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.
I'm simply overwhelmed by all the reviews I've been getting lately. Thank you, thank you.
Marybeth was working alone at the table in Dr. Meade's study. He was out on some business, Miss James was at a patient's home, Mrs. Meade was making a social call, and Betsy was working and singing in the kitchen. Marybeth could hear snatches of song, but she tried to ignore it and not hum along because she was trying to concentrate on the task at hand.
The study door opened and Dr. Meade came in looking excited.
"Where's Mrs. Meade?"
"She went to bring chicken soup to Mrs. Whiting--you know how she's been down with bronchitis. She'll be there all afternoon..."
"Yes, yes, I remember," he said impatiently. Marybeth thought he looked ready to burst as he paced his office. "I do remember now. But confound it, I wanted to show her..." He stopped and looked at Marybeth. "What are you doing right now, Dandridge?"
"The records. At least until the babies wake up from their naps."
"How long until they wake up?"
"Any time now," she shrugged.
"Then I'll show you." His eyes twinkled. "I have to show it to somebody. Get those children dressed warmly and we'll take a drive."
They pulled up to an office Marybeth hadn't seen before and he helped her out. She settled Christina on her hip and herded Edward in front of her as Dr. Meade opened the front door with a key.
They walked in to see an utterly empty but spacious front room. There were built-in cabinets along one side wall and two doors in the back wall.
"This is it, Dandridge, my new office," Dr. Meade said proudly.
Edward ran around the room exploring the cabinets and Christina wriggled to get down. Marybeth put her gently on her feet and held her hands so she could toddle. "When did you get this?" She asked.
"Just signed the lease this morning." He proceeded to show her around the suite of rooms and they made their slow way. "There are two exam rooms, a large office. You saw the waiting room..." He explained as Marybeth murmured the appropriate comments.
"Do you notice anything different about this place?"
Marybeth thought, but nothing came to mind. She shook her head.
"It's almost twice as big!"
She turned to look at him, surprised. "Are you planning to take more patients?"
He laughed at the look on her face, then peered at her narrowly. "Dandridge, just how old do you think I am?"
Marybeth was stuck. To her, anybody over thirty seemed quite old, but she didn't want to hurt his feelings. She looked away with a sheepish grin and he broke in, laughing, "Never mind, it's clear from your face. I'll tell you. I'm 73. And yes, I'm too old to be taking new patients all by myself. But doctoring is all I know. Besides, Mrs. Meade doesn't really want me to retire. She thinks I'd be underfoot at home all day and she's probably right. No, I'll let you in on a little secret known only to Mrs. Meade and myself; I'm going to take a partner."
"Really! Have you picked one already?"
"First things first, young lady. I need to set up this office before I start looking. Besides, none of doctors I know want to combine practices. But I'm in no hurry. Not yet, anyway." He started moving them towards the door. "With a younger doctor as a partner I hope I can take it a little easier. Seventy-three has a way of catching up with one."
"You're not sick are you?" Asked Marybeth, concerned.
"Not at all," he said as they climbed back into the carriage. "Just the normal aches and pains. But don't you think I deserve a rest after all these years?"
Marybeth nodded, smiling at him. She realized she liked it when he talked to her like this. Even though she'd met him first before she met Mrs. Meade, she rarely had an opportunity for conversation with him beyond everyday pleasantries. Mrs. Meade was the one she discussed important things with. But she found she liked talking to Dr. Meade, too.
oOoOoOo
The Butlers had a maid named Prissy. She had been with the family ever since her days as a house slave before the War. After the War and after she had been freed, she stayed with her family, the O'Haras, the way Betsy had chosen to do with the Meades.
Prissy had been a young girl at the beginning of the War, but had grown into maturity and several years after the conflict ended, fell in love with and married a fellow former slave, a field hand who went by the name of Big Sam.
She had been living at Tara in those days, with Scarlett's sister, Suellen, and her husband, Will. Big Sam had spent a brief sojourn up North after the War but in the days of Reconstruction went back to work at Tara. Although they'd known of each other during their slave days, by working alongside each other they struck up an acquaintance that turned into friendship that blossomed into romance.
