The next morning Rhett was up and dressed and ready to leave before it was light. He drew back the heavy curtains and peered out into the darkness through a window spattered by the soft-falling rain. He hoped it would have abated by the time he was ready to leave, though it had persisted all yesterday and throughout the night as well.
He and Bart Morland had shared a pleasant evening sitting in front of the fire following the magnificent dinner the baronet had laid on. They spoke of horses mostly, and Bart did not broach the subject of Scarlett again, for which Rhett was grateful. He needed the distraction, and it felt good to turn his thoughts to something else for a while, even if she were ever-present at the edges of his consciousness.
Rhett had retired early to his rooms for what he hoped would be a good night's rest as he was both mentally and physically drained from the stresses of the day. But sleep had eluded him, and he had eventually given in to its promise of release and taken a glass of brandy in an attempt to aid his rest.
But sleep, when it had finally come, had not been peaceful.
He had been plagued by nightmares throughout the small hours that were still now vivid in his mind. Dreams about Scarlett and the thousand fates that might have befallen her, as well as fantasies of revenge on Rosemary that had caused him to wake in a cold sweat and sent shivers down his spine when he thought of them. They had hunted him relentlessly through the night, and eventually he had given up any hope of rest and risen early so as to be ready to leave as soon as was possible.
He glanced over at himself in the wash stand mirror and grimaced at the newly shaven face looking back at him. He closed his eyes and sighed. Despite his usual impeccable grooming, even in the pale glow of the lamplight, he looked as bone tired as he felt. The restless night, as well as those countless others that had preceded it during the last fortnight and months since she had left, were taking their toll.
There was nothing he could do about it now.
--
Rhett made his way downstairs shortly after seven, to find breakfast already laid out and waiting for him. Bart had not yet surfaced, but he was obviously aware of how impatient Rhett would be to leave and had ordered it to be prepared earlier than usual. Rhett was grateful for this consideration, as he sat down at the long mahogany dining table and forced himself to plate up and swallow at least a few bites from the extravagant spread on offer before him. He had no appetite for food, but he knew he would be doing himself no favours by not keeping his strength up and his tired body and mind nourished. He would have happily forgone the meal in favour of getting his journey started without delay, but it was not yet light out. It would defeat his purpose to leave early only to find himself lost in the dark and adding unnecessary minutes or miles to his journey.
All the same, Rhett was keen to get underway to Ballyhara as soon as possible.
He was to ride over on one of Morland's prize stallions, a giant of a bay named Perseus. Depending on how hard he pushed the animal, and barring any wrong turns, he estimated he could be there within about half an hour. It was no time at all and yet it seemed like an eternity.
He had chosen to make the journey alone, and had been promised straightforward instruction as to how get there. Would she be at the end of it? Scarlett and the baby? God, he hoped so. He prayed for it, prayed for their safe deliverance to him, prayed as he had not done since her fall and miscarriage when he had feared for her life. He just hoped that someone was listening.
The harsh truth was Scarlett might not be there at all. In fact she could be anywhere, and he would be back to square one, no closer to finding her than he had been six months earlier. For all he knew she could have returned to America following her confinement.
No, he doubted that. Unless she knew for certain he had read her letter, she would still be in Ireland, hiding and under the impression that he was in Charleston, happily married to Anne. And somehow, knowing her way of thinking and understanding her fears, he didn't think she would have sent it herself.
--
Rhett made his way out of the large stone mansion at first light, accompanied by the baronet, just as the stable boy was bringing the horse around. The morning, when it dawned was cold and grey. The gentle rain had stopped and an eerie mist now covered the vast grounds. It gave the place an unearthly quality in the early morning light. He hoped the sun would be strong enough to burn it off, but he wouldn't bet on it. At least he wouldn't be drenched by the time he got to Ballyhara. Thank heavens for small mercies.
"I hope you find what you are looking for," said Bart extending a hand. "I'll see you back here at the house whenever you are ready."
Rhett took his proffered hand and shook it. "So do I." He meant it with all his heart. "And thank you again for your help and hospitality on such short notice and under these unfortunate circumstances. I apologise once more for having imposed myself on you." He pulled on his gloves, climbed the mounting block and swung his leg over the horse.
"Nonsense. Anything for a friend of Sally's. She really is a peach that girl." Rhett had to smile at the man's genuine enthusiasm for his friend. "Besides, while I love Ireland and my stables, it can get a little lonely here at times rattling around in this great big house all by myself. I enjoyed having some company last night. Danny," he addressed the stable boy, "take Mr Butler here to the end of the drive and point him in the direction of Ballyhara. It's quicker to go through the fields than following the road. Good luck."
