Margaret Mitchell owns "Gone With the Wind" and all its characters. I own a handful of OC's and a story idea. Book-verse. Not "Scarlett" compliant.
The next morning, Christina's fever had broken, to Marybeth's profound relief, although the baby remained cranky and irritable. After breakfast, Marybeth helped Mrs. Meade and Betsy wash the dishes and sweep up. When the house was in order, Marybeth went up to the spare room to get herself and her children ready to leave. When she came back downstairs, satchel over her elbow, Christina in one arm and Edward by the hand, she went into the parlor to say goodbye to Mrs. Meade.
Mrs. Meade looked at her in some bewilderment.
"Where do you think you're going, Mrs. Dandridge?"
"To find a job and a boardinghouse," Marybeth replied.
"Mrs. Dandridge, have you lost your mind? That baby is still sick! You can't take her out around people yet. And how do you suppose you'll find a job dragging two children in tow? Get back upstairs and unpack this minute."
"But Mrs. Meade, I have to find a job, and I don't want to impose on you any more than I already have."
"Go upstairs and unpack and I don't want to hear another word out of you about this. I make my social calls today, and I'll ask around for you. You go take care of that baby, do you understand?"
Marybeth smiled weakly and whispered, "Thank you," as she moved towards the stairs, leaving an astonished Mrs. Meade to shake her head.
"No sense. No sense at all," Mrs. Meade muttered.
And so the day went. Mrs. Meade made her round of calls and inquired among her friends for a job for Marybeth. Marybeth stayed at the Meades', caring for Christina and Edward and helping Betsy as much as she would allow her. By the end of the day, Mrs. Meade had extracted assurances from her friends that they would let her know the moment a promising situation appeared. Marybeth was grateful for Mrs. Meade's effort, but unhappy by her continued lack of employment, and was afraid of becoming a burden to them, but she didn't have too many choices, and Mrs. Meade insisted on the Dandridges staying at their house another night.
A few more days passed in this fashion. Mrs. Meade inquired among her friends and acquaintances; she had an enormous social circle, and she wanted to help poor Mrs. Dandridge find a job. To her dismay, however, she was coming up empty in every corner. She had one iron left in the fire, and it was a long shot.
Marybeth was pleased with Christina's continued recovery, and she was grateful for the charitable kindness of the Meades, but her situation, as an unpaying and essentially homeless houseguest to two strangers, was a source of anxiety for her. As much as she tried to help, Betsy didn't want her in the kitchen, and Marybeth found herself with more time on her hands than she'd had the luxury for in three years.
She took Edward out back to play when Christina slept. When they were both awake, she played with them in the house, because she wanted to keep the baby away from drafts. When they were both asleep, she rummaged through the Meades' collection of books.
She had left school when she became pregnant with Edward, but she read anything that was available in the homes she found herself in as she crossed the country. The first day she was at the Meades', she had found a copy of The Prince and the Pauper and had begged permission to read it. Permission had been granted.
She was sitting in the parlor one afternoon, dividing her attention between the book and her two playing babies when she heard a knock at the front door.
"I'll get it, Betsy," Marybeth called back to the kitchen as she hurried out of the parlor. She opened the front door to see a middle aged black man in coachman's livery supporting the arm of an elderly white lady. Little ringlets surrounded the lady's face and she stood wobbling on tiny little feet in tight shoes. Her eyes grew wide when she saw Marybeth and she put a hand over her heart.
"Oh dear--oh dear--I-wanted to see Mrs. Meade," the old lady stammered, bewildered.
"Certainly, won't you come in?"
"But--but--you're not Mrs. Meade!"
Marybeth glanced at the coachman, who nodded and made a move as if to propel the old lady forward.
"I'm Mrs. Dandridge. If you'll walk this way, I'll fetch Mrs. Meade for you." Marybeth took the old lady's arm firmly and dismissed the coachman. Being assisted by a stranger seemed to be an ordeal for the older woman, because she clutched Marybeth with a death grip as if she expected to be dropped on the floor. Marybeth allowed the old lady to set the pace, and they made their way slowly down the hall.
"You must be Mrs. Meade's house guest?"
"My name's Mrs. Dandridge, yes," Marybeth repeated. She wondered if old lady were senile. "Watch your step," she added, tightening her hold as they stepped unsurely over the threshold to the parlor. However, she was able to escort the guest to one of the comfortable chairs without further incidents.
When she was safely seated, she spoke. "I'm Miss Hamilton."
"Pleased to meet you. One moment please, while I get Mrs. Meade."
Mrs. Meade was brought to the parlor. "Good afternoon, Miss Pittypat," she said as she sat down.
Without another word, and stifling a grin at the funny name, Marybeth picked up Christina and herded Edward out the door before her and headed towards the kitchen for refreshments to take back. Betsy was up to her elbows in preparations for supper, and although she wouldn't admit it, she was glad that Marybeth was available to bring tea to the ladies.
Marybeth left the children with Betsy and brought the tea tray to the parlor.
"I'm really, terribly sorry, Mrs. Meade," the lady called 'Pittypat' was saying.
Mrs. Meade sighed, but waved Pitty off. "You tried, I know you did. Oh, thank you Mrs. Dandridge," she said as she took the tea things from Marybeth. "Don't give it another thought, Miss PIttypat. I have another idea."
Marybeth left the ladies again, and closed the parlor door behind her, then took Christina upstairs for a nap before taking Edward out back. As she tossed a ball to him to chase, she thought about her situation. She didn't want to be a burden on anyone. She wanted to pay her own way, and not be beholden to others. She decided she would talk to Mrs. Meade that very evening after the children were in bed.
"Mrs. Meade," Marybeth said to her that evening after supper when the two women were alone in the parlor, Dr. Meade having gone on a house call. "Please don't think me ungrateful, I could never begin to repay you and your husband for sheltering and feeding us and especially for making Christina well again--he told me she was well enough to go outside tomorrow--but I really mustn't presume on your charity any further. Tomorrow I'll take the children and hunt for a job. As soon as I'm making money, I'll repay you and the doctor for all your kindness to us, I promise."
Mrs. Meade, put on the spot in that fashion, merely nodded her assent, but that night she discussed the matter with her husband as they were climbing into bed.
"So, what do you want to do, Mrs. Meade?"
"I want us to hire Mrs. Dandridge."
This did not surprise Dr. Meade. He had seen the way his wife had perked up with the little children around. She was more animated than he had seen her in quite a long time. And, Dr. Meade admitted to himself, he enjoyed the children himself. Edward was a funny little lad, and Christina was getting along nicely since the medicine was working. But still, he had to make some token objection.
"What happened to her looking for work?"
"I looked for her--you know she couldn't go out with the little sick baby. Pittypat was my last hope--she thought one of her Burr cousins might have needed a maid, but she called on me today--it seems they didn't need a girl after all."
"What if Betsy doesn't get along with her? You know how Betsy rules the kitchen."
"Dr. Meade! Am I or am I not the lady of the house? I think I can handle Betsy and Mrs. Dandridge. Besides, Betsy isn't getting any younger. It will be good for her to have someone young and strong to help her do the heavy work. "
"Then let's try her out, Mrs. Meade."
The next morning, the Meades offered Marybeth a job as their maid, with room and board included. Marybeth accepted, Christina was fully recovered, and that was how the Dandridge family established themselves in Atlanta.