"Love is a springtime plant that perfumes everything with its hope, even the ruins to which it clings."
Gustave Flaubert
April 1871, two days before Ashley's birthday party
Bright rays of sunshine came piercing through the grand windows of Scarlett's bedroom the next morning, gently tickling her awake. Surprised, but none the less pleased by the lovely wakening, she yawned, thinking that she must have forgotten to draw the curtains yesterday. She pushed the blanket off of herself and stretched her limbs, bathing in the sunlight. She loved this – to stay in bed after she woke up, to let the world be the world and relax, to just be herself, Scarlett. It reminded her of Tara, of the carelessness and simplicity of her youth.
As she lay there in the morning light, her memory was gentle with her, and for a few blissful moments she remembered nothing of what had transpired the night before. She felt strangely at ease, eerily peaceful... almost free. There was nothing in her head but thoughts of her beloved home, her haven. It was to her as if she could hear the swishing of the dark pines at Tara, could smell the red earth and Ellen's unique lemon verbena scent, could hear the boisterous voice of Gerald. Tara was peace and tranquility, it was her parents merged into a house: everything good, everything loving, everything soothing.
Yes, she could see it all before her mind's eye. She could see herself sitting on the wide porch, so young, so carefree. A soft breeze in her hair, making the humid Georgia air bearable. She could see herself, looking up and catching sight of the silhouette of a rider galloping swiftly up the driveway. He came closer and closer until she finally recognized him. He smiled at her and her breath caught... she'd never forget it. Her sweet Ashley...
Her sweet Ashley.
With a jolt, she sat up in bed, all thoughts of Tara gone as the memories of yesternight came flooding back suddenly, painfully, hitting her with the force of an avalanche. And with them they brought all the pain, hurt pride and heartache she'd felt as she'd watched Ashley enter Belle Watling's whorehouse. When he had spit in the face of their love.
It was too much. Suddenly, she felt nauseous, sick of it all, sick of her own self. She did not welcome the thoughts of last night, but it was no use. The images entered her mind swiftly and without mercy. She remembered the entire dreadful episode and it tore at her heart, the selfish, passionate heart that recalled so keenly all the sentimentality, the nostalgia, the timid hopes and vain ambitions she had linked for so long to Ashley and his love.
He had really done it. He had gone to Belle Watling's and, if she was not mistaken, he had been doing so for quite a while. Ashley Wilkes in a brothel. Had she possessed more humor, she might have laughed at the irony. But to her, there was no irony in this. There was only the terrible knowledge that he did not think highly enough of their silent agreement to be true to each other, both in soul and body, to stay away from that place and consort with whores. He did not think highly enough of her, Scarlett. No, it wasn't the least bit funny.
She clutched the sheet in frustration, her knuckles beginning to hurt. All she could do was think of his betrayal and ask herself, again and again and again, how could he? How could he have done that to her, who had loved him for so long? She had always believed, with all her heart, that he loved her, too. That he loved her and respected her and that the only thing that stood in their way was Melanie.
But, apparently, she had been wrong. He did not love her. He did not care for her the way she had always thought he did. His actions of last night only proved that beyond a shadow of a doubt. If he truly loved her, he would never have done that to her. Never. He would never have considered breaking their agreement, their beautiful pledge of chastity. She had always thought of their bond as something pure and sacred, something unsullied by war and hunger and all the other calamities life had thrown at her. She had drawn her strength from that bond. To realize he'd never truly felt this way about her, never loved truly loved her, was a heavy blow to her self-esteem. She did not realize, as of yet, that it was nothing more than that – a blow to her self-esteem and pride, a shock and pain that touched only the outermost layer of her heart. Right now, it was painful indeed. It was humiliating, it made her feel silly and weak – and she hated nothing more than to feel silly and weak, for she was neither.
