Half a city away, a tall, blonde gentleman in his early fifties was enjoying his morning tea and his daily paper. He had rushed over the obligatory political columns, and was leaning back to read what interested him most, the literature and art criticism. There'd been a production of Mozart's Don Giovanni in New York. Perhaps one could stop there on the way home and catch a performance?
He had left his sister India behind in Boston, and the unfamiliar freedom from female surveillance made him feel rejuvenated and dashing, and willing to consider even impromptu trips. Life was good.
He heard the sound of a door opening, and closing, and of a coat and hat being hung up.
"Beau," he called, pleasantly. "How was the ride?"
His son walked in. He was a beautiful specimen of manhood in his elegant riding clothes, all muscles and nerves and sinews, his youthful virility unconsciously mocking the pastel elegance of the tearoom. His father regarded him fondly.
"Have some tea, my boy."
"You'll never believe whom I met."
"Who?" Ashley didn't even attempt to speculate. In one way or another, they were related to almost everyone in the South, even in Charleston.
"Rose Butler." He lifted his chin to stare at his father, and there was a slightly martial light in his eyes.
"Ah." Ashley took the delicate rose-print tea-cup to his lips, his slender fingers tightening imperceptibly around the handle. He drank a long, deep sip of the amber liquid.
"I thought I'd told you not to pursue the relationship."
"You told me. However, I chose to pursue it regardless." He made a playful half-circle in the air with his riding crop, like a fencer posed for a strike.
"Beau, you don't know …."
"I know all about our slightly colorful family history, and how it … intersects….with the Butlers. You forget I was ten years old when they left town. And Aunt India wasn't very fond of Aunt Scarlett at the time, and used to mutter a lot under her breath." He grinned at the memory, but moved forward resolutely. "I didn't believe half of it then, and I believe it even less now."
Ashley shook his head slowly and set the cup down on a tray. "No, I don't mean that. Of course the rumors about …..those rumors were nonsense. But there was a lot of talk, and a lot of hurt feelings, that we don't need to stir up again. The gossip has calmed down. They've moved on with their lives, and so have we." He shook his fair hair, so light that it was impossible to tell if it was gold or silver. "Sometimes it's best to leave the past in the past."
"I mean to see more of Rose." Said calmly and optimistically, and with triumphant disregard of past things that did not concern him personally, as only a young man in his twenties can. When he wasn't trying to impress, Beau was even more charming, and there was steel in him that his father couldn't help but admire.
"Yes, I understand you're quite taken with her. But there are many pretty girls …"
But then he sighed, suddenly resigning himself to the inevitable. "If you're really serious about this, I will call on the Butlers this afternoon."
"Thank you, father." There was genuine gratitude in his face, which told his father more than he wanted to know.
~~oo~~
"And then," said Scarlett, arranging herself on the pillow, "he became quiet."
They had long ago resumed their comfortable discussions in bed, with Rhett's cigar often burning for hours in the darkness, before they fell asleep, or moved on to those interesting activities that are not the concern of this narrator. They talked about their day, the family, business, the children, the on-dits in the city. Despite over two decades of marriage, they had never run out of things to say.
"That is indeed unusual," her husband teased, "since we all know the honorable Ashley to be a veritable chatterbox as well…"
"Oh, do be serious," she chided. "I tell you, it was the oddest thing! The visit started off nicely, and I thought he wanted to let bygones be bygones, and we could all be friends now, especially with Beau being so interested in Rose. We had tea, and talked about Texas, and Boston, in the most friendly way! But then Rose walked in, looking like a vision the new tea gown that arrived yesterday – do you remember? the white Velours frappé dress with the embroidered flowers? - and the minute he clapped his eyes on her he became, well, quiet. And rather pale! Do you think he doesn't approve of Beau courting Rose? But then why was he so friendly before?…..and really, who wouldn't approve of Rose? She behaved beautifully too, and talked to him about dull books, and the Opera and such things, trying to draw him out, but he just became even more morose!"
Her husband grinned. "Perhaps he liked her. Now that would be a most interesting complication …"
"Liked her? Do you mean …..oh!" Rhett cocked his head to watch the parade of emotions across her expressive face, the most prominent of which turned out to be indignation. "But Ashley was one of my beaux!"