Prissy's mother, Dilcey, had been violently opposed to the affair. Big Sam was perfectly nice and honest, and he was fond of Prissy, but after all, he had been only a field hand, and was simply not good enough to court her daughter. Dilcey's husband, Pork, who had also come out of the house slave class, but lacked his wife's intense prejudices, tried to point out rather delicately, that with Prissy's lack of mental endowments, maybe they should overlook Big Sam's social status in the interest of getting Prissy married and taken care of. Nobody was more aware of Prissy's shortcomings than her mother, but to have it pointed out by Pork was more than Dilcey could bear, and it started one of the few real quarrels that had ever marred Pork and Dilcey's married life. It lasted three days, complete with hollering, sulking and door slamming, but in the end, Prissy and Sam got their own way. They were duly married, but Dilcey never forgot Big Sam's social class, and never let him forget it, either.
Among their children, Prissy and Big Sam had a daughter, a little girl of two, named Lanie. And it was Lanie who was Edward's first playmate.
Marybeth brought her children with her when she went to visit Ella, and Prissy was only too glad to have Edward and Lanie play together because she was able to work with fewer interruptions while the children entertained each other. Lanie was fascinated by Christina--it was so rare that she saw anybody littler than herself that Lanie thought it was a treat to have the fledgling toddler around.
Marybeth went up to visit Ella one afternoon, and after depositing the babies with Prissy she crossed the foyer to the staircase, but was surprised to see Mrs. Butler in the parlor. Ella had told her she spent most of her afternoons looking after her store. Marybeth went to greet Ella's mother and was surprised again to see her trying to train a rambunctious Labrador puppy.
"Good afternoon, Mrs. Butler," Marybeth said politely then grinned, pointing at the dog. "She's adorable."
Mrs. Butler snorted and shook her head. "She's a he and he's not so adorable when he doesn't listen."
"Aw, but he's just a baby."
"You can have him if you want him."
"No," Marybeth said, shaking her head and taking a step back. "I don't think Mrs. Meade would like it."
"I was only joking, Marybeth. Go on upstairs. Ella's in her room."
Marybeth headed upstairs. As she reached the landing she could hear Mrs. Butler calling for Pork to come take the dog somewhere...anywhere.
Marybeth joined Ella and Jenny in Ella's room to find them laughing themselves silly. Ella saw her, and between gasps of laughter beckoned her in. "Sit down Marybeth. I'm trying to explain to Jenny the proper way to flutter one's eyes at a gentleman."
"But Ella, I tell you, you're wrong--that's not how it goes," retorted Jenny giggling.
"It is so. You hold your fan like this--and bat your eyelashes like this--and they come running."
"How you do run on. You have to tip your head like this--and look at them with come-hither eyes--like this--and you'll have 10 beaux trailing after you."
Marybeth sat down on the bed, shaking her head at her friends' banter. She was very fond of them both, but if Ella ever thought about anything else besides romance, Marybeth never knew. Jenny was more levelheaded and sensible; Marybeth realized this from the conversations she'd had with her alone. But Ella could be really silly sometimes, and she always managed to make Jenny act silly, too.
"Then if you don't believe me, let's get another opinion," said Ella. "Marybeth, how did you entice your husband?"
Marybeth jumped a little, and Jenny flashed a look at Ella, censuring her for her insensitiveness.
"I'm sorry, Marybeth. Let's change the subject."
"Forget about it," she replied, unconsciously rubbing her ring with her thumb. She frowned, but she was thinking about William. She never chased him. He approached her, pursued her, did all the chasing. It was her choice to accept or refuse him.
The other girls had continued their conversation.
"It's better if he chases you," Jenny was saying, almost echoing Marybeth's train of thought.
"Yes, but maybe he needs a little push to start the chasing. Sometimes men don't realize that they really want to be your beau, and you need to give them a reason."
"Which is what I was saying to begin with. You take your fan like this..."
