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.

For propriety's sake, Wade and Marybeth stayed in properly chaperoned state at Drogheda. Prissy had been sent along as well, but she was to stay at Tara with Big Sam.

It was late in the afternoon when they arrived, with long shadows creeping over the landscape. But as they rode in Will Benteen's buggy from the train station, Marybeth had an impression that this was a land of rolling red hills, with huge outcroppings of granite and gaunt pine trees on all sides. Cultivated and tamed, but with a wild streak all the same. She decided she liked it already.

At Drogheda, Suellen and the children received them in the parlor, where they were all seated on the sofas and chairs. The oldest child, a daughter, was eighteen-year-old Susie, tall and with the same pale strawberry blond hair as her father--it could almost be described as pink. Next was sixteen-year-old Will Jr., stocky and compact, with dark brown hair and a florid, Irish, face. Then there was fourteen-year-old Gerry, brown-haired and -eyed like his mother, and with a slightly petulant expression (he had just lost a fight with his mother over the necessity of wearing his Sunday best only to greet Cousin Wade and his fiancée). And finally, seated on a wooden chair next to the sturdy table, was thirteen-year-old Minnie. She was the prettiest of the bunch, with auburn hair and tip-tilted green eyes, but also the most strangely dressed. Her frock was childlike in the bodice, with the ruffles common to little girls' clothing, but the hemline was all the way down to the floor, covering her shoes.

The entire family rose to greet them, except Minnie, and Wade didn't seem surprised by this, but made the introductions all around. Marybeth was wondering why the youngest child didn't come forward to greet them, when Wade broke apart from the crowd and strode to her chair.

"Cousin Minnie!"

The little girl broke into a wide grin and held her arms up to him. "Cousin Wade!" She replied, slowly and deliberately, with the barest lisp. Her arms' movements were jerky and unsure, but Wade swept her up easily and tucked her onto his hip, and as he lifted her, Marybeth saw a flash of metal under her skirts.

She felt a tug of compassion then--it was a leg brace! Cousin Minnie was crippled! Her pity must have shown in her face, because when Minnie turned to look at her, she frowned warily. But Wade didn't seem to notice. "Min, let me introduce my fiancée, Marybeth Dandridge."

Marybeth tried to cover her gaffe with a friendly smile. "How do you do, Minnie?"

"I do just fine," she replied with haughty, painful dignity. Her speech was very slow, Marybeth noted.

"Minerva!" Suellen said sharply. "Answer our guest prettily and mind your manners."

The little girl sighed and lifted her chin proudly, but her manners were impeccable as she stated, "Welcome to Drogheda, Miss Marybeth."

oOoOoOo

Later that evening, Marybeth was helping Suellen with the dishes. Suellen decided she wanted to talk to her privately, and she shooed the rest of her family and her maid away.

"I do hope you enjoy your stay here," Suellen started. "Of course, we're not as fancy as my sister's house in Atlanta, but we make do."

"No," Marybeth protested. "Drogheda is lovely--I especially adored that little window seat at the top of the grand staircase. It would be especially nice for curling up and reading on a cold, rainy day."

Suellen, like Scarlett, cared little for reading, but she smiled at receiving the compliment she'd been fishing for. "I must apologize for my daughter's behavior earlier. Minerva is very sensitive about her condition. She doesn't like to be pitied. Wade should have warned you. I'm surprised he didn't think of it."

Yes, he should have, Marybeth agreed silently, although she wouldn't make such a disloyal comment about Wade for anything in the world. But what a way to start off on the wrong foot with his family.

"You see," Suellen continued, "Wade's always been a favorite of hers. She can't play with the other children, and he always made time for her when he was visiting."

"This mayn't be very delicate, but what exactly does she--?"

"It's called spastic diplesia. It means her arms and legs jerk around when she tries to move them. You saw how slowly she eats--how much the effort costs her. But she refuses to accept help. We bought a chair with wheels for her, but she prefers to walk alone, holding onto walls and furniture. But of course, it takes her forever to move from place to place. Will carries her when he's in from the fields. Will Jr. tries to help her, but she usually refuses him."

