Thank you, those of you who took the time to review and comment. You're very kind. Happy New Year to everyone. Somehow, I couldn't ring in the New Year without punching Ashley at least once. It just didn't seem right not to. Cheers!
"Well, it seems you were right again," said Scarlett to her husband, installing herself on her cushions, and reflecting on the peculiar evening they had just spent.
"At this point in your life, does that really surprise you?" he teased.
"No," she said candidly, reaching for a glass of water from the bedside table, which she drank while he lit his cigar. "But I admit I hoped you were wrong, for once! At least, I hoped you were wrong about Rose. But she acted so oddly all night, not looking at him, or wanting to speak to him, that she must be in love with him! Oh, what on earth will we do?" she added, mournfully.
He looked at her with a speculative expression. "Should you mind so much, then, if he did ask for her hand?"
Scarlett sighed. "You know I like Thad. But ….." she admitted, "it does sting a little, the thought that Belle Watling and I would have mutual grandchildren!" She waited for his deep, rumbling laugh, and continued. "And …..oh, I don't even know why I'm telling you this! You'll think I'm vain and superficial. But for the first time in my life, I'm back home, and I'm… accepted. The nicest families approve of me, and what's even better, I'm actually doing everything I want! And Rose …." she hesitated, but plunged resolutely forward, " somehow, it seemed that her success was my success, and I've enjoyed how the most eligible sons of the best families have been wanting nothing more than to marry my daughter. I guess," she finished sheepishly," I crave acceptance more than I thought."
He gave her a tight squeeze. " I understand. And no, you're not being vain or superficial. It's natural want acceptance, and to feel pride in one's child, and to want the best for them. We as parents just have to realize their perception and our perception of their best don't always match up."
Scarlett nodded, relieved that he didn't seem to think less of her for her confession. "I might as well tell you the whole story," she said, softly. "I wasn't just worried about Charles and the girls, when I told you I wasn't sure if Thad should stay here with us. I was worried about me. How having him here would reflect on me, and what other people would think. And I'm so ashamed of myself for feeling that way, because Thad has always been such a good friend." She sighed." And then of course I remembered Melly. Melly never let her own reputation stand in the way of doing the right thing. Or what she thought was the right thing. So I felt even worse, thinking that Melly would be disappointed in me."
He hugged her again. "I understand that, too. And I'm sure Miss Melly would understand as well. But fear not - you, Madame, have the good fortune to be married to a man who plans ahead. I've greatly sharpened my skills to mitigate scandal since my wild and heady youth – when I admit inciting it was usually my goal." He smiled rakishly, chuckling with secret pleasure.
"What do you mean?" she asked, bewildered.
"I mean, my love, that I haven't been idle these past few weeks. After you told me Thad would come here, I've been … making preparations. "
"I don't understand a word you're saying," she huffed.
He smirked, delighted by her evident confusion. "Amongst other things, Rosemary and I went to see Charles, who was just as tiresome as I expected, but in the end he agreed he could meet his offspring in public without making a scene. Then," he continued, with just the barest hint of self-satisfaction, "I've been to see Mrs. Sarah Jennings. All by myself. And I'm pleased to tell you that not only has she invited Thad to the ball she's giving tomorrow, but she's assured me she will fill his dance-card with girls whose mothers have been specifically instructed to make sure they treat him with respect. If he behaves like a gentleman, which I will make sure he does, she will make sure her friends invite him also."
"You convinced Sarah Jennings to invite Thad?"
His self-satisfaction became even more evident. "Sometimes I even surprise myself."
"How on earth ….."
He laughed. "The Jennings have had some financial difficulties. And a daughter to be married in June."
"You mean you bribed …"
"Tsk Tsk," He said, shaking his head at her. "Bribery is such a strong word. I personally call it engaging in fair trade – her support for Thad in exchange for my support of the Jennings Export-Import company. It was less difficult than I imagined, after I casually mentioned just how rich the base-born son is. Many of the best families also have daughters – and are in financial straights. They've come to see the value of a good income just as everyone else has."
Scarlett had the good grace to laugh. "You're the devil's own son, Rhett Butler, and I'm glad I'm on your good side."
He scooted over to her. "Speaking of sides ….." he whispered, "now that I've so ingeniously solved all your problems ….don't I deserve a ….reward?"
"I didn't mean that, you conceited thing. Oh!"
And here we must let the curtain fall once more over our characters, and move the clock forward to morning.