Ashley doesn't love me. Ashley doesn't love me, her own voice echoed in her head. He doesn't give a damn about me. If he did, he would never have … She recoiled at the thought of what he might be doing at night with his 'tidbit', as Belle had called the unknown harlot Ashley seemed to be consorting with on a regular basis. Her mouth twisted at the thought of Belle herself, at the memory of her coarse words and guttural voice and Ashley's compliant silence. He had not faltered to go in. He had not stopped to think about what he was doing to her, Scarlett. What on earth was he thinking? If anyone other than her ever found out, he would be ruined and his marriage, too, although Melanie, the fool, would probably not believe it.
Melanie. What would she say if she knew? Would she condemn Ashley, leave him even? Scarlett did not know what to make of her sister-in-law, or anyone else for that matter, now that Ashley's terrible betrayal had shaken one of the very foundations of her being. Tara, her desire for wealth and security, and Ashley, had influenced everything she had done over the past ten years. Tara was safe, wealth and security were hers, and she had presumed that one day she would also have Ashley. She had never halted to consider the details, had never even imagined what it would be like to live with him – she had only ever thought of having him, of becoming his wife. But now everything was lost. He did not love her, or at least not the way she wanted to be loved by a man – ardently, completely.
But he must love me, a stubborn voice attempted to change her mind one last time. He has always been so kind to me. He told me I was strong and beautiful and good. And he kissed me! He wanted me and he held me and kissed me. And he told me that he loved me, didn't he?
She searched her memory for the moment Ashley had told her he loved her, but she couldn't find it. She just couldn't and it made her feel all the more foolish. She was trying to remember in vain because he had never told her he loved her. It had all been in vain. What on earth had she been thinking all these years? What had she been doing? She had thrown herself at him again and again and he had never loved her. Not while he was in Atlanta on Christmas furlough, not in the orchard at Tara, not after her marriage to Frank when she'd asked him to work for her. Never. She had been living in a fantasy. She had believed in a dream and made a fool of herself.
But his lack of love for her was not the only thing that bothered her. Worse even than the terrible knowledge that he did not care was the thought that he did not seem to respect her at all. If he did, he would never have promised her to be faithful to her, he wouldn't have asked her to become a nun for his sake when he knew he was too weak to do the same. Why had he done it? What did he want from her, if he did not love her? If he did not care for her heart and her mind, what did he want?
My dear, he does not even know that you have a mind, a familiar voice mocked her. Rhett. She squinted against the sun and frowned. He had told her, back then in the store after she'd married Frank, that Ashley did not care for her. He had often mocked her love for the "wooden-headed gentleman" and made fun it, doubtlessly for some strange reason of his own. Yes, he had tried to make her understand that Ashley did not care for her and she had refused to believe him. She had always thought – and still thought – that Rhett simply took a perverse pleasure in besmirching and mocking the only pure and sacred thing in her life. But now she had to admit that he had been right. He had been right about everything and she had been a fool.
Suddenly, she grew angry. Angry at Rhett, for no reason at all but the fact that he had been right about something so simple and yet so important. Angry at herself for being a goddamn fool. And, most of all, angry at Ashley. For letting her on, for saying all those sweet words and making her believe he loved her. But maybe she had imagined that, too.
She jumped up from the bed, suddenly animated by a strange but welcome energy. She had to get out of here. She had to clear her head and do something with her body, her hands, her mind. If she remained in this room and continued thinking about Ashley, she would go mad.
She considered going to the mills directly but cast away the idea immediately. In one of her rare moments of honesty she admitted to herself that she did not want to face Ashley yet. Not because she was a coward, she hastened to add, but because … well, because she just did not want to see him yet. She needed to get a hold of herself and sort out her thoughts, and then she would be ready to see him. But what she should say to him, she did not know. Too great was the heartache his betrayal had inflicted.
She decided to drive over to the store. There was always plenty of work to do there. Maybe that would help her forget last night and the fact that her life had just turned upside down, again. One would imagine that after everything she had been through, she should be used to the whims of fate by now. But she wasn't. It was only her iron will and her inner strength that kept her going, now that the dream of Ashley's pure and sacred love had collapsed like a house of cards.