"She let Wade pick her up."

"Because he's her favorite."

oOoOoOo

As the sun began to sink into the horizon, visitors came to call on the Benteens to meet Wade Hampton Hamilton's intended.

Marybeth, who had lived with the Meades for over a year and a half, was quick to notice that these people, the country equivalent of the Old Guard, had their own ways and customs, similar to, but not identical to the city dwellers. These people were more informal. Their manners were lovely, but they seemed to have an easier rapport among themselves. They were also poorer than the Atlanta folks--they hadn't recovered from the War as easily. However, they were possessed of pride in abundance, and she was certain that they would treat with disdain anybody who broke their unwritten rules--just like her friends in Atlanta.

She was also surprised to find that there was a certain hierarchy of status among them, one not based on money. Because they depended on each other more than city people, they had arrived at certain agreements--unwritten, but understood by all. Jim Tarleton was the ranking planter among them, due to his age and experience. The others deferred to his opinion when he spoke. After Jim came Alex Fontaine. The Fontaines were wealthier than the Tarletons, but Alex was a full generation behind Jim. Dennis Wilson, the fat, one-armed husband of Betsy Tarleton, was next.

Will Benteen's position was more nebulous, harder to pin down. He wasn't quality folk, and nobody ever forgot his deficiencies of ancestry. On the other hand, he'd married well, Suellen O'Hara being higher than him on the social ladder as the daughter of a planter. Furthermore, he was a capable farmer, open-handed with his neighbors in need, and generally seen as honest and God-fearing. He had earned the respect of his neighbors and they if they couldn't quite reckon him as on their level, he was much better than any mere Cracker. Will Benteen was merely Will Benteen.

Wade was Marybeth's entree into this society, and they were friendly and curious about her. Little Joe Fontaine, Wade's childhood friend, shook her hand solemnly and greeted her courteously. "Little Joe" was a misnomer--he was the tallest man she'd ever met! With his height well over six and a half feet, he was impressive when he looked serious. But then he turned to Wade and elbowed him, winking and making a comment under his breath that made Wade grin at her in turn.

A gray-haired woman wearing a riding habit, who Marybeth remembered as Mrs. Tarleton, pulled her away from the crowd and proceeded to pepper her with questions about Scarlett and Ella. "Suellen never tells us anything," she said, loudly enough for Suellen to hear. "Wade and Ella used to spend every summer at Tara when they were children, but we never hear anything now. Scarlett is such a poor correspondent."

"They're both well, thank you. Of course, they're both very busy with Miss Hamilton since her apoplexy."

"Pittypat Hamilton's been sick?" Sally Fontaine exclaimed. "Oh, Sue, how could you not tell us?"

"I did too tell you, Sal," came the indignant reply. "But half of what I tell you goes in one ear and out the other."

"Well, pardon me if I'm terribly busy with making Mimosa profitable, and not to mention our growing family."

"You're not the only planter's wife in the district, you know," was Suellen's retort.

"Sally," Beatrice intervened. "I'm afraid you're doing a dreadful injustice to Suellen. She did tell us, remember? And you have been scatterbrained lately. If I didn't know better, I'd think you were in the family way again."

"Missus Tarleton!"

"Then again, at your age, it could just be the change of life."

Suellen, who had never been completely been comfortable around earthy Mrs. Tarleton, and didn't want to give Marybeth the impression that County women were coarse and crude, changed the subject. "Scarlett rarely writes to me either."

Mrs. Tarleton, taking the hint, replied, "Then it's very fortunate Marybeth is here. Maybe you can tell us how Ashley and India Wilkes are getting on? And do you ever hear from Honey?

"I'm afraid I don't know much--I only met Miss Honey once. Mr. Wilkes runs his mill, and Beau is attending University. And as for Miss India, she's been very busy nursing Miss Hamilton."

"Wait a minute," said Hetty. "You said Scarlett and Ella were doing that."

"Yes, all three of them have been pitching in."

