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!!! So encouraging...so encouraging...

Dante Martin was gone, but not forgotten, although the people who knew about the incident refrained from speaking about it. Raoul was ashamed of his cousin's behavior and didn't wish to air the dirty family linen in public. Frankie Bonnell kept quiet, although he was motivated more by deference to Ella's feelings than Marybeth's. Wade didn't even tell Beau.

There was one person, however, who was shaken by the event and suffered vicariously for her friend's plight. And driven by the need to talk, Ella decided to confide in somebody.

That night, after she arrived home, she changed into her nightclothes and tried to sleep. But sleep eluded her and she got up and paced around restlessly for a while before throwing her wrapper around herself and creeping down the hall to Scarlett's room. She was relieved when her mother invited her in response to her knock. Ella had been worried that Scarlett might be asleep already. She opened the door and slipped in.

Mother was dressed for bed and already under the covers, but she was sitting up, stroking Atlas who was sprawled out on top of the blanket. Ella was displeased to see a half-empty glass of brandy in her mother's other hand, but a glance at the bottle assured her that her mother was still sober enough for conversation. By the looks of it, she had been merely sipping.

In spite of her distress, Ella couldn't help feeling a surge of pride as she looked at Scarlett. She had always been proud of her mother's looks. Scarlett's hair was still completely black, her figure still neat and trim. She had a few faint lines around the eyes and mouth, but compared to all the other mothers she was still pretty and young looking. Ella thought about those other women. Mrs. Picard was attractive still, but she had grown quite stout. Elsie's mother looked faded. Jenny Whiting's mother could only be described as frumpy. Sitting up in bed in her nightdress, hair bound in one long heavy braid, Scarlett almost looked like a quite young girl. Ella thought ruefully that she could have done with some of her mother's looks, but she had other things to worry about right now.

Scarlett looked at her daughter, standing by her bedside wringing her hands. Concerned, she reached over to put the glass down on her bedside table, then patted the cover beside her. Ella climbed up onto her mother's bed and sat Indian style facing her. Atlas thumped his tail lazily on the bed twice. Then, after a moment's hesitation, Ella poured out the story to Scarlett--everything that she knew had transpired.

Scarlett listened to Ella's story with intermittent exclamations of shock and outrage on Marybeth's behalf, but the story bothered her for more than one reason. This was the thing all mothers warned their daughters about and Scarlett was no exception. What had been an abstract possibility, now that it happened to one of her daughter's friends, seemed frighteningly real to her. Scarlett's own attack had occurred when Ella was just a baby. But it didn't seem so long ago to her and now it was Ella who was at the dangerous age.

Faced with the immediacy of the incident and wanting to protect Ella any way she could, Scarlett retreated into motherly council. "That's why I warn you to be careful around young men, not to let them take liberties--let what happened to Marybeth be a warning to you, Ella."

"Mother, didn't you hear me?" Asked Ella with an impatient gesture. "Marybeth didn't let him take liberties, he just...did. And besides, when am I ever alone with anybody? Except maybe Cousin Beau when we go riding. But he's away at school all week anyway."

"Well," Scarlett proceeded slowly, "Maybe that's not such a good idea anymore--your exploring the trails alone with Beau. After all it isn't as though you're little children--he's a man nearly grown..."

"Mo-ther!" Ella was genuinely astonished. "Land sakes! You don't suspect Cousin Beau. Surely you don't! Why, I've known him forever. He doesn't have designs on me, for heaven's sake. He doesn't even see me like that."

"I'll wager Marybeth didn't expect Dante to act the way he did."

"That's different. She didn't know him as well as I know Cousin Beau."

Scarlett took Ella's hand. "But it could happen to you, too. Why do you think I warn you about correct deportment and ladylike behavior and not going around unchaperoned?"

Ella shook her head quickly, genuinely upset, "Mother, I can't believe you're saying this."

Scarlett, seeing her daughter's agitation, decided to change the subject. "Actually, Ella, there is something I've been wanting to talk to you about. Why is Frankie Bonnell coming around all the time? Have you jilted Albert?"

Relieved to be on safer ground, Ella laughed a little bit. "No, Mother, there haven't been any jiltings. Frankie just...well, he asked if he could call on me and I said yes."

"Obviously you did," remarked Scarlett dryly. "But where does that leave Albert? Does he know about Frankie?"

"I haven't told him. I suppose I'll tell him when he comes home in May."

"Unless you want to jilt Frankie first."

Ella seemed to slump a little. "I don't want to jilt Frankie. He's a lot of fun, he makes me laugh and he makes me feel special."

