"The motto of chivalry is also the motto of wisdom; to serve all, but love only one." - Honore de Balzac
Scarlett woke early, about an hour after dawn, her eyes fluttering open at a noise coming from the nursery. Rhett's room was silent though, and when she stretched out her arm on the enormous bed she noticed that he was no longer sleeping next to her.
Sitting up quickly, she scanned the room with her eyes. The curtains had not been drawn yet, and when she did not spot Rhett immediately a momentary panic gripped her heart. She took in a sharp breath and balled her hand into a tight fist on the white sheets.
Where was he? Had he left? Had he done the unthinkable and deserted her, after – after –
But no!
There he was, sitting in a low armchair by the fireplace and smoking a cigar. As her gaze fixed on him and she realized he had not left, she heaved a sigh of relief. Thank God! He was lounging gracefully in the armchair, legs crossed, his left elbow resting on the armrest even as he smoked with his right hand. The peculiar, aromatic smell of cigar smoke, which Scarlett had always found comfortable because it reminded her of Gerald, wafted through the room, and she breathed in deeply. Rhett was not looking at her; she could only see him in profile, and her eyes hungrily took in his chiseled, aristocratic features and the lazy grace of his big, muscular body.
He was fully dressed in a gray suit and black polished boots, looking as dapper and neat as always, and Scarlet frowned halfheartedly, sure she must look a fright with her hair all over the place and sleep in her eyes. She would have liked to bid him good morning looking polished and elegant, but it was no use: he was always one step ahead of her no matter what she did.
Watching him intently, she tried to sort out the jumbled impressions in her mind.
Two things stood to the fore. She had lived for years with Rhett, slept with him, eaten with him, quarreled with him and borne his child – and yet, she did not know him. The man who had slept with her in this room, who had touched her so passionately and yet so tenderly, was a stranger of whose existence she had not dreamed. He had been so kind, so good to her. And he had been full of ardor, too, a fearless, generous lover opening her eyes to a new world of sweet desire.
All of a sudden, her Catholic conscience reminded her that no woman should allow her husband to touch her like that. Women were supposed to bear the marital relation with gritted teeth and tightly shut eyes, not glory in it like some trollop. Could a lady, a real lady still hold up her head after such a passionate encounter? But, Scarlett figured immediately, and in spite of herself and everything she had been taught, there was nothing to be ashamed of, was there? Much stronger than any shame was the memory of rapture, of Rhett's gentle hands on her body. For the first time in her life she had felt alive, truly alive, had felt passion as sweeping as the fear she had known the night she fled Atlanta, as dizzy sweet as the cold hate when she had shot the Yankee. It had been beautiful, wonderful, and she did not know why she should feel ashamed of having allowed a man to make love to her like that, especially if that man was her husband.
Make love.
Did Rhett love her? Melly said he did, and how could Scarlett doubt it now, after what had happened? No man touched a woman like that if he did not love her. Yet the sentiment had never crossed his lips, not even in their most intimate moments. And, if he loved her, why was he not laying beside her still, holding her in his arms as he had last night and in her dream? What had changed? Had she done something wrong? But, she figured, he had always been an early riser, and perhaps he had wanted to look in on the children...
She was not sure whether he had at all noticed that she had awoken, but while she was still pondering this thought, unsure whether to speak or not, he suddenly turned his face in her direction, looking at her. So he had noticed. She shut her mouth, meeting his gaze. For a long moment they simply looked at each other.
Try as she might, she could not look away. She did not want to. Rhetts's eyes were pitch-black, unreadable, his face a smooth blank canvas. And yet she thought she could spot in the depths of his dark orbs a tiny flame, in his impassive face discern something keen and eager that was not wholly unfamiliar to her. Why, she knew that look he was giving her – like a cat watching a mouse hole!
She cocked her head to the side, wondering what he was up to. What was he thinking? What was his agenda? You could never be too sure with Rhett. But this unpredictability, too, was strangely exciting. He was so unlike Ashley in everything; everything about him was exciting, exhilarating, dangerous, and a shiver ran down her spine as images, strikingly precise, of the afternoon and evening before came flooding back, until she had to make a considerable effort not to squirm under his unrelenting gaze. If he would only say something, anything –
"Good morning, Scarlett."
The deep tones of his voice resonated deliciously in each bone of her body, and again she could not help trembling, praying inwardly that he would not notice. She longed for him, desired to be close to him, but as long as she did not know exactly where she stood with him, as long as he had not told her to her face that he loved her, as Melly claimed he did, she would tread lightly.
"Good morning," she replied softly, giving him a small smile.
He looked surprised for a second or two, but then his face seemed to relax, and he smiled back.
"How are you?" He asked, taking a drag on his cigar and expelling the smoke slowly.
"I'm fine, Rhett, perfectly fine. You?"
"Fine."
He gave her a suggestive look she would certainly have found offensive in the past, but this morning it only made her blush furiously even as she kept thinking of the way he had roamed her body with his hands, her soft white skin tingling under his touch. Well, let him look! She thought defiantly, jutting her chin forward. She would not yield an inch until she knew what he felt for her.
But how to proceed? Part of her wanted to work her charms on him, to smile and dimple and avail herself of all those feminine tricks and pretty gestures that never failed to work with other men. But then she remembered that Rhett was unlike all men she had ever known, that he preferred frankness and honesty to coquetry and her "southern belle simper", as was the term he preferred.
"What time is it?" She asked randomly, for fear of destroying the peaceful mood between them.
"Quarter past seven. I'm surprised at you, my pet. You never were an early riser."
"Well, I – " She faltered. She did not like the way he called her his 'pet' – it never failed to irk her. But then again there was no real malice in his eyes. Still, if he wasn't planning on being hateful but rather civil for once, why was he not taking her in his arms? Why was he not referring to what had happened?
"I don't suppose you'll go to sleep again," he drawled, and she was glad of the reprieve. "Would you care for breakfast by any chance? I haven't had any yet - I could fetch us something from the kitchen."
"Oh, that would be lovely, Rhett." Scarlett consented eagerly, realizing she was starving, for she had not really eaten anything since lunch the day before, except for some small sandwiches Rhett had procured from the kitchen after their love-making in the early evening, she remembered with another telltale blush. Also, his momentary absence may help her to pull herself together enough to have a decent conversation with him when he returned. (Had they ever had a decent conversation? Somehow, even if they started out reasonably well, something would inevitably thwart their attempt at conversing like reasonable adults – a wrong word, a misguided gesture, a kiss.)
Rhett nodded, and, putting out his cigar in the ashtray on the small table before him, got up lightly from his seat.
"I'll be right back."
She watched him lounge across the room, painfully aware of the graceful movements of his body. Oh how handsome he was! So handsome and so different – there was nothing soft or golden to his appearance, all was sharp and hard and dark, and she found it infinitely attractive. A man had no business being so darkly handsome. As so many times before she was struck by his powerful physical presence, the muscles rippling beneath the fine cloth of his suit. Before exiting the room he looked back over his shoulder, casting his eye over her form in that old familiar manner that made her go crimson again; she met his gaze boldly anyway.
As soon as the door fell shut behind him, she jumped out of bed and hastened to the mirror hanging over the fireplace. Quickly, she raked her fingers through her hair for lack of a comb and wiped the sleep from her eyes. She thought that on the whole she looked presentable – there was a healthy glow to her cheeks and she found she looked quite becoming in the nightgown she had quickly fetched from her room last night. Satisfied, she dashed back to the bed and carefully arranged the sheets about her.
