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.

Marybeth was awake early the following morning rummaging through the top shelf of the armoire in her room. She brought down the satchel that she hadn't needed since the day she arrived in Atlanta and dug down to the very bottom for the envelope she knew was there. That envelope was the most important possession she owned. For in that envelope were her papers. And her papers were her proof...

"No, no, no, Marybeth insisted. I can't do this. I just can't."

The place was the kitchen of the Pluma farmhouse. The time was two weeks before she came to Atlanta.

"Don't be a fool, Marybeth. It's the only way. Please be reasonable," Esther Pluma, the aging daughter of the house, answered her.

"The only way? To fake my name? To pass myself off as somebody I'm not? I don't believe you. No. I won't do it. It's dishonest--sinful!"

"You've been living under an assumed name all along! Why should this time be any different?"

"What do you mean by that?" Marybeth asked, stunned.

"Remember when I took you in? How you asked me not to press you for your real name because you'd disgraced your family and didn't want them to find you... "

Marybeth waved a hand at her. "Never mind. This is different."

"No, it's not," retorted relentless Esther. "But I took you in anyway. I took a chance on you, remember?"

"Yes, you did," said Marybeth, her head bowed humbly. Then she looked up at her. "But this really is different--these are legal documents."

"Well...not really legal. They're forged documents. Or they will be, when you let Cornelius do his job."

The Cornelius in question was a sandy haired man wearing a finely tailored but much-worn gray suit. He sat at the hearth with his back to both women, whittling his pen and tossing the shavings into the fire. But Marybeth had the feeling that he was listening to every word that passed between her and Esther.

"But that's what I mean. It's one thing to tell people an assumed name. But to go to the step of making up false papers...this is too dishonest, Esther. I don't think I can go through with it."

The older woman sighed heavily. "Under normal circumstances, I would agree with you. If you were a young girl all alone, I would never even suggest it. But you're not all alone. You have Edward's and Christina's welfares to consider. You need a job, and I highly recommend you hire yourself out as a maid. In that way you'll have a roof over your heads."

"I don't need forged documents for that. I can find work on my own. I can take care of myself..."

"Take care of yourself?" Esther snorted. "A fine bit of taking care of yourself you've been doing up until now. Just look at you--not even 20, I'll wager, but you've been in trouble twice. Twice! How can you call it taking care of yourself if you keep choosing the wrong men to dally with..."

"I didn't choose!" Marybeth cried passionately. "I didn't even want..." Then she clamped her hand over her mouth abruptly and turned away to compose herself.

Esther nodded to herself as she looked at the back of Marybeth's lowered head. No amount of force or pleading could induce the girl to talk about her short history, but she could be provoked into revealing things in a careless, unguarded moment. Yes, she especially needed protection. Esther was even more certain of that now, and she became merciless in her persuasion. "How many more times are you going to make the same mistakes? How many times are you going to flee one home just to find another home and more trouble? There has to be a stop to this madness, even you must surely see that." Her voice became softer, her tone wheedling. "Don't you want a fresh start? I'm sure you don't want to go through this a third time, do you? Don' t you want to stop living this way? Don't you want to try on some respectability for once?"

Marybeth felt herself weakening, but she wasn't ready to give up yet. She tried another line of defense. "I'm respectable now. And I understand why you wish to break up housekeeping, now that your father is gone. So why can't you just take me with you when you go to live with your sister?"

Esther looked at her sadly. "We've been through this already--my sister isn't expecting me to bring guests to her home."

"Then take me as your maidservant. I'm not proud."

"Bless you, you're not. But as I explained before, I'm emigrating to Brazil. You don't even speak the language. "

"I'll learn it. I'm a fast learner."

Esther shook her head. "I won't take you out of the country, possibly never to see your parents again."

Marybeth pleaded, "I can't ever see my parents again. I've disgraced our family. Twice over."

Esther sighed heavily. It was true, about the disgrace. But sometimes she wondered if the girl's parents would be more forgiving than she realized. "All the same, I won't take you with me. And that's final."

Marybeth looked so dejected, Esther went around the table and put her arms around her. She felt stiff and she was shaking a little.

"And don't worry, child. You'll go to the city--remember how we discussed Atlanta?--and things can be different this time. We'll make up a story to explain your children. For your children's' sake, say 'yes'." When she felt some of the stiffness leave Marybeth and saw her nod, she became businesslike. "Neil?" She called over her shoulder. "We're ready to proceed."

Cornelius sat down at the table with his newly whittled pen, and spread several documents before him.

"What name shall we give your husband?" Esther prompted.

"Joseph. After your father," Marybeth replied without hesitation.

Esther was greatly moved. "Marybeth..."

"Why so surprised, Esther? He was very kind to me when he was alive."

"Joseph it is. And your last name?"

"Dandridge."

