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.

Thank you, everybody who reviewed, you wonderful people!!! I can't say how much it means to get feedback. Don't be shy about reviewing for this chapter, either. And now, back to the story…

Ella Lorena Kennedy had a well-deserved reputation for being giddy. She possessed an endless appetite for fun, was only a passable student during her school days, and couldn't care less about books and art and culture and other subjects of that ilk. Any time the conversation around her turned serious, it was quite obvious from her face that her mind was wandering--she didn't make any effort try to follow the subject at hand or even to pretend to. Nonetheless she was well liked among her own set--too frivolous to be taken seriously, but a lively girl who made friends easily.

Her fun-loving nature drew people to her and her light-mindedness made her indiscriminate in the choices of friends she made. If Ella met a person who was lively and entertaining, particularly if they made her laugh, she would reach out the hand of friendship. And while most of her friends came from her own class, she was equally at ease among the black servants, especially the girls near her own age, and among the poor whites who lived near Tara, for Clayton county had seen an increase in poor families in the years since the War. But she drew the line at trash, either white or black. A person mightn't help being poor, Ella reasoned, (and hadn't her own family emerged from poverty?) but they didn't have to be crude or vulgar. And she had no use for nasty, mean-spirited people, either.

Her flighty ways masked a certain awareness about social matters. She had memories--dim, half forgotten memories from her earliest years--memories of glittering, overly dressed women, loud overbearing men, raucous parties at her mother and stepfather's mansion where every light in the house would be blazing and the orchestra played until three, four, or five o'clock in the morning. And there was something else with these memories; the half-forgotten sense that the Rhett Butler family in those days was not quite respectable, and certainly not socially admissible. At least, not among the people who received them now.

She dimly remembered names like "Gelert", "Hundon", and "Bart"; remembered playing with children who had these names. But they were gone now. Where they went Ella didn't know. Her friends now included people like the Whitings, the Simmons, the Picards. And somehow she understood that her new friends were of much better quality than the ones of her earliest childhood. And somehow she understood that the difference had nothing to do with monetary wealth.

Ella had thoroughly enjoyed twitting Marybeth Dandridge at Sewing Circle. She suspected that under the other girl's quiet demeanor there was somebody who could appreciate a good joke. After all, hadn't Ella gotten a laugh out of her? That Mrs. Dandridge was a hired girl and therefore not of Ella's class meant little to her. And besides, with Jenny out of town and Virgie having to entertain company tonight and Albert Whiting having to work too late this evening to call on her...

It was two days after Sewing Circle. Marybeth was sitting on a blanket in the back yard after supper, watching Edward run around the yard while Christina tried her hardest to pull up to a standing position using her mother's arm for support. Her little legs weren't quite strong enough to hold her for long and her balance was worse, so Marybeth had to catch her before she'd fall down. But Christina thought it was great fun and she squealed with laughter over her game of "stand up-sit down" and Marybeth sang to her:

"It rained all night the day I left

The weather it was dry

The sun so hot I froze to death

Susanna don't you cry..."

Marybeth stopped singing when she heard the back door open and turned her head in time to hear Betsy call, "Miss Kennedy to see you."

Heaving herself to her feet and settling Christina on her hip, she went to meet Ella Kennedy, who had stopped at the bottom step, hand outstretched, surveying the scene in front of her.

"Oh, Mrs. Dandridge, are these your children? Oh, they're sweet!" Ella said, taking Marybeth's hand. Marybeth looked at her admiringly. She looked like she just stepped out of a bandbox. Surely she hadn't dressed up so fancy just to visit her.

"Thank you Miss Kennedy. Your dress is simply lovely."

"It is, isn't it?" Ella answered candidly. "Thank you for the compliment. But I just love pretty clothes." Then, thinking that maybe it wasn't nice to brag about her outfit when Marybeth was dressed in a plain work dress, she rushed on with her conversation. "I wanted to come and see you again. But first, can't we just call each other 'Ella' and 'Marybeth'? You don't mind, do you? It would sure be a lot simpler, you know."

Marybeth nodded and offered her a chair.

"Well thank you," Ella said and started to sit down but stopped halfway to the seat. "Look, a ball! Would you mind if I threw it to--um--" she lowered her voice to a whisper, "What's your son's name?"

"Edward. And no, I don't mind at all. Come here, Baby!" Marybeth called to her son. He came running over and Ella tossed the ball for him to catch. It landed wide and he ran for it, laughing.

"I'm glad we got the whole matter of our names out of the way, Marybeth. I really liked meeting you at Circle. We had fun, didn't we?"

"Well..." Marybeth paused, but she was grinning.

Edward came running up with the ball and Ella tossed it again.

"Are you upset about Mother scolding us? Don't give it a second thought. All the old cats--I mean the older ladies--get mad when we try to hold a simple conversation. Jenny and Virgie and I get in trouble all the time. You'd think they never gossip among themselves at all. But don't you be fooled. They know everything that goes on in this town, and if you keep your ears open you'll learn all the juicy gossip and family stories."

"But I thought they all seemed quite charming," Marybeth protested.

"Oh, they are, really they are. But you know what happens when a whole group of ladies meets regularly. You passed inspection, by the way." Ella was grinning at Edward, holding the ball over his head and making him jump for it. Edward was laughing with delight.

"What?" Marybeth said, startled.

"Nobody could find fault with you. I know because I kept my ears open. I mean everybody was curious because of that whole thing that happened at the store last week, but nobody could find fault with you at Circle."

"Well, I never..." Marybeth stammered, torn between annoyance and relief.

Ella clasped her hands together. "Oh, Marybeth, that was tactless of me, wasn't it? I'm so sorry. Please don't be mad--sometimes I talk before I think--actually, lots of times I talk before I think. Everybody tells me so. You're not angry, are you?"