"Thank you," said Rhett, tipping his hat in salute as the stable hand led him down the long drive towards the front gate. Bart watched them go then turned and retreated back into the warmth of the house.
--
"You from America sir?" asked the young man as he led Rhett and his horse down the gravel driveway.
"I am, yes."
"Are you going to Ballyhara to see the O'Hara then?" He stroked the horse's nose as he spoke.
"Who?" Rhett was suddenly alert at the sound of the name and he looked down at the youth with a keen gaze. Could it be her?
"The O'Hara, sir. The American lady who owns Ballyhara town." He paused as if he were reconsidering speaking to a man who was his employer's guest. "Not that it's any of my business or anything, I just thought since you are both from America that she's who you had come to see. We don't see that many folks from over there around these parts."
"Who is this O'Hara." He was watching the boy like a hawk. "Is her name Scarlett O'Hara?"
"Don't rightly know what her name is, sir. People there just call her the O'Hara. That's the title they give to the head of that family. Hasn't been a woman in that position for over two hundred years. She bought back the land that was stolen by the English about six months ago. Rebuilt a lot of the town herself, was up on ladders painting houses and such, from what I heard." Rhett raised his eyebrows at the mental image.
"She's given the local people work on her land. The place has become right prosperous in the last few months, considering it was virtually a ghost town before she came along and restored it. She's made quite an impression, she has. ' Course having a pretty face and pocketfuls of cash makes all the difference, don't it." The stable boy gave him a meaningful wink.
Could it be Scarlett? Had she used his pay-off money to purchase a town? He certainly wouldn't put it past her. Could she have stamped her mark on the place that quickly? He didn't doubt that it was possible.
"Do you know her, or at least of her?"
"Don't know her personally, sir, but me cousin lives around those parts. Mrs O'Hara's her landlady."
"So she's alive. Mrs O'Hara, I mean," he clarified.
"Alive, sir? Far's I know, she is." Relief flooded through Rhett. The young man looked a little bemused by the question and shrugged his shoulders noncommittally, before understanding dawned on his features and he smiled. "Oh, you're asking 'cause of how she had that baby recently."
"What do you know of that." The lad gave him a strange look. Rhett dismounted in an attempt to look less imposing, and resisted the urge to grab the young man by his jacket and shake him. He stood easily a head taller but he knew that intimidation tactics would not necessarily secure him the information he sought.
"Tell me, did the baby survive the birth? I must know." Please god, he'd lost two children already, he couldn't lose another.
"Well, that's quite a tale, from what I heard."
"Tell me." Rhett demanded.
"Well, the story goes that the O'Hara started labouring on All Hallow's Eve night, during the most almighty storm you ever did see. The river broke its banks for the first time in years, caused quite a bit of damage too. They were clearing up for days over near Trim." Rhett tried to remain patient and let the boy speak.
"Anyhow, they couldn't get a doctor 'cause of the river being over the road, so they had a midwife attend to her instead. But there was some sort of problem, I don't know what, but there was blood everywhere, and the midwife couldn't do nothing." Were the complications a result of the miscarriage?
"So then the blacksmith was brought in." A look of horror was slowly creeping across Rhett's face. while phantom fingers traced an icy path down his spine causing the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end. "He doctors animals see, so he knew something of what to do, but he refused. Said he wouldn't do that kind of injury to a woman. Cut her open I mean."
He had imagined all sorts of terrible things Scarlett could have gone through since he had first read her letter, and his worst fears were now being brought to vivid life in front of him. He could only hope the picture being painted for him was not a true reflection of the events. How she could have survived such an horrific ordeal, he did not know.
"Anyway, the birth wasn't natural. And when the smithy was too chicken to do what was necessary himself, the cailleach-" he paused off Rhett's look and clarified. "She's the wise old woman who lives in the woods a few miles off. People go to her for love potions and such. Some even say she's a witch." He shrugged.
"Anyhow, she come in out of the wild night and sliced the O'Hara open with a carving knife!" Rhett's blood ran cold at the young man's words. "Had the baby right there on the kitchen table, she did." He demonstrated his point with an imaginary blade and a flick of the wrist that caused Rhett to cringe. His face was a blank, not even his eyes betraying the emotions roiling within him. He prayed the boy was embroidering his story for dramatic effect. He certainly seemed to relish the telling of it, and the blood-thirstier, the better.
Guilt and anger surged through him at the thought of what Scarlett must have gone through. She'd been at the mercy of some backwoods butcher when she should have had the best medical care God and money could provide back in America. She had given birth on a kitchen table instead of in a comfortable bed surrounded by people who loved and could have taken care of her.
"Delivered her a little baby boy," the lad continued.
A boy. He had a son.
Or perhaps he hadn't survived. "Did the baby survive?"