The infelicity of this remark dawned on her immediately afterwards, but to her considerable relief, her husband only laughed.
"Yes, I know. One of the trials of getting older, I'm afraid – being eclipsed by our own children when it comes to attention from the opposite sex. I have the same experience when I go about town with Wade. The young ladies turn their head when he walks past, and see right through me."
"I don't believe you," Scarlett pouted. "You're still as attractive as ever, Rhett Butler, and the bit of grey at your temples just makes you look more distinguished!" She looked at him critically in the candlelight, and nodded, finding her opinion confirmed once more. "It's not fair that age will often improve a man's appearance, but seldom a woman's."
"You don't need to worry," he smiled, and she could feel the warmth in his eyes. "You're just as beautiful as the sixteen year old girl I fell in love with at the barbecue. Even more so, because I now have you at my mercy, and am able to get a much …. closer look." An arm snaked around her waist, and she giggled as he pulled her to him to kiss her red lips.
A little while later, she returned to the original topic of their conversation.
"But do you really think that Ashley…"
"Who knows? Falling in love at first sight with a sixteen year old girl seems rather ingenious even for our friend Mr. Wilkes, but he's never been the most practical of men. But you needn't worry – Rose has a good head on her shoulder, and I presume she rather prefers the son." He reached over to the lamp on the wall, turning it down.
"One should hope so," Scarlett said, snuggling under the covers. "Or I mean ….it would be dreadfully complicated if she did marry Beau. We'd have to deal with all the Old Cats from Atlanta again, and …. " She sighed.
Rhett laughed. "Rose will not marry a Wilkes. You're forgetting Thad."
"Thad? You're out of your mind, Rhett Bulter, thinking that she still holds a torch for him. She never even mentions his name! And Thad has never treated her as anything other than a little sister."
He grinned. "She was barely fourteen when we left. She was a child, not a woman to court. Now, on the other hand…oww!" She had elbowed him firmly in his side in indignation. He caught her hand, pinned her down, and tickled her until she pealed with laughter. She finally begged for his mercy, catching her breath.
Then she giggled again. "Oh, but wouldn't it be too amusing if Ashley challenged Beau to a duel over Rose?"
"Dueling is no longer legal in Charleston," her husband laughed. "Hasn't been for a few years, not that it dissuades those young fools that wish to make a spectacle of themselves. But I wish now I hadn't turned off the lamp, so I could see how the idea of a good fight makes your eyes sparkle. It is quite becoming, as you probably know."
"Fiddle-dee-dee," said Scarlett, whose vanity was still slightly lacerated by the thought of losing even a long discarded former beau to her youngest daughter. But Rhett was being so nice about it, she thought sleepily, that one almost doesn't mind it. She drifted off with his arm around her shoulder, holding her close.
He stayed awake a little longer, blowing smoke-rings into the dark, which slowly dissolved into the shadows. His fist curled suddenly under the coverlet, and the full lips smirked, as if seeing it descending on a particular set of pearly white teeth in his mind's eye.
~~oo~~
"You've become very tiresome," complained Charlotte, curled up on the settee in a corner of Rose's room in a becoming claret-colored walking dress. "If you're not out riding with one member of that tedious Wilkes family, you're having tea with two of them. And one of them has nothing to talk about but books, books, books! It's enough to pitch any girl into a fit of the dismals. I don't mean to say they're not very kind in always asking me along, but it's so obvious they couldn't care a fig about me, and just want me as a Chaperone. Not that I'm not used to it by now." She flung herself back on the cushions. She had some theatrical talent, and every line of her body suggested ill-usage.
Rose laughed, spun around, and fiercely embraced her cousin. "You're quite right. I've used you abominably ….. and them, too, as a way to make time pass more quickly. There are such few things to do during the daytime without giving the wrong impression."
"Without giving the wrong impression?" Charlotte grumbled. "Hah! I'd be surprised if that Beau fellow doesn't believe you two are practically engaged. And I'm not sure about the other one, the father. Ashley Wilkes. He never has two words to rub together when you're there, except when we're talking about those books, but he stares at you in the oddest way. I can't make out whether he likes you, or if he's simply going along with his son's wishes, but would rather be elsewhere.
