Rhett took a last drag on his cigar and tossed the butt to the ground. He watched as the smoke rose from where it lay smouldering on the gravel driveway and dispersed in the chilly December breeze. He was annoyed with himself and his conscience needled him. It hadn't been his intention to hurt Scarlett and yet he knew he was guilty of doing just that.
The truth was that he understood her point of view perfectly. He couldn't see what she had done as a betrayal because circumstances had forced her into it. She had been faced with an almighty obstacle, she had overcome it and she had done so with an efficiency that had stymied all his attempts to find her.
Rhett had been the one to end their marriage without giving her a chance to discover she was pregnant. She said she hadn't known until after she'd left for Ireland by which stage the divorce was a fait accompli.
Their estrangement might have been concealed easily enough since he hadn't remarried, but Scarlett hadn't known Anne was not in the picture. Rosemary had taken care of that. Nor, after the way he had treated her, would she have dreamed that he would want her back. What other choice had she had but to remain where she was?
Even for someone like Scarlett, who flouted society's rules and did as she pleased, the scandal of returning to America pregnant or with a baby and no husband would have been too great. She had no-one to go back to, no friends to turn to for support. She was a pariah in Atlanta, would have been ridiculed and ostracised by everyone there, and had Rhett gotten wind of it, she was afraid that he'd just swoop in, claim the baby and desert her with nothing. He had unknowingly caused a storm in her life that was potentially too violent for even Scarlett to weather without the love and support of the likes of Melanie Wilkes to shelter her.
He knew all these things, could stand in her shoes and empathise, and yet he still felt angry that she wouldn't have told him. It was an impotent kind of anger that he didn't want to feel because he understood her completely, and yet he felt it anyway.
He sighed heavily and leaned his head back against the wall. His sister's face flashed across his mind briefly, highlighting her role in this mess, but he refused to think of Rosemary now. Scarlett had let down her defences in a show of trust and he had ploughed in and trampled everything. He had some damage to repair.
--
When Rhett entered the bedroom he found Scarlett curled up in a ball facing the window on her large bed. Had she been crying? Oh god, he hoped not. The last thing he wanted was to hurt her, but he was unsure if she would see his words as an attack rather than an expression of frustration. He understood her reasons for staying away, he just hoped she would be able to understand his reason for feeling as he did without taking it personally. Somehow he doubted it.
Rhett sat down gingerly behind her on the bed, and when his weight dipping the mattress did not rouse her, he realised she must be asleep. He pulled back the hair from her neck and tucked it behind her ear, exposing more of her face to him. His heart clenched at the sight of the tear stains on her cheeks and the handkerchief clutched in her small hand. She had been crying. He whispered her name but when she did not stir he leaned down and gently brushed his lips over her cheek bone, inhaling the soft scent of her skin and hair. Then he retreated and tucked the blanket a little tighter around her. He wanted to lie down next to her and take her in his arms and keep her safe, tell her he was sorry, never let her go, but he wasn't quiet sure how she would receive him so he decided instead to let her sleep.
He moved over to the cradle, turning his attention back to his new found daughter. The sight of her melted his heart, kindling a warm glow in his breast. She was awake and her large green eyes, so much her mother's eyes he could scarcely believe it, went to his face as it appeared above the crib. Was that a smile? Or at not quite two months was Cat still too young? No, it was definitely a smile and he grinned back at her, leaned down and scooped her up in his arms.
How could Scarlett have borne losing this beautiful little girl anymore than he would be able to stand it now? Her strong instincts to protect those that she valued most was one of the reasons he loved her.
Would he have taken the baby? Rhett didn't know, he certainly hoped not, but he admitted to himself that if circumstances had presented themselves the way she thought them to be, there was a possibility that he might. He looked back over his shoulder at Scarlett's sleeping form. He couldn't blame her, he didn't blame her for what she had done. He would have to choose his words carefully when she woke up.
--
Scarlett stirred and stretched her cramped limbs. For a brief moment all was right with the world until she remembered why she had cried herself to sleep, why her pillow was damp and why her head now ached. She felt insecure. She'd kept Rhett's child from him, forget how good her reasons for it had been. The fact remained that she would have deprived him of years of her life, wouldn't have let him know Cat even existed, until she felt safe in the knowledge that her daughter loved her and her alone, and she was in no danger of losing her to her father.
What would Cat have made of that, she wondered. Would she too have come to resent her mother for her actions, for protecting her own interests above those of anyone else. Rhett was right, she was selfish. It made her want to cry all over again.
Scarlett buried her face in the pillow and tried to maintain control of herself. She felt like drumming her heels and screaming her frustration. She hadn't had a choice, damn it! He had to see that.
She kicked the blankets off, swung her legs down and put her still booted feet on the floor. She shut her eyes tightly as her head protested the move and sighed. She wanted her mother or Mammy, even Colum to hold her and tell her all would be fine, but right now seeing her beloved baby's face would make everything seem alright.