"Dandridge? What an odd choice for a made-up name."

"No it's not. I read it in a newspaper once and I liked it."

Esther nodded to Cornelius, who continued to scribble onto the paper. "You do understand, don't you Marybeth? I want you to have the chance to start fresh. Besides, you might want to get married some day, and the men you meet might not want a woman with a history."

"Never!" Marybeth said passionately. "I'll never get married. I hate men."

Esther let that remark pass without comment. The girl probably had good reason to hate men. She was also young enough that she could conceivably change her mind. "But you still need to find employment. And you won't find a respectable situation unless you, yourself, are respectable. You must believe me. This is the only way. One more thing. You must have my mother's ring."

OoOoOo

Marybeth clutched the collar of her coat together as she walked through the chill Atlanta streets towards the bank where Captain Butler kept his office. The envelope containing her papers was grasped tightly in her other hand--she didn't even trust to carry them in her reticule--and she was grateful for her gloves. Her palms were sweaty--presumptive guilt, she supposed, at this deliberate deception she was perpetrating.

She felt a strange sense of dismay when she arrived at the bank only to find that Captain Butler wasn't there. She expected a confrontation and had steeled herself against it. To be deprived of it was no relief, but another form of slow torture. Left with no alternative, she scribbled a note to explain that she'd been there and had left the required papers--and would he please contact her when he was finished with them? Then she left the envelope and note with one of the clerks, remembering to look very confident. She needed to act as if this were no more important than any other business transaction.

In a few days time she received the notice she expected--to please come to the bank to retrieve her papers. The few days' respite, although it was painful, leant her an added measure of resolve and she was able to pretend a calm assurance she didn't feel. She sat across the desk from him, and he gave her the same impertinent, searching appraisal he'd done in the library of the mansion. He was a dangerous adversary, but she was ready for him this time.

"How lucky for you," he began, "or should I say convenient that the Cleburne Hollow courthouse was destroyed in a flood a few years ago--along with all their court documents."

She looked blandly at him and nodded, as if to say, such things will happen, but her hands were sweaty again and she could feel the pulses throb in her temples. She hoped she didn't faint. Don't give way. I mustn't give way. Don't give way...don't give way...

He folded his hands on the desk and looked hard at her. "What would you do, Mrs. Dandridge, if Wade were cut off without a cent for marrying you?"

Her eyes widened. "You would do that?"

So she doesn't know the law, Rhett thought, although his expression didn't change. Or maybe Wade hasn't discussed his finances with her. In actuality, he didn't have that sort of power over Wade's money, and even if he did, he wouldn't use it as leverage to force Wade's hand. But it was a good test of Marybeth's intentions. He sat back in his chair and crossed his arms.

"As far as you know," he shrugged, casually. It seemed to him that she looked somewhat dismayed, and pressed what he thought was his advantage. "I take it the enticement of marriage to Wade is not so great if you think he's a poor man..."

"No, you're wrong," Marybeth answered him quickly. "I love him. I would rather be his wife and live in a hovel than anybody else's wife in the lap of luxury."

Rhett snorted. "Brave words."

"They're true," she insisted, somewhat heatedly.

"We'll see," Rhett shrugged again, then sneered at her. "So you'll still have him even if he's poor."

"Yes. I just hope..."

"What?"

She frowned and sighed. "I'm not proud, Captain Butler. I'm a maid, and I'm not ashamed to say it. I can only hope that...if he had to give up all his money...that he would still have me."

Rhett searched her face, and somewhat to his disappointment, realized that she was telling the truth, at least in this. So she wasn't a fortune hunter. But even if she was sincere about loving Wade, she still wasn't good enough for him. Besides, documents or no documents, he didn't believe a word of her story.

Marybeth continued, "I suppose now you'll be telling Wade he has to choose between his money and me. I guess we'll hear his decision soon."

"Wade's money is his to spend any way he wishes," Rhett replied calmly.

"Were you testing me? Trying to see what my reaction would be?"

"But of course! Did you expect anything different?"

"So you admit you have no power to tamper with his inheritance?"

"I admit it," he shrugged.

Goaded by his audacity, she asked, "Would you be happier if Wade married somebody who didn't love him? Just because she had money and social position?"

"I want Wade to have the best wife he can find."

She was furious with him for trying to play such a dirty trick on her. Throwing caution to the wind, she snatched her envelope away and stood up. "I do too, Captain Butler. And it's good we understand each other now. So you understand this--I am going to marry Wade and be his wife--the best wife--to him. And nobody is going to stand in our way. Especially not you."

And straightening her shoulders, she turned coolly and walked out of the office.

Rhett was not the type of man to be sassed by a mere chit of a maid. But experience taught him how to bide his time.

This isn't over, he thought, as he watched her retreating back.

Hope you're enjoying it so far…more to come!