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.

Thanks for the reviews—I don't know what I would do without my lovely audience!!!

Marybeth woke up to a world turned dark and gray. She slipped out of bed, wincing as her bare feet touched the floor. She padded across the room to peer out the window but what she saw was a forbidding spectacle of scudding clouds and wind-whipped trees. Even the inside of the house was distinctly chilly; the cold air seeped in around the edge of the window. Shaking her head, she wished she could dive back under the covers and sleep the day away.

But of course, she couldn't really do that. Both children were now sitting up and looking at her despite her best effort to move silently. She dressed them and herself quickly, settled Christina on her hip, and sent Edward downstairs ahead of her.

As she the top of the stairs, she heard a harsh-sounding cough coming from the Meades' bedroom. She doubled back and rapped lightly on the Meades' bedroom door, which had been left ajar, before opening it. Mrs. Meade, propped up in bed on some pillows, was in the middle of a coughing fit. When she finished, Marybeth put the baby on floor, shut the door behind her, and went to Mrs. Meade and gently put a hand on her arm. She felt hot to the touch.

"Marybeth," she wheezed. "The Doctor--making me stay in bed." She took an uncomfortable breath. "He thinks--bronchitis."

"Well then, don't talk--not another word. And don't you worry about a thing, either. Just rest up and Betsy and I will take care of you," Marybeth said briskly.

"Don't like--," wheeze, "--bedrest," cough.

"But you just said Dr. Meade insists. And don't worry. Whatever you want us to do we'll take care of."

"Good." Deep breath. "You can do--something for me."

oOoOoOo

Late that afternoon, Marybeth pushed open the back door of the Library, and let herself in, shivering at the contrast between the frigid outdoor temperature and the interior of the building, warmed by a cast-iron stove. She hung up her coat and hat and ventured into the main area where she knew the books were kept and the other ladies would already be waiting.

"I'm here to work, Mrs. Butler," said Marybeth.

Scarlett turned to her in surprise. "You? I thought Mrs. Wellburn was supposed to come."

"Yes she was, but she had to leave town unexpectedly and Mrs. Meade promised to take her place. Then this morning she woke up sick and the Doctor won't let her go anywhere--he thinks it's bronchitis--so she sent me in her place."

"Give her my best. Ella will be sorry to hear she missed you. She's nearly over that cold but I wouldn't let her out of the house yet," Scarlett replied.

Marybeth frowned and nodded sympathetically. "A lot of people seem to be sick these days."

"Yes, however I'll wager Mrs. Meade didn't get sick from going outside in the cold without her hat." Scarlett sounded aggravated.

"Oh, young people will do such things, or at least try to do such things," said Mrs. Merriwether, who just appeared from around a stack of books. "That's why I made it my business never to let my Maybelle go out without a hat in cold weather." It was said conversationally, but there was a distinct accusatory tone as if Scarlett were personally responsible for Ella's failure to wear a hat.

Marybeth saw Mrs. Butler bristle slightly and felt sorry for her. She knew that she herself would not like the implication that Edward or Christina fell sick through her own negligence. But to her credit, Mrs. Butler did not rise to the bait.

"Don't you think we had better start shelving these books?" Scarlett merely replied coolly.

Although Mrs. Butler stated that Ella would be sorry to miss Marybeth, Marybeth found that she was definitely missing Ella, even though she hadn't expected to see any of her friends. It would have made the time go more quickly to have somebody her own age to talk to, although she doubted that Mrs. Merriwether would approve of the young girls' chattering.

Or maybe the presence of a fourth person would have relieved the tension in the room. For the three ladies set to shelving the books, Marybeth trying to stay as far away from Mrs. Merriwether as possible, although she listened patiently to the older woman's detailed instructions about where the books went. The atmosphere between the two older ladies who had known each other for decades was coldly courteous and Marybeth felt disinclined to talk to either of them. But then it dawned on her; this was the second time in the last couple weeks that she'd noticed some disapproval of Mrs. Butler by the older generation. The first time was when Mrs. Meade said she'd been a flirt as a young girl. And today, Mrs. Merriwether's attitude towards Mrs. Butler was positively rude. Marybeth wondered why it should be like that. Was it something to do with Captain Butler? Was it because she was "in business"? And not some nice ladylike business such as giving music or French lessons, but the type of business a man would run? Marybeth knew about the store and had heard about the mills she used to own--and, product of her time that she was, had found the whole thing a little shocking. However, it wasn't shocking enough to merit such a level of disapproval.