Rhett returned ten minutes later with a huge tray laden with a variety of dishes in his hands. He walked purposefully over to the bed, never taking his eyes away from hers, but she could sense that he was being careful around her, that he was not entirely at ease. There was something tense about him that reminded her of her own uncertainty with regard to him. Part of her wanted to fling herself into his arms and press her lips to his, begging him to make her feel alive again, the other told her to run and avoid whatever was going to happen at all costs.
He set the tray down next to her on the bed and seated himself on the edge. Remembering that she was starving, Scarlett soon tucked into the feast comprising fresh toast, bacon and eggs, several types of cheese and marmalade, junket as well as fresh fruit. Thankfully, Rhett kept up a stream of casual conversation about the children and the weather, eating heartily but a lot more elegantly than Scarlett and smiling occasionally at her lack of restraint.
She wasn't really listening to him, choosing to watch him in secret through her thick lashes instead, until at one point Rhett looked teasingly at her and pointed out that she had a bit of marmalade on her upper lip. Immediately, it seemed, the atmosphere in the room changed. Scarlett gulped as she met his dark, penetrating gaze. Fascinated, unable to move, she watched as he inched closer, slowly leaning over the tray. She thought perhaps he would kiss her, but he only reached up nonchalantly with his hand and brushed the marmalade away with his fingertip. Somewhat disappointed, Scarlett couldn't help pouting a little, but he only laughed knowingly in return.
"As I said, Wade … " He resumed his earlier topic, and Scarlett frowned.
Foolish man! What did she care about Wade this morning? Couldn't he see she was desperate to know if he loved her? If he cared?
She looked around he room in an attempt to come up with some kind of strategy, when her eyes fell on the clock on the far wall. Suddenly she remembered Ashley and the party, and that she'd promised Melanie to get everything ready for the reception. She saw that an hour had passed; it was almost half past eight. She was scheduled to be at Melly's at 10 o'clock. She didn't have enough time to make Rhett confess!
Her face fell, which wasn't lost on Rhett, who was watching her intently even though he gave the impression of lounging carelessly on the bed.
Scarlett had no desire to go to Melly's, not because she didn't want to see her sister-in-law but because she was loath to leave Rhett, would have preferred to stay with him. So far she hadn't extracted anything meaningful from him. What should she do to make him talk about what really mattered to her? Kiss him? She did want to kiss him. But that wouldn't help; it would only serve to further addle her brain. Her expression grew soft and dreamy at the thought of Rhett's kisses – he really did kiss well. The feeling of his mouth on hers never failed to send a shiver down her spine and set her a-tremble.
"I… I just remembered I have to be at Melly's in two hours," she said hesitantly, meeting Rhett's eyes even though it was hard not to gaze at his lips. "It's Ashley's birthday party tonight, remember?"
To her surprise, Rhett pursed his lips in a manner she had never seen before, his expression cold. For some reason he was looking at her as if she'd just said exactly what he'd expected her to say, and she could see him tense up as he sat still, staring at her.
"Ashley," he said eventually. "Always Ashley. So you still haven't gotten that wooden-headed gentleman out of your mind, not even after – " He took in her eager expression and trailed off. "Never mind."
"What on earth are you talking about?" Scarlett retorted. "I wasn't thinking of Ashley, not in that way."
"In what way, then?" Rhett asked offhandedly, but she could see it mattered to him. She marveled at how quickly the atmosphere had changed once more, from peaceful and pleasant to tense.
"I was thinking – Well, if you must know, Rhett, I realized last night that …That I don't love Ashley anymore!" She blurted out.
There was a pregnant pause in which Rhett looked deeply into her eyes before chuckling to himself. "It sure as hell took you a long time to realize it," he observed dryly.
She said nothing, trying to discern what he was thinking. He didn't seem entirely nonchalant. Nor did he seem entirely pleased. Oh, would she ever understand the enigma that was Rhett Butler? She didn't want to argue with him, but she suddenly had a sinking feeling that this whole thing wouldn't go well.
After a while Rhett said, "So, can I be sure you won't be dreaming of your golden-haired prince anymore when you're lying in my arms?"
"Did you listen to what I said?" She bristled. "He's not my prince anymore. Maybe he never was. I don't care about him. In fact I don't care if I never see him again! Doesn't that make you happy?"She added rather hopefully. He'd said she would be lying in his arms again. Oh, how she wanted to!
He laughed shortly, mirthlessly. "Happy? Yes, I guess so. In a sense."
"In a sense?"
"Yes. You see, my dear, it does please me that you've finally come to your senses. It pleases me immensely, and if you had as much insight as charm you would know why. It does please me – I'm just not sure it will last. After all," he grinned, "you've always exhibited a penchant for infidelity with regard to Ashley Wilkes, even if it was but spiritual in nature."
She drew back as if he'd slapped her, then scowled furiously at him even as her blood began to boil.
"You're a fine one to talk!" she gasped, anger at his unfair accusations quickly getting the better of her. "How dare you accuse me of betraying you when it's you who – who consorts with whores!"
Her lips trembled with the enormity of what she had said, but she met his eyes defiantly. The thought of him being with Belle Watling or some other whore made her sick. So thick she wanted to rake her sharp nails over his swarthy face until he swore never to bed one of those nasty wenches again.
"Don't bring that up again, Scarlett," Rhett said slowly, almost as if he were bored, but his eyes were gleaming dangerously. "We've talked about it and I don't feel like repeating myself."
"We haven't really talked about it!" She shrieked. "Just because you had the gall to brag to me, your wife, of –"
"Oh, spare me your indignation and your hypocrisy. You haven't been much of a wife since Bonnie came, have you?"
Scarlett flinched, for he had touched a sore spot, and he grinned jeeringly. He got up from the bed and, walking over to the fireplace, continued, "Anyway, it's no use talking about Belle and I. You wouldn't understand. It's completely different."
Scarlett let out an incredulous laugh. "How is it any different? It's not different at all!" She finished on a high-pitched, desperate note, quickly getting out of bed as well and walking around it to face Rhett, who was now leaning casually against one of the two massive armchairs. She felt rather foolish confronting him wearing nothing but her nightgown, but she stood her ground.
She thought of what she had told him. It was true, wasn't it? While she knew she'd been wrong in pursuing Ashley all these years, she couldn't for the life of her understand why Rhett's infidelity should weigh any less. Yes, she had wronged him, wronged him deeply. But she would die before she held him blameless, especially in this blasted matter of infidelity that was like a thorn in her side.
Rhett was looking intently at her as if pondering in earnest what she had said. After a while he sighed, and, running a hand through his thick black hair, observed calmly, "Perhaps you're right – after a fashion. But there's still one major difference. I've been with those women, yes. But I've never loved any of them."
"Who?" Scarlett asked stupidly.
"The whores you were referring to," he added nastily. "Those girls. Belle. I've never loved any of them. Not the way you've loved Ashley."
She weighed his words for a moment, realizing dimly that he was trying to say that while he had been with those women physically, he had never actually loved them. But that made it even worse, did it not? So he had betrayed her only for his own selfish pleasure, without even feeling anything sacred for those nasty wenches. Whereas she and Ashley – She knew that something was not quite right with her argument, but she refused to consider its flaws any further. She only knew that Rhett had hurt her by being with those other women, and she did not understand why he had done it if he indeed loved her. Never analytical, she did not realize that he had acted out of jealousy and pain, deeply hurt after she had banished him from her room. She only saw her own hurt feelings, and the need to lash out at him became stronger and stronger as the argument continued.
"But – but – you've still been with them!" She persisted. "You've betrayed me for no reason but to spite me, and I never – I mean, Ashley and I –" She paused, embarrassed. But she must get it out, even if it did inflame her cheeks to the point of absurdity. "I mean, Ashley would never have gone that far."
