Disclaimer: 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 your patience, gentle readers. Once again, I had to split a chappie that wound up longer than I anticipated. Now, for part two.

The Saturday NIght Musical Circle gave a performance that weekend and Marybeth went with Wade and Ella.

"Cousin Beau loves these concerts," Ella told Marybeth when they were in the carriage. "But he has to stay at University this weekend. He has an important paper to turn in. Isn't that awful? Imagine having to miss this concert all because of a little old paper!"

Marybeth nodded sympathetically, but she noticed that Wade rolled his eyes.

Ella noticed it too. She dropped her voice to a stage whisper and crossed her eyes. "You see, for some strange reason, Wade thinks marks are important, too." She felt safe teasing him because she knew he would not stoop to quarreling with her in front of Marybeth. "When will he learn the important things in life?"

Wade clucked at the horse and slapped the reins, but didn't dignify Ella with so much as a glance in her direction.

When they arrived at the theater, Marybeth was not surprised to see Frankie Bonnell hurry towards the carriage and reach up his arms to help Ella out. She was, however, surprised when Ella shot her a look that seemed to show no pleasure at the sight of him. But she dutifully reached out her hands and allowed him to swing her from the carriage and whisk her out of sight.

The theater was crowded when Marybeth and Wade went inside--Frankie had already claimed two seats for himself and Ella, but there were no other empty seats near them. Wade led Marybeth to a place on the other side of the room. He didn't seem sorry to be free of his sister for the evening, but Marybeth couldn't help wondering at Ella's odd behavior.

Later on, between acts, Marybeth excused herself from Wade and was checking herself in the mirror of the ladies' lounge when Jenny Whiting entered the room.

"Marybeth! It seems like forever since I've seen you," she said as she hugged the other girl warmly.

"Not quite forever, but it's been a long time. Ever since..." Marybeth paused delicately.

"I know. And it's all right--you can say it. Ever since Ella and I had that fight." Jenny nodded and shrugged. "Well, I suppose we have seen each other, but not to really talk." She lowered her voice and leaned in closer. "Between you and me, I do feel awful about the whole thing. I shouldn't have been so hard on her. I really don't know what got into me. Now it's been so long I feel funny when I see her and I don't know what to say. But enough about that. How do you like our Saturday Night Musical Circle?"

"It is amazing. I had no idea there was so much talent in Atlanta." Marybeth looked at Jenny and turned red. "That didn't come out right. What I meant to say was..."

But Jenny laughed. "Don't bother explaining to me. I know what you meant. We really do have entertainment worth seeing, and I..."

She stopped suddenly when she saw Ella enter the room. The two girls looked at each other warily, then Jenny gave Ella a tight little nod, squeezed Marybeth's arm and swept out of the room.

Ella joined Marybeth at the mirror and patted her hair into place.

"And how is Miss Jennifer Whiting these days?" Ella asked loftily.

"She seems well, but I didn't talk to her for very long," replied Marybeth in an equally lofty voice although she felt uneasy.

"Don't let me stop you. I won't be offended it you're still friends with her." She was suddenly quiet and her eyes met Marybeth's in the mirror. Abruptly she grabbed Marybeth's arm and turned her to face her. "I really mean that, you know. Please--I'm not a petty person--just because I'm fighting with her doesn't mean I'll make my friends take sides--I'm not that kind of a girl. Please don't think I'm petty, Marybeth."

Marybeth stared at Ella, surprised that her opinion meant so much to her. "Of course I know you're not petty," she said, patting her hand. "And if it makes any difference, Jenny didn't say anything mean or insulting about you."

Ella managed a thin, wobbly smile. "That's all well and good, but pretty soon she really will have something to gloat over." And with that she relayed her new complication with Frankie.

"Wow," Marybeth said. "You have two young men who want a serious courtship with you..."

"Yes--I mean no--I mean Albert has never really declared himself. But I don't know what he'll say when I tell him about Frankie. I bet he'll be mad."

Marybeth looked at her sympathetically.

"Jenny will probably say I told you so," Ella continued.

"Perhaps," Marybeth said cautiously, "You should give her credit for not being petty, also. Maybe she would surprise you."

"Maybe," Ella mumbled.

"Look, Ella. Does it really make you happy to fight with her?"

Ella shook her head.

"Then why won't you give her a chance?"

"I'm afraid she won't want a chance," said Ella sadly.

oOoOoOo

"I brought my carriage tonight, Wade. I could take your sister home," Frankie Bonnell offered when the concert ended and they all stood together in the lobby.

Ella shot Marybeth a panicked look, but Wade, who was not looking in Ella's direction, assumed she would be happy to be escorted home by Frankie. He readily agreed, utterly oblivious to his sister's distress. After all, he was a frequent caller at the mansion. But Marybeth, watching Ella take Frankie's arm with her eyes lowered, had the impression of some poor, unfortunate soul being led away to the guillotine.