Marybeth leaned back against the bedpost and let the two other girls talk. She was only half listening, daydreaming a little about William, when suddenly she was aware that the girls had stopped talking. They were looking towards the doorway, and Marybeth looked too.
Mrs. Butler was standing there, looking at the girls with a look of mild amusement. Then with an impatient sigh, she strode across the room, snatched the fan from Ella's hand and shaking her head said, "You younger generation are abominably ignorant. This is how it's done. Half open; that means friendship. Twirl it with the right hand; that means 'I am watching you'. Fan it quickly means you're independent--but get too independent, and boys will probably leave you alone. Opening and shutting the fan means you want to be kissed--but I'm only telling you this so you won't do it by mistake and entice some young man to take a liberty with you," she added severely as the girls all grinned.
"So, Mrs. Butler, holding in the right hand means you're watching him?" asked Jenny.
"Not just holding it; twirling it in the right hand. If you hold it in front of your face with your right hand, it means 'come on'."
"Then, mother? What is the right way to look at a man? Like this?" Ella demonstrated the face she insisted was right. "Or this?" She made a burlesque of Jenny's version that made Jenny pinch Ella, squealing.
Mrs. Butler's lips twitched. "Men like to be admired, Ella. They want to feel like they are the strongest, most masterful, most masculine creature God ever created. I found that a look like this--" she demonstrated, "--accomplishes that."
Marybeth was impressed. Mrs. Butler really did look convincing. Most men would be foolish enough to fall for it.
"Then what about playing hard-to-get? My grandmother thinks it's a lot of nonsense, but my mother is true believer in it," said Jenny, warming up to the topic.
"They're both right. On the one hand, you never want your beau to think you were too easily won--that you were easy pickings. Men do like to do some chasing." Then Mrs. Butler paused. "But if you really love him, be sure you let him catch you at some point. Good day, girls."
Marybeth watched as Ella's mother left the room, leaving the fan with her daughter. She seemed a little pensive, a little dejected. Marybeth guessed it had something to do with Captain Butler. Marybeth still hadn't met him, but she was sure he was a varmint, even though Ella had only ever said nice things about him. But it still proved Marybeth's theory that if a girl loved a man too much that gave him the power to hurt her.
"Of course, we'll have to try all that out. We have to see if Mother's correct," said Ella.
Jenny and Marybeth giggled, rolling their eyes.
"Oh, I know," continued Ella. "Let's make it a contest. A flirting contest. It'll be fun!"
"What do you mean, a flirting contest?" Asked Jenny, warily.
"To see who's best at it. You want to?"
"Just wait a minute here. Who's going to be the judge?" Pressed Jenny.
Ella tapped the fan against her knee, thinking. "I know. We're all going to the dance next week, right? We'll try all these tricks out and see who gets asked to dance first. And we'll see who gets her dance card filled first. How about it?"
Jenny laughed and agreed.
"Marybeth?"
Marybeth shook her head, no.
"Please, please, please, Marybeth, it'll be fun. We'll see if Mother's methods work. Please?"
"I'd really rather not."
"She'd really rather not, Ella. You should leave her alone."
Ella got up and sat on the bed next to Marybeth. "You're not mad at me, are you? I don't want you to be mad." She slipped an arm around Marybeth. "But you're not really in mourning anymore, are you? I mean, you never wear black and you did dance at our last party."
"Ella!" cried a shocked Jenny.
"But it's true," Ella argued. "Please don't be mad at me, Marybeth, I don't want to hurt your feelings. I just think this'll be fun. But if you don't want to do this thing, I understand."
Marybeth looked at Ella with troubled eyes. She was right--Marybeth wasn't in mourning. She just didn't want to trap any beaux. Her life was much simpler without any and she didn't want any complications. She didn't know why, but somehow men always meant complications. "I'm not mad, Ella. I just don't want to. But I thank you for asking."
"Then you can be the judge--if there are any disputes between Jenny and me. All right?"
Marybeth agreed to be judge. But she left the mansion in a pensive, troubled mood. She was quiet at supper and didn't have much to say to Mrs. Meade as they read in the parlor that evening.