She had thought this would placate him, but to her surprise Rhett simply laughed. "Yes, my pet, I know it was him and not you who ensured things never got out of hand – if I may put it that way. Really, Scarlett, you shouldn't give yourself away so easily."
"Oh," she breathed in impotent rage. "You mustn't twist my words like that! What I meant was that –"
"I know what you meant," he interrupted her, eyeing her coolly. "I know exactly what it is you're trying to say." He paused as if to prolong her discomfort, and she wanted to wring his neck for it. At last he continued.
"You mean to tell me that because you loved Ashley, or thought you did – you never seem to be too sure these days," he added cuttingly, "you were justified in committing adultery. Whereas I, soulless scoundrel that I am, betrayed you for no other reason than carnal lust and a wish to spite you – you, my dear, buxom wife, who was faithful to me in body even though her noble heart belonged to another. And for this reason you've made up your mind that I'm as guilty as Cain, whereas you are innocent. Honestly, my dear, I'll never cease to marvel at the elasticity of your conscience."
She stood, dumbfounded, understanding only half of what he was saying. But she realized that there was at least some truth to it. "Well, yes –" she said eventually, which earned her a knowing grin. "And no," she hastened to add. Before she could think better of it, she let the words tumble out of her mouth. "I never said I was innocent. I know I'm not. I was wrong, so wrong to run after Ashley like that. And Rhett, I'm sorry, so sorry for everything! You must believe me. I'm sorry if I hurt you and I'm sorry I banished you from my room after Bonnie was born. I regretted it the moment you left and I've regretted it ever since."
He searched her face as if trying to ascertain whether she spoke the truth. "Is that true?"
"Yes," she retorted bitterly. "It's true. I've always regretted it, but I didn't know how to take it back. And then you grew so cold and distant and we never really talked any more. And somehow, as time went by, it became more and more difficult to mention it, and eventually I told myself I'd come to terms with how things were."
She paused, not sure whether it was wise to bare her thoughts like this, but these feelings had been buried within her for so long that she felt she would burst if she did not allow them to come to the surface.
"But then I saw Ashley in front of Belle's the other night, and everything changed, and I – That is, I began to think of you all the time, and I couldn't stop thinking about you no matter how mean you were. And I realized somehow that I had never really come to terms with it all, and that I had sacrificed so much just for Ashley's sake. And then yesterday I thought that – I mean, I was so happy to … to be with you." Her pride utterly crumbled at this admission, and she half expected him to take her words and hold them like a whip over her head. But he didn't. He said nothing, his black eyes alert and strangely sad.
"Rhett," she probed in a rare attempt not to argue with him anymore. "Rhett, please say something. Were you – I mean –" God, how she hated herself for her inability to form two coherent sentences without stumbling over her own words.
"You were you happy, too, weren't you? Yesterday. I know you were. I know because –" she broke off. She didn't really know why she thought he'd been happy, it was just a feeling. They had lain so peacefully together, no explanations needed.
"Yes," he said slowly. "Yes, I was happy."
"But – " She fumbled for words. Why in God's name was this so hard? "But if you were happy yesterday, then why aren't you now? Why are you being so mean? I though that –"
"I was happy," he cut in. "Happy because you were in my arms and for once in this sham of a marriage it was just the two of us, without the specter of the honorable Ashley Wilkes hovering above us. Or so I thought. I was happy because it felt like I finally had you to myself, all of you. I hoped that maybe you –" He laughed shortly. "But perhaps that was an illusion. A foolish, preposterous dream. You tell me."
He looked so strange, eager, hurt, mocking. He shoved his hands deep into his pockets and she saw him ball his fists.
"Oh Rhett," she breathed, uncomprehending, "don't let's talk of Ashley now, please! I told you I don't love him anymore!"
"It's not enough, Scarlett," he said shortly. "Not for me. Not anymore."
"What do you mean?"
He smiled, amused. "Can't you guess? Well, you never did understand any human being, did you, my pet, not even yourself. And you never cared in the past, unless where your precious Ashley was concerned. But I won't be be used as a stopgap, Scarlett. It's as simple as that."
Stopgap? Stopgap? What on earth was he talking about? Why could he not just hold her? And she was tired, so very tired of hearing Ashley's name.
"All I know is that I don't love him anymore," she repeated, "and I know you must care because – Why, Melly said you – " She stopped mid-sentence, suddenly embarrassed.
Oh, this was not the way she had wanted to go about extracting a confession from him, if there was any to be had. And she was afraid, too, afraid she'd been a fool and he didn't love her after all. She wished desperately to back out but realized it was too late; she could see the eagerness in his dark eyes. Trapped!
He took a step forward as if to touch her but then seemed to think better of it. "What did she say?"
When she said nothing, he persisted, "What did Miss Melly say, Scarlett?"
"That day when we were sitting on the porch, Melly said you loved me." Scarlett blurted out quickly lest she loose her courage. There, she had said it. Now what would be his answer? She searched his dark eyes with her curious green ones that shone like two emeralds in the dimly lit room.
"Do you, Rhett?"
He stared mutely at her for a heartbeat or two. Then, with a sigh, he turned away from her and toward the fireplace. She stood silently behind him, wringing her hands and waiting breathlessly for his reply. She felt like the world stood on a razor's edge, like she could take anything but a "no" from him. Why that should be she did not know, she only knew it was true.
"Yes," he said all of a sudden, still facing away from her, in a voice so low she had to strain her ears to hear him at all. "I love you."
She stood, flabbergasted, her eyes boring into his broad back. A few days ago, she would have lifted her chin and laughed triumphantly, but now that was the furthest thing from her mind.
At last she found her voice. "You – you really love me?"
He turned around, a mocking grin gracing his lips. This was not exactly what she had hoped for, but still she searched his face hungrily, glad he was looking at her at last even if he was wearing his old mask of mock indifference.
"That's all you have to say? Really, Scarlett, sometimes I think you're a little too unusual for your own good. Don't you think this is the moment where you should emulate my brave deed and confess your undying love for me, even if it were a bit of a white lie? Perhaps I should have settled for a proper Southern lady after all."
She bristled at the implication that she wasn't a lady, and said nothing with regard to the rest, annoyed at his subtle irony. She didn't understand what he meant, as usual. Why could he never speak truth, like a decent creature, instead of beating around the bush like that?
With a sigh, he asserted, "I see you don't know what I mean. Or perhaps you don't want to know. They say ignorance is bliss, don't they? Well, if you can manage to listen to me for a few minutes without interrupting, I can explain what I mean. Though God knows, I see no need for explanations. The truth's so plain." With his right foot he pushed one of the armchairs in her direction, sitting down in the other one. "Come, sit with me. I'm afraid this tale of woe may be too much for you, and I want to be prepared in case you faint."
She sat down, looking into the eyes she knew so well – and knew so little – listened to his quiet voice saying words which at first meant nothing.
"Did it ever occur to you that I loved you as much as a man can love a woman? Loved you for years before I finally got you? During the war I'd go away and try to forget you, but I couldn't and I always had to come back. After the war I risked arrest, just to come back and find you. I cared so much I believe I would have killed Frank Kennedy if he hadn't died when he did. I loved you but I couldn't let you know it. You're so brutal to those who love you, Scarlett. You take their love and hold it over their heads like a whip."
She gulped. So he truly loved her! Her mind reeled with the knowledge. Melanie had been right all along. Rhett Butler in love with her! All these years he had loved her, despite his affirmations to the contrary:"No, my dear, I'm not in love with you, no more than you are with me, and if I were, you would be the last person I'd ever tell."
