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.

The Thespians had planned a fundraiser for the summer, done in the overblown theatrical style one would expect of such a group. Their scheme was a costume party, where all the guests would be expected to dress as characters from the theater.

Scarlett could barely contain her scorn. "Why," she asked, "Would you be dressing up as actors and actresses?"

"Because it's for the Thespian's fundraiser, Mother," Ella replied in a bored voice. They'd already discussed this several times before. Mother could really be muleheaded sometimes! But at least she was helping Ella with her costume.

"But don't you think the theme should be patriotic? It is an Independence Day affair, after all. You should be dressing as Martha Washington...or Columbia...or that statue--the one that France is supposed to be sending here--you know, the big copper statue we saw in the newspaper."

"How should I know, Mother? I'm not in the Thespians. Maybe you should write them a letter and complain."

Scarlett looked up from the hem she was stitching. "Don't be impertinent, Miss. Back in the War we used to put up Tableaux for fundraising. Why at the Elsing's musicale, I was draped in Grecian white robes and handed the Hamilton sword to Captain Ashburn...he died in the War..." Scarlett grew pensive over the remembrance before she perked up again. "And I was quite fetching, if I may say so myself."

"I'm sure you were Mother," Ella laughed. Then she sighed. "I know my father must have been a good man, but I wish I had inherited your looks."

And once more, Scarlett was startled at Ella's unselfish admiration of other people. Scarlett herself hated to admit that anybody else was prettier or more charming than she, even at her age. Ella was the wiser one, for sure. But in her embarrassment, Scarlett felt she needed to inculcate a moral lesson. "Pretty is as pretty does." How easily those old platitudes of Ellen's came to her, the older she grew!

Ella grinned. "But I still don't understand what Greek robes have to do with patriotism."

Scarlett was saved from having to explain by the entrance of Virgie Simmons and Marybeth Dandridge. They came up that night to help Ella with the stitching.

"You--" Scarlett said, pointing to Marybeth. "What are you dressing as?"

"The gypsy Mercedes from 'Carmen'."

Scarlett nodded. "Why don't you go as Carmen from 'Carmen'?"

But before Marybeth could answer, Virgie and Ella started giggling.

"You see Mother," Ella giggled again. "Mrs. Meade thought Carmen was too scandalous a role. But she didn't mind Marybeth going as Carmen's friend." She dissolved into a full-blown fit of laughter.

Marybeth shook her head reprovingly at Ella, but grinned just the same. As she took a chair to start sewing, she was still smiling as she locked eyes with Scarlett for a moment before she reached for a needle and thread.

Scarlett studied Marybeth as she continued sewing. By all accounts, Marybeth was very fond of and devoted to the Meades. But apparently, she wasn't above trying to get around the old lady when there was something she wanted. Scarlett rather liked that. She'd spent her own girlhood trying to avoid the notice of the old cats, although unsuccessfully. Maybe Marybeth was a more sympathetic person than she'd imagined.

"This Titania costume is beautiful, Ella. Silver-gray is just about the right color for you," Virgie said as she held up a length of the fabric. "See how nicely it sets off her hair, Mrs. Butler?"

"I've been providing Ella's clothes for many years now, Virgie. I just may have figured out how to do it by now." Scarlett's demeanor towards Ella's friends could be a bit withering, but they didn't care. The younger girls didn't share their mothers' prejudice against Scarlett. To them, Scarlett was just another mother who needed to be placated.

oOoOoOo

In the evening of the fundraiser, Marybeth carried her costume in a box and met Ella at the Mansion. They planned to dress there then Pork would drive them to the Hall.

For this occasion, Ella wore her hair flowing. Marybeth helped her brush it out, then she put the silverplated fillet on her head--that would be the fairy queen's crown.

"Too bad you can't wear your hair like this all the time, Ella," she said after she put her wreath in her own hair and they looked at their reflections in the mirror. "I really think it's your best feature."

Ella agreed with Marybeth. Brushed out, her ginger hair revealed its waves and the gaslights made some of the strands appear golden. "But unfortunately," Ella sighed, "flowing hair isn't fashionable."

