He pulled out his pocket watch to read the time, it was well after ten o'clock at night, and he had long ago sent word to Melanie to not worry that he'd be working late, and that he'd be home as soon as he finished his paper work.
It had been a long time since he had been out alone at such a late hour, even as a young man he had never been one to stay out late at night, he had always preferred an evening with a fascinating book. He was one of those men who thought it would be necessary to live ten lives to be able to learn the infinity of knowledge the world had to offer.
Ashley Wilkes had the reputation of being and was a good man, born and brought up to be a model for his peers, somebody to look up to and aspire to be like. He was the golden boy of his generation, a good looking man and a more than successful scholar, an aura of perfection, calm and serenity seemed to follow him wherever he went.
If there had been no war, he would have been more than satisfied to live his whole life at Twelve Oaks, the plantation he grew up on, and that he would eventually inherit, leading a happy life with his wife, Melanie, and his children.
But the war had came and gone, destroying everything he had known and loved on its way, leaving only behind it defeat, sorrow and misery.
It's not as if he wasn't a happy man, he was well of the fact that he was much better off than many of his friends, he had a devoted wife, a son, a roof over his head and food on the table, but he knew that he wasn't as happy as he would have been if there hadn't been a war.
To be absolutely honest, Ashley was riddled with a never ending feeling of guilt and going about every day with such a burden wasn't an easy task.
He had participated in the war only half-heartedly, had joined the army back in 1861 because it was the only thing to do, he couldn't possibly refuse to bear the colours of the South like all the other men, but deep down he had always known that he was fighting a lost cause.
Not a day went by during which he hadn't wondered what he and all these good men were doing, fools trying to beat the Yankees. They were so sure of their imminent victory, they thought themselves invincible, and just like Icarus had done in Greek mythology, they had flown too close to the sun, burned their wings and perished.
He had always kept these thoughts bottled up inside his mind, only releasing bribes of it, in his letters to Melanie, when he couldn't handle the pressure anymore.
He felt weak and cowardly for never voicing his opinions, as if he could have single handily prevented the war from happening, but he wasn't one of those men, he didn't have the courage necessary to crush other men's dreams with the blunt truth even if it was the only sensible thing to do.
Ashley Wilkes was not a Rhett Butler, nor did he aspire to be.
Nevertheless he couldn't stop himself from feeling guilty, he couldn't understand why he, who had not believed in the Cause for one second, had survived battles, hunger, imprisonment and had been able to come home to his loved ones, while so many other, who had fought for it body and mind had perished, and now lay cold and lost in unfamiliar soil, far away from everything they had known during happier times.
He sighed heavily as he concentrated once again on the accounts in front of him, as brilliant a student as he had been, he had to admit that figures had always been his weakness; they felt so abstract to him, unlike letters and books which he was always able to connect with instantly.
But he had to get these numbers right, he didn't want to get them all wrong and give Scarlett a reason to come down to the mills and do them herself.
He fortunately hadn't seen much of Scarlett lately, which was just fine by him, especially in her current state. Melanie had told him about the future Butler baby, he had had to fight back a cough of surprise; he had thought that Scarlett had ceased sharing a bed with Rhett Butler, but apparently town gossip wasn't always accurate. Nothing stopped the town's tongue from waggling, so he prayed every night that the child would be born with dark hair like its parent's and not as blond as Careen O'Hara had been as a baby.
Ever since the incident that had happened on his birthday, he had felt uncomfortable in Scarlett's company. That being said, he had never felt entirely at ease in her presence, she had the uncanny ability of intimidating every man who entered in contact with her, no matter what she said or what she was wearing, she always had the upper hand when interacting with men.
He remembered that even as a child, Scarlett had always wanted to be the best at what she did, she thrived on competition, and no prize was sweeter for her than beating the boys at their own games. Maybe that was the secret to her power over the other gender, she was living proof of the fact that women can do what men do and be just as good at it, if not better, the men knew this and so did she.
"Good old Scarlett," he chuckled softly. Nothing would ever change her, he thought, nothing can beat her, she has been through hell and worse during the war and came out of it stronger than ever.
Unfortunately for him, Scarlett was not just a childhood friend he could admire and narrate funny stories about during parties; she was also responsible for a part of the guilt that Ashley Wilkes went around life with, like a prisoner his bolder.
The facts were simple, he wanted her. The truth was blunt, he couldn't have her.
She was like the forbidden apple in the garden of Eden, he had wanted her ever since he had became aware of her existence, that day he had visited Tara when he returned from his grand tour of Europe. She was no longer the silly child he could tease, she had become a woman, and what a woman!
She was perfect, not tall, but not short either, small hand and feet, a dainty figure and a minuscule waist, immaculate ivory skin and thick dark hair, and those bewitching green eyes, she was the belle of Clayton County.