"So India and Scarlett are taking care of Pittypat together?"

"Yes, I believe so."

The Tarleton girls, Sally and even Mrs. Tarleton were hard put to it to smother their smiles, although Marybeth wasn't sure what she'd said that was so funny.

"At any rate," Sally continued, "We hope to see much more of you in the future. Scarlett has already sent out the invitations for her ball. We're all making the trip into Atlanta. Isn't it the same day as your wedding?"

Marybeth nodded, but had a sinking feeling. Did Mrs. Butler invite everybody she ever knew in life? She looked over at Wade, who was with the other men. He wasn't looking at her--he was too engrossed in the conversation going on over there.

Beatrice Tarleton saw where she was looking and smiled. "Suellen tells us you already have two children?"

In spite of herself, Marybeth stiffened. "Yes. I left them in Atlanta with the Meades. Their Betsy has a young niece who came in to help them. I'm told Lelia has a knack with small children."

"Did you have an easy time of it?" Beatrice asked, lowering her voice slightly.

"Easy time of what?"

"Childbirth, of course. The easier your confinements were in the past predicts how easy it will go with you in the future. At least, most of the time."

"I suppose it could have been worse than it was," Marybeth answered, embarrassed to talk about her private life to a group of ladies she just met.

"Honestly, Mrs. Tarleton. Can't you see you're making the girl blush? We really don't talk about breeding all the time," Sally Fontaine declared to Marybeth, although she threw a mocking glance at Mrs. Tarleton.

"Isn't Sally high and mighty these days!" Beatrice responded. "You were plenty glad to see me at your bedside the last couple times you were lying-in, after the Young Doctor died and before we got Dr. Green over in Jonesboro."

"Yes, but there's a time and a place for everything, and the first time you meet a new neighbor is not the time to inquire into such delicate matters. She'll think we have no manners. Isn't that right, Marybeth?"

But in spite of Mrs. Tarleton's outspokenness--which she realized had no malice in it--Marybeth thought them all charming, and believed she could belong here.

oOoOoOo

After the callers left, Marybeth and Wade lingered in a darkened corner of the front porch together as long as they dared, for Suellen had very strict ideas about propriety.

"Everybody really liked you," he murmured into her hair, as he held her closely.

"I'm glad. It's so hard to meet new people. I'm always afraid I'll do the wrong thing or say the wrong thing."

"You must have said all the right things, then. But more importantly, you seemed happy tonight. I'll never forgive myself for not seeing it sooner--that you've had so much nervous tension about our wedding."

"I'm happy because I'm with you, Wade." And it was true. Whenever she was alone with him, she could pretend that the rest of the world was very far away and she forgot her fears for a little while. Unfortunately, the rules for affianced couples were extremely strict--it was the duty of all interested parties to prevent them being unchaperoned for undue amounts of time--and a moment alone with him was a rare event, indeed.

oOoOoOo

That night, Marybeth shared a room with Susie.

Susie Benteen was faintly jealous of the stranger girl. Oh, it wasn't anything personal. Marybeth seemed like a good enough sort. Only...Susie grew up hearing about how Hamltons always married their cousins, and it had been in the back of her mind that if she couldn't hook one of the county swains, there was always cousin Wade as a last resort. She had been especially encouraged in this idea this by his awkwardness with the opposite sex, and it never occurred to her that he might overcome it. Not that the idea of marrying him had thrilled her, for she didn't have any feelings of infatuation towards him. However, he was nice looking and was going to come into a decent inheritance, and besides, marriage to Cousin Wade was infinitely preferable to the ignominy of being an old maid.

So it was a somewhat unpleasant surprise when the letter from Aunt Scarlett came announcing his engagement.

The news of the engagement left Susie feeling faintly insecure. He wasn't exactly hers--and she was not the type to delude herself into thinking he was--but when he belonged to nobody, she reasoned she had as good a chance as anybody. And she further reasoned that he would have been so flattered by her preference of him, being unused to feminine attention and all, that he'd be easy pickings. But now it wasn't meant to be.

