Thank you, lovely people for the kind words – especially the guests whom I couldn't thank in person – and for your willingness to try something not entirely R&S centric. But I will admit this … I usually have a sort of theme in mind when I write something, a central "idea" around which I then build the story. (I'm sure many other people here do the same thing. ) And my central "theme" for this story was the last bit of nagging dissatisfaction with the R&S relationship as we left it in Murder on Marietta Street. I want him to love her wildly and incautiously again, and I couldn't get him there, then. But I want to, because I think they both have it in them, now they've had plenty of time to heal. And Scarlett's waited patiently for long enough. So I'm using them all – Rose, Beau, Thad and all the others – to teach Rhett a final lesson. I hope they don't mind.

The rain had become a grey and unrelenting drizzle that covered the city like a blanket.

It was chance that Rose was alone in the house in that hour between twilight and nightfall when Thad arrived. She had contracted a slight cold during one of their many outings in the nasty weather, and had excused herself from the tea at the Mellons'. She was clad in a simple white house-dress, her wild dark curls tied back with a silver ribbon.

She looked around for a footman, then, finding none, proceeded to open the door herself. She took in his form, framed by the columns of the covered entryway. The curtain of rain behind him finished the theatrical touch.

"Hello." Her voice, normally as clear as bluebells, was husky with her cold. "Won't you come in?"

His black eyes raked over her as he passed into the hallway, and all she could think of was that he was taller and broader than she remembered. He had obviously ridden to the house instead of hiring a carriage – he was clad in black boots, a dark jacket of indeterminate color, and beige riding trousers. There wasn't a dry thread on his body.

"Rose." The voice was still the same.

Thad. Had she said the word aloud? She was struck by the unreality of this meeting, and as usual her practical side took over before she lost her footing. "You're wet – did you ride all the way from the depot in this weather? Did you take your horse to the stables? Where is your luggage?" She did not give him a chance to respond before rushing on, "Wait here, and I'll have James bring you towels. There will be dry clothes as well."

He was still staring at her, obviously not interested in towels or clothes. "What," she asked, finally, when the silence stretched, with a hint of impatience. "Have I changed that much?"

"No, you haven't changed," he said finally, with a hint of a smirk. "I was sure you'd look the part of the painted doll I knew they're training you to be. But you sound very much ...à la Grande Dame. I'm sure the education has been thorough. Perhaps when you're at your leisure you could instruct me in the proper Charlestonian ways. We ...back-water cousins can't be expected to pick up these things on our own."

Something inside of her unwound at the unprovoked cruelty, and her little mouth twisted in ways she had trained herself to forget over the last two years. "If you're lucky, I'll also instruct you in proper manners, which my back-water cousin seems to have misplaced."

He laughed, but it wasn't a friendly sound. "Ah, but this is where we of low birth must depend on your ladyships' condescension. Proper manners tend to be rather difficult for those of us who are commoners, or …worse. You, the lawful descendent of the Butlers and the Robilliards, must be quite in your element amongst all those Bromfords, and the Strattons, and the Mellons that your and your mother's letters have been full of. And I'm sure their …..manners ….are delightful. " His tone adroitly turned the last few words into an insult, and she flushed.

"You never answered me," she said, suddenly, hating herself for sounding like a child. "I wrote you many times, and you never answered me."

"I might have, if you'd had anything to say. Something besides balls, and gowns, and beaux," he mocked, in an irritating false soprano.

"I thought you would be interested in my life," she said, her voice suddenly dark. "My mistake." She whirled around. "Mother put you in the red guestroom. Should you recover your manners, James might even tell you where it is." She paused, obviously searching for something to portray the fullness of her wrath. "And you can find your own damn towels!"

He watched her spring up the stairs and disappear around the curve. A large puddle had formed around him. James, who may or may not have heard all or part of the conversation, silently materialized out of the shadows of the vast interior, and offered him a towel.

"Chugging rainwater on everything around you is a bad idea, Sir."

Thad took it, and started vigorously rubbing his dark mane. "It's a poorly built house that can't take a little bit of rain."

"Yes Sir. Meaning no disrespect, Sir. But….. if it rains often enough in one place, Sir, the inhabitants have been known to move on to …..more temperate climes."

Thad twisted the corner of his mouth like Rose had. "I see Charleston has turned you into quite the philosopher, my friend. Seeing as I won't drip anymore, I'd appreciate being shown to my room. My luggage should arrive soon from the station." He paused, and looked James over with a speculative gleam. "I will want to talk to you later. To….catch up."