"Then we'll play make-believe tonight and have fun and don't worry about fashion."

They finished dressing and Pork left them at the Hall in due time. The gentlemen had all arrived earlier in the day, "To make sure everything is in order before you ladies get here," was Beau Wilkes' solemn explanation last week. Before he started to laugh.

Ella saw Marybeth peering around, looking for Wade.

"Let's go to the ring now," said Ella, taking her by the arm. "Hopefully we'll be able to catch Beau and Wade before they're too thoroughly intoxicated."

"I beg your pardon?"

Ella never paused her steps. "Remember how Beau said they had to make sure everything was in order? The only thing they make sure of is the quality of the beer and whiskey. And naturally, one taste is not enough. The ring is where the refreshments are served to the gentlemen. And they all try to outdo each other. They need to prove their manhood by how well they can hold their liquor."

"Ohh..."

Ella stopped. "You don't mind it, do you? You don't belong to WCTU?"

"Me? No, I'm not a Temperance advocate. I don't think there's anything wrong with drinking a little bit."

"I must warn you--it's more than a little bit. But nobody get ugly, either."

As the girls headed up the hill, they could hear the sounds of raucous laughter from the other side.

"We might be too late," Ella said, exasperated. "Come on."

Beyond the crest of the little hill the girls saw a large, fenced-in ring, like the back paddock at the Butler mansion. In the pasture around the fencing all the horses were grazing. All except Wade's horse, Coal. Joe Whiting had him in the ring and was attempting, unsuccessfully, to mount him. Every time Joe would try to swing his right leg over Coal's back, the skittish young stallion would throw him off and trot away.

Outside the fence, Wade and Beau were holding each other up, laughing hard at the spectacle. There were various onlookers, cheering and booing. Raoul Picard was swearing (at least the girls thought it was swearing) colorfully in French. Beau saw the girls approaching first, nudged Wade, and the two men straightened up and started walking towards them.

But Raoul beat them both. He bowed, low and clumsy, in front of Ella and Marybeth. Then he took Ella by the hand and kissed her cheek in what he must have thought was a very courtly fashion.

"You are a vision in silver, Miss Kennedy. I see Frankie Bonn ell on the other side of the fence there waiting for you. Or is it Albert you're seeking?" He asked Ella wickedly. Ella laughed and rapped him playfully with her fan. Raoul was silly, but harmless.

Then Raoul kissed Marybeth's hand rather sloppily. She was still unused to being touched so casually, and lowered her eyes with a sweep of her lashes that he found charming. "If you're not careful, Wade, I'll take her from you," he said with a wink at Marybeth, who only shook her head in exasperation.

"Le's just see you try it," Wade retorted good-naturedly. When Raoul was in his cups he fancied himself irresistible to ladies.

"Ah, you just wait and see. The night is still young."

Ella broke in. "What's going on here, Wade? Why is Joe trying to ride your horse?"

"I jus' happened to mention..." Wade began.

"Joe boas'ed that the horse hadn't been foaled that he couldn't tame..." Beau broke in. Marybeth noticed that they were both slurring a bit.

"...and I said Coal was the e'ception..." Wade took up the story again.

"...So naturally, Joe couldn' let that remark pass unchallenged..." Beau grinned.

"Can't you discuss this later?" Said Frankie Bonnell who had hurried over to join the group as soon as he saw Ella. "We got money riding on this." Then he looked over his shoulder at Albert Whiting, who had hung back when he saw Frankie trying to pre-empt a place near Ella. "At least some of us have money riding on it."

"Riding! You said money riding on this--and we're betting on whether Joe can sit Coal. Ha ha. Some joke. He he he."

There were head shakings and eye rollings among the little crowd. Marybeth turned to see who had made the awful pun. Doubling up with laughter over his own joke was a man she'd never seen before.

But Ella leaned to her and whispered. "That's Ernest Grogan. Just ignore him."

Wade drew Marybeth off to the side a little bit and took her hand. "You look lovely this evening. You make the cutes' li'l gypsy, all flowers in your hair, " he chuckled and swayed a bit on his feet. He was trying to keep his well-mannered ways about him, but they were slipping from his grasp.