Susie was a "nice" girl--spotless reputation--but she could be bossy and rather sharp-tongued. The boys of her acquaintance liked her after a fashion because she was amusing and witty, but they didn't transfer this general friendliness into feelings of romance. However, now she had to hook one of the county boys. There was no help for it.

Being faced with this new challenge, the challenge of catching a husband among the males of her acquaintance, she felt the need to relieve her feelings, and decided to do it by asserting her superiority over Marybeth.

"I'm so glad you'll be part of our family," Susie announced as graciously as a queen.

"Thank you," Marybeth smiled as she turned away from the vanity table and started to braid her hair.

"Oh please, let me. Let me," Susie offered.

Marybeth shrugged and handed the brush to her, then turned back to the vanity.

"You know," Susie said confidentially as she expertly applied the hairbrush, "I know all about Wade Hampton. We practically grew up together, and we're very close."

Marybeth looked at her in the mirror in surprise. She couldn't remember Wade mentioning this cousin of his even once.

"Oh, yes!" Susie continued when she saw the look of incredulity in the other girl's face. "Of course, he's very quiet--as even you must have noticed--and doesn't open up to just anybody. Not that you're just anybody," she simpered. "But confiding in somebody you just met is not the same as confiding in a very old acquaintance. You must surely understand that. But you mustn't feel jealous," she added gaily. "He simply adores you!"

Marybeth lowered her eyes and murmured something polite. Was it possible Susie was in love with Wade? Then she decided not. More likely, Susie was the type of girl who needed to be in the center of attention. With all the attention on herself, Susie must be feeling left out. But she smiled inwardly. Whatever Susie's game was, she could manage her. And she could do it without lowering herself to a contest over who had the greater claim on Wade's confidences.

Susie braided her hair quickly and tied off the end with a little length of ribbon. "Of course, I know all about that family. They don't have any secrets from me. Did you know," she lowered her voice to a whisper, "That Aunt Scarlett had an affair with Ashley Wilkes? Oh not recently--that was ages ago--way before Cousin Bonnie died."

Marybeth's cheeks flamed, and she looked at Susie, stunned. It wasn't that she either believed or disbelieved Susie's claim--it was so long ago and furthermore, none of her business--but she was shocked that anybody would tell such unseemly stories about her own relatives.

But Susie misinterpreted Marybeth's reaction as avid interest and she continued. "Oh, yes, and everybody knows that Uncle Rhett was a hard-drinking gambler who kept a woman--even after he married Aunt Scarlett. Of course, everybody knows Aunt Scarlett drinks a bit too much too..."

Marybeth held up a hand. "Please stop."

"But..."

"You forget yourself. I'm about to marry Wade. This is not a proper conversation at all."

"Hmph! Hoity-toity." And with that, she climbed into bed rather huffily and turned her back to Marybeth. Wade's fiancée was impossible to understand. She should have been grateful to hear all the dirt from her, and not from strangers.

First I made Minnie angry with me. Now Susie. I still have three more days here, Marybeth thought ruefully. Plenty of time to make more enemies. But at least Minnie had a valid reason to dislike her. Marybeth didn't like to be pitied, either, and she understood how she angered the little girl. But Susie! There was a cat of another stripe. Marybeth found the idea of sharing a bed with this cousin of Wade's repugnant, but there was no other choice. She slipped under the sheet and lay with her back to Susie, as close to the edge of the mattress as she could manage without falling out of bed altogether. She never cared much for gossip, and tried not to give too much credence to the stories ladies whispered to each other over teacups. But an idea, once in a person's head, is devilishly hard to eject, and the more she tried not to think about it, the more the story intruded. Was that the reason for the unfriendliness between her future mother- and father-in-law? Did Captain Butler seriously suspect his own wife of adultery? Before she heard Susie's loose talk, Marybeth thought their problems started with Bonnie's death. That was certainly Wade's theory--and a reason that would have been tragic enough in itself. Of course, now it made more sense why Captain Butler was suspicious of her. It might not be fair, but she could understand it a little better.