An hour later, after a quick morning toilet and breakfast, Scarlett hastened out of her room and down the hall, eager to leave the house. All she wanted to do was get away from here. Putting on her gloves as she walked, she did not hear the steps coming up the stairs, and so, as she reached the landing, she stopped dead in her tracks when she noticed that she was not alone. Glove in hand, she stood still, looking at Rhett.
She had had no time yet to think much about him, except for his mocking words that she had remembered both yesterday outside Belle's and this morning. Something inside her told her not to dive too deeply into her psyche and think of him, though she did not know why.
She swiftly took in his appearance and saw that he was wearing a dark blue suit, immaculately pressed as always and fitting him to perfection. His black hair was nicely coiffed in a way that made him look both dashing and elegant. But as he came up the stairs towards her, Bonnie in his arms, she noticed that his eyes were a blood-shot and he looked tired. Her brows flew together in a scowl. Had he been out all night, too? Had he been to Belle's? Had he...
Belle's!
Her eyes widened involuntarily. It was not just Belle's, it was also Rhett's, she remembered with shock. She did not know much about it and she was not one hundred percent sure, but she bet that he owned that accursed house, at least partially. God curse him. Did he have his little "tidbit", too? Did he consort with whores every night? Did he - terrible thought – did he know about Ashley's nightly exploits? Did he know that Ashley was a regular guest at his and Belle's establishment? No, it couldn't be. Rhett hated Ashley and would surely have told her already if he knew. He would have wasted no time to rub it in.
Even as she contemplated her anger at him and Ashley and all men in general, the stupid thought of telling him about last night crossed her mind. Oh, it would be heavenly to cry her eyes out in his arms and rage against Ashley, to release the thoughts and the anguish and let him soothe her. He was the only one who would understand.
But it was not to be. She remembered that they were not friends, not anymore. They had not really been friends since... well, since she had banished him from her room because Ashley had asked her to do it because he loved her too much to bear the thought of Rhett touching her – or so she had supposed it to be.
They never really spoke to each other any more, not about truly meaningful things anyway. She realized vaguely that this bothered her but did not dwell on the thought. It vanished from her mind when she remembered that he would never soothe her because he hated Ashley, and that she did not want him to soothe her because he was probably whoring around at Belle's, too. God, how she hated him!
She began to descend the stairs, halting only reluctantly when they met halfway on the stairs to stroke Bonnie's smooth cheek. If Rhett noticed her chagrin, he didn't let it show, for he simply raised one of his eyebrows in that typical fashion of his and said calmly, "Mrs. Butler, I believe. Good morning."
"Rhett." She threw him a look, willing him to mock her or insult her in any other way so that she would have a reason to rate at him and release some of her anger. But he did nothing. He simply looked at her, patiently waiting for her to say something.
Under his long scrutiny, perhaps the longest he'd given her since she'd banished him from her room, Scarlett lost her confidence. There was a tension in the air she couldn't place. She no longer knew what to say, for his gaze discomforted her. If he did mock her now, which was always an invitation to react and fire back, what should she say? She had no idea. She did not want to attack him any more. She did not want to speak to him about Belle and certainly not about Ashley. She just couldn't face him any longer. She was confused and heartbroken, and it was to her as if Rhett's eyes were boring into her skin. She needed to get away.
She was about to brush past him and escape when he said, "And where are you going this morning, Mrs. Butler?" His face was bland.
"I'm – I'm - " Dear God, what was wrong with her? "The store." She finally said, somewhat meekly.
"I see," he replied, seemingly oblivious to her tension. "Well, far be it from me to delay you. But, be so kind and inform this dear husband of your heart – are you planning to go to the mills as well?"
