The smoke from Rufus's cigar rose up steadily, in slow curling spirals, and drifting aimlessly for a moment in a void of nothingness, caught the afternoon sunlight streaming in from the open windows and then dissolved into a fleeting silvery haze over their heads.
Dr. Benjamin Elijah Peters, seated in one of the wing backed, tufted leather chairs, across from the towering bay windows, shifted a little in his seat and squinted to avoid the direct glare of the midday sun whose radiance seemed to settle like a fine coating of yellow dust around the sprawling library, painting it with an unnatural golden glow.
"Is that all then? She said nothing else"? Rufus asked sharply. His face, hidden in the shadows of the massive mahogany desk behind which he sat, betrayed none of the edginess that had crept into his voice.
The young doctor uncrossed his legs and suppressed a sigh. His father's relationship with Rufus Butler went a long way back in time, to when they had been but mere boys, learning to saddle a horse and handle muskets, and over the years, had matured into something that had evolved beyond just camaraderie and friendship. Both young men, possessing the same compelling backgrounds that matched a privileged upbringing and an influential bloodline, had bonded over many of the simple pleasures and pastimes befitting the youths of their times; fishing, hunting and playing poker together; and growing up, had been inseparable, for even after the fact, that upon having contended for the same woman's affections, when it had been Rufus that she had ultimately chosen, it having been almost thirty eight years since, the profundity of affection or fealty that the one felt for the other had not altered with neither age nor time. It was an unlikely alliance too as Peters well knew, considering the stark disparity between the two- for his father, was a gentle and kind man, given to compassion and quick to compromise, unlike the careless indifference or the ruthless intransigence that came so naturally to Rufus Butler—qualities which Rufus seldom hesitated to call upon or exercise in his single minded pursuit in establishing the Butler dominion in all of the South.
Growing up, Peters had spent more time as a boy at the Butler house than his own and while both Rufus's boys were nearly the same age as himself, he had been secretly in awe and a little afraid of Rhett, admiring the older boy's brazen insouciance and his suave confidence and utter disregard for the prudish edicts of the old gentry. As children, Raydon and himself had followed Rhett around, worshipping him discreetly from afar, both boys being too fearful and too weak spirited to consider being as overtly bold or flagrantly defiant as the Butler family reprobate and preferring instead, to remain meekly deferential to their father's wishes for fear of invoking any displeasure on their part . Peters and Raydon, finding a common purpose in appeasing their fathers, had bonded easily and the amity between them that flourished as children, heightened and grew with age and time into a comradeship, that now as young men, as they had discovered, was akin to that of siblings more than friends.
Here in the confines of the vast library on this fine Monday morning, Peters, glancing down at Raydon, slumped and immobile, on the couch in front of him with his head buried in his hands, felt his heart welling with pity for the young man.
Reflecting on the events of that morning, Peters could truthfully admit to himself that he was just as astonished as the rest of the household, at the news he had received from the frightened and harried valet of the Butler house. Old Thomas had come knocking on his door at dawn that day, his black face slack with shock and his as eyes big as saucers, and in a voice that shook with excitement and old age, had said " "Dr. Peters, Suh, Mrs. Butler sez yuh izz to drap everythin' and come ter-reckly and brung yuh black bag with yuh for ze young lady is come awake"!
Peters had stared blankly at the old lined face of the servant had thought, for a moment, that perchance, Mrs. Butler might have perceived a temporary lapse of torpor on the part of the girl, for a sentient state. He had always prided himself on his curative competence as a physician and so when Catherine Butler had sent for him after the unfortunate carriage accident, he had performed an exhaustive contemplation of the young lady's condition and had concluded that the affliction she suffered from, was of an unusual type, perhaps even that which might take her months to recoup from; for despite all his commendable medical skills, Peters had been confounded to put a name to the mysterious fever that consumed the young girl night and day and that which had left her raving and incoherent.
But no—Upon reaching the Butler mansion, he had been greeted with the sight of Catherine sitting on the bed in the girl's room with the young lady lying fully awake, alert and watchful; the fever had broken and when he had examined her, he could detect nothing to alarm him as to her physical condition, besides the obvious injuries to her head and her apparent weakness.