But as she worked steadily to reshelve the books, Mrs. Butler's social problems slipped from her mind. Marybeth was only seventeen, and the problems of the older generation simply weren't interesting enough to dwell on for very long. She and her friends had their own lives to think about. Besides, she was finding library work more intriguing than she had thought possible. Not the shelving of the books, precisely, but the books themselves. The Meades were very generous with their books, and Marybeth read whenever she had a chance, but their collection would eventually run out. If only Mrs. Merriwether weren't watching her so closely, she would have loved to peek inside some of the covers. She resolved to get permission to borrow books here.

An insistent pounding at the back door jerked Marybeth from her reverie.

"Go answer it, Marybeth," instructed Mrs. Merriwether.

She hurried down the hall and opened the door, stepping back quickly as Beau Wilkes and Wade Hamilton rushed in. Wade shut the door behind him.

"That wasn't very nice, locking us out in the cold like that," said Beau as he rubbed his hands together and blew on them. Wade moved to hang up his coat and hat, but he smiled shyly to Marybeth, blushing as he did so. Marybeth nodded back, smiling, although she continued to talk to Beau.

"The door must have latched behind me," she replied apologetically. "Besides, I didn't know anybody else was coming."

"My train arrived late and we couldn't come until Wade was finished work. So why are you here? Isn't this the Wellburns' week? And Mrs. Merriwether's?" Beau asked as he took off his wet things to hang them by the stove.

"I'm taking Mrs. Wellburn's place. They had somewhere to go, apparently. But Mrs. Merriwether is here." At the mention of the latter woman's name she noticed a humorous look pass quickly between the two men. Mrs. Merriwether seemed to have a reputation among the volunteers.

Wade held back somewhat and watched the conversation between Beau and Marybeth. He felt a pang of disappointment when he heard Elsie wouldn't be at the library today. He was so looking forward to spending time with her. But on the other hand he wasn't entirely sorry that Marybeth was here...

"Is it really that bad outside?" She was asking.

"Just take a look for yourself," replied Beau, pointing to the one window in the little anteroom. It was set high into the wall and was better suited for giving light to the room than for gazing outside. But it looked like it was still windy and it had started to rain. "We surely would have frozen to death if you made us wait any longer, see?" He grinned and touched her cheek with the back of his hand.

As Wade watched this byplay, it occurred to him that he could joke with and tease Marybeth even as Beau was doing. But in the next instant he was rather glad he didn't quite have the courage. Marybeth turned away from Beau and mumbled rather stiffly, "Your hands are cold." Wade guessed she didn't like being touched without so much as a by-your-leave. And while Beau barely seemed to be affected by her rebuff, Wade knew he himself would have felt mortified.

"I'll go let Mrs. Merriwether and Aunt Scarlett know we're here," said Beau, going into the main room.

Beau found his aunt just as she shelved the last book in her pile. "Aunt Scarlett," he said as he dropped a kiss on her cheek.

"Beau, your hands are cold!"

"Terrible storm," he replied.

Scarlett glanced over at Mrs. Merriwether, wondering if she'd object strongly to her leaving early. She was in no mood for sparring with the formidable older woman but she also was not about to stay at the library if the weather was only going to get worse as the afternoon progressed.

Steeling herself, Scarlett continued, "And how is your father--doing well?" She was well aware that Old Lady Merriwether was listening and probably thinking nasty thoughts, but she wasn't going to be intimidated.

Beau nodded, once again intrigued by his aunt's odd speech mannerism. Aunt Scarlett never, ever, called Beau's father by name. One would almost think she had never even heard the name 'Ashley Wilkes'. She also avoided talking about Beau's mother unless forced to.