She remembered those words so well. He had loved her, and yet all these years he'd kept it hidden from her even when she asked him outright whether he loved her or not. Involuntarily, a faint gleam of admiration shone in her eyes as she looked up at him, for she realized suddenly that she would have acted the same way had she been in his place. And she realized, too, how much of an effort it must have been to keep so great a love hidden for so long. And she admired him for his strength, for the way he hadn't allowed her to try to bully and break him, even if she couldn't approve of the fact that he'd indirectly lied to her all this time.
She searched his eyes, begging him to go on. He obliged.
"Yes – I've loved you Scarlett, more than I've ever loved any woman. And God help me, I love you still."
There was a pause in which she simply kept staring at him, trying to wrap her mind around it all, fascinated by the ardor in his voice.
"I love you Scarlett, but I can't go on like this," Rhett continued, his voice low, almost bitter. "That's what I meant when I said it's not enough for you to realize you don't love Ashley. I've reached a point where I don't care anymore whether you use my love against me or not. I had to come clean. Well, it's done now," he added, chuckling self-deprecatingly as if amused at his own foolishness. "It's done now and I'm inviting you to do with the knowledge as you see fit. We come to it at last."
He frowned pensively. "Come to think of it, I guess this is what they call a turning point."
Turning point? What on earth was he going on about?
"So you do love me," she said dazedly, more to herself than to him, grabbing the armrest for support. It was too much. The mighty Rhett Butler in love with her! She had him at last, but she had never felt less inclined to use it against him. And she couldn't have, anyway, for despite his confession he was no more in her power than he had ever been. She did not understand why he was being like this, how he could be like this – distant, out of reach – in a moment such as this.
Never analytical, she did not realize what it was he wanted her to see and say, did not think of the three little words he was desperate to hear from her lips.
"You do love me," she repeated, parrot-like, looking at him.
"Yes," he asserted resignedly, and she thought oddly that he sounded a bit like Ashley all those years ago when he had told her he would come to Atlanta and work for her. Where had that thought come from?
"All these years you've loved me and yet you never –"
He got up abruptly, pushing the armchair back with his right foot.
"What –" she began, but he waved her off.
"I've got to go."
"Go?" She shrieked, at a loss. "Go where?"
She suddenly realized he wasn't going to volunteer any more information. The interview was over; he would not explain any further, she could see it in the determined expression he wore. She reached up and clutched at his forearm, crumpling the fine material of his coat, but he shook her off impatiently.
And then all of a sudden she knew where he was intent on going. She was not sure how she knew, she just did. There was something about his mannerisms, something about the way he avoided looking at her that set her teeth on her edge and made her skin crawl. When he did look at her, he raised his brows in mock interest, and she sprang to her feet.
Her dark brows flew together in a scowl that would have chilled the blood of a lesser man, and she balled her small hands into fists. He was going to that house. He was going to see that creature. He was going to Belle Watling's brothel. She could not believe he had the gall to do this, of all things, after everything that had happened the afternoon and evening before, after everything he had just confessed. The devil take him! He was a fiend, a damned cad who had too much power over her, even if she yet refused to name the embarrassing welter of feelings he had stirred in her breast.
"No," she cried. "You can't go there. You can't!"
He looked surprised for a moment, as if he hadn't expected her to know. But then he merely grinned, his perfect white teeth flashing.
"Why ever not? It's such a charming place, and the company is rather soothing. You never were very soothing, my dear."
"Oh, you cad!" She fumed. "How dare you compare me to –"
"Yes, yes," he waved her off impatiently, "I know. You're far above the likes of them. But, I'm afraid I can't say as much for myself, which is only natural, I suppose – after all, I'm not a gentleman." He spat the word like it was a curse, then paused as if thinking very hard. "But wait, wasn't it your little gentleman I caught in the act at Belle's the other day? It really makes me wonder, you know. Whom will I encounter next? I shudder at the thought of surprising Hugh Elsing or Dr. Meade acting on their – er – less than gentlemanly appetites, if you can follow me."
She could, and she wanted to slap him for his misguided insolence. Choosing to ignore his nasty comments, she inquired, "How can you go there if you love me? How can you go from me to that woman after – after –"
She trailed off, unable to put her feelings into words. It hurt too much to think that he would dismiss their passionate encounter so carelessly and run off to a whorehouse. He had said he loved her! If he loved her, why would he still prefer that nasty Watling woman to her? It made no sense.
He watched her intently, and, seeing her distress, made as if to lay a hand on her arm. "Scarlett, it's not – "
"Don't touch me," she shrieked. Suddenly she shivered in her slight nightgown; all warmth had drained from the room, or so it seemed. Rhett frowned, but since Scarlett wasn't looking at him she missed the expression of impotent frustration on his face.
"If you go there, you needn't come back," she said suddenly, venomous mood restored as she looked into his dark, impenetrable eyes, his mask of indifference back in place.
"You're making a spectacle of yourself, my pet."
"Don't call me that! I hate it when you call me that. I'm not your damned pet, Rhett Butler!"
He gave her a lazy smile. "I dare say you were something of the kind yesterday afternoon."
Her mouth hanging open, she stared at him in horror, deeply hurt. How could he insult her so, she thought in rage and pain. He was going out of his way to hurt and humiliate her. She recalled how she had preened herself this morning to please him, thought of how she had humiliated herself by admitting how much she had wanted him yesterday, thought of how desperate she had been for him to tell her he cared, and she pressed her teeth together until it hurt. She wouldn't stand here and let him insult her!
Her slanting brows rushed together in a cold frown. "Get out!" She hissed. "Get out before I scream!"
"May I remind you that this is my room?"
She blinked, realizing it was true. But it mattered not. "Just go, you conceited, low-down, nasty –"
He threw up his hands in mock surrender. "Alright, alright. I'm going. Goodbye Scarlett." He added lightly.
She followed him a few paces until he had stepped over the threshold and she reached the door. "Yes, go!" She spat furiously, heedless of any servants who might overhear. "Go and see if I care if you never come back!"
But she did care. When he was gone she marched over to one of the large windows and forcefully drew back the curtains, squeezing her eyes shut as the merciless sunlight came streaming in.
Fuming with impotent rage, she clung to the curtains for support. Oh, how could Rhett be like this, after everything that had happened between them? How could he go to that Watling woman now if he actually loved her, Scarlett? And she, fool that she was, had believed he had changed! Well, he had not, and she had been a fool, a stupid, conceited, silly fool. He would never change, even if he did love her as much as he claimed.
Suddenly she felt tired, drained, and when she looked up at the clock hanging on the far end of the wall she realized it was almost 9.30. She would have to dress quickly and leave very soon if she did not want to disappoint Melanie. She had promised to help her get the house straight for the party tonight.
The party! Oh, Mother of God! She thought despairingly, burying her head in her hands. She could not go there. She couldn't bear it, not after what had transpired this morning. What if Rhett didn't turn up in time to accompany her? What if he didn't turn up at all? How could she show her face there alone and talk to all those boring, hateful gossips that would attend when all her thoughts would inevitably revolve around Rhett and his whereabouts?
But I must go there tonight, she thought bitterly. I must. I said I would. And I must hurry and go to Melly's now, after all I promised her to come and help her. I must not let her down, even if it kills me.
She recalled the wise words Melly had spoken on the terrace about Rhett's love the day before, recalled her goodness and selflessness, and once again she shuttered at the thought of how badly she had treated her sister-in-law in the past. Never again! And if it did pain her to prance about the little house on Ivy Street even as her mind kept torturing her with images of Rhett, then she would accept it as the just punishment for her past misdeeds with regard to Melanie.