It was raining lightly when the Musical Circle dismissed, and Wade took Marybeth's hand and walked her quickly to his carriage.

When they were settled in and on their way to the Meades', they discussed the evening's entertainment.

"It was really a fine mix of music," Marybeth said. "They had the patriotic songs of course, and I really enjoyed the music from other nationalities. Isn't it funny how they call German songs Dutch?"

"Their programs are never the same twice," Wade answered. "Sometimes they do classical music and opera, too."

Marybeth nodded and then fell silent. She was wondering how it was faring with Ella and Frankie.

"Did you ever have a chance to read Love's Labour's Lost?" Wade asked, breaking into her musing.

"Oh that. Well, I..." For the second time that night, she felt like she had committed a faux pas and blushed. She tried to read it the very night he gave it to her, but had to give up in confusion after the first page. She felt ashamed to admit it to him because he had read it and enjoyed it enough to recommend it to her. But she knew she couldn't bluff her way out of this. She took a deep breath and said low, "I had a hard time understanding it, if you must know. I know they spoke differently then. It was almost three hundred years ago, after all. But I tried, Wade, I really did." She clasped her hands together and looked out the side of the carriage.

Wade was taken aback by her reaction. He was only making conversation. No girl had ever tried to impress him before--it was a completely new experience. Furthermore, none of the girls he knew seemed to have any interest in appearing learned. But Marybeth seemed to take her troubles with understanding the play to heart.

"I didn't mean to distress you," he said, as he stroked her arm in a gesture of appeasement. "Shakespeare--the language they used in the olden days--is hard to understand in these modern times. I had to read it over and over before I understood it." She turned and looked at him and he got an idea. "Would you like for us to read it together?" He rather expected her to laugh and refuse him--the idea of reading serious tomes while courting was rather unusual--but he wanted to make her feel better.

"Yes. I would love that," she replied, looking pleased.

They arrived at the Meades' carriage block and it was raining in earnest now. Wade felt pleased with himself that he had an umbrella tucked under the seat and he jumped down from the carriage and hurried to Marybeth's side. He stepped up on the block to hold the umbrella over her head as she climbed out, but that meant he had to step backward onto the muddy sidewalk while holding her hand to steady her--the footing was rather unsure. Then Marybeth spied a puddle on the sidewalk she wished to avoid and his eyes followed hers as she hesitated.

"We could..." he paused, thinking. "We could try..."

But before he said another word, she leaned forward and put her arms around his neck, nestling her cheek against his. Wade had no objection to this idea and his free arm went around her waist as he helped her step lightly to the ground, avoiding the puddle altogether.

Still holding the umbrella over her head, he maneuvered her up the walk to the Meades' door. In just a few more steps they would be on the front porch and he could put the umbrella down and take her in his arms and...

"Wade," she said suddenly as she nodded towards the door. "Look, a commotion."

Wade looked. The Meades' door was ajar and they could see the doctor in conversation with a man who seemed to be pleading.

"Pull yourself together, man," Dr. Meade was saying in his brisk, businesslike tone of voice. "We'll go as soon as I get my bag and tell Old Talbot to hitch up."

Wade and Marybeth hurried up the steps. Dr. Meade and the other man turned to look as they joined them on the porch. The man Marybeth didn't know looked wild-eyed and frantic.

"Our baby has croup," he said to them, twisting his hat in his hands.

Wade recognized the man by sight, although he didn't know him by name--he was one of the hands at Uncle Ashley's mill. He and his wife had just had their first baby a few months ago. They didn't have enough money to afford horse and carriage. He must have walked--or run--through the rain to get here.

"Dr. Meade," Wade said, "I'm already hitched up. I'll drive you out."

Dr. Meade looked at Wade, then at the nervous father, and back at Wade again. He didn't like to put Wade out and he didn't know how long he would be at the baby's bedside. Besides, that's why he kept Old Talbot. But it would be more reassuring to the father to show him he was making every effort. He nodded curtly.

"Do you want me too, Doctor?" Marybeth asked. "I know about croupy babies."

He patted her kindly and thought of refusing. After all, if he needed help he could always send for his nurse, Miss James. On the other hand, that would be one more delay. "Ye-es. You can come with us."

Marybeth followed him into the house as he went to get his bag. Mrs. Meade met her in the foyer. "I'm going with the doctor," Marybeth informed her.

Mrs. Meade nodded and pulled her a little ways into the parlor. Speaking quietly so the father couldn't hear she murmured a bit testily," I hope Dr. Meade finds an assistant and soon. He's getting too old to be called out at all hours of the night and all weather."