Beau wondered if Aunt Scarlett's hesitancy to talk about his parents had anything to do with an odd little rumor to the effect that his she and his father had once been caught in an affair. Yes--Beau heard the rumor. Or more precisely, overheard it. He wasn't supposed to know anything about it, but he had overheard some grown folks talking--he was very young then. Mother was dead, but hadn't been for very long. He overheard some speculation that his father might ask Aunt Scarlett to marry him. He couldn't even remember who it was who said it. Aunt India possibly--it didn't really matter...

His childish mind had dismissed the idea as the silliest thing he ever heard. First of all, Aunt Scarlett was already married, to Uncle Rhett. Second of all, Beau's father didn't act as if he were in love with Aunt Scarlett--he didn't go calling on her, for instance. And more to the point, as time went on, no proposal was forthcoming...

But when he got older and more worldly wise, the memory came back and embarrassed him. Naturally, he knew that such a thing as adultery existed--but not his father! And with Aunt Scarlett? Preposterous! It was probably no more than nasty gossip-mongering. No, not probably--definitely.

A few months after his mother died, Beau was at the Butler mansion and Aunt Scarlett wanted to talk to him. Beau searched his memory, trying to think if he had done anything wrong. But she pulled him onto her lap--Scarlett, who was not given to cuddling small children! --and spoke to him kindly and seriously about his mother. She told him how Melanie had been her best friend, one of the greatest ladies she'd ever known. She told him about Melanie's kind heart, her steadfastness, her loyalty. She told him stories about her--some funny, some sad, some thrilling. Beau rested his head on Aunt Scarlett's shoulder as she spoke, but a couple times he lifted his head to look into her face and he was sure that there were tears in her eyes. Wade and Ella found their way into the parlor during Scarlett's recitation and she made room for Ella on her lap and put her arm around Wade--the couch where they were seated was wide enough to fit all of them...

The whole episode was so out of character for Aunt Scarlett that in later times Beau sometimes wondered if he hadn't dreamed the whole thing. But it seemed to him that somebody who grieved for his mother like that couldn't possibly have betrayed her.

He did hope, however, that Wade never heard the rumor. Wade was touchy when it came to the esteem in which his family was held. As a little boy he'd been in fights with other boys who taunted him with the claim that Uncle Rhett had never fought in the War. Sometimes Wade won these fights, sometimes he lost, but he always managed to get his licks in and he wasn't afraid to take on the other boys over matters of honor. Beau hoped to spare his cousin the knowledge of this rumor. Especially because Beau was absolutely certain that there had never been anything unseemly between his aunt and his father.

Meanwhile, left alone in the anteroom with Wade, Marybeth stepped onto the little bench under the window and rose up on tiptoe for a better view of the weather. The wind was still whipping the trees and it seemed to be sleeting rather than raining. She suddenly felt grateful that she was indoors in the nice, cozy library. She shook her head and tsk'ed. "It looks awful."

"It's bad out, but I went to Harvard. Winters there were much worse," said Wade.

"It would be, in New England. What is it they say? That New England summers are merely three months of bad sledding? I wish it were warm again."

""In winter I no more desire a rose than wish a snow in May's newfangled mirth,'" he quipped.

Marybeth turned to him with a little smile.

He looked down. "William Shakespeare," he mumbled. "Paraphrased."

"Why Mr. Hamilton, that was a good one. I just wish I had a response for it."

His look of surprise struck Marybeth as so funny she started to laugh. After a moment, he joined in. His laugh was pleasant--low and throaty.

Mrs. Merriwether came in, drawn by the sound of laughter and anxious to see what was taking Marybeth so long. She looked suspiciously at the two young people but there was nothing furtive or secretive about them, just good comradeship. However, she could criticize them for dawdling when they were supposed to be shelving books.

"You do know, Wade Hampton, that this is the Young Men's Library Association? You should be in there helping us. Beau already started working," said Mrs. Merriwether, jerking her thumb towards the main room. "The faster you start, the faster you'll be finished. You too, Marybeth, back to work."

"Yes, ma'am," Wade said courteously and Marybeth followed him into the main room.