Her mind made up, she quickly left Rhett's room and rang for the maid. Half an hour later she was walking swiftly up Peachtree Street in a dark-blue taffeta day dress featuring a tight bodice and a neckline trimmed with black cotton lace as well as a close-fitting skirt with a simple lobster tail bustle. She wore a matching belt of black silk taffeta with a satin bow and a black bonnet modestly trimmed with a white silk ribbon. It was a practical yet pretty outfit which she knew suited her, but she did not feel well. She would have sold her soul to the devil to be able to shut herself away for the remainder of the day and lick her wounds, but she forced herself to keep walking, until finally she reached the Wilkes's house and rang the bell, squaring her shoulders to meet Melanie's shaming kindness and India's icy glares.
All that morning, Scarlett, with Melanie, India and Aunt Pitty flew about the little house, directing the negroes as they hung freshly laundered curtains, polished silver, waxed the floor and cooked, stirred and tasted the refreshments. Scarlett, downcast and indifferent herself, had never seen Melanie so excited or so happy.
"You see, dear, Ashley hasn't had a birthday party since – since, you remember the barbecue at Twelve Oaks? The day we heard about Mr. Lincoln's call for volunteers? Well, he hasn't had a birthday party since then. And he works so hard and he's so tired when he gets home at night that he really hasn't thought about today being his birthday. And won't he be surprised after supper when everybody troops in!"
Knowing better, Scarlett nevertheless forced a smile to her lips and managed to nod in agreement, gently patting Melanie's hand, which earned her a grateful answering smile from Melanie and an incredulous look from India. In fact, whenever Scarlett would do or say something nice that morning, India would scrutinize her with those cold lashless eyes of hers as if she did not know what to make of her enemy's behavior. Why, Scarlett thought with irritation, she looks at me as if she did not know me at all, just like Mammy the other day on the porch when I was talking to Melly. But she had no real desire and no energy to attempt finding out what India, of all people, was thinking of her, and so she merely looked coolly back and held her peace where on other days she would have taunted and snapped at the unloved other woman.
As she had feared, she could hardly concentrate long enough to finish one or another task before images of Rhett and snippets of their conversation would inevitably invade her mind. Once, she thought of his strong arms and the way he had held her close, and she smiled absentmindedly to herself, only to remember his nasty barb about her being his pet the next moment, and, distracted, she dropped the salad fork she had been polishing. Melly puckered her brow and looked worriedly at her when she picked up the fork and handed it back, but Scarlett quickly plastered a smile on her face and assured her she was alright. Another time, while helping India decorate some pastries with icing, an image of Rhett kissing her flashed before her mind's eye, and she shivered inwardly, only to recall next that he had gone straight from her to Belle Watling's house. She squeezed the small forcing bag too hard, resulting in her ruining one of the pastries. She sighed, and India looked sharply at her, but Scarlett refused to take the bait.
While she kept working, doing whatever silly thing Melanie proposed, Scarlett endlessly turned her argument with Rhett over in her mind, never reaching a satisfying conclusion. He loved her, at least he said he did, but still he had decided to run off to Belle's. He had been tender and gentle with her yesterday afternoon, but this morning he had been his usual sardonic and jeering self. She felt so bewildered, so hurt by his actions, did not understand why he had run out on her after his confession of love. He had been mean, so very mean and hurtful, and yet... he had also appeared hurt, pensive, eager, disappointed. Why disappointed? Disappointed in her, Scarlett? She felt like she was missing a crucial piece of the puzzle, and if she could only find it, then everything would make sense again. But no matter how hard she tried, she couldn't find it. Her traitorous brain conjured up an endless succession of images of Rhett, with his swarthy face, mocking smile and dark, mysterious eyes until she wanted to smash her head against a wall just to block him out.
The hours passed quickly in the small house, for there was a lot to do, but to Scarlett it felt like an eternity. All the time she kept her thoughts to herself, pretending to be fine although she was anything but. Melly couldn't know, and so Scarlett made an effort to smile and be jolly and high-spirited. But Melanie was not stupid, and Scarlet thought with grudging respect that perhaps her sister-in-law noticed a lot more than she let on.
At one point, Melanie succeeded in tricking Archie into helping her with the lanterns on the lawn, and the ruffian stumped off, cursing and grumbling.
"There's more ways of killing a cat than choking him to death with butter," giggled Melanie. "I had intended all along for Archie to put up those lanterns but you know how he is. He won't do a thing if you ask him to. And now we've got him out from underfoot for a while. The darkies are so scared of him they just won't do any work when he's around, breathing down their necks."
"Melly, I wouldn't have that old desperado in my house," said Scarlett crossly, grateful for the opportunity to let out some of her frustration. Archie couldn't be blamed for Rhett's boorish behavior, of course, but she hated the old murderer as much as he hated her and they barely spoke, so she figured this was as good a chance as any to let off some steam. Melanie's was the only house in which Archie would remain if Scarlett were present. And even in Melanie's house, he stared at her with suspicion and cold contempt. "He'll cause you trouble, mark my words." She added.
"Oh, he's harmless if you flatter him and act like you depend on him," said Melanie. "And he's so devoted to Ashley and Beau that I always feel safe having him around."
"You mean he's so devoted to you, Melly," said India, her cold face relaxing into a faintly warm smile as her gaze rested fondly on her sister-in-law. "I believe you're the first person that old ruffian has loved since his wife – er – since his wife. I think he'd really like for somebody to insult you, so he could kill them to show his respect for you."
"Mercy! How you run on, India!" said Melanie blushing. "He thinks I'm a terrible goose and you know it."
Scarlett, however, looked sharply at India, realizing that what she was saying was true. Archie did love Melanie, but she was too selfless to acknowledge it. And Scarlett realized, too, as she took in the gentle expression on India's plain face, that India truly loved Melanie – had in fact always seen her sister-in-law's innate worth whereas Scarlett had been too blind to see it. It enraged her to think that a goose like India should have more wit than her in such a matter, but at the same time the woman's love for Melanie somewhat mollified her. She told herself to try and be more polite to India in the future, although she would never be able to love her, not even for Melanie's sake. But Melanie cherished her blood kin, and since Scarlett was desperate to make up for her past misdeeds, she would endeavor to appease India Wilkes with gritted teeth.
"Well, I don't see that what that smelly old hill-billy thinks is of any importance," Scarlett persisted, for even if she was going to try to be kind to India, she would not lift a finger to make peace with Archie. The very thought of how he had sat in judgment upon her about the convicts always enraged her.
Eventually, the hour struck three thirty, and Scarlett startled. So much time had passed? She looked around her and realized that the house looked very well indeed. There were only a few more cakes to be decorated, and some pillows to be arranged, perhaps. Melanie clapped her hands, satisfied, a happy smile on her face. "Thank you, darlings!"
Scarlett had been toying with the idea of going home to get dinner and catch her breath until the party, although the idea of spending hours on her own in that house, constantly thinking about Rhett, was not exactly a pleasant one. But when she announced her plans to her sister-in-law, Melanie wrung her hands and looked pleadingly at her.
"Oh, Scarlett, I'm sure you must be tired and I'm sorry for stressing you so. But, dear, would you do me one last favor?" She paused, suddenly shy. "I know it may be a lot to ask but there is no one else I would trust with this... Would you mind very much going to the lumber yard? Ashley is already there, I think. Will you go and try to hold him there till five o'clock? If he comes home earlier he'll be sure to catch us finishing up a cake or something and then he won't be surprised at all."
At the mentioning of Ashley's name and the lumber yard, Scarlett wanted to decline immediately, recalling the ugly scene from two days before. She had no desire to be in Ashley's presence again so soon, in fact she would not care if she never saw him again. She opened her mouth to say no, but then she took in Melanie's sweet, hopeful expression and trusting, brown eyes and couldn't bring herself to do it. If it was Melly's wish, then she would go to the mill and face Ashley, although she would rather have stuck her hand into a fire.