But poor Wade! Poor Ella! Imagine growing up in a house full of discord and strife like that! Marybeth's own parents had been fiery and passionate and were prone to frequent, hot quarrels. But they loved each other, too. Fight and make up. Fight and make up. It all followed a predictable pattern. Sean Patrick would complain things like, "Gnocchi alla Romana again? Why can't we ever have ham and potatoes?"

Then Annamaria would flick one of the dumplings at him from the tip of a spoon, he'd roar in anger at her, and she'd roar her defiance back at him. But these quarrels never lasted long, and they'd be laughing together within the half hour. Never once did they accuse each other of ugly misdeeds--adultery and suchlike--never once. They confined their quarrels to little, laughable things.

oOoOoOo

The next morning Wade took Marybeth to Tara, with Susie and Will Jr. in attendance, in accordance with the rule of not allowing engaged couples too much time alone.

As they drove over the crest of the hill to reveal Tara and its lands, Wade proudly waved his hand in a broad, sweeping gesture. "All this, as far as you can see, all the way back to that line of trees way in the distance--can you see it?--belongs to my family."

Marybeth's breath caught. It was beautiful, all gentle rolling fields, with new spring green, and after the previous night's soft rain, the soil was even more red than the day before. "Do you still draw, Wade? I should think this vista would send you running for your pencils."

"I don't have much time to draw these days, but you're right. When I was younger I used to come up here and draw the landscape. Most of what I drew wasn't worth saving. But I have a couple pictures I'll show you someday. However, no mere drawing could do this justice."

Susie commented, "Our plantations, Tara and Drogheda, are near the Chattahoochee River. It's not too many miles north of here." Susie was sweetness itself during this outing. She had awakened that morning acting as if the previous night's quarrel had never happened.

Marybeth stifled a childish giggle. She'd always thought Chattahoochee was a funny sounding name, ever since she was a little girl and read about it in her Geography.

The Tara big house was remarkable for seeming not to have any predetermined floor plan. It looked to Marybeth as if the owners simply added rooms whenever and wherever necessary. But for all that, it had a cozy feeling to it, not at all like the meticulously designed mansion in Atlanta. It had bright new paint and draperies of lace and velvet. There were only a few pieces of furniture--a sofa here, a table and chairs there, a couple bedsteads, for nobody had lived there in several years.

"Usually, the furniture would be covered with white sheets, but Prissy was under strict orders from Mother to air all the rooms," Wade commented.

However, the house was completely bare of the little odds and ends such as knickknacks and books, inkwells and hairbrushes that make a house a home. The kitchen was the most used room of the house, and Big Sam only used one pot, one plate and one cup on a daily basis. He cooked for himself when Prissy wasn't there to cook for him, although the Benteens sent over bread every other day.

"What would you call this style of architecture?" Marybeth asked curiously. "The rooms all seem to belong together and the floor plan is logical, but it's not quite like anything I've ever seen. And some of the rooms look newer than others."

"You have good eyes. Grandfather O'Hara was still a bachelor when he started building it. I believe he merely added rooms when he needed them. When I show you around the outside of the house, I'll point out where the additions were added. And as for the style, if there is a name for it, I've never heard it. The barns and stables are in good repair, and so are the overseer's house and the slave cabins. Of course, the latter have been unoccupied for over twenty years, but Tara is sort of a pet project of Mother's. She likes to keep everything the way it was before the War."

"Why didn't Mrs. Butler come with us? I would think she'd want to see how it was coming along."

"She's only been to Tara twice in the last--maybe--twelve years. I'm not entirely sure why, either, except she doesn't really like to live in the past. When you get to know her better, you'll see she rarely reminisces."

"Funny she holds on to Tara, then."

"Not really. She's been talking about my inheriting it for a long time."

Marybeth looked around her more curiously then. Tara. Someday, she and Wade might actually live here. In daydreams she imagined herself, chatelaine of Tara, keeping house for Wade, perhaps raising their children there, God willing. "I may not understand her never visiting here, but I'm glad she kept it."

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