"Yes, Sir."

~~oo~~

"Thad!" He reappeared for dinner, in proper evening attire, looking so much like a younger version of Rhett that Scarlett blinked. Her delight at having him with them was genuine, and palpable. Even throughout the tensest years there had been an unbreakable bond between them – a bond that stemmed from the months they had spent together in the Colorado mountains while Scarlett recovered from her illness. He was fiercely hugged first by her, than Wade and Ella, who had an unabashed fondness for him.

Rhett he received with a nod. "Sir."

"It's good to see you, son."

"Hardly that."

Rhett smiled, but let the comment slide. With age, perhaps, comes a desire for domestic peace that doesn't always grace our younger years, along with the knowledge that some things will keep for later.

Dinner was as usual – warm, familial, noisy. Only the immediate family was present, which included Ella and Chase, and Wade and his wife Phoebe. Due to the later hour, the children had already been fed and put to bed. Ella had been delighted to see her cousin, and Chase, though shy, was perfectly amiable. The staff, who'd always been fond of Thad, put out their best effort on a short notice to make the occasion festive. There were candles, and flowers, and more courses than a family dinner usually called for. The high-backed chairs were tilted back on the Oriental carpet by the more exuberant, the food was served on the Crown Derby China usually reserved for visitors, and the French Doors of the Dining Hall opened the view to the soft rain over the river, which enveloped them all in a snug cocoon. Prissy bustled about, even more cheered by the fact that her son's illness had taken a turn for better. Cherry, her daughter, serving dinner with her younger sister Hope, was all smiles.

Thad seemed to be unwinding, perhaps in spite of himself. Even Phoebe seemed to forget her reservations. They had socialized occasionally, when she and Wade were still living in Houston, but she had been much younger then, and found his occasional intensity intimidating. She stemmed from an adventuresome branch of an old Virginian family – Walkers had been at Jamestown, fought at Gettysburg, and, rumor had it, a Walker had even shared the imprisonment of Jefferson Davies at Fort Monroe. Phoebe had been in Houston to meet Wade, because her father believed travel to be "enriching" for young minds, and – contrary to contemporary views – travel in one's own country to be equal to, or even superior, to traveling around Europe. Her mother had given Phoebe a sense of pride in her own good breeding, and her father had passed on to her his much more useful ability to adjust herself to new ideas. Sitting next to Thad now, she did not appear to find his company displeasing, and indeed chatted quite animatedly with him on a variety of topics.

Only Rose glowered at him from the opposite side of the table, keeping her conversation resolutely to the people to her right and her left. She had taken care to dress as simply as possible, choosing a high-necked, pearl-colored peau de soie gown unrelieved by lace, or flowers. Whether she wanted to avoid the label of painted doll, or decided he was unworthy of dressing up for, shall remain her secret.

"Did you hear the Wilkes' are in town?" Scarlett chattered amiably. "Such a surprise! And the son – Beau – has taken quite an interest in Rose. They've been seeing each other almost every day!" It wasn't quite clear what prompted her to add the last part. Perhaps nothing more than maternal pride.

Thad looked up from his soup with a strange expression in his eyes. "Ah. I've had the good luck to run into Beau Wilkes when I visited Wade in Boston, during his time at Harvard. One rarely encounters such perfect alignment between superior intellect and ...life experience. You should make him talk to you at length about his European Tour, Rose. When you have...a lot of free time. Quite fascinating. He's even been to Rome."

"Don't be mean, Thad," Wade chided. "You never seemed displeased with Beau's conversation before. You even invited him to Texas!" His more perceptive wife swiftly kicked him under the table, and he flinched. "Oww!"

Scarlett looked confused. "What …"

"Nothing," Wade sputtered. "Frrrr….rog in my throat."

Thad got up. "You're quite right, Wade. I'm misplacing my manners – as someone else reminded me earlier today. Do carry on without me. The turtle soup is excellent as usual, Prissy -but I seem to have misplaced my appetite, as well. Please forgive me." With a graceful half-bow, he left the dining room with determined strides.

Scarlett stared after him. "Thad! This won't do at all. Rhett, do go after him, please."

Her husband shook his head. "I'm the last person who should go."

"Wade, you go, and make him come back. I have no idea what's gotten into him!"

Wade sighed. Like most men, he detested scenes. "All right."

~~oo~~

Thad stood by the window in the red guestroom, staring out into the rain. A low lamp outlined his silhouette, and threw it against the wall in flickering staccatos.