"If that's what you want, Melly, I'll go. I'll think of a way to hold him." She added dispassionately.
India's pale lashless eyes met hers piercingly. She always looks at me so oddly when I speak of Ashley, thought Scarlett. But this time the look was different. Again, India was looking at her as if she did not know what to make of her.
"Well, hold him there as long as you can after five o'clock," said Melanie. "And then India will drive down and pick him up … Scarlett, do come early tonight. I don't want you to miss a minute of the reception."
It was a lovely afternoon, sunny but not too hot, bright but not glaring, and a warm breeze rustled the trees along Peachtree Street as Scarlett rode to the mill. She thought oddly that three days ago she would have sulked at the notion that Melanie had not asked her to help her receive. Three days ago she would have longed to stand by Ashley's side and receive his guests with him. Now she could not care less. She did not care about Ashley although she had loved him for so long, or thought she did. How much had changed in so short a time! Sometimes she felt like she was a completely different person. It was all very bewildering.
Involuntarily she recalled something Rhett had said a couple of days ago, in his usual jeering manner, before everything between them had changed:
"A Scallawag receive when all the prominent ex-Confederates and Democrats are going to be there? Your notions are as enchanting as they are muddle headed. It's only because of Miss Melly's loyalty that you are invited at all."
Why, he was hateful, wasn't he? She really did hate him sometimes, hated his clever remarks and brutal honesty and most of all his preference for nasty wenches like that Belle. She whipped the horse and pressed her lips together as she rode through the woods, still furious but somehow unable to express that fury. All she wanted was peace, but it seemed there was none to be had.
When the yard came into view she was reminded of how everything had started the other day; how she had run into Ashley outside Belle Watling's house and her world had crumbled into dust. Oh, he was as bad as Rhett! Although, she reasoned, no one could be quite as bad as Rhett. He truly loved her and still consorted with whores. Why, oh why had he been so nasty this morning? Why was he doing this if he loved her? She just couldn't make sense of it no matter how hard she tried.
She pulled the buggy to a halt before the small cluster of buildings and paused a moment, trying to push Rhett to the back of her mind. But it was no use. The thought of Ashley's past transgressions reminded her too painfully of Rhett's own dealings with Belle and other bad women. Still, she figured, no matter what Ashley had done, unlike Rhett he had promised to stop visiting Belle Watling's establishment. He had promised to be kind to Melanie. And Melanie loved him, loved him deeply. For all these reasons, Scarlett knew she would have to pull herself together and treat Ashley politely. It did not matter that she did not love him anymore, did not want to see him at all; she had to. For Melly's sake, she would have to hold him as long as she could after five o'clock, and she wouldn't be able to do that if she refused to speak to him or berated him again for his foolishness in betraying so worthy a woman as Melanie. For this was one of the few things that still had the power to enrage her when it came to Ashley – the fact that he had betrayed her best friend.
Before she could change her mind she jumped out of the buggy and walked to the office. The forest around her was eerily silent, only the chirping of birds and the occasional creaking of wood could be heard. Before she could raise her hand to knock, Ashley had already opened the door.
"Scarlett," he said in lieu of a proper greeting, looking confused. "What are you doing here?"
She looked at his face and felt nothing of what she had felt all those years prior, and for the life of her she could not understand how she had ever loved him so desperately. Had she been out of her mind? There was no other explanation. He seemed to pale in comparison to the man she had spent the afternoon and evening and night with, and suddenly she wished fervently that he were Rhett, that she could speak with Rhett now even if she did hate him. She yearned for darkness where there was only a faded golden hue.
"I'm –" she began but faltered. Then she remembered that he already knew about the reception tonight and blurted out without further ado, "Melly asked me to come here and hold you as long as possible after five o'clock. You know she doesn't want you to come home too early because of the party."
"Oh. Of course. Do come in, Scarlett."
He looked discomforted, and there was a weariness in his eyes that reminded her of her own reluctance to be alone with him in this office, of all places. But it couldn't be helped. She followed him into the small room, blazing with the afternoon sun, where they had talked the other day and, standing before the window at the far wall while he came to a halt by the desk, waited for him to speak. It was four o'clock; they had rather a lot of time to pass, but an uncomfortable silence prevailed, undoubtedly brought on by the memory of what had transpired in this room but two days ago.
"Well," Ashley said at last, resting one hand on the desk's surface, "how is it coming along?"
"Pardon?" Scarlett blinked.
"The party. Are the preparations going well?"
"Oh! Yes. Yes, of course. Melly is very excited and happy. I think I've never seen her this way before."
There was another uncomfortable pause at the mentioning of Melanie's name.
"Oh, Ashley," Scarlett chirped with a cheerfulness she did not feel in order to smooth over the moment, "do make an effort and act surprised tonight. She would be so disappointed if you weren't."
"Of course, Scarlett," he answered quickly, apparently relieved by her gaiety even if it was fake. "Didn't I tell you the other day I'd be the most surprised man in Atlanta?"
Her face fell as if on cue. Ashley's smile lasted for a heartbeat longer until he realized what he had said, to what day and encounter he had referred. He took a hesitant step forward, reaching out as if to touch her, but thought better of it when she looked away in shame and embarrassment.
"Scarlett, I'm sorry. Please forgive me. I didn't mean to refer to – I mean I didn't want to remind you of – " he trailed off helplessly.
"Don't let's talk about it, Ashley," Scarlett interjected, choosing to look out the window although there was nothing of interest to be seen. But she did not want to look at him instead.
Ashley gave a little laugh. "Oh, don't think that I wish to talk about it, Scarlett. I certainly don't. But we have to talk about it one day, don't you think? I can see it makes you as uncomfortable as it makes me. And I don't want us to feel uncomfortable in each other's presence."
She thought that there had always been something uncomfortable and awkward in the air whenever they had talked in the past because of all the things that could not be said, but perhaps he had decided to forget that fact. She didn't care.
Out loud she said, "What more is there to say, Ashley? You said you would stop running around with whores," she added viciously, "and I said I would keep it secret for Melly's sake. Doesn't that cover it?"
He flinched at her words but stayed calm. He was a little like Rhett in that respect, meeting her anger and spite with cool patience. All of a sudden she wondered whether Ashley had ever grasped that she was indeed cruel, selfish, vengeful, or whether he still clung to the foolish notion that she was pure and selfless and good, for all her spirited ways. Rhett would never think such things about me. He wouldn't fool himself like that. He knows what I am and still loves me.
"How can we go on like this?" Ashley's voice prattled on. "We're friends after all, aren't we? Scarlett, I know I'm a cad, but please say we're still friends. I couldn't bear it if we weren't. Not after – well, after everything I've done to Melanie – and to you."
"I don't know if we can be friends Ashley," she said honestly, "after everything that has happened."
"Don't say that," he said vehemently. "You've been such a major part of my life, Scarlett – please don't do this to me. I can't lost your friendship. Why," he added and a wistful look made his eyes glimmer strangely, "I'll always remember you as you were before the war at our last barbecue at Twelve Oaks, where you sat under a tree surrounded by dozens of beaux. You haven't changed, Scarlett, not really – you were so strong and fine and beautiful then, and you are all these things still, and I admire you for it. I couldn't bear to have you cut me out of your life completely."
So he truly had no idea who she was. Of course she had changed! She had changed immeasurably after the war, and again over the past two days. She had conquered! She had flourished! She had seen the error of her ways! The Scarlett who cared only for pretty dresses and Ashley's attention did not exist anymore. That he should not see these changes in her irked her beyond measure.
She wanted to stop him from speaking; she quickly opened her mouth to offer some platitude to silence him, but he continued talking almost as if she weren't there.
