Disclaimer: The characters here and the world they inhabit are the creation and property of Margaret Mitchell, her heirs, and their assigns.
Belle Watling knew the exact moment she lost her war. It was the moment Rhett Butler asked her about the donation she made to the hospital. She tried to play it off, but it was no use to explain that she didn't realize it was his handkerchief she was using. He knew her too well. He knew how she hated Scarlett and that she would do anything to keep Scarlett from trusting Rhett.
"It's the meddling, Belle! You're treating me as though you think I'm just a child, too foolish to know my own mind or the risks of what I'm going to do. You decided to take it out of my hands and cause a problem that didn't need to exist."
"She's going to break your heart! She will never be what you want! She can't! She'll never understand you... that's what the handkerchief showed. And it was last year! Why bring it up, now?"
"The handkerchief showed that she cares enough to be hurt, maybe even that she's capable of being jealous. When it might not matter-when she didn't know what we could be like together-she didn't want to bring it up."
What were they like together? Had they-was the scheming, green-eyed bitch already in his bed?
"There may only be one chance that this will work out, but I need to take it. She's the love of my life, Belle."
They hadn't consummated their romance. Not yet, but soon. He had a certain power, a vibrancy that told her he'd overcome Belle's obstacle and perhaps most of the others. She should leave and attend to her business, but for some reason she stayed and watched him gather his belongings. Every word was a knife in her heart, but they were words from him, and she would keep them embedded in her heart until she died. It made her think of her son. "What about-"
"I made that commitment irregardless of anything that was between us, and my reasons for doing so still exist. I'll honor it until his education is complete."
She gave a sigh of relief. At least the one practical matter that she depended upon Rhett for would be covered, and if he forced the issue, she could probably afford to buy the house. That left the impractical matter. "Rhett, why not stay here the night, one more time? Give me a chance to make it up to you?"
He snapped his suitcase shut. "I'm really not in the mood, Belle."
"Come on, Rhett, we both know that's not true. You're always in the mood."
He smiled and touched her cheek with the back of his hand. "I'm not in the mood, Belle. Don't make me say it plainer than that."
Not in the mood for me, she realized. He was always in the mood, as long as she chased him. For a long time that had been her only consolation. He was always quite clear that he didn't want to have to chase after maiden-minded ladies. It was just this one, who was not the least bit ladylike, whom he wanted to chase. So now it appeared he was so close to his goal that he was willing to give up Belle's easy advances. It really was over, then. "Take care of yourself, Rhett. Remember you'll always have a friend here if she doesn't work out."
Mrs. Meade sat on the Hamilton front porch with twisted lips. Scarlett would insist on sitting out there, fanning herself and visiting with all and sundry who would walk past. For the most part, the people who came were just being friendly, but there was one who everyone knew would take advantage if he could. That one held them all hostage in his way. They had to be extra careful to make sure he wouldn't transgress too far. No one cared if that fast girl ended up in a gutter; she was destined for such things, anyway. The reflection upon Melly, Pittypat, and even poor Charlie was what made the people of Atlanta so protective of Scarlett. Charlie and Melanie, who'd been the playmate of Mrs. Meade's own Darcy. For Melly, and for the memory of those other two boys, Mrs. Meade would make sure that Rhett Butler kept his hands off Scarlett Hamilton.
Captain Butler had been scarce at the Hamilton house since before Phil came on his furlough. He'd been around town, of course, smoking his cigars and smiling lazily at everyone and sundry. Mrs. Meade hadn't seen him at the Hamiltons lately. Perhaps Scarlett, in one of her rare moments of propriety, had finally sent him on his way. Mrs. Meade wasn't certain of that, though. All too frequently they had thought they were finally rid of the man, only to see that impudent smile at the next bazaar or picnic.
The war wasn't over, and even if there wasn't a battle to fight tonight, Mrs. Meade, good general that she was, would continue to guard her territory. She would bore Scarlett with her reminisces of better days and her hopes for the current battles being fought entirely too closely. Scarlett would itch and fume, because she hated any conversation not about her self, but she was too grounded by her mother in proper behavior toward her elders. She would behave herself all the while various expressions went over her face as she thought about whatever it was that went through her mind. At least she would behave for now, while the rules established by her great-grandparents still held sway.
