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.

"So Jenny said Frankie's been calling at Virgie's house, but Virgie won't accept him as a suitor because she's afraid it will hurt my feelings," said Ella as she adjusted the girth on Cinnamon, her roan mare.

Marybeth nodded. She was standing a few feet away, holding the reins on Dakota and waiting for her to finish. The paddock where they were talking was hot and dusty, but both girls were looking forward to a ride. "When was the last time you saw him?" she asked.

"Not since the Thespian fundraiser. Can you believe it? Of course, I've hardly been to any parties at all since Aunt Pitty got sick. I'm just too busy nowadays." Having satisfied herself that the girth was snug and safe, she straightened up and stroked the mare's neck.

"Do you miss it? The parties and sociables?" Marybeth asked curiously.

Ella took Cinnamon's reins and tugged her to follow. "Y'know, it's odd, but I don't. I feel so useful now, and I never felt useful before in my whole life. I never had any responsibilities before, you see. Even school was no hardship, because Mother didn't care if I learned anything or not, and neither did Uncle Rhett. Wade was different. They cared what marks he earned, but then again, Wade liked to study. So does Beau." She sniffed contemptuously. "The pair of them are such bookworms. They ought to go into the monastery where they can study all day long. Of course, if Wade did that, he'd have to jilt you, and I wouldn't like that at all."

Marybeth laughed as she guided Dakota behind Cinnamon. "I wouldn't like it, either. So my poor butterfly Ella is working hard and enjoying it."

Ella laughed, too. "I do enjoy it. But I'm hardly poor." She lowered her voice and became serious. "If anything, I'm dreadfully spoiled. Mother says she and my father barely had any money at all when I was born, but I don't remember it. Actually, as long as I can remember, I merely had to point at something and it was mine. But I'm not boasting, truly. In fact, sometimes I've felt really guilty--other people have to work very hard just to buy the things they need, let alone trinkets and luxuries. And it's not as if I'm a better person than they are, or more virtuous or more clever. It doesn't seem fair. So now I don't have to feel that I do nothing but sit around all day and take things."

If Ella had turned around at that moment, she would have seen Marybeth staring at her in some wonderment. Ella was rich, but not spoiled, Marybeth was thinking. Spoiled was like Elsie Wellburn, always wanting what someone else had (and all too often getting her own way into the bargain, she thought resentfully--Marybeth still bore her a grudge for trying to take Wade away from her).

When they reached the far side of the paddock, Ella shaded her eyes and looked toward the house. "Wade told me at breakfast he thought he might be delayed at the office and to start without him. I don't see him coming."

Marybeth shrugged and then both girls mounted.

First they warmed up their horses, walk-trot-canter. Wade still hadn't arrived, so they discussed what they should do next.

"I guess we could start jumping," Marybeth suggested.

"Let's set the bars," Ella nodded.

They went over to the first fence and Ella put a large metal hook in one of the holes in the vertical pole as Marybeth put another hook into the one across from her. Then she glanced over to see what Ella was doing.

"No, Ella, put it lower. Into the 2 foot hole," Marybeth called across to her. Ella complied.

But as each girl took an end of the bar to set it into place, Ella asked, "Why don't you go higher than two feet yet? You've been riding for weeks, now."

Marybeth snorted. "Wade doesn't want me to."

"Well, in case you haven't noticed, Wade isn't here."

Marybeth shook her head. "It doesn't seem right. He doesn't want me to..."

"Honestly, Marybeth, he's not your lord and master. If you want to raise the bar, go ahead and do it."

Marybeth raised her hand in a deprecating gesture, but Ella was quick to notice her indecision. "I think you really want to try..." said Ella wheedlingly.

Marybeth grinned and bit her lower lip. "I do..."

"C'mon. We'll raise the bar together."

Excited and a little guilty, the two girls but the bar back on the dusty ground and pushed the metal hooks up higher into the poles before placing the bar across, to the forbidden two and a half feet. They hurriedly raised the bars on the three other jumps. Then they remounted and took turns jumping the course. Marybeth was on her second turn and had only taken the first jump when she saw Wade over by the fence. He was watching her with a solemn look on his face.