She looked up at him sharply, trying to dissect his thoughts. She thought there was a flicker of eagerness in his eyes but she couldn't be sure. The expression vanished from his dark orbs the moment he noticed she was trying – in vain – to read him. The mills? Why on earth would he care whether she went there or not? He rarely asked about her whereabouts and almost never inquired after the store or the mills. He would listen to her stories patiently but he hardly ever started a conversation about these things himself.
"No," she said curtly, "not the mills. It's - " She faltered and he looked strangely at her. Did he notice that something was wrong with her? He always read her like a book, she grudgingly admitted. But she was determined not to let him read her mind this time. "I've got a lot to do at the store, so I don't think I'll make it to the mills today." She said with a little more ease.
"Ah," was his reply. "That will certainly disappoint a certain gentleman." He added coolly, bending over Bonnie's small head as if he didn't give a damn if his wife answered him or not.
Rhett couldn't resist the taunt. He had sworn yesterday to redouble his efforts to be kind to her, but it was not that easy. Old habits die hard. And she was behaving so strangely this morning – he couldn't make out what she was thinking, which was a rarity in itself. She seemed tense, sad, angry. At him? It was the first time in months that some kind of emotional tension was palpable between the two of them, and it spurred him on to say things he didn't mean to say.
Scarlett frowned, her frown swiftly turning into a scowl when she realized of whom he was speaking. How dare he? Now of all times, when she was devastated? Of course, he didn't know, but why did he have to bring up Ashley now? Why did he have to be so hateful?
"How dare you?" She said with real anger in her voice, and it shook a little as she spoke, which was not lost on him. "How dare you bring him up, now that – now, when I've -" She stopped, confused once again. She could never let him know what had happened. She could never let him know that he had been right all along. Scarlett shook her head involuntarily and spun around, hastily running down the steps, away from his face that had suddenly turned alert. When she was almost at the bottom, she heard him say, "Scarlett, are you alright?"
It was the first time in ages that he had called her by her forename. Usually, he offered an ironic "Mrs. Butler" or a mocking "my pet". But this time he had called her Scarlett, and it did something to her. No one in the world said her name the way he did. But she quickly pushed the peculiar mood away. She needed air, she had to get out of here. She did not turn around as she replied smoothly, "I'm fine. Perfectly fine." Nothing had ever been further from the truth. Her mind was screaming, I'm not alright! I'm not alright!, but she would be damned before she told him. "If you will excuse me now, I've got business to attend to. Goodbye."
She slipped out of the house and shut the door behind herself. What on earth was wrong with her? And why did she even care what he said to her or even how he said her name? She did not know and she refused to think about it. She would think about it tomorrow.
After she had fled, Rhett stood motionlessly on the stairs for a long while, staring at the closed door.
"How dare you? How dare you bring him up, now that – now, when I've - "
What had she meant? Had something happened between Wilkes and her that troubled her? But no. He was sure she had not seen him in the last few days. He had his ways to find out her whereabouts, even if she chose not to inform him of them. It was true, though - he shouldn't have brought up Ashley. It never served any purpose but to rile her up and make him even more bitter. But he was powerless against his own jealousy. It was a cancer killing him from inside. It made him say things that hurt her, it made him turn into the kind of man he did not want to be: resentful, bitter. He wanted to be gracious around her, he wanted to spoil her and be kind to her, love her, for she deserved it. He knew better than anyone else how much kindness and love she deserved after everything she'd been through.
But how could he love her openly, knowing she did not return his love? Her rejection and blindness made him angry and brought out the worst in him. The line between love and hate is thin, and he hated her often. Sometimes he wanted to shake her, hurt her and kiss her until she was bruised so that she would finally see they were meant for each other.
But hadn't he realized last night that this was exactly the problem? He was mad at her for not loving him and therefore he never showed her that he loved her, for fear she might laugh at him and use his love against him. He loved her passionately, with all of his black heart, and yet all he ever did was mock or insult her.