When they were all bundled back into the carriage and heading back out into the night, the father introduced himself to Marybeth and Wade with a quick shake of the hand. "Holliman. Robert Holliman. The wife's name is Ida. Thank you for the favor, Mr. Hamilton."

Wade nodded, acknowledging the introduction.

"Ida was clean beside herself when I left. I reckon she's frantic now."

When they arrived at the little house, the young mother, barely more than a girl, was pacing up and down with the coughing child in her arms. She knew enough about croup to have started water boiling--steam would help the baby breathe more easily. But her panicked look was mingled with relief when she saw Dr. Meade.

He strode in and took the baby from her arms and examined it quickly. "Do you know how to make a poultice?" He asked her. She nodded. "Then make one out of mustard or onion, whatever you have."

She nodded again and turned to find an onion as he worked over the baby. But when she tried to chop it, her hands were shaking so badly that Marybeth worried that she'd slip with the knife and cut herself. Marybeth tried to take the knife and onion from her.

"Oh, please let me do this," Ida argued with her.

Marybeth shook her head. "Your hands are trembling too much. You'll cut yourself then there'll be two patients for Dr. Meade. I can do it faster."

Ida sighed and stepped aside, but watched Marybeth closely as if she were afraid it would be done wrong. The onion fumes stung Marybeth's eyes and she didn't like being watched so closely, but she understood the woman's anxiety. When the poultice was prepared, she handed it to the doctor and he put it on the baby's throat.

Marybeth drew Ida back and out of the doctor's way to watch and wait. As they watched Dr. Meade work over the baby, the woman squeezed Marybeth's arm so tightly it hurt.

"Your baby's in good hands," Marybeth assured Ida.

Ida responded by leaning her forehead on Marybeth's shoulder, and it seemed she was whispering prayers under her breath.

Trying not to be too obvious about it, Marybeth looked around the room curiously. It was poor, but clean. The wife for all her youth was a competent housekeeper.

Wade watched all this from a stool in an out-of-the-way corner. As soon as he brought the others to the house and his help was no longer needed, he tried to make himself inconspicuous. He knew that inept help was worse than no help at all, so he found a spot where he would be available if necessary, but not underfoot. He used the opportunity to watch Marybeth as she helped the doctor and reassured Mrs. Holliman. He thought it was sweet the way she stepped up to offer her assistance when it was needed. It endeared her to him even more. Unbidden he wondered if Elsie Wellburn would have been so quick to drive out with the doctor in the middle of the night. Actually, it was possible--nursing the sick was one of the many household chores girls learned how to do as they grew up. But she definitely wouldn't have been interested in reading Shakespeare with him--of that he was certain. Of course, he hadn't been drawn to Elsie for her intellectual aspirations, but for her beauty and sparkling vivacity. Marybeth couldn't precisely be called vivacious--although she had learned to hold her own with the opposite sex. But there was something else Marybeth had--substance rather than sparkle--although Wade found her quite charming.

Dr. Meade managed the baby through the crisis and when he was safely out of harm's way, Wade drove him and Marybeth back home. Marybeth noticed the tired droop of the doctor's shoulders and thought about what Mrs. Meade said about his age. He went into the house before Marybeth, and she was unwilling to keep him waiting for her. She stood with Wade on the front porch, her hand in his as they murmured their goodbyes.

"Thank you for driving out to Mr. Holliman's house," she said. "It was very gallant. You saved him the worry of waiting for Dr. Meade to get hitched up. But now it's so late--only a few more hours before Mass starts."

"But you still want me to come by for you for church, don't you?"

"I'll be waiting." Suddenly she stood on tiptoe and kissed Wade on the cheek, amused at his look of surprise. "Good night," she said as she slipped through the front door.

Dr. Meade was walking down the hallway towards her. He had put his bag away in his study and looked at her in some wonderment. "You've come in already?"

"I didn't want to keep you from going to bed," she replied. "It was such a long night and all."

"Well, thunderation, Dandridge. If you wanted a few minutes to say goodbye to your young man, why didn't you just say so? I would have waited. I had things to put away and besides, I'm not so old that I need to be coddled," he added grumpily but his eyes twinkled.

She shrugged helplessly.

"Oh, never mind," he said. "Just get you to bed, as long as we're all back home."

Marybeth tiptoed up the stairs and let herself quietly into her room, but it was no use. Christina was standing in her crib and as soon as she saw her mother, she held her arms up. Marybeth had always heard that it was wrong to indulge the whims of babies, but she ignored that advice as she lifted her daughter out of the crib and carried her to her own bed. She undressed quickly and wriggled into her nightdress. Then, laying down at last, pulled Christina into her arms, rested her cheek on the baby's silky curls and smelled her sweet baby-smell. Then Marybeth closed her eyes and fell asleep.