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.

Despite her brave words to Captain Butler back there in the bank, Marybeth felt anything but courageous as she wended her way home in the chilly air.

His challenge made her realize just how precarious her security really was, and she was filled with self-doubt. How did she ever manage to make anybody believe her story? Why was he the first person to question it? With Esther's advice and coaching, she'd kept her explanation about her previous life short and simple. And besides, it sat ill with her to lie, and she was not such a one to continue to elaborate on a lie once it had been told. So for a year and a half she'd stuck by it without ever deviating, but now it seemed like the most ridiculous story ever concocted. A widow with two children? It didn't even sound plausible to her anymore.

Guilt rose up and gnawed at her vitals. When she agreed to this charade of Esther's, her only thought was to find a respectable situation. She knew it was a big lie, but she deemed it would only have little consequences. Before she actually arrived in Atlanta, she had imagined herself living out a quiet, retired life somewhere in a comfortable home with kindly employers. She didn't want adventures, she didn't want attention. She never dreamed she would find--besides the comfortable home and affable employers she aspired to--friends and a position in society and a man she could want to marry--who also wanted to marry her. What was that old phrase? She and Wade read it together--something about a tangled web when we deceive. Now she felt herself right smack in the middle of the web. And she couldn't feel more frightened than if there were a huge, menacing spider waiting to pounce on her.

Her fear and uneasiness grew as time went on. Only she couldn't escape it or put it aside with a few rationalizations and a vague decision to think about it later. Her lie was everywhere now. When she and Wade went to the priest to set their date, she had to bring her (forged) papers with her. When their engagement was officially announced, naturally her past came up, for that was the reason she and Wade would not be having a big ceremony--it wasn't proper etiquette to make a big fuss over a second wedding. Then there were the occasional comments about how it was her second marriage, but Wade's first. Those statements in particular made Marybeth cringe inwardly. It isn't true! She wanted to cry. This will be the first marriage for both of us! But of course she kept her mouth shut.

How could it be that only Captain Butler ever challenged her story to her face? Was she that convincing a liar? There was that disgusting word again. Liar. She always hated liars, and now she was one. Of course, there was always the possibility that tongues had been wagging the whole time and she wasn't aware. Then she discarded that possibility. If there had been gossip, Mrs. Meade would have heard it. She heard all the gossip.

Instead of being the happiest time of her life, Marybeth's engagement was turning into one protracted nightmare. She knew the answer to her dilemma, of course--it was no great mystery--she must come clean now and take her lumps. But she shied away from the thought. What if she did come clean? She would certainly wake up from this nightmare, no doubt about it.

But what if she woke, only to be plunged into a nightmare much worse than she could imagine...

oOoOoOo

Thu-duh-dump, thu-duh-dump, thu-duh-dump. The roan mare's hooves rang out on the woody trail as her young lady rider urged her forward--faster and faster--and all the while thinking that it was so good to be out, feeling the crisp air rushing by her face and watching the kaleidoscope of images--now bright, now dim. It was midday in winter, and the leaves were still off the trees, the branches overhead casting shadows that gave the illusion of flickering lights to any rider going faster than a trot--in summer there would be no kaleidoscope, for the entire wood would be dim and green.

The rider felt the subtle change in her horse's gait before she saw its cause--there was another horse and rider up ahead. She reined in when she saw who was waiting for her.

He was off his horse and he held up his arms to catch her as she dismounted easily.

"I was afraid you wouldn't come," said Raoul Picard.

"Me too. I couldn't get away from the folks at home until now."

"But I thought it was doctor's orders you had to go out everyday?"

Ella smiled. "It is. But Aunt India wanted me to pick up a few things at the store. I couldn't say no. But what does it matter? I'm here now."

He pulled her into his embrace, his mouth lowering to meet hers.

oOoOoOo

Edward Dandridge, as he was known to all the world, was three and a half years old, and it wasn't lost on him that his mother seemed to be particularly nervous these days. She jumped at the smallest noise, and fretted over the chores, and sometimes he even had to call to her a few times before he could get her attention. But when she stopped to sit down, and he or his sister climbed up onto her lap, Mama hugged them fiercely--almost as if she were frightened--almost so it hurt.

But then again, all the grown-ups were acting strangely these days, talking about a wedding, and Mama seemed to be the center of attention of all the ladies of his small acquaintance. They came and went from the house with their skirts rustling, drinking tea and eating little cakes and talking, always talking, about Mama.

Mama seemed to like these visits, for she laughed and smiled along with the ladies. But when she was left all alone, her forehead would crinkle into a puckered frown, and she would go back to her frantic cleaning and straightening and rearranging of things she had just rearranged earlier that day.