She raised an eyebrow at him and asked, lips twitching, "When are you coming up to the dance?"

"We'll be up presen'ly." Then he peered into her face. "Are you angry, Marybeth? That we came down here to er--test the refreshmen's?"

Marybeth thought of her father who enjoyed his whiskey but never became gross. And the Doctor enjoyed an occasional "nip". They didn't become ugly when they drank and there was nothing ugly about Wade right now, either.

"I am not a woman to nag you about your refreshmen's" and she imitated his slurring.

"You are a treasure," he sighed as he reached out to stroke her hair. But his cuff link caught in Marybeth's hair and when he tried to pull his arm away he wound up half pulling off her wreath.

"What are you trying to do, Hamilton--deflower her?" That was from Ernest Grogan.

A sudden embarrassed silence fell on the group and Marybeth's cheeks flamed as she looked down. Wade's eyes flashed angrily. Ernest, suddenly conscious of his gaffe, mumbled an apology.

Beau stepped into the breach. He took Ella by the elbow and stepped up to Marybeth. He nodded to Wade, then, with a hand on each girl's shoulder, he guided them away from the group.

"You ladies had better go back to the dance. We'll be along shortly. Unfortun'ly, some men don't know how to hold their liquor," and he looked disgustedly over his shoulder.

Marybeth looked at Wade, and he nodded to her. He wanted her to go, too.

Ella and Marybeth made the long trek back to the hall. They were quiet as they walked, but Ella glanced at Marybeth now and again.

Then Ella tried to smooth over the incident. "The first time my brother came home in that condition," she laughed over the memory, "Mother was simply beside herself. She had Pork put him to bed. Uncle Rhett was in town at the time and Mother demanded that he have a talk with Wade. But Uncle Rhett thought it was a harmless prank and told her so. He's of age, isn't he? Uncle Rhett said. He didn't break the law and he has to learn to hold his liquor. Besides, maybe he needs some release every now and then. So don't coddle."

Marybeth nodded. She hadn't thought of it like that and maybe Captain Butler had hit on the crux of the matter. She knew just how self-contained Wade was, how he strove for self control. She probably saw him at his most natural, but it seemed reasonable that he'd have to give vent to his wilder impulses every now and again.

Ella continued her tale. "And naturally, all the next day it seemed that every door I shut would slam."

Marybeth laughed outright at that. It was just like her friend to be extra noisy when her brother was nursing a morning-after headache.

Encouraged by her laughter, Ella sidled up to her, slipped her arm through hers and said, "I'm sorry Marybeth. About what Ernest said. I'm afraid he's no gentleman."

Marybeth squeezed Ella's hand in gratitude.

A few moments later, Ella ventured, "What does that mean--deflower?"

Marybeth looked at her with a wry smile. "Leave it to you to ask such an artless question."

"Don't try to get around me, honey. I know you know." Then in frustration, "How else am I going to find out? Nobody tells me anything."

Marybeth looked away, she looked up at the sky, then she looked at the ground. Finally, she took a deep breath and whispered in Ella's ear, "It means mating."

They walked on in silence again, but now it was Ella's turn to blush. She knew what mating was--she thought of the dogs and cats at Tara. Not to mention Old Mrs. Tarleton's breeding stallion. But she never applied that knowledge to people...with good reason! Besides, that couldn't be right. It just couldn't be--Marybeth had to be mistaken...wasn't she? But no. Marybeth couldn't be wrong about this. Ella thought back to the uncomfortable silence that had fallen on the crowd after Ernest's stupid remark. They all knew what he was talking about. All except Ella, of course. And Ernest had said it about her own brother and her best friend!

"I'm so sorry I embarrassed you," Ella said.

"Oh, don't apologize. You didn't know."

"But you did. You knew what they were talking about."

Marybeth shrugged, anxious to change the subject. "Lets talk about you. Who are you giving your first waltz to?"

Ella understood. Marybeth didn't want to discuss it anymore. She squeezed Marybeth's hand in understanding. Marybeth returned the pressure in gratitude.