A cooler breeze blew through; it wouldn't last although it was welcome as a momentary thing. Scarlett stirred, rolling her neck and smiling with her eyes closed like a cat. Mrs. Meade stopped and looked at her for the first time that day. She was such a sensuous creature, and now she looked positively indecent. The waist of her dress was unbuttoned far too low, and she was sitting with a most unladylike posture.
Her entire attitude reminded Mrs. Meade of... she recalled seeing herself look something like that in a mirror, more than twenty-five years before. In those days Doctor Meade's practice was much less busy and he had far more time for his young wife. Darcy would have been just twenty-four-it came as an irrelevant thought. Mrs. Meade's eyes flew open. Scarlett couldn't have. Something made Scarlett shift and sit up. Her eyes cleared and she looked at Mrs. Meade contritely, somewhat shamed into being more ladylike. Mrs. Meade looked into those green eyes. They were still willful and spoiled, and definitely childish. She'd had no time to become more than the most superficial of wives to Charlie and hadn't lost the newness of girlhood. She couldn't look like that if the Captain had managed to seduce her. If she'd spent even a few minutes in a bed with Rhett Butler, everyone would know.
Therefore, Mrs. Meade sat on the Hamilton front porch with twisted lips. No one cared if that fast girl ended up in a gutter, but for the sake of Melly and Pitty, and for the memory of dear Charlie and even Darcy, Mrs. Meade would make sure that Rhett Butler kept his hands off Scarlett Hamilton.
Hours later, Melanie stood next to the bed and leaned over it, resting her hands on it and letting the baby's weight shift away from where it had been all day. This was harder on her back so she would never be able to hold it long, but it gave a little relief to her hips. She walked back and forth past the window. And leaned over the bed some more. She could hear the mumble of their voices on the front porch but not what was said. But then they were quiet for so long at a time.
Melanie hoped that Rhett's intentions were honorable. She knew he and Scarlett were attracted to each other in a bold, naked way that would have been far too much for herself and Ashley. Perhaps their passions would overwhelm them; that would bring disaster to Scarlett and that would ultimately hurt Melanie. If Rhett hurt Scarlett, then Ashley as her nearest male relative, would have to try to settle matters with Rhett. Gerald O'Hara couldn't be expected to do it. He was too old, and Rhett had run circles around him the last time. So Ashley would have to do it. He would be killed and they would all be ruined.
She trusted Rhett's self control and the kindness that underlay everything in him. He was a much finer man than so many people gave him credit for, finer than Scarlett would ever see. Melanie thought perhaps Scarlett sensed how fine he was and that perhaps Scarlett would come to appreciate it despite not really knowing or understanding it. There were hidden qualities in Scarlett that simply existed without being acknowledged or needing to acknowledge their counterparts.
Melanie was familiar with the idea of a force of nature, but until she met Scarlett she'd never properly understood it. Scarlett wasn't just full of fire and passion and force, she was also natural. She didn't need to be well-educated because she simply understood so much about life. Ashley had described her as such long ago when they had courted in the parlor. India's hintings about Scarlett had fallen on deaf ears. Yes, Ashley admired Scarlett immensely, but no more than Melanie herself did, more as an idea than a real person. The real person was simply too overwhelming, even if the idea of her was thrilling.
Melanie got back into the bed. Just the little bit of exercise tired her. Perhaps she'd be able to sleep soon. If not, perhaps she could hear the soft sighs and muffled groans well enough to imagine her own romance.
A/N: This was just a single sketch, until it was two, and now here are three mini sketches to make up the third chapter. I'm posting it because it's ready, not because I have any particular schedule in mind, unlike ASOGAC, of which there is already another 25k words written so I can keep doing the every other day thing. Thanks so much for the feedback from people like rhett's love, gabyhyatt, sj372419, SPCLjmm, Guest 1 & 2, Snowandbows, Romabeachgirl1981, gumper, and Truckee Gal.