~~oo~~
Everyone else was already seated at the breakfast table when Rose arrived. Thad looked up as she entered, bathed in the light of the morning, as if designed by a stage-master for maximum effect. Scarlett's mouth opened and then closed again when she caught sight of her daughter. Rose was wearing her riding garb, including the black "Turkish trousers" that had fascinated Beau Wilkes, but it was not that garment that drew everyone's eyes. It was the jacket. Rose had chosen a black velvet riding jacket that Scarlett had never seen before, that skimmed along her hips and chest like a second skin, fully revealing and accentuating the elegant curves of her emerging womanhood. The high neckline made claims of impropriety futile, but Scarlett still swallowed uneasily, and threw a worried glance at her husband. He grinned back at her. Perhaps, he, too, was remembering that other girl almost three decades ago, who had driven to a morning barbecue in an afternoon dress that was decidedly not the thing.
But unlike her, he seemed to find both the memory, and the present occasion, quite entertaining.
"Good morning," Rose said airily, finding her seat, her eyes challenging anyone to find fault with her attire.
"G….ggood morning," stuttered Wade, with the embarrassment most males experience when forced to remember that their mothers or sisters are women, with bodies that may attract other men.
"I …didn't know you were going riding today, Rose," said Scarlett.
"The Wilkes' are coming to take me for a ride in the park," Rose replied airily, reaching for toast and butter. "Shadow is being saddled up as we speak."
"You look like a young Diana," teased her father. "All that's missing are the bow and arrow. What game are you planning to hunt today, my dear?"
"She had no need for arrows. Beau Wilkes is already captured," her brother joked. He turned to Thad. "Doesn't she look pretty?"
Thad, who'd been lost in thought, looked up, and gave Rose an impudent stare. "I believe she'll get exactly the reaction she's hoping for."
Wade shook his head. "Would it kill you to give a girl a compliment? You're turning into such a curmudgeon, my friend. No wonder you're still a bachelor. Keep this up and you'll be an old man long before your time."
"Don't worry, Wade," Rose said sweetly. "I only desire compliments from people whose opinion I value."
"Look Rose," said Phoebe adroitly, kicking her husband under the table once more. "There's two gentlemen coming up the walkway to the house. I'm sure ... it's the Mr. Wilkes!"
~~oo~~
The two Wilkes men, whom James showed into the hallway, looked like twin gods descended from Mount Olympus to grace mere mortals. Both had always looked their best in riding attire: tall and slender, their golden hair glowing in the sunlight, and their identical grey eyes sparkling with the anticipated pleasure of riding through the winter landscape in fine weather with a lovely young woman at their side.
"Beau!" Wade said, running up to his cousin and embracing him. "It's wonderful to see you. Will you be at the Jennings' ball later tonight? Good." He turned to his other cousin, beckoning him to come closer. "And of course you know Thad. Thad, this is Beau's father, Mr. Ashley Wilkes."
The three men nodded to each other politely.
When Rose joined the group a few minutes later, cap and whip in hand, the two newcomers lit up like candles.
"Rose, you look smashing!" Beau exclaimed, with habitual directness. His father, more sedate in his expression of admiration, simply nodded his agreement.
Thad, who had been watching them, turned to look at Rose. "Yes. We're fortunate that her attire today allows us to admire her even more …. openly than we usually do."
Ashley paled. "Whatever do you mean by that, Sir?"
"I meant exactly what I said."
It had been a relatively mild barb by Thad's admittedly low standards, but it worked as a red cloth might on a bull.
"You will answer to me for that remark."
That shrugged nonchalantly. "I doubt it."
Without further warning, Ashley lunged at him. Thad - two decades younger, four inches taller and quite at home in Texas bar fights - stepped adroitly aside, and let the punch dissolve into thin air. If Ashley had expected a clean, gentleman-like boxing contest, he was to learn his mistake only seconds later – a fist landed in his face, and almost simultaneously, the blade of a hand chopped his back, causing him to trip and crumple to the floor.
"Dad!" Beau, for whom everything had happened too quickly to react, only stopped to make sure his father wasn't seriously injured before turning on Thad himself. Although shorter and lighter than Thad himself, he was a much more formidable opponent, landing quite a few painful punches to Thad's chest before joining his father on the floor.
"Oh!" cried Rose, who had witnessed the entire scene with horror. "Thad – how could you?" She rushed to Beau and Ashley, who were sitting up, holding their faces. "They're bleeding! Wade – go get Prissy. Have her bring clean towels and water. Have James come too. We need to help them off the floor."
With James' and Prissy's able assistance, the two men were supplied with fresh towels and ice, and escorted to the drawing room. Rose installed them on the soft cushions of a settee, hovering about them solicitously. When no one was watching, she pressed her small hands against her cheeks repeatedly, as if to drive back their flush. They both mumbled they were fine, thank you, and there was no need to call for the doctor. Fifteen minutes later, they excused themselves from both the company and the ride, stating they would go home to bring the swelling down in time for the ball tonight.
