The events from the night (chapters 1 and 2 of this story) from Rhett's point-of-view. Sorry i haven't updated in a while. Reviews are appreciated.
Rhett made his way upstairs feeling wearier than he had ever felt in his life. It was finally over. He had told Scarlett everything. She knew now that he had loved her, had loved her to desperation for years. She had been the center of his world, had consumed every waking hour of his existence for the better part of a decade. He felt almost ill from the cathartic release of years of suppressed emotion, of tortured silence.
It was, admittedly, a wholly inappropriate time to disclose such revelations to Scarlett with Melanie having just breathed her last the hour before. Rhett would never have announced his desertion of the marriage at such an inopportune time had he not felt such a desperate urgency to make his escape for good within the hour. He had thought that he might feel some small satisfaction in knowing that he was finally free of her. But he did not feel satisfied in the least. He did not even feel free. No, he felt dull and leaden inside, cheerless as if he had done something dishonorable…something cowardly. He felt strangely unsettled, almost ashamed, if he were honest with himself.
Rhett lit a cigar and stared out the window into the black night with unseeing eyes. The decision to quit Atlanta and the prospect of starting over had afforded him more hope than he had felt in months. He had been debating with himself for some time about leaving, irritated that it had even been a question of debate. His younger self would have walked out without even a backwards glance. But the domesticity of the past few years had complicated his life, entailing obligations that tied him down to home and family far more than he realized. It was not such a simple matter to walk away from the commitments he had made.
The Peachtree mansion was the only real home he had known since his youth in Charleston. After years of wandering fancy-free, spending Christmases in seedy bar-rooms and hotel rooms, after all the thrill and danger of blockading during the war years, and the eight horrific months of fighting in the war itself, the very institutions of marriage and fatherhood had afforded him the first real measure of stability and constancy in his adult life. But now that he wanted to leave, he was finding that it was not so easy to walk away from a home and family of his own making.
He wished more than anything to leave Atlanta fancy-free. But he was not fancy-free. He sighed heavily. Nothing in the world would change the fact that he had a wife and children and that he bore responsibility to them.
He had had many such arguments with himself in the days that Scarlett had been in Marietta. After the endless back-and-forth, he was still not settled in his heart on the matter. He would resolve to leave, and then his conscience would accuse him of cowardice, of desertion. He could come up with no better plan than to tell Scarlett when she returned that he was leaving in the hope that stating his intention out loud in the actual hearing of another would reaffirm him in his resolve.
But he could not have anticipated the events of that fateful day. Word had come in the early morning that Melanie had suddenly taken ill. He had been obliged to call Scarlett home from Marietta at the urgent pleadings of the Wilkes family. Already on the verge of death by the time of Scarlett's panicked arrival, Melanie had passed away within a matter of hours. Rhett, world-weary and cynical as he was, felt his heart break at the news.
He had meant to apprise Scarlett of his plans to leave, again feeling reasonably sure that actually telling her would give him the impetus to do so. Yet the night had proved to be full of unexpected turns.
As prescient as Rhett was in all matters relating to Scarlett, he was not prepared for her reaction to Melanie's passing. Scarlett had been utterly, genuinely devastated by the loss. He could see it plainly in the abject misery in her eyes, the frozen lines of shock and grief etched on her pale face.
And as unexpected as Scarlett's reaction to Melanie's death had been, Rhett saw that something even more significant had happened to Scarlett during the course of the single hour that he had so unceremoniously dumped her at the Wilkes residence. Some revelation had caused Scarlett to realize that she did not love Ashley, had never really loved Ashley at all. No, Scarlett had discovered that she loved and needed him, Rhett. Had loved him for years, she insisted, had loved him all along. Scarlett had been hesitant about confessing her feelings at first, but once she had gotten over her initial discomfiture, she had freely admitted her foolishness, willingly assumed the blame for their estrangement, and wholeheartedly expressed her intent on making up for her neglect.
He did not quite know how to react to this sudden turn of events. His lips twisted at the perverse irony of the situation. Scarlett certainly did not need the man to tell her his feelings first before she disclosed hers. She had discovered her feelings for Rhett, and, like the child that she was, had run home to tell him the minute that she knew. He had witnessed that same forthrightness a lifetime ago in the elegant library of Twelve Oaks. "Yes—a secret. I love you." Even now he could hear Scarlett telling Ashley that she loved him, probably, he thought wryly, as soon as she possibly could after having realized it.
And now as then Scarlett lacked the imagination to conceive that any confession of love on her part would not be enormously gratifying to and instantly reciprocated by the man on the receiving end of it. But he commended her for her courage. It had taken him years to tell Scarlett that he had loved her…but only when it no longer mattered. And only when it was no longer true.
Scarlett had borne the news of his leaving the marriage with a disconcerting calmness, though Rhett could see that she was heartbroken. Inwardly he was unsettled by her reaction. Despite a few tears and protestations, she had sat for the most part quite composed. Her head held high, Scarlett had met his eyes squarely as they carried on a civil conversation, probably one of the first in their marriage. His estimation for Scarlett had soared from this singular display of poise and restraint.
Rhett had meant to pack his things quickly that night but found himself overcome with some unnamed emotion, too despondent to make the necessary exertions. He could not help feeling sorry for all that Scarlett had lost in the span of that single hour and for his own responsibility in the matter. He had loved her for so long that he found himself wondering, almost from force of habit, how she would bear the grief, if she would ever recover. He felt troubled, almost betrayed by the sentiment.