"We've come a long way, both of us, since that day, haven't we, Scarlett? We've traveled roads we never expected to travel. You've come swiftly, directly, and I, slowly and reluctantly."
She said nothing. This kind of talk always bored her because she didn't know what it meant. She thought dimly that Rhett never bored her, even if she often didn't understand what he was saying either. What a puzzling thought!
Ashley sat down on the table and looked at her and a small smile crept back into his face. But it was a bleak smile that didn't reach his eyes. "You know, Scarlett, I've leaned on you and depended on you all these years. It was so selfish of me but I saw no way out. I think if it hadn't been for you, I'd have gone down into oblivion – like poor Cathleen Calvert and so many other people who once had great names, old names."
"Oh, Ashley," Scarlett said, exasperated, "don't talk like that. You sound so sad." Couldn't he ever say something humorous or even mocking? Couldn't he ever express something like hope? Everything was preferable to this peculiar listlessness.
"No, I'm not sad. Not any longer. Once – once I was sad. Now, I'm only – "
He stopped and suddenly she knew what he was thinking. It was the first time she had ever known what Ashley was thinking when his eyes went past her, crystal clear, absent. When the fury of love had beaten in her heart, his mind had been closed to her. Now that she did not love him anymore, she could walk a little way into his mind, understand a little. He was not sad any longer. He had been sad after the surrender, sad when she begged him to come to Atlanta. Now, he was only resigned.
"You sound just like Rhett when you talk like that," she said suddenly, surprising herself and him, laughing softly in a manner that was not unkind. "He's always harping on things like that and something he calls the survival of the fitting till I'm so bored I could scream."
But, if she was true to herself, she did not find it so boring anymore. Somehow, as she looked at Ashley, Rhett's words rang truer than ever. In fact, they made sense for the very first time.
Ashley flinched again at the mentioning of Rhett's name, but then, oddly enough, he smiled.
"Did you ever stop to think, Scarlett, that Rhett and I are fundamentally alike?"
"Alike?" In spite of the hatred she had tried to tell herself she felt for Rhett, Scarlett suddenly thought of how kind and passionate he had been yesterday, and how bold in confessing his love for her this morning, remembered how smart and able he was, and suddenly she laughed. "Alike? Why, Rhett is so strong and brave and you – " She broke off, embarrassed. She did not wish to hurt Ashley's pride, not really. But the facts remained.
If Ashley guessed what she had intended to say, he did not immediately let on. His behavior seemed odd to her. Should he not be reluctant to speak of Rhett? After all, Rhett had caught him red-handed at Belle's. Rhett had blackmailed him into telling her, Scarlett, of his nightly whereabouts.
"Well," Ashley said, "we are, in a sense. We came of the same kind of people, we were raised in the same pattern, brought up to think the same things. And somewhere along the road we took different turnings. We still think alike but we react differently. As, for instance, neither of us believed in the war but I enlisted and fought and he stayed out till nearly the end. We both knew the war was all wrong. We both knew it was a losing fight. I was willing to fight a losing fight. He wasn't. Or, on an entirely different note, he admired you as I admired you, but he took heart and married you. I'm sorry, Scarlett, if I speak out of turn, again. But it must be done. Yes, Rhett saw your passion for living and he claimed you for himself whereas I was too much of a coward to even kiss you of my own accord. I knew all along we weren't right for each other, but if I had only kissed you once, if I had only answered your passionate pleas – I think I would have spared you many a heartbreak, and you would have seen, too, that we were far too different ever to be happy together. I've made so many mistakes with regard to you, Scarlett."
There was a pause in which Scarlett pondered his words, and they only echoed what she had thought about last night – that if he had only once acted like a lover when they were alone, if he had only ever succumbed to her charms and begged her for a sign of her affection, she would surely have lost interest in him as soon as another man came along.
"You know, I did despise him, once," Ashley said eventually. "Your Rhett. I did. Because I thought myself superior to him. Maybe I despise him still. But – well," he continued, embarrassed, "you know of course that I'm not all better than him. My actions only prove that beyond a shadow of a doubt. I have no right to speak to you about him at all. What I meant to say is that we took different turnings, and now look where he is and where I am. I think, perhaps, he made the right choices, and I the wrong ones."
"Oh Ashley," Scarlett said, annoyed in spite of herself at his indirect criticism of Rhett, even if he was right, at least in part. But at least Rhett had enough gumption to be honest about his misdeeds. And she was tired, too, of listening to Ashley's pathetic musings that only ever revolved around what he did not have instead of what he wanted.
Exasperated, she continued, "If you think you lack something, Ashley, you should ask yourself what it is exactly that you lack and how you can achieve it. What do you want?"
"I don't know, now," he said, offering an amused smile at her matter-of-fact reasoning. "I knew once but I've half forgotten. Mostly to be left alone, not to be harried by people I don't like, driven to do things I don't want to do. Perhaps – I want the old days back again and they'll never come back, and I am haunted by the memory of them and of the world falling about my ears."
She sighed inwardly. Was this all he had to offer, always? Memories of the old days? Oh Rhett, she thought for the utmost time since her realization last night, you were right. He isn't what I dreamed he was. I don't even know why I loved him in the first place.
Suddenly she felt the urge to tell Ashley this, that she did not want him any longer, that she did not love him. She felt like she needed to cut that tie, forever, or she would never move forward.
"Ashley," she began suddenly, swiftly. "I don't love you anymore. I realized it last night. I don't know how long I haven't loved you or if I ever loved you at all, but I know I don't love you now."
He stared at her for a moment, taken aback by her straightforwardness. There was a pause, then he sighed and nodded absentmindedly, turning away from her.
"Of course not. How could you? I'm a poor excuse for a man, a mere shadow of my former self. Oh Scarlett, Scarlett, I'm sorry for everything! I'm sorry if I – that is, if I led you on all these years. I'm sure I didn't mean to hurt you. I honestly don't know why I did it. But, it almost seems to me as if I couldn't let you go because you were the last link to everything I had lost – the glamour and charm of the old days – the sunny lost youth we so unthinkingly shared."
Yes, their glorious, carefree youth: Scarlett recalled it vividly. He had been her knight in shining armor back then, a golden prince on a bay stallion. But when she looked at Ashley now he was no longer young and shining. His head was bowed and she saw that his once bright hair was very gray, silver gray as moonlight on still water. And suddenly she did pity him.
He can't look forward any more, she thought. That's what's wrong with him. He can't see the present, he fears the future, and so he looks back. I never understood it before. I never understood Ashley before. Oh, Ashley, you shouldn't look back! But you always will, because you're weak, and you can't help crying for a past that is irrevocably gone.
"We've come a long way since those days, Ashley," she said calmly, with no trace of despair.
It was not that she did not know what he meant when he talked about the beauty of that time long gone by. (Oh, lazy days and warm still country twilights! The high soft laughter from the quarters! The golden warmth and security of those days!) But, no one could go forward with a load of aching memories. And she did not want to cling to the past.
She realized suddenly that but a few days ago, she would probably have given in to the wave of nostalgia hitting her as Ashley mentioned the past. She would gladly have drowned in the gently flowing waters that was his voice as he spoke of the old days. But, somehow, she knew that she had changed so significantly in the short time since their chance meeting outside Belle's that she didn't feel the need to look back and cry for what was lost, never to return. She felt like she had found a harbor, a haven, a new hope to give her strength, and the future did not look bleak at all.