Wade and Marybeth worked alongside each other, shelving books quietly except for the occasional "excuse me" or "this belongs in your shelves" But eventually her curiosity prompted her to ask him, "So this is run by the Young Men's Library Association?"

"Yes."

"Then what are Mrs. Merriwether and your mother and I doing here? Shouldn't the membership be exclusively young men?"

Wade started to answer, but he was interrupted by Mrs. Merriwether.

"Marybeth, we'll all get out of here faster if you stick to shelving books. You can talk to Wade later."

Marybeth didn't answer, but turned back to the shelves, embarrassed. When she did glance at Wade, he smiled at her sympathetically.

Scarlett heard Mrs. Merriwether scold Marybeth and frowned. She was happy to see Wade talking to a girl, and she approved of Marybeth, at least the little she knew of her. At any rate, she was respectful and courteous. She also had the distinct advantage of not being Fanny's daughter. Scarlett thought darkly that if she had to listen to Mrs. Merriwether boss one more person around, she would start screaming.

oOoOoOo

"I apologize for that scolding you received," said Wade as he helped Marybeth into her coat. They were all getting ready to leave for the day.

"Don't. It wasn't your fault," she replied, buttoning up.

"By the way, the reason is tradition."

"I beg your pardon?"

"The Library Association was originally run by men only, but that changed a long time ago. The name, however, didn't change. People from Atlanta like their traditions." He said this all in a rush, as if he'd had some time to create that speech and memorize it. Which in fact, he had.

Marybeth nodded. "I noticed that. There are no more Confederate orphans, but the Sewing Circle never changed its name, either." She tied on her hat. "I wish I could take books out. They have Oliver Twist. I never read it."

"You only have to sign up. Haven't you done that?"

She shook her head.

"It'll only take a moment." Surprising himself with his own boldness, he called out, "Mrs. Merriwether?"

"What is it Wade?"

"I'm going to take Mrs. Dandridge to register for library privileges." And with that he took her to the front desk.

oOoOoOo

From her bed, Mrs. Meade heard Marybeth coming down the hallway humming "Grandfather's Clock". A moment later Marybeth herself appeared in the doorway with a supper tray. She set it on the bureau and touched Mrs. Meade's forehead with the back of her hand.

"You're still feverish."

Mrs. Meade tried to answer but was overcome with a coughing fit. When she was finished, Marybeth fluffed her pillows and sat her up straighter. That seemed to help her breathe easier. Then Marybeth put the tray across her lap.

"Betsy said it was storming."

Marybeth nodded. "It was so bad outside Mrs. Merriwether sent us all home at the same time--even Beau Wilkes and Wade Hamilton and they came late."

Mrs. Meade looked at her sharply. Marybeth's voice changed ever so slightly when she mentioned the two young men. Actually, if Mrs. Meade hadn't known Marybeth so well, her change of tone might have gone unnoticed.

"I rather liked the work," Marybeth continued. "The library has so many books I'd like to read eventually. I even took one out." Now it was Marybeth's turn to look at Mrs. Meade sharply. "You're not eating. What will the Doctor say if you starve?"

Mrs. Meade dipped her spoon into her soup. "You registered at the library, then?" She took a sip, swallowed, then coughed again. When she finished, she continued. "That was an oversight on my part. I should have registered you a long time ago."

"Don't give it a second thought. Wade Hamilton was kind enough to help me."

Mrs. Meade looked at her in surprise. He must have felt very comfortable with Marybeth to spend time with her in a situation where he had to talk with her alone, even if Marybeth and Ella were close friends. And was that the barest trace of a smile playing upon Marybeth's lips? Of course, it would be silly to make too much of a little friendly gesture. And just like on the night of the dance when she showed Mrs. Meade her card and told her everything that happened, Marybeth was acting transparently clear without coyness or evasion. Mrs. Meade decided not to make any comment. If there were the beginnings of a friendship between Marybeth and Wade, she didn't want to spoil it for them by some premature or untoward comment.

oOoOoOo

It was in the early hours of the morning that Marybeth awoke abruptly, heart pounding...