If only she came to her senses about Wilkes. He could hardly wait for the little gentleman to confess his secret to her, and if she possessed any sense at all, she would simply have to realize that the man did not love her, had never loved her. Not even Scarlett could fool herself into believing that a man who loved her completely would walk into a brothel after they had promised to be physically faithful to each other. At the thought of that foolish promise, his mouth twisted angrily. Scarlett liked to call him a skunk, but Ashley was the real bastard. He had toyed with her for years, leading her on with endearments and promises whose real meaning her straight-forward and non-analytical mind could never really grasp. She did not understand hidden meanings and Wilkes knew that. Over the years, he had been too selfish to let her go because he had needed Scarlett, needed her steel and determination to drag him on since he was too much of a coward to weather the storms of life alone.
Rhett knew that if only Ashley were out of the way, there was a chance for himself and Scarlett. A real chance. But he could not make her see. This was her test, her challenge. She had to do this alone. She had to grow up and open her eyes to the simple truth that she belonged with him. Rhett promised to himself once more to endeavor to be kind to her until that happened, and if there was a God indeed and she finally realized that she needed him as much as he needed her, he would lavish her with all the love, all the tenderness, and all the passion he had kept hidden for so long.
He did not know why she had been reluctant to go to the mills today but he hoped she would go soon. If not, he would find a way to force Wilkes into meeting her somewhere, somehow. He felt like this was a turning point – if Wilkes confessed and Scarlett's fool's paradise crumbled, he, Rhett, would get his chance to make her his. He would get the chance to show her just how much he loved her.
Yes. If Ashley confessed and Scarlett opened her eyes, they would find a way, together.
They would be on the edge of a golden world.
At the store, she busied herself with checking the books and sorting through some newly arrived stock. She examined whether the shop windows were in order and scolded one of the clerks when she noticed a broken porcelain dish and a vase that had not been sufficiently dusted. The clerk complied but looked at her with a face that told her exactly what he thought of her mood.
She was irritable and ill-tempered indeed. The entire morning she went about her tasks with her head held high and her back straight, bellowing at her employees, holding her tongue only when customers were present. Then she would put on a smile and make light conversation even though her mind was in turmoil.
She tried her best not to think of Ashley and it worked for the better part of the morning and the afternoon. But as soon as she had checked all the books there were, pilloried every inaccuracy and spotted every redundant dust grain, her mind began to play tricks on her and she started thinking of him again. Of his betrayal. Of his love for her that had either died long ago or never existed in the first place. It was depressing. Suddenly she wished desperately for some kind of diversion, for something or someone to cheer her up.
She was standing behind the counter, listlessly rearranging a pile of prettily embroidered table cloths, when she got the diversion she desired, although not the kind she had been thinking of. A familiar face appeared, heart-shaped, docile, loving – Melanie.
"Melly," she said with a frown, surprised and not overly pleased.
What was Melly doing here? She did not like it that much when she visited her at work, or anyone else for that matter. Also, she felt a strange, unfamiliar unease as she looked into those trusting brown eyes. Melanie suspected nothing. She knew nothing of her husband's sinful exploits, had no idea that Ashley was capable of such things. And it was not out of kindness or love towards Melanie that Scarlett felt pity for her, but because she sensed that they had both been fooled. Fooled by a man who was not that much of a gentleman, after all.
"Scarlett, darling," Melanie greeted her with a warm smile, leaning over the counter with some effort to kiss her sister-in-law's cheeck. "How are you, dear?"
Scarlett took in her smile and felt the urge to push her away and scream at her: You fool! Don't you know your husband is a whoremonger? Don't you know he consorts with other women because you can't have any more children? Don't you know he's betrayed me, and you, too?
But, of course, she said nothing of the kind. It would not do. "What are you doing here, Melly?" Scarlett asked instead, a little too sharply. Melanie's face fell but she quickly recovered, putting a gentle hand on Scarlett's to stop her from fumbling with the cloths.