As if on cue she thought of Rhett, of his sharp humor and the comfort of his embrace, his fiery passion tempered by tenderness, and she smiled to herself even though she was still mad at him for acting like a hateful cad this morning. Yes, he was a jeering devil and sometimes she despised him, and she still did not understand quite a number of things about him. But it did not really matter, she realized. Yesterday's afternoon and evening had been one of the most beautiful – if not the most beautiful – of her entire life. She had found happiness and joy in his arms, for he was strong and brave and feared neither the present nor the future.
And, suddenly, the knowledge surged in, down to the very recesses of her soul.
I love him! She thought, accepting the truth as a child accepting a gift. I don't know how long I've loved him but it's true. I love him so very much, and if it hadn't been for Ashley, I'd have realized it long ago. I've never been able to see the world at all, because Ashley stood in the way.
She saw Rhett before her mind's eye, his swarthy face, flashing teeth and dark alert eyes, and a trembling came over her. Yes, she loved him, scamp, blackguard, without scruple or honor – at least, honor as Ashley saw it.
Damn Ashley's honor! she thought. Ashley's honor has always let me down. Yes, from the very beginning when he kept on coming to see me, even though he knew his family expected him to marry Melanie. Rhett has never let me down. Even when he left me on the road the night Atlanta fell, he knew I'd be safe. He knew I'd get through somehow. Even when he acted like he was going to make me pay to get that money from him at the Yankee camp. He wouldn't have taken me. He was just testing me. And, she realized in another rare moment of clarity, even when he told me he consorted with whores the other day, he only meant to hurt me. Ashley's not the only stupidly blind person. I should have seen. Rhett's always loved me and been so good to me, and I was too blind to see it. I was too stupid to see that I loved him.
She had to lose Ashley and the dream of her girlhood to realize that she loved Rhett – loved him because he was strong and unscrupulous, passionate and earthy, like herself. Loved him because he had strong arms to hold her, a broad chest to pillow her tired head, jeering laughter to pull her affairs into proper perspective. And complete understanding, because he, like her, saw truth as truth, unobstructed by impractical notions of honor, sacrifice, or high belief in human nature.
Now she understood what he had meant when he talked about not wanting to be used as a stopgap this morning, about wanting and needing more than for her to realize she didn't love Ashley anymore. Up until know she head been too much of a fool to understand what he had wanted to hear from her, but now she knew. Of course he had wanted her to realize that she loved him too, had been desperate to hear it from her lips! It must have been hard for him, poor darling, to confess his love for her only to face her silence afterwards. Well, know she knew better; she had never been surer of anything in her entire life. She loved Rhett, loved him with every fiber of her being, and she could never let him go, now that she knew he was her heart, her soul, her very life, forever. She realized she would sacrifice anything, and gladly, even wealth, only to have him.
But was there a chance for the two of them? A real chance? She knew she had his heart, but could she ever make amends for her long neglect? Could Rhett ever truly forgive and forget? And, what about what he had done to her? What if – terrible thought! – what if he refused to give Belle and those other nasty women up, even he did love her, Scarlett?
But, she thought with the spirit of her people who would not know defeat, even if it were so, she could make him change his mind! After all, there had never been a man she couldn't get, once she set her mind upon him, except Ashley perhaps, but she hadn't really loved him and he hadn't loved her. Rhett loved her and she loved him. Surely she would be able to sway him, should he indeed insist on continuing to consort with whores?
I'll tell him everything, she thought determinedly. He'll understand. He's always understood. I'll tell him what a fool I've been and how much I love him and I'll make it up to him. I'll love him as gently and tenderly as ever a woman loved a man. I'll make him see there's no need to go running around with those nasty wenches anymore. After all, she added, confident in her charms, why would he do that if he can have me, any time he pleases?
All of a sudden she laughed, laughed with relief and happiness, her laughter filling the little room until Ashley looked at her as if she were half-crazed. And she was crazed indeed, love-crazed, dizzy with joy.
"Oh Ashley," she said. "Oh, Ashley, never mind me. I'm sorry. I'm sorry!" She beamed illogically.
But she was smiling still, and Ashley looked piercingly at her, his normally dull gray eyes sharp with interest. It was as if within ten minutes or so she had changed, ultimately changed, before his very eyes. And he could guess what had happened, what had stirred her obstinate, passionate heart, for the look in her feline green eyes was deep and dark and stormy, full of love, and for once he knew that look of love was not directed at him.
He sighed. So, finally, she knew. The irony of her realizing this here, of all places, and in his presence was not lost on Ashley. There was something about her mannerisms and expression that drove home to him the knowledge that he had ultimately lost her to Rhett Butler, and he ran a hand through his soft hair even as he kept looking at her, her small white hands clutching her gloves, her eyes looking right through him. And in that moment he let her go, once and for all.
A couple of heartbeats passed before a bird chirped rather loudly outside the office, and it seemed to shake Scarlett out of her reverie. She looked at Ashley as one would at a once-loved, long-discarded toy, and he smiled a bittersweet smile.
"Ashley!" Scarlett repeated breathlessly. "Ashley I've been such a fool. We've both been fools."
She looked into his eyes, searching for something in them she had never found before, but this time it was there. Understanding. Sympathy for another adult, not a temptress or a headstrong child. He nodded and, taking her hands gingerly in his, smiled at her. There was no passion, no tenseness as their fingers touched, no strain or fever.
"I know, Scarlett. And believe me when I say that I wish you every joy and happiness. You deserve it."
"Thank you. I appreciate that. And I – I hope you'll find a small measure of peace, Ashley, in what remains of your life. I truly hope you do, one day." She added, swiftly removing her hands from his, glad they had made peace but unwilling to touch him longer than was absolutely necessary. She heard the sound of feet outside and gazed out the window, wondering absentmindedly who it might be. Ashley merely sighed again and retreated to the desk, sitting down on the small chair.
Scarlett's heart was beating wildly. All she could think of was Rhett and what he would make of her realization. She was desperate to get away from the yard, to find Rhett or at least prepare herself mentally for meeting him eventually – but she had promised Melly to hold Ashley as long as she could after five o'clock. What exactly did that mean, anyway?
Suddenly there were rattling and shuffling noises at the door, and she could see out of the corner of her eye that Ashley made as if to get up. She turned in the direction of the door, and there stood India, her pale eyes cool and piercing but somehow less spiteful than they usually were, and the accursed Archie, glaring and muttering as was his custom. Behind them stood Mrs. Elsing.
Goodness, she had totally forgotten about them! For a brief, dreadful moment she imagined what might have happened if the three of them had caught Ashley and her holding hands, even if it was an innocent gesture. That would surely have made for a scandal the likes of which Atlanta had never seen before. She hid a terrified giggle behind her hand.
"Oh, hello India," Ashley said, "Mrs. Elsing." He nodded at Archie. "I see you've come to pick me up. I'm glad to see you."
There was something drained about his posture now that made Scarlett want to leave even more, and she swiftly put on her gloves. Now that the others were here, she saw no need to linger.
"I'm afraid I must get going." She announced in India and Mrs. Elsing's direction, pointedly ignoring Archie. "Would you mind terribly if I went on ahead ? I'm sure Ashley will need a couple of minutes to pack up for the day, and I'm afraid I don't have the time to wait."
Archie glared at her as if he wanted to kill her, doubtlessly because she wasn't expressing fear of riding home alone through the woods. Well, she didn't give a damn what he thought. India, seeming to sense the hostile looks they were exchanging, swiftly relented.
"That's fine." She said, looking at Ashley for confirmation. He gave a nod of his assent.
Scarlett smiled a little thinly and grabbed her bonnet from the sill. She put it on and tied it firmly beneath her chin.
"Goodbye, then, Ashley, India. Mrs. Elsing."
They all nodded in return, and Scarlett was out the door before they had quite finished murmuring their goodbyes.
TBC