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.

Although she liked her future daughter-in-law, it galled Scarlett that her only son would be married in a simple, bare-bones ceremony in the pastor's study, with only Ella and Beau Wilkes in attendance as the witnesses. Although she'd never thought it out plainly to herself, she always assumed her children's weddings would include fanfare and celebration, toasts and dancing, and noisy hilarity. But "no fuss for second weddings" was one of society's cherished rules, and although Scarlett saw no reason to abide by it, and every reason to break it, Marybeth was adamant--no fuss. Scarlett knew this because she tried to talk her into a big shindig, and was met with a respectful, polite, but firm no. So she resigned herself to wait for Ella's wedding to relieve her need for some pageantry.

Then Scarlett found an unexpected ally from an unexpected source--Mrs. Meade.

Just like Scarlett, Mrs. Meade regretted that the upcoming nuptials would be private, but unlike Scarlett, she followed the dictates of society, even if she didn't like them. But that didn't stop her from trying to find some loophole in the rules--after all, there is more than one way to skin a cat. So when Marybeth happened to mention casually that Catholic weddings sometimes included a Mass, she got an idea. The pastor couldn't perform a Mass in his study, could he? He would have to use the church, and then she and the Doctor could attend, also. So the next time Marybeth had to meet with the priest about the ceremony, she went with her.

At the rectory, Mrs. Meade struck up an immediate rapport with Father Quinn, the priest who was lately assigned to the parish. She took the situation in hand, asking him about himself (for he had a brogue one could cut with a knife), and from which part of Ireland he hailed (even though she knew little of Ireland or her counties), and how was he finding Atlanta? The priest, on the other hand, saw in Mrs. Meade a type he was all too familiar with--frail on the outside, solid steel on the inside--and found her amusing. Of Marybeth he'd hardly formed an opinion. She was merely one of the many brides he was scheduled to marry in the next few months.

Finally, Mrs. Meade brought the subject around to the location of the wedding. He listened patiently to her impassioned plea before turning to Marybeth.

"There's nothing keeping you from marrying inside the church itself if you please. And there'll be more divine grace from the full Mass than the ceremony alone," he pointed out.

Marybeth, raised from the cradle to respect the cloth, could not withstand Mrs. Meade and Father Quinn combined. She unbent enough to allow for a wedding Mass, but insisted that only the immediate families (she counted the doctor and his wife) would be allowed to attend.

When Scarlett heard that the ceremony had been moved to the church (and with a grudging feeling of respect for Mrs. Meade, who had wrangled it--who'd have imagined that old cat was so crafty?), she started to get an idea. She wasn't the bride's mother. She had no call to throw them a wedding breakfast, which was the current fashionable way to celebrate a marriage. But on the other hand, there was nothing to keep her from throwing a ball supper that just happened to be scheduled on the same day as the wedding ceremony.

Marybeth was horrified when Wade told her about his mother's plans for a big party.

"No, Wade. You have to convince her to cancel. Or at least postpone it for another day."

"But Marybeth, it's been years since she's thrown a party. When I was a child, she and Uncle Rhett entertained endlessly. I think she misses it. And besides, what harm will it do? I certainly would like the opportunity to introduce you in society as my wife."

"But it won't look right! People aren't such fools that they'll truly believe the ball isn't in our honor. I don't want to start off wrong on our very wedding day. And besides, we'll have the rest of our life together for you to present me to your friends."

"If it's that important to you, I'll talk to her. But Mother is stubborn. I don't think it will do much good."

Marybeth wasn't about to wait for Wade to talk to his mother. She went to the store the very next day and asked to speak to her in private.

Scarlett led Marybeth into the back office, and closed the door, a bemused smile on her face. "Won't you sit down?"

Marybeth sat down, but lost no time launching her attack. "Mrs. Butler, is it really such a good idea for you to host a ball the same day Wade and I are married?"

"Why of course it is, dear, one may host a ball supper any time one wishes," Scarlett answered obtusely. She knew exactly what Marybeth was hinting at, but refused to acknowledge the hint. She wanted a party, and a party was exactly what she was going to have. And if Marybeth had the least sense, she'd appreciate how clever she was in finding a way around the dictates of society.

Marybeth looked down into her gloved hands. "I'm just worried that it won't look right, that it will seem to be like a wedding breakfast, and you know that with my circumstances..."

"Nonsense. There won't be anything about your wedding on the invitations I'm sending. It's merely a ball. Nothing else."

Marybeth tried another tack. "I also don't want to put you to any trouble. Getting up a party such as the one you're planning must be so much work, and you already have a house and the store and Miss Hamilton and..."