Then he shrugged. He would not allow himself to be tied down by any lingering sentiment with regard to Scarlett. For twelve years he had gambled everything on her, and he had lost. It was time to cut his losses and run. There was no point harboring bitterness toward her. The time for blame and recriminations was long past.
Rhett flicked his cigar ash idly. He wondered, despite her avowals to the contrary, whether she would turn to Ashley for comfort after a decorous waiting period. He didn't plan on being around to ever find out. He didn't think that he could bear watching Scarlett and Ashley get together with any good grace.
His eyes strayed to the note on his desk delivered in urgent haste by Cookie that morning.
Captain Butler:
Mrs. Wilkes has taken very ill. Dr. Meade has advised us that the situation is extremely grave. She is pleading for Scarlett. We would be much obliged to you if you would wire Scarlett to come home from Marietta as soon as possible.
The script was scrawling and harried, blotted with ink splotches and dark smudges. The note reminded him once again that Melanie was gone. Rhett felt the weight of the loss, tried to imagine life without her gentle kindness and quiet goodness. He felt bereft. He was forever indebted to Melanie. He owed her his life. He knew with certainty that he could never have endured the horror of Bonnie's death and its aftermath without her.
In the midst of these thoughts, Scarlett had unexpectedly come into his room. He had been caught off guard by her sudden appearance but only momentarily so. What did it matter now what she said or did? Still he watched her with habitual guardedness as was his practice. She was utterly grief-stricken, her voice subdued and spiritless. She had asked whether he wouldn't stay for Melanie's funeral. Much as he wanted to leave, Rhett found himself agreeing to stay, such was his sense of gratitude and obligation to Melanie. He went so far as to offer to help with the funeral arrangements.
Scarlett had also asked that he tell Wade and Ella in person about his departure. Rhett winced at this request. The children. He had hardly so much as even looked in their direction since Bonnie had died, so consumed had he been with his own grief. He agreed to talk to them, feeling terrible that he had neglected them for so long.
Scarlett had then asked with some hesitancy if he would talk with her just one more time after the funeral was over. He had demurred at first. He did not think he could not bear to rehash the course of their marriage. It was too painful to think about. He did not look forward to the inevitable assigning or assuming of blame for various conflicts; he was not anxious to revisit his own failures, nor did he relish the prospect of Scarlett reinterpreting key moments in their life together either in the light of her newly-discovered love for him or of his past love for her.
Still Rhett found that he could not refuse her outright. As much as he needed to leave, he felt the need for closure to this chapter in his life if he were truly to make a permanent break. With much reluctance he assented to her request, inwardly cursing that he hadn't left Atlanta earlier. Damn everything, he thought. I should have left when she was in Marietta.
The demise of their marriage was an added misery to the infernal torment that had been his existence since Bonnie's death a few months before. Every waking moment had been consumed by an excruciating guilt and self-hatred. He was tortured by the merciless, accusing silence that pervaded the entire residence. At odd random moments the patter of Bonnie's tiny footsteps and the peals of her merry laughter would resonate throughout the cavernous house. He would be half-heartedly occupied with some task or more often than not in the throes of a drunken stupor when he would suddenly hear Bonnie calling for him, clear as a bell. Her high-pitched voice would cut through the silence and emptiness of the house with unmistakable clarity. "Dad-dy!" her voice would call out. "Dad-dy!" Disbelieving, his body trembling with the faintest hope, he would raise his head, desperately straining his ears to catch a further trace of her voice. "Bonnie? Oh my darling Bonnie, is it really you?" But always, invariably, the little voice would be swallowed up, drowned out by a resounding, mocking silence.
He decided at that moment that he could not stay, no matter what promises he had made to Scarlett, no matter what his obligations to Melanie were. He would pay all the expenses for as grand a funeral as Atlanta had ever seen, but he would save his life by getting out of the house that very night. He put out his cigar and resolutely made his way down the hall to Scarlett's room. He put his hand on the doorknob but paused momentarily. How would he put into words what he was about to do? What exactly would he say after having promised that he would stay for a few days?
His reverie was broken by the piercing sound of a terrified scream. Without thinking he burst into Scarlett's room and in the dim shadows found Scarlett sitting up, hugging her knees, sobbing brokenly. In his exhausted, overwrought state, in the semi-darkness of the room, he half mistook her for Bonnie. Swiftly he made his way to her bedside, took her in his arms and for several minutes held her close, soothing and comforting her as he would have his little girl. In witnessing such an honest outpouring of grief, Rhett felt his own throat beginning to constrict. In spite of himself, he was suddenly, unexpectedly overcome with a profound sadness for everything they had lost, so much so that if Scarlett had chanced to look up at that moment, she would have seen him as he really was, every vestige of his mask stripped away.
With a supreme effort Rhett took hold of himself, his face once more a smooth, inscrutable blank. He released her from his arms and settled her against her pillow. To her credit, she did nothing to entice him to stay.
He left her room as swiftly and silently as he had entered it, half-regretting that he had ever gone in. He did not want Scarlett to misunderstand the gesture. He sighed. Despite his bold avowals and his stated intention to leave, it was not so easy to emotionally extricate himself from a marriage even with the loss of feeling and affection. He was discovering that the marital ties that bound him and Scarlett together were far deeper than he had supposed. The dissolution of a marriage was not such an easy thing. It was not, he found, a mere walking-away from an individual; it was more an amputation of self.