"Well, I was just getting around to that." Rhett had to resist the urge to shake the information loose from him. "As the story goes, the baby was born dead,"
Dead. Oh dear God no. His heart stopped momentarily as the icy hand clutched at it painfully.
"but they say that before the wise woman appeared, the O'Hara saw a banshee. Harbingers of death they are, they foretell the death of a family member. And she flew out into the night to claim the soul of the old one, the O'Hara's grandmother, for the dead boy. She was died that same night." That at least Rhett knew to be true.
"Some say the child sucked the life out of the old grandmother and took her soul for it's own. Others tell it that the cailleach stole the O'Hara's boy, and left a changeling child, a baby girl, behind." He picked up a long piece of grass and chewed on it.
Rhett groaned inwardly. Superstition and rumour and no doubt at least third hand to boot. What could he believe of this fanciful tale? He didn't want to get his hopes up too high only to have them dashed once more. He'd had enough shocks to his system in the last couple of weeks to last him the rest of his life. However he didn't doubt that it was at least partly true.
"Then the baby is a girl?" The boy shrugged his shoulders.
"Dunno sir, they're just stories after all. You shouldn't believe everything you hear around here. Especially things that are told to you in the pub by someone who's had a few too many and is a bit the worse for wear because of it. That's where I heard part of the story, from the one of the patrons in Kennedy's. Apparently the blacksmith went in there the next day, soon as the doors opened to drink himself brave. Told anyone who would listen that he'd seen the whole thing. And been scared half to death by it too." He laughed.
Clearly, thought Rhett to himself. "Do you know if the baby is alive?"
"Can't say for certain, but I don't see why not. If it hadn't survived, there wouldn't be all these rumours surrounding its birth, would there. Me sister Colleen says she saw Mrs O'Hara out and about in Trim for the first time a few weeks ago, so she's recovered from the birth, whatever happened." Rhett breathed a sigh of relief, but he wouldn't relax completely until he saw he standing in front of her. Until he could once again pull her into his embrace and never let her go. If she didn't want it, he'd convince her otherwise. He could be very persuasive when properly motivated.
"Thank you very much for the information. Tell me where I need to go."
"Through that field there sir, straight across, and the next one as well. After that you'll reach the road to Ballyhara. You'll want to go to the right when you join up with the road. Then just follow it all the way into the town. There'll be someone around who can point you in the direction of the Big House. That's where she lives."
The Big House. Typical Scarlett, he thought. She never did anything by halves.
The stable boy gave Rhett a leg up back onto his horse. Why hadn't he thought of it last night? If you ever want to know anything, all you had to do was ask the servants. Rhett shoved his hand deep in his pocket and retrieved a few coins. He bent down and thrust the money into the boy's hand in thanks, then pulled on the left rein, dug his heels into the sides of his mount and headed off out of the gates at a healthy gallop.
He no longer wanted to postpone the inevitable now that he knew at least part of what awaited him. She was alive, he was sure of it now. Would she accept him? He hoped so. She'd been hurt by him, yes, and he was certain she'd be angry and want to make him pay for divorcing her, but she loved him. She'd made that plain in her letter. It may have been written in a moment of vulnerability, but he wouldn't allow her to take back what she had said.
Was the baby alive? Please god, let it be. And if weren't, if they had lost it, well they could comfort each other. Not like when Bonnie had died, or when Scarlett had fallen and suffered the miscarriage. They had been so cruel to one another then, so wrapped up in their own pain and guilt, that neither had been able or willing to take support from the other. If necessary, he would be there for her, just as he hoped she would be there for him. He wouldn't allow her to push him away. Not any more. The time for that was past.
It seemed inherent in their nature's to want to fight with one another, but he wouldn't allow fiery temperaments and foolish, stubborn pride get in the way. No more fear of rejection or miscommunications. He was determined that he would not make the same mistakes again. He had been given a second chance and he did not intend to waste it. Nothing would stand in his way. Not this time.
Rhett Butler always got what he wanted and what he wanted was Scarlett.
TBC
A/N. Thanks to ARipley for her plot line. I hope you could hear Irish in your heads when you read that. I had difficulty hearing it while I was writing it, but I didn't want to turn him into an OTT 'top of the morning' caricature. Thanks for reading. J.
--
PS. Has anyone here read the GWTW unauthorised sequel The Winds Of Tara? It's currently only available in Australia (it infringes US publishing laws or something), which must be why I hadn't heard about it. Glad to spread the word if you hadn't either. :) Anyway, yay me, I bought it online a couple of days ago. P&P cost more than the book, ouch!, but I don't care! Every girl deserves a treat now and then. PM me if you've read it, I'm interested to know what you thought.