Rose laughed gaily. "But you see, they're only here for a few months! Then they will go back to Boston, and all will be well." She felt a brief frisson of guilt, a gut feeling that for the first time in her life, one or two of the threads she clutched to tightly were on the verge of slipping out of her control. She shoved the thought resolutely aside.
"That's what you think," muttered Charlotte darkly. "And why are you trying to pass time anyways?" She had just enough quickness in her to be disconcerting whenever Rose was not paying attention.
"Oh! Nothing in particular. I just can't wait for this dismal weather to pass, and Spring to come 'round again. Shall we do your hair? The Bromfords and the Strattons are expecting us all at the opera later."
They were distracted by a sudden burst of voices below, and the high-pitched wail of an infant. "Wade!" shrieked Rose, grateful for the distraction, almost knocking over a small chair in her rush to the door. She flew down the stairs into the waiting arms of a handsome, brown-haired gentleman in a grey walking suit. His black hat and overcoat, which he was in the process of handing to James, dripped with water. Charlotte had followed behind, much more sedately, but almost equally delighted. Wade was a universal favorite.
"Slowly, my dear," he admonished, laughing, detangling himself from his sister's forceful embrace. "I'm half-drowned from this dratted rain, and I don't want you getting your pretty dress wet." He had closed his soggy umbrella, which had shielded his wife and infant daughter, and now created rivulets of rain water on the floor of the entryway. A maidservant carried a sturdy toddler with huge brown eyes.
Peregrine and Daniel, arriving from who knows which corner of the house and attracted to novelty like blood hounds, danced around them. "Wade Wade Wade Wade!" they chanted.
"Silence, you beasts! Let a fellow settle down first." He hugged them both, swatting them lightly on their backs. He looked every bit what he was – a young, handsome lawyer with a very successful practice.
His lady, a pretty brunette with blue-green eyes, had also been relieved of her shoes and overcoat, and handed a pair of dry slippers.
"Now that I have two of my own the noise level here seems quite natural," she laughed. Phoebe Walker Hamilton was young, but quite self-assured, as one would expect of the wife of Scarlett's oldest son. Her firm, thin mouth suggested she could be domineering if provoked. She handed the infant she was carrying to Charlotte, who took her into the drawing room to coo over her.
Rose, who was not maternal, had merely petted the baby lightly on the capped head, and congratulated the parents. She then turned to the toddler, and the young maid holding him. "Gerry is upstairs in the playroom, Annie, if you want to take Chuck." The little boy's face lit up. Gerald was his favorite playmate.
His parents seemed not unhappy to have a few quiet moments to settle in. James and the two other menservants, who had descended back out into the rain, arrived with more luggage. Rose directed them to take to the blue guest room. She rang for tea, and smiled warmly at Prissy when she came in with the tray.
"Thank you, Prissy. We'll be all right on our own now. Please go home to nurse the baby." Prissy's second child, a boy named Jim, had come down with a cold they feared was pneumonia.
"Thank you Miz Rose," the older woman replied. Frequent motherhood hadn't helped her figure, but her face was still round and cheerful, when it wasn't contracted with worry as today.
"Take Cherry too – she might be able to help. Charlotte and I can dress without her tonight. Peregrine, Daniel … if you want to stay here, you need to sit quietly. No jumping on the chairs. Remember you're not five years old anymore."
"Thank you Miz Rose, but Ah'd rather Cherry stay heah with you. Ah don' won 'er catchin' what Jim's got."
"I understand." Rose nodded graciously. "Let us know if there's anything we can do."
"You're a good girl," Wade said approvingly, after Prissy had left. "Mother still at the Stratton's? Her social life would spin my head. And I assume Dad's out as well." He shook his head with obvious fondness. Unlike Ella, Wade had not wanted to be formally adopted and carry the Butler name out of respect for his birth father, but Rhett had become "Dad" to him just the same. "And I hear Ashley and Beau Wilkes are in town." He turned to Charlotte. "I went to Harvard with Beau Wilkes. He's dropped off his card at our place, but I haven't been able to return the visit, what with the baby, and everything. But I can't wait to see him again. We're cousins, but we're also such old friends."
"You may become more than that, soon," laughed Charlotte cheekily, swinging the baby in her arms as if in a cradle.
"What do you mean?"
"He's been 'round a lot. To see Rose," she clarified, when she saw his mystified expression.