Marybeth's stomach clenched. She couldn't tell exactly what he was thinking, but she knew he wasn't pleased. Unfortunately, it was too late to do anything else but brazen it out. With an air of unconcern, she took the remaining jumps, paying extra attention to her technique, then trotted over to where he stood. She dismounted by herself, and still pretending not to notice his mood, asked carelessly, "Did you see how well Dakota did? She's a great little mare. I'm so sorry you weren't able to get away from work before now, but I'm afraid it's nearly time for me to be going. I'll turn Dakota out." She was aware she was babbling, but his expression unnerved her. She made as if to lead the mare to the stable.

Wade wasn't about to be gotten around. "I want to talk to you," he said as he walked beside her.

Marybeth swallowed hard and looked away from him, but she still spoke lightly. "Of course. Although I do have to go home soon. Edward and Christina will be up from their naps. I only had two hours today."

At that point, Ella ran up to her brother. "Wait! Stop, Wade!" She was a little breathless. "This wasn't Marybeth's fault. I told her to do it. She didn't want to, but I made her."

"I'm talking to Marybeth now," was all Wade's response.

"But you don't understand..." Ella persisted until she saw Marybeth shake her head at her. "I'm sorry," Ella whispered to the other girl as they continued their walk to the stable.

When they were finally out of range for anybody to hear he asked, "Why did you do that, after we agreed no high jumps?"

His voice was quiet and controlled, but his eyes flashed with anger and something else that she couldn't identify. Trying to appear calm and in control, she walked Dakota in front of her stall and reached up under the saddle to unbuckle it. "I didn't mean to make you angry, Wade. And it's not Ella's fault, either. But I really am ready to take jumps of that height."

"No..." He was implacable.

"And besides, Ella was with me."

"Ella! What does Ella know about teaching anybody how to ride? She doesn't have as much experience as I. She wouldn't recognize it if you were making some dangerous mistake. I would recognize it--that's why I'm teaching you. Furthermore, she wouldn't know what to do if you hurt yourself, but I do."

He still had his voice under control. He wasn't speaking any louder than normal, but he had an intensity that frightened her. She swallowed her fear and turned away from him.

"And as you can see," she said as she hung the saddle up on it's post. "I didn't hurt myself. Doesn't that show you something?"

"Only that you were incredibly lucky."

"But it wasn't luck," she insisted. "Don't you understand? I knew just what to do." She removed the bridal and swished the bit in water, feeling grateful she had these little tasks to do. It gave her something to do with her hands, which would have been shaking, otherwise.

"No, you don't know. That's just it. There's still too much you don't know yet, and you haven't had enough practice. There are reasons I don't let you take higher jumps." He now sounded quite vehement, but still he never got louder, and Marybeth found his very quietude frightening. Although she wouldn't want him to holler at her, she felt she could manage that better than this controlled rage. She took a deep breath, reached for a cloth to rub Dakota down, and was about to answer him, but then he asked, "How could you act so stupidly?"

Marybeth gasped, stung. She was aware of her own educational deficiencies, but she always consoled herself that she made it up with shrewdness and common sense. To be called stupid by Wade was more than she could bear.

"I'm not stupid. How dare you call me stupid?" she said as she rubbed Dakota down. She was aware that unlike Wade's, her own voice had risen.

"Well, I don't know what else you'd call that performance I just saw," he retorted angrily.

Her hands were shaking worse as she finished Dakota and put her in her stall. She felt sick at her stomach, humiliated and shamed. "Oh, leave me alone," she hissed, angry at herself that she couldn't keep her voice steady. "I'm going home."

"Wait."

"What?" She answered, although she had already turned away.

"I'll drive you," he offered, quietly.

Her head whipped around and she stared at him incredulously for a moment. Then she drew herself up to her full height and raised an eyebrow. "I wouldn't accept a buggy ride from you if you were the last man on Earth." And with that she turned on her heel and marched out.

oOoOoOo

In the time it took for Marybeth to wend her way home, her emotions ran the gamut from rage to chagrin to despair to numbness. Why did I ever let Ella talk me into that stupid jump? She thought. I wish I never had that fight with Wade. I wish I had him back. Of course, I'm furious with him for calling me stupid. But I miss him anyway.

When she arrived home she called out a greeting to Mrs. Meade from the front door, then raced upstairs so she wouldn't have to face her and be asked how her afternoon went. She woke the little ones from their naps and took them outside to play with them in the yard. She was determined to finish out her day as if nothing had happened, and she tried to concentrate on nothing but the Meades' house, her children and the task at hand. But their prattle and games weren't enough to keep her mind off Wade. In spite of herself she replayed their fight over and over in her head until she was thoroughly miserable. By the time she saw Mrs. Meade come and sit on the porch, she felt so lonesome for company she went to sit with her.