Marybeth looked at Ella and saw contrition and sincerity in her face.

"No, I'm not angry," Marybeth said gently.

"Whew, I'm so glad. I think we'd make good friends, once we get to know each other. And wait until you meet Jenny Whiting. She's my best friend. But she's gone for a couple weeks with her family on vacation. She'll want to meet you, too. So what's the baby's name?" Ella asked as she tossed the ball back to the little boy and held out her hands to take her.

Marybeth carefully handed her to Ella. "Christina."

"That's a lovely name. Oh, don't worry; I've held babies before. Our maid, Prissy, has a baby. Well, not really a baby, not anymore. Let me think. Is Edward two years old?"

Marybeth nodded.

"I thought so. Lanie is two and she looks about as big as he is and I carry her around all the time. So what was I saying? Oh yes--anyway, we live in that big mansion on Peachtree Street. Mother says the style is Swiss Chalet, and she had it built, so I guess she ought to know. My stepfather goes away on business a lot and my big brother is in Europe on his Grand Tour for another three weeks so it's just Mother and me in the house right now. Sometimes it gets lonely just the two of us, but Jenny and I have lots of friends and we always think of something diverting to do. Did I tell you that Jenny's cousin Albert has been calling on me?"

"No, I don't think you did," said Marybeth, starting to get rather dizzy.

"Well, he has," Ella said with a sly wink. "He's a wonderful beau, very romantic. Sends me flowers and letters and he dances divinely. Of course it's not too serious. He hasn't actually told me he loves me."

"I see," Marybeth said, vaguely.

"So, what about your people?" Ella asked abruptly.

Marybeth looked strained. "Not much to tell. Just Joe and I and we really didn't have much family," she mumbled.

"Land sakes, was I tactless again? I'm so sorry."

Marybeth waved off her apology with a shake of her head.

"It's getting late," Ella said, handing Christina back to Marybeth. "I'm so glad we got this chance to really talk."

Marybeth smiled, amused. Ella had really done most of the talking.

"I'd like to come visit again," Ella continued. "Or you can come visit me. We have the only Swiss Chalet on Peachtree Street," she grinned mockingly and Marybeth couldn't help laughing, even as she shook her head in reproof. "Next time I'll bring Edward a sucker from Mother's store. Farewell!" Ella gave Marybeth an airy wave as she trotted up the steps and disappeared through the door.

Marybeth had just sat back down with the baby on her lap when the door swung open again and it was Ella.

"Marybeth, come quick! There's somebody I want you to meet."

Marybeth gathered Edward and headed into the house as Ella stood in the doorway beckoning. Leading Marybeth into the parlor, Ella presented her to a prim, stern-looking middle-aged lady who was calling on Mrs. Meade.

"Aunt India, this is Marybeth Dandridge, an acquaintance of mine," Ella said in her dignified voice.

Marybeth thought Ella was forgetting that this wasn't even her house, but Mrs. Meade only seemed amused--as if she were well used to Ella's ways.

"Aunt India" greeted Marybeth cordially if not warmly but Ella was already inching towards the door. Marybeth walked her out.

"She's not really my aunt, you know," said Ella as they stood on the front porch. "She's...my brother's...father's...Oh you see, Mother was married three times. First to my brother's father, second to mine. That's why we have different last names. Where was I?"

Marybeth shook her head helplessly.

Ella put her finger to her mouth, then, "Now I remember. Aunt India is my brother's father's cousin. There--I got it right!"

Marybeth nodded politely, waved Ella goodbye and was absolutely convinced that never in her life would she be able to remember all that.

Later that night after she'd put Christina down, Marybeth sat with Edward in her lap and told him a fairy story. Now that he was two he rarely wanted to sit on her lap anymore--he wanted to run around, play, and get into mischief. But late at night when he was tired and ready for sleep, he would climb into Mama's lap and let her cuddle him and be her little baby again.

She rested her cheek against his curls, telling the story of Jack the Giant Slayer complete with different voices. She never held him without feeling a maternal thrill go through her and a deep thankfulness that she had him, safe and healthy.

The farmer's wife who took her in before Edward was born taught Marybeth how to collect eggs, milk cows and care for children--for they were a large and growing family, and all the children were under the age of 12. This was a new experience for Marybeth; her father, Sean Patrick Brodie, was a moderately prosperous banker and she had grown up "in town". But she learned quickly and was fairly contented with her situation. From eating regular wholesome meals again she gained weight and lost the thinness in her face and arms. And while she was busy, the weeks passed quickly.

Then tragedy struck.

Marybeth was eight months along when the oldest son of the house was killed in a hunting accident while he was out his father. Wild with grief and remorse, the father turned to hard liquor for relief. He had always been pleasant enough sober, but he turned ugly when drunk, throwing things, making cruel or coarse remarks, rampaging and threatening. Marybeth learned to keep herself and the children out of his way when he behaved like that.

When her time came, she was attended by the farmer's wife and a neighbor lady who had a reputation as a skilled midwife. Labor was long and difficult, but at the end of it all Edward was born healthy and Marybeth hadn't lost too much blood.

She recovered quickly and tried to help the kind wife who had helped her so much and who now had a drunken husband to try to placate. But his drinking only worsened and then came the night when Marybeth had to take all the children out to the barn--she huddled there with the little ones, Edward clutched in her arms as the farmer broke every dish in the house. If he also proceeded hit his wife, Marybeth never knew. But that night she made a decision and told the wife the next morning--no longer could she continue to allow Edward to be raised in such an atmosphere of violence. No longer would she work for this family. The wife cried and patted Marybeth and wished her all the best. But she didn't ask her to stay. Edward was six weeks old at this time...

A/N: The hit count is still high—yipee! Comments and reviews are sooo welcome.