It had been a pleasant surprise to discover that he had a special place in her heart, that out of the endless line of young men that would be more than willing prostrate themselves at her feet and beg for her to marry them, she had picked him, she had chosen to love him.
He knew she had wanted him to marry her, that she had dreamed of it very often, she had told him so at that last Barbeque at Twelve Oaks, and she had wanted them to run away together after the war, but even if he had wanted to, there was Melanie, the girl he had been promised to for as long as he could remember.
Scarlett and Melanie were as different as night and day, one was wild, unpredictable and determined to get what she wanted, no matter the costs; the other was shy, calm and thoughtful of others. He could never have been happy with a girl like Scarlett, they were too different, he belonged with Melanie.
He loved his wife; his love for her was true, pure and deep, it was very different from the feelings he harboured for Scarlett. It wasn't love he felt for Scarlett, he was sure of that.
Yet he still wanted her, when he heard her voice, caught a glimpse of her on the street, or when she turned up in this very office, he desperately longed for her. What would he do for a single night with her, as long as it would remain a secret … He couldn't even finish that thought, it was wrong and sinful, he was happily married and she, well she was married, even if it was to that awful Rhett Butler.
Her absence in his life recently had certainly made things easier, he could go around Atlanta pretending she didn't really exist, that she was just a figment of his imagination. It was cowardly but it certainly made everything more bearable.
Ashley didn't really have anything to worry about; his reputation was practically intact; hardly anyone had looked down on him after what happened. Unsurprisingly everyone just assumed that all the wrong was Scarlett's doing, that she had thrown herself at him and had taken advantage of his kindness.
Things would never change amongst the Southerner's of Atlanta, it had been so easy for everybody to blame Scarlett, she had always been their scapegoat, and they had never really liked her. Ashley was certain that the possibility that he was even a tad responsible for what had occurred that fateful afternoon at the mills, had not once crossed their minds.
He had been the one to make her cry in the first place, and he had been the one to take her in his arms and try and comfort her, he hated being the instigator of another human's sorrow, he dreaded being the cause of another person's tears, so he hadn't thought twice about what he was doing.
He cleared his throat and returned his concentration once again to his work.
Outside the mills a dark presence lingered in the shadows, waiting to make his move. The man had tied his horse a couple of feet away in a sombre alley. He hoped nobody had seen him.
He had just been passing by on his way somewhere else when he had noticed Mr Ashley Wilkes' horse tied up outside, he had been surprised that the man would still be out and at work at such a late hour.
He had always loathed Ashley Wilkes, from the first moment he had laid his eyes on him all those years ago; he had known that they would never be friends.
Ashley was a stupid dreamer, the perfect incarnation of the stereotype of a Southern gentleman, who preferred to relive the memories of his past rather than face the cruel reality.
Ashley was responsible for so much of his misery, and the resentment and hatred he carried against the man knew no boundaries.
He'd never have thought he'd be so lucky to find the 'honourable' gentleman on his own at such a late hour, and he was going to take advantage of the moment fate was offering him on a platter.
The light from the office went dim; he knew it was now or never.
Back inside, Ashley was putting his freshly finished paperwork into his pocket, he was satisfied with what he had done, he would hand it over to Melanie, who would then give it to Scarlett, so she could take a look at how business was going.
He put his coat on, impatient to get back home to his wife, he didn't like being away from her too long.
He grinned as he remembered all his entrancing conversations about books and things like that with her, she made him happy.
He was too distracted by his trip down memory lane to notice the soft sound of the door clicking open, and the muffled footsteps behind him.
It was only when he felt the impact of the heavy rock against the back of his skull that Ashley Wilkes knew that everything wasn't alright anymore.
As he lay there sprawled unable to move on the dusty floor of his office with a large pool of blood forming around his head, he wondered if this was payback for everything he had done wrong in the course of the three decades he had spent in this world.
He thought of Melanie, sweet, tender and caring Melanie, he hoped she would be strong and safe, and of his little Beau, he felt bitter at the perspective that he wouldn't have the privilege of seeing his only son become a man.
The murderer remained in a darkened corner, watching his victim agonising in silence, hiccoughing with every breath, unable to call for help –and even if he had been, there was nobody to come and save him.
A sinister quietude reigned over Atlanta as Ashley Wilkes closed his eyes one last time and drifted into an eternal rest.
To be continued …
Author's Note: Contrary to the title of this chapter; this isn't the end of this story, it's merely the beginning.
To be honest, when I started this I had no idea it would involve a murder, back then I didn't even know that it was going to be more than a one shot.
I was asked to make this original, to not follow the same path many Gone with the Wind stories have already taken, so a couple of weeks ago, I decided to go with murder. A couple of characters made the short list, but at the end of the day Ashley Wilkes was the (un)lucky winner.
Many thanks to all my reviewers, without you lot, I would have dropped this ages ago (like all my other fics).