In bed that night she tossed and turned and stared up at the ceiling in her bedroom, thinking about the afternoon she had spent with her friends. She liked having girl friends again, girlfriends her own age she could talk to and giggle with. But when they started giggling about men, she felt the same old sensation of being left out that she'd had all her life.
She was a late bloomer, a tomboy who was still only interested in boys as friends long after all her girlfriends had started taking notice. Even now she still didn't have a repertoire of feminine wiles to draw on. She never thought she needed to develop wiles. But now William seemed so long ago, and Marybeth couldn't help feeling a twinge of jealousy as she listened to Ella and Jenny giggle about beaux. She felt left out--she didn't care about courting but the feeling of being different from her friends disturbed her.
Besides, she seemed to have bad luck where men were concerned and she didn't understand why. She knew girls who were forward and fast and boy-crazy and merely seemed to have fun. But for some reason Marybeth couldn't entirely fathom, twice already in her life she found herself in situations that spun quickly out of her control. She wasn't about to let it happen a third time.
However, she was older now and wiser. She should be able to recognize an out-of-control situation while she could still walk away from it. And she didn't want to be different from her friends...It was a lot to think about and it took her a long time to fall asleep.
She arrived at the party a few days later still mulling over Ella's flirting contest. It hadn't been far from her thoughts in the last several days and she tried to make sense out of everything. As she walked down the corridor to the guest room to remove her wrap, she saw Joe Whiting heading towards her. Jenny must be here, then. Marybeth came to a decision.
She walked up to Joe, favored him with a shy smile and asked him where Jenny was.
"She's probably still in the guest room checking her hair," he replied, looking at her curiously.
"Thank you," she said, and smiled at him again before she looked down, but not before she saw a sudden interest in his eyes. She was surprised. Flirting wasn't so difficult. It really wasn't that difficult at all.
Marybeth entered the guest room just as Ella and Jenny were leaving. She pulled them aside. "I want to do the bet too, girls," she said.
Ella took her hands, grinning wickedly. "You're going to try flirting?"
Marybeth nodded, grinning back at her.
"Why did you change your mind?" Asked Jenny.
"That's not important. It just sounds like fun, that's all. No, no. Go on ahead. I'll join you shortly," she said as Ella and Jenny made as if to wait for her.
Marybeth checked her appearance and took a deep breath of determination. She wasn't sure how this night was going to go, but she was looking forward to it. She was still buoyed up by her little success with Joe as she walked back down the corridor towards the main ballroom. She slowed when she was almost to the foyer. Wade and Beau were standing there in conversation. As she watched, Beau walked into the ballroom but Wade stayed behind and was standing alone, looking through the door. Wade heard her and turned. Gathering her determination, she approached him with her hand outstretched and gave him a friendly smile. "How nice to see you here tonight Mr. Hamilton."
Startled, he took her hand and stammered a greeting.
She tossed her head and gazed into his eyes. "The ballroom is decorated beautifully don't you think?"
He blushed and looked away but mumbled, "Quite-quite lovely."
With a sense of unease she realized that something was going awry. Joe had returned her smile, but Wade seemed afraid of her. Unwilling to give up just yet, she tried again. "We're seated near each other at dinner. I'll look forward to a chance to talk to you later."
He nodded, still avoiding her eyes, "Yes, indeed."
Was she doing something wrong? Was there something wrong with her appearance? Was she acting so forward he just was looking for a chance to get away from her? With a sudden knot in her stomach she wanted to get away. Something had gone wrong and now he didn't even want to talk to her. She had somehow humiliated herself and now she wanted to flee.
Pulling her hand out of his, she said, "I--must go--smooth down my hair--good evening." And she turned and fled down the hall as fast as she could without making a scene.
Left alone, Wade wanted to kick himself. You see? That's why girls rarely give you a second chance. That's why girls usually wind up treating you like a brother. She won't try you again. She'll find somebody else who will repay her efforts with chivalrous gallantries.