But when she put her face over the side of the crib there was no baby, no wide green eyes searching her face, no tiny dimpled hands reaching up to her.
Scarlett willed herself to stay calm.
He wouldn't have taken her, would he? No, not after the things they had said to each other earlier. He loved her, he wasn't going to run. He'd said he was here for her, baby or what if it had all been some cruel joke? What if he had lied, lulled her into a false sense of security, then taken Cat and she was all alone?
Why had she told Mrs Fitz to take the day off. She was such a fool. Colum's words of warning rang in her head as Scarlett walked briskly down the upstairs hallway, checking each room in turn. If she started running now she might lose all control and go to pieces.
She called his name and got no response. She did it again, a little louder this time, her voice shaking slightly as desperation started to creep in. Still nothing.
She'd trusted him, let her guard down and he'd betrayed her in the worst way.
No, she was being irrational, she told herself firmly. But fear was growing at an alarming rate within her, and try as she might she could not shake it. Oh, why had she bought such a large house, with so many empty rooms?
Tears of fright found their way onto her cheeks as panic started to take hold.
--
Rhett was standing looking at the partly laid kitchen table with the baby in his arms and appeared to be having a serious conversation with her. It would have made her smile had Scarlett had her wits about her.
He turned round to see her in the doorway and smiled. "Oh good, you're awake. We were just discussing the lunch menu. I thought you'd probably be hungry, I know I am." He peered at her a little more closely as she approached, her face terribly pale in the firelight. "Scarlett?"
"Give her to me, Rhett. Give me my baby." She reach out for Cat, her strained voice shaking slightly as she spoke. She needed to feel her child in her arms.
But instead of handing Cat to her mother, he put the baby down in her carrycot, moved quickly over to Scarlett, and lead her by the arm to a chair by the fire.
"Sit," he commanded when she tried to resist him.
"But I want-"
"Later. Scarlett, you are not well." He grabbed a glass and a bottle of brandy off one of the shelves and poured. "Here, drink this." He thrust the glass into her shaking hands and helped her put it to her lips. "You look as if you're about to pass out."
Scarlett took a gulp and spluttered as the liquid burned it's way down her throat, then swiped the back of her hand across her mouth and glared at him. "Will you please stop insisting that I'm about to faint at every turn, Rhett," she bit out, although she had to admit she did feel shaky and strangely light-headed from her panic.
"Alright, then, I don't want you to have hysterics." She scowled at him but he ignored her and crouched down in front of her, looking up into her face with evident concern.
"Tell me what's the matter."
"Nothing." She suddenly felt stupid. He lifted her chin, forcing her to look at him. "I over-reacted. It's silly, really. I just thought that maybe you'd-"
Realisation dawned on his face and he dropped his gaze. "Absconded," he finished for her.
She nodded dumbly and Rhett retrieved the glass from her, placing it on the small side table next to her chair. He took her hands gently in his, rubbing his thumbs over the backs of them. "I'm sorry Scarlett, truly I should have realised how you'd react. I wasn't thinking. I shouldn't have taken her out of your room." She made no reply.
"Look at me, Scarlett," he said quietly and she met his dark eyes unwillingly. "Just because we had an argument doesn't mean I'm taking back everything I said to you this morning. I love you, that's not going to change. I'm not going anywhere. Do you believe that?" She nodded and stared down at her lap.
"I need to apologise for what I said earlier, I didn't mean to upset you."
"I'm sorry too, for making such a mess of everything. I don't know how to fix this Rhett, I can't undo what I've done."
"Shhh," he put his fingers to her lips to silence her. "There's nothing to fix, let's just put it behind us and move on. I don't want us to dwell on the past." Scarlett nodded her agreement.
"Do you have a smile for me?" he asked and she complied. "Good girl. I thought we might be in trouble there for a moment. I haven't got another handkerchief on me."
He took her face in his hands and kissed her tenderly, then moved to pick up the baby and handed her to Scarlett.
"Where were you anyhow?" she asked as she stroked Cat's cheek. "I called you."
"We were in the pantry. I'm sorry, I didn't hear you."
"What, are you going deaf in your old age?" she grumbled.
"Apparently. With incontinence and senility not far behind," he deadpanned and when she snorted he smiled back at her.
"You shouldn't joke about things like that Rhett, I'm the one who'll be nursing you in your dotage."
"Heaven forbid!" he exclaimed with mock horror. "Well not for another fifty years or so. I hope," he added after doing the math.
She arched her brows in amusement. "You planning on living to a hundred?"
"Why not?" he asked. "Your miserable old goat of a grandfather is what, 95? And Grandma made it to a century, so chances are my pet, that you're barely a third of the way there." He leaned in and kissed her cheek, "I intend to spend a very long time making you happy."
"In that case I'll have to do a good job of looking after you."
"I look forward to it with only the smallest amount of trepidation," he winked at her, then pulled back and resumed laying the table.