It had only been later, when, after taking her pulse and her temperature and administering a sedative to calm her confused agitation, he had gently questioned the young woman regarding her whereabouts and had been shaken to the core at the vacant look in her eyes. She could remember nothing about herself or her past and from her panic and apparent distress when pressed for more details, it had soon become clear to Peters that she was suffering from some sort of memory lapse. He had hastened to confer with Catherine after making sure the girl was resting well and it was then that Catherine, taking him aside to the parlor, away from the prying eyes and ears of the servants, had whispered to him about the baffling matter that had brought him to this awkward moment at the library with Rufus Butler and his sons.
Feeling Rufus's disapproving stare as he waited for an answer, Peters shifted restlessly in his seat, wishing with all his heart, that would that it have been his father instead of him who had attended to that poor girl on that miserable afternoon.
Here they were now, locked in this library all morning and Rufus had questioned him about the girl for up to two hours, going over everything that he had to say and appearing clearly dissatisfied at any of his responses.
Suppressing a sigh, Peters shook his head dejectedly and said again for the third time "I am afraid not, Sir. Nothing more than what I have already shared with you", and then added in a tired voice, " It would appear that the young lady remembers little, if at all anything. The blow to the head, I believe, has certainly caused some sort of lapse in memory".
"Indeed"? Rufus sneered, his face going dark with anger, " I should be very interested in learning how you would explain her remembering his name, considering that it is among the few things that she does remember", he said jerking his head sharply at a tall figure that stood motionless by the far window.
Peters squirmed in his seat, the frustration at his own inadequacy at understanding the girl's ailment, clear on his face, " I do concede, Mr. Butler, that the girl seems to remember a few things, but her recollections are scant and disjointed and even flawed. For that matter, she mentions that she remembers falling and hurting herself in a wooded area and calling out to a man and a woman with red hair, whereas the circumstances in which she was found was very different. She also appears to have no idea as to how she came upon the path where she was …. ", he stopped suddenly as his eyes took in the wretched look on Raydon's face at his allusion to the tragic accident which had brought the young woman to them. Cursing himself inwardly, Peters spoke quickly, his words tumbling over each other in his haste to steer clear of that unpleasant part of his narration," What I intend to say Mr. Butler, is that it is clear that the young lady appears confused and vague in her recollections and anything she says ought to be interpreted with caution. We must not forget that she is suffering from trauma to the head and has been delirious and feverish the past few days."
Rufus leaned back in his chair and lit another cigar, savagely striking the match on the side of the huge table, and a dim light flared up behind the desk, momentarily lighting up a thickset face with a heavy jaw, clenched in grim anger.
" She could remember her own name", he said coldly, " And she also..", here he viciously jabbed at the air with his cigar, the smoke curling in in the direction of the far window at the dark silhouette that stood silent and uncaring, staring fixedly out of one of the large bay windows at the grassy lawns beyond where a pickaninny was scattering birdseed and hemp at the ducks swarming at his feet, " seems to easily recollect, with surprising accuracy, his name and not once but on several occasions"!
Peters fidgeted nervously in his seat and then bent his head in silence. This was the reason they were all gathered here this morning.Him. He stole another glance at the tall youth who had neither turned nor said a word to them in all the time that they had been confined in the library. Peters sighed again. It seemed to him that the time had finally come to address the elephant in the room.
"The young lady….. Scarlett, ", he said in a low voice, refusing to meet Rufus's eyes and looking down at his hands, "Said she remembered only her name. As to how she knows Rhett….", he trailed off in helpless misery. Nothing he could say could explain why the girl, even in sleep had muttered over and over the one name that had left Catherine mute with shock and Rufus frothing at the mouth.
In the two nights, she had been here, there had been but one name on the lips of the young woman , one person that she had called for, in feverish whispers and piercing screams alike, and neither her incoherent ravings when unwell nor the subdued sobriety she had demonstrated upon waking had explained , why of all people, the oldest son of Rufus Butler, had featured so prominently in all of her dreams; especially when the girl, upon waking and questioned gently by Catherine, had vehemently denied any knowledge of Rhett Butler's existence. Nor could Peters justify to Rufus, on the strength of everything that he knew about the healing powers of medicine, as to how the young woman was able to remember in some part, a few details of her life but for the most, seemed to have no clue about the others.