"But Albert...?"

"...Makes me feel special, too. But he doesn't have Frankie's sense of humor. But he's more handsome. Mother, who should I choose?"

"Oh no, Ella," said Scarlett, throwing up her hands in mock dismay, a hint of a smile on her face. "This is your choice. As your mother, I think they're both fine young men. But I will not choose your suitors for you."

"What if Albert becomes angry with me when I tell him about Frankie?"

"He probably will. In fact, depend on it. But if you plan to keep Frankie around until the summer, you'll have to tell Albert. It would be kinder to tell him yourself, rather than have him find out some other way."

"What if Albert makes me choose?"

Scarlett shrugged. This wasn't something she could do for her daughter.

Ella was disappointed. Mother hadn't been much help either, as she was trying to make up her mind.

"Am I doing something wrong by seeing both of them?"

Scarlett laughed shortly. She had had dozens of beaux and had lots of fun stringing them along. But she sensed that Ella took courting way more seriously than she ever did.

"If you're not engaged to either of them, then no, you aren't doing anything wrong. But that doesn't mean there won't be tension between your beaux...or jealousy from other girls."

Ella thought about this. Jenny had certainly grown angry, although not from jealousy. Of course, Albert was her cousin. Then there was Marybeth. She had sown the seeds of doubt and anxiety in Ella's mind, but Ella knew she hadn't meant anything hurtful by it--she merely hadn't been any better at sorting it all out than Ella herself was. Mother refused to give her any real advice, and Ella would have liked the benefit of her experience. She would simply have to decide for herself. And she really didn't want to do that. Not yet.

oOoOoOo

In Scarlett's anxiety over Ella's story, one part of it all didn't quite dawn on her until some time later. But when it did, she remarked upon it.

"Ella told me what happened at the Picard's. I'm proud of you." Scarlett happened to be alone in the parlor with Wade when she said this. She was proud--his actions showed more gumption than she ever gave him credit for.

But he flared up then so that he shocked her with his vehemence. "Of course I had to help her Mother, what else could I do? Oh, if you had seen her, so frightened, trying to fight off his attentions..."

Scarlett stared at Wade as if she'd never seen him before. His emotional outburst by itself was unexpected enough, but she realized something else--he was smitten with Marybeth. Of course, Scarlett had been through calf-eyed love with Wade before in his infatuation with Elsie Wellburn. But this was different. She couldn't quite put her finger on how it was different, but it was different.

Wade never confided his feelings to Scarlett about Elsie, but he didn't need to. It was obvious--everybody knew it and if he never talked about it, neither did he bother to hide it. She wondered if he cared more for Marybeth than he did for Elsie or it were a different kind of feeling altogether. She did know that Wade wasn't the fickle sort. It wouldn't be that easy for him to suddenly transfer his feelings from one girl to another, but she was glad Elsie had some competition.

Wade's infatuation with Elsie had always made Scarlett a little nervous. Most people--and that included Wade himself--didn't think he had a serious chance with Elsie, but one never knew. Nobody thought Charlie Hamilton had a chance with her, Scarlett reflected grimly. But she did marry him--for spite.

She never loved Charlie. She barely even liked him. It was a mercy of fate that he died in camp. Had he come home from the War they would have lived wretchedly together. But she had it in herself to wish for better for Wade. Elsie would never love him, but Marybeth might. And Scarlett had no desire to call any of the Elsing clan kin. It mattered little to her that she didn't know anything about Marybeth's people--after all, they knew little of Will Benteen's people, either, but he and Suellen lived together amiably if not passionately.

oOoOoOo

Outwardly Marybeth regained her calm and composure in fairly short order. Nobody mentioned Dante to her and she never mentioned him either. If she suffered the occasional nightmare or felt jumpy and ill-at-ease in the weeks that followed she concealed it well enough that nobody, not even Mrs. Meade, suspected. It never occurred to her to confide any of her latent fears to anybody--she felt reluctant to make people worry about her.

But the girl was more shaken than anyone realized--secretly she started carrying her old knife in her boot again. But aside from the knife and her maintaining a certain extra vigilance and awareness of her surroundings, even when she was at home, she strove to forget the incident as quickly as possible.

She knew very well that things could have fallen out much worse than they did. When she fought against Dante she was not only fighting for her own self, but also for her children who depended on her utterly--they were all she had in the world who were hers and hers alone. And she was all they had...But then Marybeth came to realize that maybe she was not as alone as she believed. Life was good here in Atlanta with the Meades. She had people who cared about her, and friends, and respectability.