"Fiddle-dee-dee. You let me worry about it," and Scarlett patted the younger woman's hand. "All you need to do is think about your wedding." Then she looked at her watch, hanging from a black silk ribbon tied around her neck. "Oh dear, the time...I'm really very sorry, but we're quite busy today out front, and I'm sure Mrs. Meade needs you at home. Let me show you out?"

And with that, Marybeth was hurried out the door.

Winter slowly turned into spring, but the passage of Time--that alleged great Healer--did nothing to alleviate Marybeth's anxiety. Now, on top of losing control of her wedding, there was Mrs. Butler's ball to think about. Marybeth was near panic. All she desired was a quick, quiet ceremony and then she could start setting up housekeeping with Wade without undue fanfare. But between the combined efforts of Mrs. Meade and Mrs. Butler, all sorts of to-do were inevitable. All Marybeth wanted was to fade into the background, drawing as little attention to herself as possible, but nobody else would allow it. All this planning and fussing just to make me an honest woman, she thought sourly.

Under the influence of this excess nervous energy, she redoubled her efforts to keep the Meades' house spotless, wishing desperately to make herself useful and avoid giving any offence. She also began to lose her appetite--instead of eating, she picked at her meals and moved the food around on her plate. Because it was her job to clear the table and scrape the dishes, she was able to get away with it unnoticed by anyone else. But her engagement ring was starting to slide up and down on her finger loosely, and she took to winding thread around it to make it tighter.

Mrs. Meade was aware of her nervousness, but deemed that it was no more than could be expected at such an exciting time, and didn't mention it to her. Until the day she fainted.

Marybeth and Betsy were in the kitchen making the day's bread. It was unseasonably warm, and the oven was already in use, for Betsy had decided to bake a cake in addition to the bread. Marybeth had barely touched her toast at breakfast, and as she stood at the table, kneading the bread, the heat from the oven and from the sun streaming in the windows, the yeasty smell from the dough, and her own barely recognized hunger made her lightheaded. She paused once in her kneading, looked up and took a deep breath, then resumed working the dough. But black spots began to dance before her eyes, and she seemed to lose her balance. The last thing she heard was Betsy's scream before everything went black.

When she came to, she was laying on the bench by the back door, with something under her feet, and Dr. Meade standing over her. For once in her life, Mrs. Meade overcame her fear of the telephone and called for him at the office.

"Well, young lady, you've worn yourself sick," was the first thing he said.

"No I didn't," Marybeth contradicted groggily. She turned her head a little to see Betsy helping Mrs. Meade into a chair. "It was just hot in the kitchen, and then I didn't eat a very big breakfast, either."

"The heat? Breakfast? Who do you think you're fooling? And another thing," he lifted her hand. "This ring fit when Wade gave it to you four months ago."

She pulled her hand back hastily. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have worried you like this." And she struggled to rise.

"Forget the apologies. And don't try to stand yet, either."

"But the bread!"

"The bread can wait. Betsy will make the bread. You, young lady, are going back to bed for the rest of the day."

Marybeth tried to talk him out of it, tried to cajole him into allowing her to resume her duties in the kitchen, but he turned a deaf ear to her pleas.

"Mrs. Meade," he said imperiously, "You make sure she eats something after she settles in upstairs." Then he turned to Marybeth. "If you don't take better care of yourself, by the time June comes around you're going to be one sorry bride for Wade."

Too late, she thought. I'm already a sorry bride for Wade.

oOoOoOo

When Wade came to call on her that evening, Dr. Meade met him at the door instead, and told him about Marybeth's fainting episode. But he didn't allow him to see her. Even if they were affianced, Wade had no business in Marybeth's bedroom before their wedding. Mrs. Meade held firmly to that. So he sent his best wishes through Mrs. Meade and left.

He worried about it as he drove all the way back to the mansion. And by the time he got home, his worry had increased to such intensity that he sought out Scarlett and relayed to her the story of Marybeth's fainting spell. To his relief, Scarlett didn't react with alarm.

"She's probably just nervous about the wedding," she reassured him. "You know, maybe she needs a change of scenery. In fact, why don't you take her to Tara? It's lovely in the spring and anyhow, she ought to see the house where she'll be mistress someday. Could you leave the office for a few days? You can? Then I'll write to Suellen and Will immediately that they should expect you."

oOoOoOo

When Gerald O'Hara died in 1866, all he owned in the world was a war-ravaged plantation in Clayton County, Georgia that was known as Tara. Care of the plantation passed into the hands of his two oldest daughters, Scarlett Kennedy and Suellen O'Hara, soon to be Benteen--but not his youngest, Careen, for she had decided to turn nun.

In it's heyday, the plantation was a prosperous and thriving concern, but by the time of Gerald's death it had deteriorated badly and had brought in so little income that Scarlett needed outside assistance to pay the taxes--it was for that reason she married Frank Kennedy. She needed his money and wasn't above marrying him to get at it.