Marybeth's distress seemed to go by unnoticed by Mrs. Meade. The two women talked about mundane things until Betsy came outside with some ears of corn for Marybeth to shuck. And while she was tearing the husk off the corn, she happened to notice a mosquito hovering just above the table. She slapped at it with a satisfying smack. In fact, it felt so good to release her feelings, she slapped at it two more times, wiped her hand on her apron and sat back against the chair with a frown.

"One slap would have sufficed," Mrs. Meade observed mildly.

Betsy looked sharply at Marybeth, then pronounced, "I bet she done had a fight wid Mist' Wade."

"Oh!" Mrs. Meade exclaimed. "Is that true, dear?"

Marybeth nodded grimly

"Oh well, these little lovers' quarrels never last long and rarely amount to a hill of beans. Don't you worry your head over it."

But Marybeth refused to be comforted--she was back to being mad. "He said I was stupid."

"Wade said that? That doesn't sound like him at all. What happened?"

"I raised the bar for Dakota and he caught me."

Mrs. Meade and Betsy exchanged a glance.

"Just the same, don't fret over it," Mrs. Meade urged. "Maybe in a day or two when you've both had time to calm down..." At that the front doorbell rang.

"I'll get it," Marybeth mumbled as she rose quickly. She knew Mrs. Meade meant well, but she thought if she had to listen to one more platitude she would scream.

When she opened the door, it was Ella.

"Oh please, Marybeth," Ella grabbed her arm, looking desperate. "You left so quickly I didn't have a chance to talk to you. Please forgive Wade for getting angry with you--whatever he said, I'm sure he didn't mean it." She looked so earnest and pleading that Marybeth slipped her arm through hers and led her to the parlor.

"Ella, you shouldn't be here apologizing for your brother. If Wade has something to say to me he can tell me himself."

"He will. I mean, he is coming to apologize. But I need to talk to you before he does."

"Oh?" Marybeth said haughtily. "How do you know he's coming over? Did he discuss it with you?"

"Of course not. The only person he confides in is Beau. And you. But I know my brother--and besides, you should see him, he's miserable."

"Good," was the grim reply.

"Marybeth, please. I know you're angry with him. But it's my fault, too. I should have never encouraged you to raise the bar."

"It was my own choice. You only suggested it. I could have said no."

"But I don't think you knew the whole reason Wade was so worried for you. Did he ever tell you about Bonnie?"

"No...I don't think so. Bonnie who?"

"Bonnie Butler. Our sister."

oOoOoOo

Half an hour after Ella's visit, Marybeth--with Mrs. Meade's permission--hurried back to the mansion to find Wade. Normally, Mrs. Meade would never have allowed her to go running after a man, but even that indomitable woman could see that this circumstance was clearly a special case. She inquired at the front door and was informed by Prissy that Wade was in the stable. She nearly ran through the back yard, and arrived breathless in the wide stable doorway.

Wade was alone, no longer wearing coat, waistcoat, or hat. He had his shirtsleeves rolled up and was mucking the stable himself, having dismissed Wash for the day. He had hoped intense physical exertion would help him clear his mind--it usually did--but he'd been at the task ever since Marybeth stomped off for home, and still his thoughts were roiling.

He shocked himself with the depth of his feelings--he never dreamed he could be so angry with her. Of course, she was clearly in the wrong here--any right-minded person could see that. All the same, he regretted bitterly that he'd been so harsh with her. Only--only it had terrified him to see her taking that jump, especially without him there to supervise. And she grew so angry with him in return...

He thought he'd gladly give anything if only the afternoon had turned out differently. It pained him to be at odds with Marybeth like this and he would have to mend fences with her, surely. Pain, regret, fear, anger--all these emotions were fighting for possession of his mind. But uppermost was the conviction that he had to talk to her, make things right if he could, convince her to forgive him. If only he could pull his thoughts together and think of what to say.

"Wade?"

He turned at the sound of that beloved voice calling his name. She had paused in the doorway, then walked slowly towards him.

He put the pitchfork against the wall, wiped his arm across his forehead and ran to meet her halfway and took her hands. "Marybeth, I..."