Marybeth decided--with no little amount of spite towards Dante--that she would not allow this one incident to poison everything that was good in her life. He would not have the last word.

oOoOoOo

Asperges me Domine, hyssopo, et mundabor: lavabis me, et super nivem dealbabor...

Marybeth's hands were clasped in prayer as she listened to the priest and acolytes chant the words of the Asperges--the cleansing prayer of the Mass. She swayed a little on her feet in time to the Latin cadences as the warm scent of beeswax candles and the faint, cool, odor of stale incense drifted around her. Mass had just started and the church and congregation were being sprinkled with the holy water.

In the middle of her prayerful semi-trance something made her turn her head. Across the church she caught a glimpse of Wade and he was looking at her. She hadn't expected to see him, but their eyes locked for a moment before he smiled and nodded slightly. She smiled back but only for a moment before she turned her face towards the altar. But turning her face away from him was easier than turning her attention away from him. Mrs. Meade was certain he cared for her and she held the older woman's assurance to herself like a talisman. Seeing him here today was an unexpected pleasure and she sent up a prayer for forgiveness in advance--it would be very hard for her to keep her thoughts heavenward now...

She didn't dare look towards him again.

However, she wasn't surprised when he caught her up in the churchyard afterward. She was drawing off her veil and pinning on her hat.

"May I walk you home, Miss Marybeth?"

She smiled again and took his arm.

They were out to the sidewalk when she asked, "Aren't Mrs. Butler or Ella going to join us?"

"No, I came here by myself."

"Are they well at home?" She asked, concerned.

"Yes, they're fine," he reassured her. "But Ella likes to sleep late and so does Mother. Or at least she does on Sundays because the store is closed."

"And you go to church all by yourself? What do they think about that?"

Wade paused a moment. "Actually, I'm not sure they even know I go."

Marybeth digested this in silence. It seemed strange to her that his own family wouldn't know he went to church. Of course, Wade was a grown man--it wasn't likely that Mrs. Butler would interrogate him about his whereabouts.

"I must say, it's unusual to see a man your age at Mass without his family. That is," she added demurely, "if I'm not being too forward."

He laughed a little. "There's no big mystery, I assure you. I was baptized when I was a baby, but Mother never went to church, at least that I can remember. Later, Uncle Rhett, my stepfather--I don't believe you've met him--he took Ella and me to the Episcopal Church. But I must confess that I didn't attend at all when I was at Harvard."

"Then why did you start going again?"

"Well...when I made my Grand Tour, I was very impressed with the architecture in Europe, but with the cathedrals especially. We were in Notre Dame de Paris and it struck me how much workmanship had been put into a building with no obvious practical use--its only purpose is for worship. Quite simply, it made me curious to find out more about the type of faith that would inspire people to go to all that effort for no personal gain." He looked at her sideways and grinned. "I hope that didn't sound silly out loud."

"It didn't sound silly at all."

"And, I suppose I was also curious about the culture of my forebears. I'm part French, you know--on Mother's side. Irish, too."

Marybeth shook her head. "I never thought about it deeply like that. I go to church because I like it--I like it when they're chanting and I like it when it's hushed..." She also found it to be a comfort to know that up North in Pennsylvania her parents were listening to the same prayers as she was. But she didn't say that part out loud.

They walked along companionably, enjoying each other's company. He thought how sweet she was walking by his side with her arm linked through his. She wasn't very tall--he could look down at the top of her hat and the way her skirt brushed against him as they walked produced a not-unpleasant tingling sensation in his spine. Their walk was over all too soon--they were standing outside the Meade's door, but before she could let herself in, he took her hands.

"I'd like to call on you some time soon, Miss Marybeth."

"I'd like that, " she smiled happily, giving him that queer feeling again.

"Do you have an evening that you're 'at home'?"

She laughed. "The very idea! Who would I be 'at home' to? The only people I know are the ones Ella introduced me to. If I'm not here, I'm probably with her--and you."

A few minutes later, Mrs. Meade was given the surprise of her life when Marybeth rushed into the parlor, gave her a quick hug and bounced a little on her toes.

"I declare girl, what has gotten into you?"

"Oh, Mrs. Meade, Wade says he'd like to call on me!" And she pirouetted, laughing.

There's probably no more irritating phrase in the English language, no phrase harder to forgive than "I told you so". But Mrs. Meade couldn't resist saying it to Marybeth just this once, and Marybeth in her joy was able to forgive her with no effort at all.

And thus concludes this part of the Wade/Marybeth arc. Hope you've enjoyed it. Next chappie--Rhett returns to Atlanta!