Wade, though tall, was slightly built, and suddenly felt uneasy. He shrugged off the feeling resolutely - he'd never been afraid of Thad before, even at gunpoint, and he wasn't going to start now.

"What the hell happened?" he asked, his tone gentler than his words.

"I shouldn't have come."

"Don't be an ass," Wade said, amiably, finding firmer ground. "You're going to come back down with me, and apologize nicely to the ladies for making a scene. And you're going to finish your dinner. Prissy made the turtle soup especially for you. Walked all over the market for it in the rain, seeing that it's out of season, and it'll break her heart if you don't appreciate it properly."

It was the eyes that washed away the last vestiges of Wade's annoyance. They were Rhett's eyes from the last terrible year in Atlanta – lifeless, and without hope.

He put out a tentative arm and laid it on the heavy shoulder. He did not know what exactly had placed that look on his cousin's face, but suspected it had something to do with his damaged relationship with Rhett. "I know this is difficult for you, and I applaud you for making an effort. It would kill mother and Rose to have you drift completely out of their lives. Now come."

There was a half-smirk, and a flash of derision, but he offered no further protests, and after a minute allowed himself to the shepherded back downstairs.

To Wade's surprise, he made his apologies to the ladies with what seemed like genuine contrition. "Cooped up too much by myself on the Ranch, now with Mother gone," Thad said, and his rueful smile made him suddenly younger, and boyish. "One acquires some odd moods. Aunt Scarlett, Ella, Mrs. Hamilton – I must depend on your kindness to overlook my boorish ways, and not allow it to spoil the pleasant evening." He took his seat again.

The ladies, only too relieved to move on from the painful scene, assured him they understood completely, and changed the topic as quickly as possible. Only Rose noticed that she'd not been included in the list, and her scowl darkened.

~~oo~~

After dinner, when the gentlemen had rejoined the ladies in the drawing-room, Scarlett turned to the newcomer.

"I've been hoping you would favor us with some music," she said, brightly, mostly out of a wish to keep him occupied. Though he'd been entirely charming throughout all the rest of the dinner, there was still an unsettled air about him.

The Steinway Grand Piano, which had moved from the Peachtree mansion to Galveston, and now to Charleston, stood invitingly open in the corner. It was a magnificent instrument, a remnant of days gone by - when Scarlett's main purpose in life had been to impress.

Thad glanced around the room, and then settled his gaze briefly on the only person he trusted to give him an accurate answer. "How badly is it out of tune?"

Rose, whom he hadn't addressed all evening, except for a most superficial greeting, tossed her curls.

"I'm not sure why you'd ask me, Cousin Thad," she replied airily, her voice only superficially covered with sweetness. "Painted dolls understand very little of such things."

"Rose," admonished Scarlett. "You only told me yesterday that the piano tuner had been by last week. It's the humidity, you see," she said, in response to Phoebe's questioning glance. "It tends to warp the instruments quickly."

Thad nodded, and proceeded to sit himself on the bench. "What should I play?"

"Oh, play Schubert," cried Ella happily, who loved music, but did not play herself. "The Impromptu in A flat major! You know the one I like!"

"Had to make it difficult for me," he laughed, good-naturedly. "Let me at least play some scales to warm up". They listened to the scales, dancing like silver fish up and down the stream. Then he stopped, flexed his fingers, and started playing in earnest.

The Impromptu No. 90/4 in A flat major was, perhaps, an infelicitous choice for select members of his attentive audience. Schubert's famous masterwork begins in tonic minor, giving even its opening movement an aura of sadness and despair. The Steinway's glass-like voice added an almost intolerable clarity to the song of lost chances, of buried hopes, of n'er-to-be.

When the central trio had ended, Rose made a soft sound, and Scarlett, who had been worried by her odd behavior all evening, cast a sharp glance at her face. There might have been the glistening of a tear on the spiky lashes, but Rose turned her head so quickly that it may have been just the way the light of the chandeliers bounced off her face.

Fortunately, the closing section moved to tonic major, singing brightly of love, and peace, and serenity - restoring the harmony of the universe once more.

The audience clapped generously, and as Scarlett had hoped, playing seemed to have drained what was left of his tension.

"I'm glad to see you've kept up with your music." Rhett said warmly, stepping next to the bench, and laying a large hand on Thad's shoulder. The young man looked up, and for once there was something in his face that wasn't anger or hostility. He was once more the fatherless boy in exile in New Orleans, who had received a piano for Christmas from his guardian when he was seven - along with lessons to learn how to play it. Over time, music became an outlet, a passion- and later, briefly, even a livelihood.