"Scarlett, I'm sorry for coming here – I – I know you don't like it that much, dear. I had meant to call on you at your home but you weren't there – Captain Butler was so kind to tell me where you'd gone. And so I came here. Forgive me, dear. But I need to discuss something with you."
Scarlett's eyes widened and she raised her head quickly. Was it possible that Melanie already knew? Did she know everything about Ashley's misconduct and wanted to confide in her? But no. There was no pain in Melanie's eyes, no grudge. Quite the contrary. Her face was glowing with happiness and connivance.
"What is it, Melly?"
"Oh dear, can't you guess? You know Ashley's birthday is in two days, and you promised to come and help me decorate and prepare everything! Oh Scarlett, I'm so excited! We need to discuss some particulars, dear. You're so smart and I'm sure you have much better ideas than I do and..." Melanie's voice prattled on, but Scarlett was not listening anymore.
The birthday party! Oh, Mother of God. She had totally forgotten about it. Could she face Ashley already in two days time? Could she look at him without throwing herself at him, begging him to love her again? Could she shake his hand without the urge to scratch his eyes out for what he had done to her?
She realized that she couldn't. If their first encounter took place the day after tomorrow, she would scream and shout and kill him, or else, throw herself at him and make a fool of herself again. She either had to stay away or meet him before the party.
And suddenly she knew what she had to do. Suddenly she knew what had made her so irritable and moody the entire day. She had never been one to shrink away from a confrontation. She was not the type. Why had she not driven to the mills immediately this morning? She needed to clear the air now. She had to go to there and confront him, let it all out. Suddenly she craved to see his face and read in it whether he still loved her or not, if he had ever loved her at all. She craved to haul insults at him and see his reaction. She wanted to kiss him and taste one last time the sweet flavor of his lips.
"Melly," she interrupted the other woman urgently but not unkindly. "I need to go. I forgot that I have an important business meeting at the mills." She lied smoothly.
"Oh, but dear - " Melly looked disappointed.
"I'm very sorry," she put on the charm. "Why don't you come over to my house tomorrow and we'll discuss everything in detail? But I'm sure you already have it all planned out... dear." She struggled with the endearment.
Surprised and oddly grateful for Scarlett's kind and flattering words, Melanie relented. "Oh, darling, thank you. You are the best sister in the world. Of course your business is more important than my mindless chatter. Yes, I'll come tomorrow. Before lunch?"
Scarlett nodded, already putting on her bonnet and gloves. "Perfect. And after we've discussed it all, we'll have lunch together." She was not particularly keen on spending time with Melly or having lunch with her, but she needed to get rid of her right now, and quickly. And one can catch more flies with honey than vinegar.
She ushered Melanie out of the store, having a hard time keeping her impatience in check.
"I'll see you tomorrow, dear," Melanie said sweetly after Scarlett had ascended her buggy and taken hold of the reins. "Drive safely. And remember, if Ashley's still there – oh, it's not yet five, I'm sure he'll still be there – remember! He mustn't know anything!"
An odd feeling took hold of Scarlett as she looked down at Melanie's kind face, her brown eyes sparkling with affection. She did not know whether she wanted to slap her or lay a gentle hand on that heart-shaped brow in a gesture of reassurance: Don't worry. Everything shall be alright.
"Goodbye, Melly."
She drove off, never looking back, and she felt rather than saw the expression in Melanie's eyes – wishing Scarlett well, praying for her safety.
But Melanie's unworldly face swiftly faded to the back of her mind as she made her way through the city and finally entered the woods. Excitement spurred her on, her heart was beating wildly. Forward, forward! Ever forward now, to the mills, where Ashley awaited her.
Author's note: I'll try to update again soon but this is one hot and beautiful summer here in Germany and I've got some term papers to write as well, so, as always, I can't promise anything. Anyway, feel free to review and tell me what you think. Thank you.