"Speaking of Grandfather," said Scarlett as she laid the drowsy Cat back down in her padded basket,"would you believe he offered to leave me his entire, quite considerable estate if I would stay and look after him until he died."
"Strange," mused Rhett his brows coming together in consternation, "he appeared perfectly lucid when I met him, I didn't realise the poor man was out of his mind."
"Bite your tongue!" she cried, trying to sound annoyed but could not suppress a smile. "Miss Eleanor had a crush on him when she was young you know. She told me so herself."
"Dear lord, I think I might be going deaf after all! I could have sworn you just said that my mother and your-" She threw a cushion at him and he caught it neatly and placed it against the back of her dining chair.
"You'd better behave yourself from now on or I'll put you in an infirmary and find a nice, young gentleman to keep me company," she said haughtily, emphasising the appropriate words as she fluffed up her skirts.
"What in the devil?" He ignored her comment as he grabbed a booted ankle and raised her leg, pulling her skirt up towards her knee. "Coloured petticoats while you're mourning your dearly departed husband, Scarlett?" He dropped her foot and clutched his chest in mock despair. "I'm appalled!"
"You're lucky I wore any black for you at all." She grinned at him and ran her fingers through her loose hair. "Lord, I probably look a fright!"
"Well, you do have pillow creases on your left cheek," Rhett offered.
"What?" she gasped, her hand going to her face. "Why didn't you say something?"
She got up ran to the small mirror hanging on the wall to inspect the damage and groaned at the face she saw looking back at her.
"Leave it Scarlett," he said coming up behind her as she attempted to smooth her tangled hair. "You look delightfully mussed."
"Oh, but what if someone-"
"Colum won't be back for hours yet." He took her hands in his, removing them from their preening and wrapped both of their arms around her waist, looking at her in the mirror. "I'll brush it for you later, if you like."
Her eyes met his over her shoulder and she smiled back at him, remembering how Rhett had always loved playing with her hair, remembering the feel of his hands as they caressed her. He turned her in his arms and kissed her forehead, holding her against his chest for a moment. She closed her eyes and breathed him in, feeling truly safe and content for the first time in years. It felt glorious.
"Hungry?" He asked, pulling back slightly and smiling down at her.
"I'm starving."
"Let's eat and then you can go and change out of that ghastly black and into something colourful, even if the only thing you have is your dressing gown."
She moved out of his embrace and went over to inspect the table. "This looks delicious." He pulled out a chair for her and she sat down and stuffed a piece of bread into her mouth, then began plating up some food. He watched with amusement clear on his face as she dug in.
"Are you really planning to eat all of that?"
Scarlett shrugged and swallowed her mouthful. "Why not? Colum told me Queen Victoria sits down to a twelve course meal twice a day, and that includes at least 6 puddings. He assures me it's the truth, although I'm not entirely convinced."
"Have you seen what she looks like?" he asked as Scarlett prepared to shovel another forkful into her mouth.
"You know me well enough by now to realise I can eat whatever I like, Rhett. Besides, feeding a baby is hard work. I don't know how women managed during the war with nothing to eat."
The meal brought to Scarlett's mind an unhappier time when he had cooked breakfast for her in the ruin that was Dunmore Landing. Things had been so strained between them then. Now there was a friendly, jovial atmosphere at the table, and any lulls in the conversation was not uncomfortable for either. They simply ate in companionable silence.
So," Rhett put his knife and fork together on the plate and leaned back in his chair, folding his arm across his chest, "tell me about that enormous bed of yours."
Her eyes met his and she waited a beat before answering, as if trying to decide what he meant by the question. "It's called a State bed. Mrs Fitzpatrick told me it was probably made for a visit by the viceroy."
"Is it comfortable?" He'd be sleeping there tonight, and the corners of Scarlett's mouth twitched up into a slight smile as she buttered another slice of bread.
"Perfectly, thank you," she replied, concentrating on her task as she felt the heat begin to rise in her face.
"Scarlett?" he prodded, leaning forward slightly. "Are you blushing?"
"No." She reluctantly met his gaze.
"You are too!" When she flushed even more, Rhett's dark eyes danced with mischief.
"I'm not quite sure this is appropriate dinner conversation."
"Whatever's wrong with discussing the merits of a piece of furniture?" he enquired innocently. "I'm not the one reading between the lines."
"What's your interest in my bed anyhow?" she countered. "I thought we agreed I was going to lend you a blanket and let you sleep on my kitchen floor. Unless you'd prefer the stables?"
"You can do whatever you want with me, Scarlett." Her heart skipped a beat at the double entendre. "Saved," he said, tearing his eyes from hers and glancing over his shoulder as Cat started to cry in her bassinet.
Scarlett pushed her chair back and got up to tend the baby, feeling a shiver of anticipation run down her spine as Rhett's dark eyes followed her across the room.
TBC
--
Thanks for reading. J.
(Bit of useless info: that 12 course meal bit I heard on Bargain Hunt - antiques and collectibles show - recently so I'm assuming it's true. Google was unhelpful.)