Worse still, was the other matter that they had all been witness to. The matter that had been yet more perplexing than even the girl's alleged obsession with getting Rhett into trouble with his father by her hysterical ravings.
Peters winced inwardly as he remembered distinctly, the questioning words of the girl- " Is she dead? I need to know". The words had burned into his brain, leaving him feeling cold and try as he might, he could not shake off the heavy sense of dread he had felt upon hearing them.
"Scarlett!", Rufus spat in the direction of the window, his voice straining with anger. " Does the name ring a bell for you, Sir or are we to wait all day for an answer"?
The eyes of the three men in the room followed the direction of Rufus's voice to the far corner of the library, fixing on the tall youth who had been standing, all the while silent, with his broad back to them, his long legs slightly apart and both hands in his pocket and even from a distance, Peters could see they were jammed into hard fists.
The air in the library suddenly felt stuffy and warm. Peters, dipping his hand into his coat pocket, took out a fresh linen handkerchief and mopped his brow with it. This was even worse than he had anticipated. Rhett, clearly, was in no mood today to make it easier for any of them.
And then, unable to withstand the tension any longer, Peters said quickly ", I wouldn't set any store by anything the young lady says, we shouldn't forget that she was delirious and suffering from a fever. She has been unwell and ..."
"And yet she could get his name right", Rufus's voice cut through the room like a whip. With a sudden motion, he rose from behind his desk, and pushing back his chair furiously, slammed both hands on the marbled top of the table. There was a thin splintering noise and a fine jagged line snaked its way along the rim of the marble and through to the center of the desk where it fissured into a spidery web of tangled cracks.
The noise had felt as loud as a cannon shot in the stillness of the room and Peters felt his face flush with shame as he realized he had shouted out aloud in fear. Even Raydon, startled out of his misery had jumped up at the sound, his face white and strained.
Yet, the lone figure by the window remained still as a shadow, unmoving and unaffected.
"I will not tolerate this" Rufus shouted, goaded by the deliberate disregard and unreserved contempt that he seemed to sense from the eldest of his sons. " I demand an explanation, Sir! Is this young woman of your acquaintance then? If she is one of your…your...You will either accept your part in this or face the consequences", he said seething with rage.
There was a soft noise and it was then that Peters looking up again at the window saw the figure stir, its shoulders shaking with silent laughter.
"Now that" drawled a deep voice which filled the room with its mocking tone " is a little too much. Explanations, I have none and as for consequences, frankly Sir, I couldn't give a damn", said Rhett as he turned lazily away from the window and walked with slow deliberate steps toward the desk and stood before his father, for the first time in a year.
Rufus Butler was a tall man, standing almost six feet in height but when he was eye to eye with his oldest son, the boy towered over him and made him feel almost small in comparison. Now, as he looked at Rhett standing before him, Rufus felt the same helpless indignance and resentment that he had felt the last time he had laid eyes on him a year ago.
"I have not seen or met this girl yet. If and when I do, you can be rest assured that you shall hear from me, "Rhett said in a flat voice and then turning around suddenly, he addressed the men in the room, " Gentlemen, much as I find my father's theatricals quite amusing, I find I have a boring piece of business to attend to. I leave you to enjoy the rest of this show". So, saying, he strode towards the door with quick steps and unable to help himself, grinned at Peter's startled face as he passed him on his way.
At the door, Rhett paused and turned to look back at Raydon's bowed head. For a fleeting moment, his eyes darkened with an unnamed emotion and then as they met his father's glowering black ones, they filled with contempt and his lips twisted in a bitter smile, "It appears that from everything I have been told so far, the most tragic thing that happened to this young lady is your other son. If it is answers you are looking for, I suggest that you save yourself time and ask him instead" he said savagely as he slammed the door shut on their shocked faces.