Thad collected himself and shrugged, lest he seem approachable, or even grateful. "With mother gone to visit her friends, I haven't had much to do in the evening except play."

"Now some Mozart. Rondo Alla Turca," Rhett said, his voice gentle but firm. Thad complied, and as there was nothing remotely melancholic about the piece, or the following ones that Rhett suggested, the recital progressed without incident.

They concluded the evening in a much more relaxed atmosphere.

~~oo~~

The family all went upstairs for bed at a much later hour than usual. Thad headed off to one guest bedroom, Wade and Phoebe to the other. When he arrived at his door, Rose passed him, on her way to the back of the hallway. She stopped, staring up at him, wanting to say something about the music, ask him how he'd really been. But then she remembered his rudeness to her, and her small face closed. "Excuse me," she said, haughtily, and started walking again.

"Madame," he answered gravely. But his gaze remained glued to her back, until she reached her door.

Ten minutes later he turned to James, who had closed the door behind him, and was waiting to perform his duties as a valet.

He allowed the other man to help him out of his dinner jacket and his vest. "Have you ever... felt like a fool, James?" he asked, a real, rueful smile suddenly on his lips.

The tall black man maintained a perfectly blank expression. "Rarely, Sir."

Their friendship had deep roots – long, tense weeks in Galveston, working together to foil a murder plot.

"You wouldn't." Thad ran his hand through his thick black hair, which he wore a little longer than the current mode.

"If I may give some advice…"

"Please, don't hold back." Thad laughed, and added, "You never have."

"When it come down to it, Sir ….a real man shapes his own destiny." James nodded for emphasis, and continued, "Most barriers we believe we see are only the limitations of our own hearts."

Thad laughed again, this time with derision. "An uplifting philosophy - but I've never taken you for a naive fool. If I ….if you had ….felt an affection for someone far above your station in life, how successful do you think you'd have been?"

James allowed himself the luxury of a slightly triumphant smile. "It so happens that I speak from experience. My in laws were not too happy with me when I started courting Prissy. You see, my father and grandfather had been field hands, and Prissy ….Prissy was a lady's maid. Most people would have said she was far above my station. But I knew I was worthwhile, even if no one else did. I found work with Mrs. Butler, and proved to them I could provide for a family. I am now the major domus of a very distinguished house, and most people will say my wife didn't do so poorly after all."

Thad refused to concede the point. "It's not the same thing. Money or position haven't changed who I am in the eyes of Charleston. Or, rather, who I was born to. Even if …..my former guardian had offered to formally adopt me, it wouldn't answer my purpose, because I'd be…." He sighed impatiently. "It's no use even talking about it."

"No," James agreed. "Being adopted by Mr. Rhett would indeed not answer. But indeed there are …other options."

A short, barking laugh. "Other options?"

"There is another gentleman – who as it happens lives only a few streets down from here. He is widowed, has no son, and his daughters are married, and far away. He has nothing in his life except the social engagements he doesn't enjoy, and a lonely house to come home to. Perhaps, were you recover some of the …charm… you have shown yourself capable of in the past ….you might find him receptive to …. filial attention." James was undeterred by the darkening frown on the other man's face. "Receptive to the point, perhaps, of giving you his name. Without simultaneously turning you into the brother of...a certain young lady."

Whatever Thad had been expecting, it hadn't been this. "You must be joking."

"Not at all," James said, his face conveying mild offense that he could be suspected of levity in such a serious matter. "I've made it my business to get to know Mr. Charles very well, and there is little he regrets more than having no son to carry on his name. You see – he is …rather competitive with his elder brother, my employer – who has three sons to his name, to Mr. Charles' none."

"When hell freezes over," Thad said, with a casual tone that belied real menace.

"Then, if you'll forgive me for saying so, Sir – you do not really want the thing we have... not been talking about, as much as you think. And, if I may be so free …..you do not have much time. She's a very lovely young lady, and despite her youth has already had many offers."

Thad made an impatient gesture, clearly unwilling to pursue the topic. "Please go now."

James, who was not intimidated in the least, merely nodded regally, and left the room as silently as a ghost. He paused in the hallway, shaking his head. If every family had its curse, that of the Butlers was pride, and pride seemed poised to cut through the happiness of yet another generation.

He was suddenly filled with a sense of foreboding, that he tried to shrug off as he hurried home to his own much more uncomplicated, cheerful wife.