She had taken him entirely by surprise. It was well known that Marybeth Dandridge never flirted. Everybody knew she was cold and aloof. And yet...she took his hand and smiled into his eyes--smiled! She had a lovely smile. It transformed her whole face, made her quite pretty. And her voice, a little breathless and expectant. He didn't know she was breathless from nervousness but even if he had it wouldn't have mattered. The combination of smile and voice had overwhelmed him and he was unable to respond to her. And now he couldn't push away a sense of disappointment. Even if she weren't Elsie, he wouldn't mind a second chance...
Marybeth fled to the guest room to collect herself. Her first real attempt at flirting and it failed miserably. What must he think of her! Why oh why did she ever think flirting was easy... yet Ella and Jenny did it and even liked it. She looked at herself in the mirror and shook her head at her own reflection. Why did she ever agree to be in Ella's stupid contest? Out in the hallway she heard Elsie Wellburn's tittering laugh.
Elsie! There was another one who liked flirting. How she would laugh if she knew about her attempt to flirt with Wade Hamilton. Anger and dislike surged up in Marybeth. She straightened herself in front of the mirror and checked her dance card. Still empty. She heard Elsie approaching in the hall and lifted her chin, carefully arranging her face in pleasant lines. All of a sudden it wasn't a fun contest among her friends anymore. She thought resentfully that if Elsie could be such a skillful flirt, she could learn to be one, too. She whirled around and with a real determination marched out the door and passed Elsie, standing in the hall talking to a girl Marybeth didn't recognize.
"Miss Wellburn," Marybeth mumbled and waved but didn't stop to exchange barbs.
"Well, how rude," Elsie whispered to her friend. "You see? That's exactly what I'm talking about..."
The friend nodded sympathetically.
In her headlong rush to the ballroom Marybeth literally ran into Beau Wilkes, who had to grab her arms to keep her from falling.
"Oh, Beau, excuse me," said Marybeth, embarrassed, but she couldn't help laughing a little at herself.
"Are you alright?"
"Oh, of course, I'm afraid that was a bit clumsy of me," yet she smiled, looking appealingly into his eyes through her lashes.
Beau looked surprised, but gave her a friendly smile and said something conventional and polite to put her at ease. She said a few pleasantries back to him. Beau was easy to talk to, even if their conversation was rather banal and meaningless. This was so different from when she tried to flirt with Wade. It boosted her confidence and he was the first person on her dance card. She felt her morale rising.
Shyly, haltingly at first, then with mounting assurance, she made her way through the room to Ella and Jenny, pausing here and there to smile or exchange greetings or flirt. Ella raised an eyebrow at her when Marybeth joined them and Marybeth winked and tapped her dance card. Ella smiled her approval.
When they sat down to supper Marybeth remembered with dismay she was seated close enough to Wade for conversation. She was still embarrassed about earlier, but she'd had some successes since then and it wasn't as painful as it could have been. Just the same, she skillfully avoided talking to him. He glanced at her searchingly a few times, but wouldn't have been able to get in a word edgewise even if he'd had anything to say.
As she danced with Beau and Frankie Bonnell and Joe Whiting and the others on her dance card, she was aware of Wade's occasional sidelong glances and it upset her. She was embarrassed that her attempt to flirt with him went so badly. And she blamed herself. She shouldn't have tried to flirt with somebody who so obviously was devoted to someone else, unrequited or not. In the future she would remember that. But for now she wanted to forget the whole incident and wished fervently he would stop looking at her. She felt silly and foolish and she was sure he thought she was silly and foolish, too.
Wade hadn't forgotten the incident in the foyer and he was giving her sidelong glances. After all, how often did girls like Marybeth try to flirt with him? The conversation swirling around Elsie was boring him and his mind started to wander. Marybeth wasn't unattractive by any comparison. But when she smiled her whole face changed, came alive. It took him a long time to gather his courage, but finally, towards the end of the evening when Elsie was dancing with someone else and he was comparatively alone, Wade approached Marybeth and ask her to dance. She nodded curtly, avoiding his eyes, and allowed him to lead her to the floor. Her body felt stiff in his arms and she seemed to have nothing to say to him.
