plantation anymore, but certainly Alex has learned the agricultural ropes. We will be having a fairly respectable product this year."
As they walked along, Beau smelled curing ham.
"Nice scent, isn't it? They rebuilt the smokehouse here—Will's an ingenious craftsman. We've had some fine meals over at Mimosa as well—I was unaware of how many wild hogs were traveling through the woods, but since Tony's been back, he's shot quite a few…tasty! Yes, Tony and Alex are making me proud. Tony was an idiot to kill that fool,
Jonas Wilkerson. But you've got to admire his spunk."
Beau let the old lady run on, wondering if Wade had seen Scarlett yet, and apprised him of Father's thefts. Grandma Fontaine bumped heavily into Wade as they walked. God old women smell bad. The smokehouse helped a bit, though.
"Tara doesn't have a good granary yet. You've got to catch up on that, or rather Will does. It's marvelous watching all the rebuilding of our so-called empire over the past decade. My father lost all of his money, in Alabama…and then his friend Samuel Mims…"
Beau poked his stick around as the old lady bustled him along, her fingers alternately grazing his arm, and then gripping it as if she were wielding a pick axe. Beau began to truly appreciate the genteel nature of Pittypat Hamilton.
"You know, Beauregard, when the war began, the war that thrust us all into this folderol, many here in the County thought we'd win easily, that it would be a brief entertainment, killing off arrogant Yankees. Perhaps giving Mr. Lincoln a head-rub in the process! There was no idea of defeat, just glorious battle and the South seceding away from those nasal Northerners. I'm familiar with that sort of arrogance, it was the foolish arrogance in which I grew up as well, down in Mississippi Territory."
I'm not sure which moves faster, her feet or her mouth, Beau thought grimly, as he knocked little stones out of their way with his stick.
"Yes, I still remember it, when I was just your age, eighteen or so. A number of fools, including a young idiot I was engaged to, Abner Blankenship took it in their heads to rob a Red Stick Indian supply train at Burnt Corn Creek. Very pleased with themselves. I remember Abner and his brother Daniel laughing about it the night before the raid. And Abner was slaughtered the next day, by the redskins, and Daniel's right arm was cut off, and most of the other boys, all friends, who thought they'd have an amusing and perhaps exhilarating afternoon, were killed in this half-baked fraternity stunt."
"Very much like this, a similar attitude came from my grandsons when they were getting drunk and playing at soldiering just before the War. During their er, rehearsals, Tony shot one of the Tarleton boys in the leg. Such nonsense. But they thought the war would be just another lark they did…reminded me of Abner Blankenship when they talked about it, though fool that I was, I thought the South would win after Fort Sumter."
Beau wondered if they should get back to the house now. He was vaguely aware that there was mud on his new boots.
"And a month after Burnt Creek, back in '13, the Creeks came, the savages, and slaughtered most of our settlement, destroying all of Samuel Mims's fort and killing my entire family, and I had to run off in the swamps for thirty miles! And I thought my life was over, you know. Saw my mother hatcheted right in front of me."
Suddenly Beau listened. "Your entire family, Mrs. Fontaine?"
"That's right, my laddie. All of them. So this recent war has been comparatively a tempest in a teapot, though I lost one grandson at Gettysburg, and another at Vicksburg. And my husband, God rest his soul, the doctor had to be stubborn and go and fight, but he came back a shell of a man…and then he died. No, Beauregard, this won't be the last war, men love wars…and have unlimited confidence in their warring abilities. And there is excitement in struggle. Your Aunt Scarlett, in her cuckoldry of her sister, is a bit bored, you know she struggled and fought to save Tara, and get some money, but the need if not gone, has abated a bit."
Beau hoped that Scarlett was not so fond of her money as to send Father to prison, certainly.
"Scarlett even shot a marauding—"
"Shot a Yankee, yes." Beau was getting bored again, but mercifully the old lady was pushing him back to the house. I have to be guided about by old women. Me, a seventeen year old man. I wonder if there's elderberry wine around, or something. I need some.
"Your own father held certain charms for Scarlett, I remember hearing all that gossip—and of course Scarlett married that scalawag Butler. They're alike in that they don't show their hand easily, Ashley and Captain Butler, and that possibly may be what fascinates Scarlett, what she perceives as adult masculinity. Unlike my mouthy intemperate boys or the excitable Tarletons, God rest their souls—and I think Will Benteen holds the same manly fascination for your Aunt Scarlett."
Beau shook his head vehemently. "Scarlett loved my mother, and my father was really like a brother to her, and she a sister to him. I've heard all that nonsense. But Scarlett and my father would never have compromised—"
Grandma Fontaine chortled. "I think young folk expect their elders to be almost perfect people, saints, and when they're let down it's such a shock. Scarlett may have learned to value poor Melanie's friendship, but I think there was a testing period. I saw how Scarlett danced with Ashley, pressing indecently close at balls before the war, after he returned from his five year tour of Europe, nonsense that such a venture was. But truthfully, as much use as Ashley Wilkes has been here, he might as well have stayed in Europe."
Grandma paused, and then said, "Not only was Ashley Wilkes about as much use as a free issue nigger here at Tara, but my daughter-in-law Sally writes to a former Fayetteville Academy chum, who is married to one of the bookkeepers at the sawmill, and she says your father—"
Beau pulled his arm away from Grandma Fontaine roughly. His stick was touching the reassuring wood of the steps, and Beau said briefly, "I am not at liberty to speak unpleasant words to a lady, especially one of your years, but I think we've had enough of this offensive conversation."
As Beau haughtily tapped his way up the steps, he heard the old lady laughing raucously.