Rhett saw them out. "I apologize for my nephew's hot temper. No hard feelings, I hope."
"None at all," Ashley said coldly. Beau shook his head mutely, but forced himself to add politely: "We hope to see you at at the ball tonight. And Rose of course."
Rhett nodded graciously, and it is quite unclear why Ashley Wilkes was nonetheless left with the nagging feeling that Rose's father had been ...enjoying himself.
~~oo~~
After they had left, Rose dashed upstairs, bursting into Thad's room without knocking. She was stopped short by the sight of him with his shirt off, the taut skin over his ribs displaying several ugly, black bruises under the dark hair.
"What did you do that for?" she demanded, her high voice almost breaking.
He shrugged with feigned disinterest. "It was they who tried to punch me. I was only defending myself."
"You could have defended yourself without beating them into a bloody pulp!"
"When I really want to injure someone, they don't ride off fifteen minutes later, all limbs intact, to dress for a ball. They stay down." He spoke casually, but she realized, with a shiver, that he meant it. "But I do find your concern for them very ….touching. Especially since you haven't bothered to ask me how I am."
She roved her eyes over the ugly bruises again, but refused to give in. "Why should I? I can see that you're fine." She tossed her hair, perhaps to ward off the impulse to run a hand over his chest, and take away his pain. "And yes, they may have started it, but it wouldn't have happened at all, if you hadn't insisted on insulting me!"
He dragged a frustrated hand through his hair. "I guess there's nothing more to say, then."
"I guess there isn't!"
She whirled around, soundly slamming the door behind her.
~~oo~~
Thad didn't reappear for lunch. When he didn't show up for tea, Rhett went upstairs in search of him. He was still in his room, sitting on his bed in his shirt-tails, looking as if he hadn't moved much all day. There was a brown leather suitcase in front of him, which contained a few scattered garments. It was difficult to say for the casual observer if he was packing or still unpacking.
"How are you?"
Thad shrugged. "A bit bruised, but I'll live. But thank you for asking. Since you're the only person to enquire after my welfare, I appreciate the sentiment - regardless of the source."
Rhett laughed. "Rose wasn't too sympathetic, was she? Thad, my boy, you're forgetting everything you ever knew about women. Winning a fight doesn't impress them much, no matter who started it. But be beaten up by a callus brute while defending a lady's honor, and look pathetic, bleeding from the nose … and you will have all their sympathy."
Thad snorted. "If the price is to hold still while two milky-faced toddlers attack me, I'll leave looking pathetic to others."
Rhett laughed. Then, he sat down on the edge of the bed beside him, and his tone changed, as it had changed two years ago, speaking to Rose in the tea room in Galveston.
"I know you still haven't forgiven me for what happened with Thomas Whiting almost two decades ago. At some point, I would like to talk to you about it. If you'll allow me. Perhaps you may come to appreciate my reasoning, even if you still can't find it in your heart to forgive. But that's not important right now." He looked at his nephew with his disconcerting stare."I want you to tell me ...the real reason you came back."
Thad didn't answer, but stood up, taking a step or two into the room. After a moment or two, Rhett sighed. "It's funny how history repeats itself. I could never stay away, either. I even hung around Atlanta during the war." He shook his head in bemused reminiscence. "Atlanta! The insanity was mind-boggling." He stood up as well, and looked into the other man's eyes. They were almost at a height. "Thad. It isn't your birth that would make me uneasy, were you to ask me for the hand of my younger daughter. I do hope you know that."
Thad's naturally low voice was even huskier than usual. "I don't need your pity. Or hers."
Rhett sighed. "Sometimes I feel children are sent to us by the gods to torture us with a mirror of our own foolishness." Then he smiled again. "Now get dressed. We're leaving in about two hours."
"I'm not going anywhere. Except," he added, with a glance at the suitcase, "maybe home to Texas."
"Don't be a fool, my boy," Rhett said, amiably. "Of course you're coming. In fact, I insist. And you're going to behave like a perfect gentleman all evening, because this ball is your introduction into society, and will decide whether people feel it's worthwhile to invite you again. And you're staying for Christmas, even if I have to tie you to that bed. I'll leave you now to get dressed. But before I go down, do let me shake your hand." He took it, and pumped it vigorously, grinning at Thad's surprised expression.
"Punching Ashley Wilkes in the face was something that was long overdue in this household." He closed the door behind him, whistling a merry tune.