Sometimes old Mrs. Meade would scold Mama. "Marybeth!" She'd say (that was what the grownups called Mama). "Slow down--you're wearing yourself out. Do come in the kitchen and we'll have a cup of tea. I declare, if you polish that shelf one more time, you'll wear a hole right through it."

Then Mama would smile and put away her dust rag and go into the kitchen with Mrs. Meade.

But it wouldn't be long before she was fiddling with things again.

Sometimes Edward was awakened in the night by the sound of her pacing the floor in their bedroom. Usually he rolled over and fell back asleep when she did this, but one time he sat up on his little cot and watched her. Her feet were bare, her hair was loose down her back. Her nightdress seemed to glow in the moonlight and she looked a little ghostly as she paced and wrung her hands. But before he could become afraid, she saw him and flew to him. She tucked him back in gently, smoothed his hair and gave him a kiss. But she said, firmly, "Go back to sleep, Edward." And when Mama spoke in that tone of voice, one obeyed. However, she stopped pacing and went to bed after that.

Lucky Christina didn't seem to notice anything different going on, he thought resentfully. Night after night, as Mama paced, she slept peacefully on her little cot, thumb in her mouth, rump in the air. Because he felt the strain of Mama's strain, he took out his feelings on his little sister--hiding her doll, for instance, or knocking down her block towers or by getting up close to her face to make her look at him. But all that did was to make Chrissy cry and Mama scold. That's what you get, he thought glumly, when you try to talk to somebody who still wears a diaper.

There was one word he kept hearing over and over again in the grown folks' talk. So one day, when Mama was actually sitting down (although she was staring off into space), he climbed on her lap and asked, "What's wedding?"

Her eyes opened in surprise, and he wondered if he said something wrong. But then she smiled and held him securely and he felt reassured. "It means," she said, "that in a little while, I'm going to marry Uncle Wade and we'll all go to live with him. Would you like Uncle Wade to be your Pa?"

Edward smiled and nodded. He didn't fully understand what she meant by Pa, but it must be a good thing, because if it weren't, Mama wouldn't smile that way. "I like Uncle Wade. He plays with me."

"When we go to live with him, you'll be able to play with him even more often."

"I like that."

"Of course, it also means we won't live here anymore."

He looked up at her, not comprehending. He'd forgotten any other home than this one. Mama sighed. "Let me explain...you see...oh...let me put it this way..." she stumbled through her explanation. "Say we're visiting Mrs. Picard's house...We always come home before bedtime. But when I marry Uncle Wade, you and Christina and I will go to his house, not to return here, but to sleep there and eat there and live there. Forever."

"And Mrs. Meade, and Doctor Meade and Old Talbot and Betsy, too."

"Nooo...they won't come to the house to sleep and live with us...But they can come to visit and eat dinner sometimes!" She added brightly when she saw his face, stricken at the idea of leaving his home and the only family he knew.

And so it went. Somehow, in some way, Edward realized he would have more Uncle Wade and less Mrs. Meade and Doctor Meade. His insides felt funny. He wished he could have more Uncle Wade and more of the Meades, who were always so kind to him. He didn't like the idea of his little world changing--he was very happy with it the way it was. Then he looked up into Mama's face. That wouldn't change, he knew--he would still have Mama. She said so, herself. When they left here to live with Uncle Wade, Mama would be there too. Edward leaned against his mother and sighed. Everything would be good, so long as Mama was there.

oOoOoOo

"How long have we been meeting like this?" Raoul Picard asked Ella as they lolled on a large, flat rock by the creek.

She shrugged and peeled the bark off a twig with her fingernails, not caring if her cuticles were damaged. "Shortly after Mother took me to see the doctor and he threatened me with tonics."

"No, I think it was closer to Christmas."

She laughed and shook her head at his contrariness. Raoul always had to be right. "Does it matter?"

"No, I suppose not."

Their meetings weren't planned, at least in the beginning. She happened to be riding along the trails one day as he was riding the other way. They smiled and waved to each other, but neither of them stopped. A few days later, she saw him again on the same trail. He reined in close to her, doffed his hat, and they exchanged a few pleasantries before they each rode off again in their separate directions.. The same happened on another day, and another day. Eventually they fell into a habit of joking and toying with each other, in a lighthearted fashion. He joked and cajoled her with courteous gallantries, which she repaid with laughter and batting eyelashes. And Raoul was just as joking and cajoling the first time he kissed her, overriding her insincere, laughing attempts to push him away.

After that, they started meeting on purpose. Ella was reveling in these meetings. His flirtatious male attention was a balm to her spirits. And it was so exciting and just a little bit naughty to be meeting in the woods away from prying eyes.

Until one day he took a liberty...and she let him.

He came back to common sense before she did, and broke apart their embrace. "I'm sorry, Ella. I'm afraid I was no gentleman."