The fact was, she didn't have anything to say to him and she had no idea why he even asked her for a dance. She suffered him to lead her around the floor, but she looked forward with longing to when the song would be over and she could make her escape.
He didn't know what to say to her, either, now that he had her to himself. What had been an object for abstract speculation as he watched her across the room--the question of what might have happened if he responded to her differently when they first met tonight--now took on more immediacy as he danced her across the floor, with one arm lightly around her, her other hand in his. He could just detect the faintest hint of lilac on her and he wished she would relax and stop being so stiff. Their first meeting tonight had gone very wrong and it was his own fault and he wished he could change that, but he didn't know what to say. He wondered suddenly what she would do if he pulled her closer, but he was sure he already knew. She'd probably slap him...
oOoOoOo
Mrs. Meade was waiting up when Marybeth arrived home. She smiled at Mrs. Meade as she sat down heavily with a rustle of taffeta in one of the chairs. Then she sighed.
"Didn't you have a good time at the party?"
"Yes, I did. Well, sort of..." she frowned and put her chin in her hand. "Mrs. Meade, I think there must be something wrong with me."
Mrs. Meade fought a desire to laugh. "How did you arrive at that conclusion, dear?"
Another sigh. "At the party, I flirted, just like all the other girls, but there was something not right...somehow it wasn't how I thought it would be--flirting, I mean."
Suddenly Mrs. Meade didn't feel like laughing anymore. "Are you sparking somebody?" She asked quietly.
Marybeth shook her head no.
After a pause, Mrs. Meade asked, "Have you come to care about one of the young men?"
"No," answered Marybeth absently, then looked at Mrs. Meade's face. "Truly, I haven't." She couldn't help laughing a little before patting the older lady's hand. "Mrs. Meade, don't you think I would have told you if I did?"
"I guess I never thought about it, really."
"I promise you any courting I do will be done publicly and not in secret. All right?"
Mrs. Meade looked into Marybeth's earnest face and relaxed a little although she hadn't realized she felt tense.
"Not that I have any intention of courting at all," the girl added with a little frown.
Mrs. Meade looked at her narrowly. This was the first time Marybeth had ever brought up the subject, but Mrs. Meade had a feeling she didn't want to talk about it too much.
But all the same, she couldn't resist asking, "If you aren't interested in courting, then why were you flirting?"
Marybeth put her feet up on the ottoman and wrapped her arms around her knees, ignoring the discomfort of her stays digging into her lower abdomen. This had been her favorite position to sit when she was a little girl and she still liked to do it, even though ladies' fashions tended to impede her.
She tipped her head to one side, thinking. "Well, all the other girls do it and they seem to like it. I wanted to do what they were doing."
"But Marybeth, you know it can't be for you exactly the way it is for them. You have children and other responsibilities they don't have. You've done things and had experiences they haven't."
Marybeth nodded, still frowning. "Mm-hmm."
"If you don't want to court and there's nobody who catches your eye, maybe that's why you didn't enjoy it. If there were some boy you cared about, you might find flirting fun."
"I didn't say it wasn't fun. It was fun, some of it. You know, I liked it when Joe Whiting smiled back at me and I had barely greeted him. And I never was asked to dance so many times in my life. See?" She handed her dance card to Mrs. Meade, who studied it. She recognized all the names. Nice young men that she could approve of.
Mrs. Meade looked shrewdly at Marybeth. "So what you're saying is, you liked the attention. It's a feeling of power to catch and hold a man's attention."
Marybeth's head reared back, but she couldn't help laughing. "Yes, I suppose so. But it sounds so awful when you put it like that. I don't want power. I just wanted to be like my friends."
"But was it fun?"
"Some of it was, but it wasn't as much fun as I thought."
Mrs. Meade handed the dance card to Marybeth and sat back into her chair, eyebrow raised, and waited for the girl to talk again. And she did.
"Then why is it that some girls seem to thrive on flirting even though they don't really care about the men they flirt with? Like Elsie Wellburn, for instance."