"No, let me go first," she pleaded. "Ella told me all about Bonnie. I never knew about you having another sister. I'm so sorry."

"Ella told you? When did Ella tell you--?"

"Just now--a half hour ago. But don't scold her. She wasn't trying to interfere."

Wade shook his head. "I won't. But earlier--when I saw you taking that jump--I overreacted. I couldn't bear to think that you could suffer Bonnie's fate. And at the risk of bringing up our quarrel again, I never said you were stupid. I said what you did was stupid. And even for that I apologize."

Marybeth shook her head impatiently, but her eyes were full of compassion. "Your poor mother and Captain Butler--I can't imagine how tragic it was for them. And how tragic for you and Ella, too--it must have been awful for you both to lose her."

Wade looked at her strangely for a moment before he spoke. "Is that what you think? That I was grief-stricken for Bonnie? Well, I'm ashamed to say it, but at the time of the funeral, all I cared about was that it meant we could spend extra time at Aunt Melly's house. I was a terribly selfish little pup, I'm afraid. It wasn't until some time had passed that I fully realized just how tragic it was."

Her hand still in his, he went and sat on a hay bale and drew her down next to him. "You know that Beau and I are cousins--the Wilkes' and Hamiltons are related. What you have to understand is that Hamiltons and Wilkes' all believe in family loyalty--it's practically our creed. And for good reason--the only way we can survive in this world is to band together. And although there are fights and rivalries among us, to the outside world we present a united front." He looked in her eyes laughed a little. "You're being very polite, but I can see you wondering what I mean by all this preamble.

"I would never tell this to anybody else, but I think you should know--I mean, we have an understanding, don't we dearest? Besides, you really should know about this before you pledge yourself to me." He looked down at her hand and ran his thumb over her fingers for a moment before he looked her full in the face. "My family is rather different than other families. And it's more than just my mother's running a business. She and Uncle Rhett..." he struggled for a delicate way to phrase it. "Well, they're practically separated now. They've been estranged since Bonnie died. But when I was a little boy, and they were first married, they both scandalized Atlanta with the crowd they ran with, and the wild parties. Even before that, during the War years he was a speculator and Mother stopped wearing black for my father too soon--at least, this is the part I know. The town eventually forgave Uncle Rhett--he's rather a sympathetic person now, but Mother is a different case..." He flushed then. "I've often thought that things would be different for all of us if Bonnie had only lived. Perhaps Uncle Rhett would spend more time here in Atlanta and he and Mother would be happy together...Please understand--not for the world would I speak ill of my family, but with you..." And he shrugged.

Marybeth turned quickly and placed her arms around his neck and whispered, "I understand everything now that you've told me. Oh, Wade, if I had only known."

He took her face in his hands gently and spoke seriously. "But Marybeth, you do trust me, don't you? You do believe I would never do anything that could hurt you? Or put you in peril?"

"I do, Wade, truly"

"But you're so spirited. You hide it well most of the time, but sometimes it just slips out, doesn't it? It's as if a veil pushes aside and somebody else is there--somebody who sets all ladylike reserve at naught--I've seen it when you ride..."

But Marybeth wasn't interested in analyzing her own personality at that moment. Grateful and relieved that she and Wade were no longer quarreling, aching with tenderness over the tragedy of Bonnie's untimely death, she slid half onto his lap and kissed him full on the mouth. She was pleased when his arms tightened around her, pressing her to him, but it lasted only a moment before he put her on her feet and stood up.

"I shouldn't let you do that," he said. "I'm filthy from mucking the stalls, and now you'll be filthy too. Everybody will guess you've been sitting in the stable boy's lap."

She looked at him and grinned. His hair was tousled, shirt buttons half undone, and he was covered with dust and bits of straw. He looked a mess, but Marybeth found him just as appealing this way as when he was carefully groomed, as she was used to seeing him. "Pooh. As if I care about that," and she started to throw herself back in his lap.

Wade grabbed her wrists and stood up quickly, preventing her. "Mrs. Meade will care," he said wickedly.

Marybeth put her nose in the air. "No she won't. She approves of you. And besides--I'm sure she used to sit on Dr. Meade's lap back when they were courting."

And they laughed together, happy that harmony was restored.

Coming up—Wade and Marybeth make a life-changing decision and Rhett is not pleased. Ella sinks into depression and Scarlett…