"Ah. The plot thickens." He shook his head at his younger sister, who merely lifted her father's crescents back at him.
"They're from a very good family," Phoebe offered. Such things were still important in the South.
Peregrine and Daniel, who'd been listening with active interest, started chanting…. "Rose and Beau ….sitting in a tree….K-I-S-S-I-N-G!" - came the triumphant conclusion.
"Quiet, monkeys," said Wade, and they immediately shushed. Wade was one of their few People That Must Not Be Disobeyed. They stayed for a few moments longer, but once they realized the older family members were determined to speak only of Dull Things, and drink Tea, they scampered off in search of more interesting pursuits.
"I can never tell which is which," Phoebe said, looking after their retreating forms. "And those Scottish kilts that boys wear nowadays make them even more impossible to tell apart. Do they still play tricks on you?"
"Oh, we could always tell them apart. They still manage to fool Uncle Henry from time to time, although I suspect he merely plays along because they enjoy it so much. Speaking of which, Wade - Uncle Henry and Aunt Emma and the others will be by tomorrow for dinner to see you and Phoebe. It'll be informal – no more than twenty people, all family."
"Not the Wilkes?" He teased.
She tossed her head. "I didn't invite them … and I certainly hope Mother didn't. Talk about creating the wrong impression!"
He regarded her thoughtfully. "Listen, Rosey - don't play with Beau. He's an awfully good sort of fellow, for all that he acts the buffoon to hide it, and I'd hate to see his heart crushed by my baby sister."
"I never play with hearts. Not real hearts, at any rate."
"I know that, Rosey. But please, promise me you'll be careful. You're the most striking thing in town, now that you're not a child anymore, and any number of fellows stand to lose their heads over you. I'd just hate for him to be hurt."
The baby, who'd had enough of being swung around by strangers, started to meow softly. Phoebe and Charlotte exchanged a brief, speaking glance as they swapped the infant.
"He may soon have competition," Charlotte announced, from whose list of virtues, it must be admitted, tact and discretion were missing. "I hear a tall, dark gentleman will be coming to stay over in a few days. Frankly, I can't wait!"
"You're having tall, dark, gentlemen stay over at the house, Rosey?" He laughed. "That sounds quite improper!"
She scowled first at her cousin, and then at her brother. "Thad is coming here for Christmas. Didn't mother tell you? She's been all a-flutter for weeks. Seems like he finally remembered he has a family. Or maybe Charleston just happens to be a convenient stopover to ….. wherever." She shrugged with elaborate disinterest, and busied herself with pouring the tea.
"Really." His eyes had become thoughtful. "That is odd. I wonder if he's had a change of heart … but I'd have expected him to stay in a hotel, not here, since he's still rather prickly with Dad. One wonders …." He cast a contemplative glance at Rose.
"Well, I hope they won't argue," Phoebe laughed. "From what little we saw of him when we were still in Houston, he seems to have a bit of a temper."
Wade laughed. "Yes, Thad is not exactly a smooth-talker anymore. He used to be different – before that beastly thing at the house happened, and the murderer who killed his girl disappeared from jail later, and he blamed Dad for it. For a while, he even blamed me, for if it hadn't been for me, he'd have shot the man then and there. He wasn't much older than you are now, Rosey, and he was the most charming person you could imagine before it all went down. I can't wait to see him again, as well."
"He was never prickly with me until about two years ago," Rose murmured. "We were ... we were friends. Or at least I thought so. Right up to the time we left Galveston. He'd see us all whenever father was out of town, and he'd write me and the boys sometimes, and….." she paused, looking terrifyingly young. "I tried staying in contact after we moved here, but he suddenly had nothing to say to me anymore. A scribbled line here or there, if I was lucky. It must be as they say – out of sight, out of mind."
Phoebe was regarding her with some astonishment. She started saying "but you ..." - before she stopped herself, her good sense reeling her in.
Wade ignored his wife, and instead answered Rose. "No, I don't think it's that. He might have just been busy – and I know his mother was in poor health for the last few years. She's much improved now, according to our mother. I take it they correspond."
The blue eyes flared with an unidentifiable sentiment. "He's probably coming to see her. Our mother, I mean."
Wade smiled. "Perhaps. I shall be happy to see him, whatever the reason. At any rate ….." he concluded happily, "Christmas promises to be lively!"