Mrs. Meade felt trapped. Mrs. Elsing and Fanny were her good friends, but Marybeth was her responsibility. Despite feeling disloyal to the Elsings, she plunged in. "Elsie is an incorrigible flirt. She's been that way forever. She'll probably be like that forever. But you're not the same type of person she is. I don't think you have it in you to be an empty-headed flirt." Then, feeling rather helpless, she blurted out. "How did all this start, anyway? Why did you want to start flirting all of a sudden?"
Marybeth laughed shortly. "I guess it all started the last time I was at Ella's. Mrs. Butler was telling us about how to make a man pay attention to you and I started thinking..." Marybeth closely at Mrs. Meade. She seemed displeased.
"Mrs. Meade, I'm sorry. Are you angry with me?"
"No, Marybeth. I'm not angry with you at all. But Mrs. Butler was much the same type as Elsie when she was young. So be careful of any advice she gives you."
Marybeth stood up then. She was tired and her feet hurt. "I think I'll go up now."
"Do. I'm waiting for the Doctor."
When the Meades were alone that night, Mrs. Meade related the conversation she'd had with Marybeth. Her husband was silent for awhile.
"Dandridge is flirting? I'm surprised. I didn't think she was taking notice."
"I know one thing, Doctor. I'm not pleased at her taking advice from Scarlett Butler."
"It sounded harmless to me."
"Doctor! I'm surprised at you. I never thought you approved of Scarlett."
"I don't. But somehow I doubt she will become contaminated by contact with her, either. Little Ella Kennedy is a perfectly sweet girl and Scarlett raised her. And Dandridge has a good head on her shoulders."
"Yes, but she doesn't always use it. We've both seen her act without thinking first."
"Just the same, I wouldn't worry about her associating with Scarlett..." Dr. Meade trailed off, thinking. "In fact, maybe her starting to flirt a bit isn't such a bad idea." He continued hurriedly when he saw the look of surprise on his wife's face. "Just listen. Right now, everything is fine. You and me--Betsy and Dandridge in the kitchen and doing the housework--the children--Old Talbot to drive. Our household is very cozy--right now. But have you thought towards the future? You and I aren't getting any younger. What will she do then when we're gone? Perhaps we should encourage her to..."
"Don't tell me you're suggesting marrying her off," Mrs. Meade interrupted, appalled. "How could you suggest such a thing! She doesn't even want to! You wouldn't suggest she enter into some cold-blooded marriage of convenience, or..."
"Now, did I say any such thing? I only meant we should give her every chance to meet somebody she could be happy with."
"I know what you meant. And frankly, I'm shocked."
"You wife, are overwrought. I'm going to bed." With that he kissed her lightly on the mouth and turned out the lamp.
Mrs. Meade lay awake a long time after she heard by her husband's even breathing that he was fast asleep. Something had bothered her about tonight but she didn't realize what it was until Dr. Meade brought up Marybeth's future. She couldn't fault the girl's conduct. She was forthright about the party, honest about her feelings about flirting and even listened to Mrs. Meade's advice. She'd shown Mrs. Meade her dance card. And yet--she talked like a girl who was inexperienced dealing with the opposite sex. But the mere fact of her children disproved such an idea. In the previous months Mrs. Meade had noticed these little inconsistencies in Marybeth--things like her just-adequate housekeeping skills when she first arrived, yet she learned quickly. Her manners and grammar were above what she would have expected from a farmer's wife. She was an insatiable reader. And then tonight she talked as if flirting were something very new to her. Mrs. Meade wondered if she should question Marybeth, make her explain these inconsistencies. Maybe it was her responsibility. But on the other hand, she was growing more attached to the girl who'd brought youth and babies into her world again. Life was no longer the endless stretch of gray days it had been even last year at this time. Mrs. Meade tossed and turned restlessly trying to decide. Before she dropped off into sleep she decided not to upset the apple cart. After all, what could really be served by digging into Marybeth's past? Life was sweet right now--cozy, as her husband phrased it. Better to leave it alone...