But Ella only laughed as she stepped away from him, pushed her hair back into its pins and smoothed her hands over her outfit. Regardless of what Mother or Uncle Rhett might say, she would not be ashamed.

"I do respect you, Ella, I swear it."

"I believe you. Don't apologize. And besides, it isn't polite to swear."

Raoul found her levity to be a bit off-putting, but he thought of himself as a gentleman, and there was only one thing a gentleman could do under the circumstances. "I know--I'll marry you if you like," he said swiftly.

"Wha-- Marry?" Ella stared at him in astonishment. "But you're not in love with me, nor I with you."

"Don't you think it's a bit indelicate to bring that up right now?. But I do like you very much. And I just want to make everything right again. Besides, we're both sanguine people, easy to get along with. It might be fun being married to me."

Fun? She remembered her conversation she'd had with Uncle Rhett about life. He said marriage could be fun. She still didn't entirely understand what he meant by that, but how odd Raoul should use the same word...

"But fun is no reason to marry...oh Raoul, the best way you can make this right is not to talk about it, ever again, to anybody, not even me."

Now he was even more put off--didn't he try to act the gentleman? He rather expected her to agree to marry him. Of course, she was right, too. As much as they enjoyed each other, their liaison was based on love-play, rather than on a love that was deep, true and abiding. And so he agreed to her terms, and with that they parted.

oOoOoOo

But afterwards, Ella pondered her last meeting with Raoul--she couldn't quite get it out of her mind. How did she wind up under his spell? He wasn't a handsome man, like Cousin Beau, for instance. Raoul was barely taller than herself, and quite hairy into the bargain. On the other hand, he had Gallic charm in abundance, and she basked in his admiration. And after Albert's backward wooing, Raoul gave her the recognition she had eaten her heart out for--the acknowledgement that she was a woman, one worthy of amorous attention.

Also, because nobody knew about these trysts in the woods, there was a certain rebellious glamour to harboring a juicy secret.

And in her deepest heart, she realized, there was another reason, a much uglier reason she liked trysting with Raoul. She never saw herself as a vindictive person before, and she didn't consciously think she was trying to punish Albert when she started meeting with Raoul. And yet, there was no denying it gave her a wild and stinging joy to know she was doing something that Albert didn't know about, but would hurt him if he did know. So there, Albert. You might not want me, but that doesn't mean other men don't.

But it was over now--she hadn't completely taken leave of common sense--for all her insouciance, she knew she couldn't meet Raoul in secret anymore--she didn't entirely trust herself not to get swept away again. She stopped riding alone in the woods, instead putting Cinnamon through her paces in the ring. But this didn't work any hardship on her--for some reason, Raoul didn't seem as exciting anymore. Besides, the whole episode added another layer of complication to her life. And somehow it made her sore that her very first proposal had not been from love, but because she was compromised...

She wasn't in any danger of slipping back into her decline--she had gained too much confidence in these last few months for that--but all the same, she decided to confide in somebody, and decided that somebody would be Marybeth. Once she came to that decision, finding a time to talk to her proved more tricky. It seemed that Ella had all the time in the world, but Marybeth worked hard for the Meades during the day and her evenings were usually spent with Wade. However, patience and persistence paid out, and she finally had an opportunity one late evening--Wade was staying at the office to work on a case, and she invited Marybeth to visit. The girls were sitting on Ella's bed, talking about the upcoming wedding (for Marybeth had already asked Ella to be her maid of honor), when she confessed briefly what happened between herself and Raoul in the woods.

To her consternation, Marybeth flared up in anger. "Raoul did that? How dare he! I'm so sorry, Ella. Will you be telling Captain Butler?"

"No, no. You don't understand," Ella hastened to interject. "I wasn't angry--I didn't mind..." but she stopped in confusion to see the genuine distress in Marybeth's face. For the first time, her mother's teachings rose up and accused her and she felt ashamed. She slumped back against the headboard. "I can't imagine what you must think about me now. Especially because I already have Albert. But I do hope you still like me."

Marybeth leaned over and put a hand over hers. "You're the best friend I have in the world. I would hardly stop liking you over a thing like that." Her voice was very earnest--it was clear she put the blame squarely on Raoul and completely exonerating her friend.

For her part, Ella wasn't entirely above letting Raoul take the blame, especially if it meant Marybeth still respected her, and her good spirits returned. She hugged Marybeth and jumped up to rummage through her desk. "And besides, it's not as if we did the thing that makes babies start. I'm not like that trollop of a Camilla."

Marybeth started, but Ella didn't notice. "Camilla? Who's Camilla?"

"Oh...it's nobody. Nobody at all. Just somebody I heard about," she said abruptly before she changed the subject. When she turned around, she had a new fashion book in her hands. "I want to wear emerald green when I'm your bridesmaid. It's one of the few colors a redhead can wear...and what do you think of this style here on page twenty-six...?"

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