In the subsequent years the two sisters, with the help of their husbands, had managed to keep and maintain the property and over time even made it valuable again. But eventually, the O'Hara girls fell to squabbling, as was their wont. Scarlett had always loved Tara and was willing to do whatever it took to care for and maintain it. Suellen had always liked Tara, as far as it went, but she wanted a place of her own. After all, Tara had always seemed like it belonged to Scarlett.

About five years after Melanie Wilkes' death, things came to a head between the sisters. A local plantation, Pine Bloom, was up for sale and Suellen wanted to buy it. She and her husband, Will, offered to sell their share of Tara to Scarlett, and to that end they wrote to her in Atlanta asking her to check over the details of Gerald's will.

Scarlett had never seen a copy of the will and certainly did not have it in her possession, and she wrote her brother-in-law a letter to that effect.

Upon receiving this information, Suellen and Will combed every inch of the big house but were unable to find not only the will, but any documents at all pertaining to the ownership of Tara. In consternation they contacted Scarlett.

Wade was studying for the entrance exam for Harvard at the time and was especially interested in the case because he wanted to enter law. He suggested to his mother, "Why don't you ask Uncle Rhett about it the next time he's in Atlanta?"

Scarlett didn't wait for Rhett to arrive, but wrote him a lengthy letter detailing the case. To her surprise, he showed up on the doorstep a bare week later, and took the inheritance issue in hand. Scarlett suspected he pulled some strings with his cronies in the government to make the transfer of property run as smoothly and quickly as it did, but the end result was that Tara was deeded solely to Scarlett, and Will and Suellen were the proud owners of Pine Bloom.

Rhett left Atlanta after shaking hands with Will over the deal, but Scarlett went back to Clayton County with her sister and brother-in-law to help Suellen with the packing and moving. It was the first time she'd been back to Tara since the summer after Melanie died, and when she saw the familiar, beloved, red soil and rolling green fields, she wanted to weep with joy.

oOoOoOo

The day before the move to the new house, Scarlett, Will, and Suellen walked all over Pine Bloom for the sheer nostalgia of it. Scarlett and Suellen both remembered what it was like back when the Calverts lived there. They reminisced together and regaled patient Will with stories of the parties and barbeques they remembered from their girlhood. It wasn't a particularly pretty house anymore, Scarlett thought, for the previous owners had allowed all the lovely wall coverings and paint to fall into disrepair. But the walls themselves and the foundation were still solid, and Will saw it in terms of its potential. So did Suellen.

"But I don't want to call it Pine Bloom anymore," Declared the future chatelaine of the house. "I don't want to be reminded of the old days when we start to live here. For then it will be our house. We'll have to think up a new name. Also, as soon as we go home today, I'll start looking over the catalogues for new wallpapers."

"I reckon I'd like a new name, Sue," Will agreed affably. "What do you think?"

Suellen shook her head. "I'm afraid I don't know. But I want to think of one soon. This will be the Benteen house now, not the Calvert's."

"Well...weren't Tara named after Irish history? I seem to remember Ashley or Melanie saying so." Asked Will absently as he ran his fingers along the windowsill in the parlor, feeling for rot or cracks.

"I told you that, Will," Scarlett said, a bit irritably.

"So you did," Will agreed mildly.

"Pa said Tara was the seat of the high kings of Ireland in ancient days," explained Suellen, and Will nodded.

Scarlett, listening to this conversation, but not really feeling like a part of it, suddenly felt envious. Will's easygoing deference to his wife was annoying enough, but it was almost worse to see how Suellen seemed to ripen and bloom in response to that deference. Scarlett couldn't see what her sister did to deserve Will's kindness, but their marriage was a happy one. She also couldn't understand why Suellen and Will were blessed to live in such harmony when she and Rhett weren't. To relieve her jealous feelings, she indulged in some sarcasm.

"You could always name this 'Drogheda' after the siege all those years ago," she said, as she wandered towards the center hall. When she turned in the doorway she was astonished to see her sister and brother-in-law looking at each other thoughtfully.

"'Drogheda' has rather a ring to it," Will said.

"No, I was only kidding!" Protested Scarlett, rushing back from the hall.

"It is from Irish history--Pa would have liked it," Suellen said, ignoring Scarlett.

"No! Listen to me! He wouldn't have liked it. Not at all," Scarlett said again.

"It's the site of a siege--it's a terrible name--you see, Cromwell..."

"You know, 'Drogheda' could really grow on me," said Will.

"'Drogheda it is," Suellen concluded as Scarlett threw up her hands in disgust.

And "Drogheda" it was.

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