Thank you again for all your wonderful thoughts and reviews. They brighten up my day considerably. Welcome to the new readers of the forum – wonderful to have you here. There's so many great stories for you to find! Anna, I will definitely have them travel around more, possibly Greece as well (how can they miss Greece?). But that will be described in the next chapter. As many of you wanted to hear more about Belle's role now that she is "retired", and more about Chase and Ella, and Phoebe and Wade, they will all be in this (rather dark) chapter. I imagine Belle would want to help former prostitutes make a new life for themselves, especially ones that she's worked with in the past, and maybe some that she's met out West. So my premise is that she's convinced her son to hire some of them as staff.

And an addendum: the excellent question has been raised by Karolina: would Scarlett allow her son to be familiar with/stay under the same roof as a former brothel madam/ex-lover of Rhett? Here is why I think so: Part of the problem with writing a story over such an extended time period is the things that get left out out of necessity. In my mind, Belle and Scarlett have become ... friends after that chapter in MoMS where Belle asks her forgiveness. Scarlett and the kids would have spent time together at the Ranch with Belle and Thad, and no one would ever have told the boys about Belle's former occupation of course, so calling her "Auntie" would make sense to them. And Belle and Scarlett have continued to correspond even after her moving to Charleston. I think Scarlett trusts Thad, and even Belle, to take care of Perry - the kids have probably been there by themselves before for shorter periods. I think Scarlett is unconventional enough to judge people by their merit (case in point: Will) as long as she doesn't feel threatened. And in this particular story, Scarlett has undergone a lot of growth. It was Rhett that needed catching up! Anyways - long answer to a good question. Thanks!

M rating for adult themes (not the fun kind, unfortunately). A pregnancy loss is described, so if that's something you or a loved one has struggled with, you may want to skip it. It won't effect the story line if you miss this one.

Deep into that darkness peering, long I stood there, wondering, fearing, doubting, dreaming dreams no mortal ever dared to dream before. - Edgar Allan Poe

His footsteps fell as noiselessly as those of an Indian as he stepped into the kitchen. Mary, Belle's maid, did not become aware of his presence in time to hide the slender, opaque bottle in her hand.

Before she even had time to think, he had pried the bottle from her nerveless fingers, opened it, and smelled the content. With a look of disgust, he threw the bottle on the ground, watching it break into pieces at impact.

The black liquid oozed out and snaked in rivulets about the floor.

"I believe I have made myself clear. I do not want this stuff in my house."

She watched him, warily, like a small cornered animal. He was, they knew from long experience, immune to their wiles of seduction or persuasion.

"Please, Sir. Ah promise I'll never …"

"You may come back in one week. For now, I expect you to be gone in one hour. After you clean up the glass."

The punishment for a first infraction was to leave the Ranch for a week without pay. The second infraction, would result in a banishment of one month. The third, and one would not be allowed to return at all.

It had happened to a number of girls in the past, who had faded into some sad oblivion, perhaps, if they were fortunate, re-absorbed by the brothels of the West.

"Please…"

The black eyes were hard and without pity.

"Yessir." She dropped her head, and moved quickly to sweep up the remains of the bottle under his disconcerting gaze, carrying it into the garbage. Then she scuffled to her room, to pack.

An hour later, when his mother came into the kitchen for breakfast, he told her she would have to do without her maid for a week.

His mother shook her head. "You's so hard on 'em, my boy. She done made one mistake, an' now she don't know where to go."

He turned to look at her. "We all have our crosses to bear, Mother. Theirs is to obey me." He poured himself a glass of milk and added, as an afterthought, "At least if they intend to stay."

"Back in Atlanta I never bothered my girls about what they was usin', unless it interfered with their work."

"This is a working Ranch, not a bawdy house. " There was a suave coldness to his tone that chilled her. "While I don't care if they sleep with a different Ranch hand every night, I do care whether they breach my discipline. I've seen enough of the effects of opiates, and of that new white powder – cocaine – to last me a lifetime. I won't have it here, around my family. Around children. Imagine if Perry got a hold of one of those bottles. Throwing Mary out is the least of what I would have done to her, had he come to any harm."

Belle sighed. "You should try drinkin'," she suggested. "Might make you less uptight." When she received no reply, she added, "Both your uncle and your real dad really liked their likker in their day. Pleasanter company 'n you, they were. For the most part, that is."

He smiled. "Perhaps, as my mother, you're simply not privy to my …more charming aspects. The ladies I've cared to show them to have not complained of boredom. For the most part."

"Oh, I'm sure that pretty widow'd snap you up quicker'n a duck a blackberry if you let her. But you's still hung up on that curly-haired little princess, ain't you. Though heavens knows what you see'n her. Haughty as they come, that little missy is. Pretty as a picture, I admit, but I never seen your head turned by girls that was almost as pretty, and a lot more easygoin'."

"That is rather thin ice you're currently on, mother."

"You see what I mean?" Belle asked, of no one in particular. She rarely saw this side of him. But she was wise enough to change direction quickly, and unwise enough to remain in the offensive. "Now I gotta find myself a new maid, just because you got …..principles. Don't know what good a principle ever done to anyone, neither."

He cocked his head at a slight angle and gazed at her for a disconcerting moment. "You don't understand men very well after all, mother. Or perhaps you do understand one aspect of them ….that aspect that they took to your brothel. But otherwise, you've lived and worked in a world of women. This Ranch – my business- Uncle Rhett's blockade ships – rely and relied on principles, and our strength in enforcing them. If we don't, we lose respect first for ourselves, and then in very quick succession the respect of others. Which is why it is important to chose one's principles wisely. Choose only the ones you are willing to stand by, and die by, if you must. And enforce them at all costs."

He could see that his speech had sailed over her head.

"I told Mrs. Butler once that you men like to make lotsa meaningless words. S'still true, apparently."

"Oh no," he said. "Words have driven men across continents, and raised civilizations out of the wilderness. You're right that like most things, principles can be taken too far, and that is were the likes of you come in. To plead for pity and mercy. But just like principles, pleas for mercy must also be …. chosen wisely. You have not chosen wisely here."

"Why don' Mary deserve mercy same as everyone else?"

"If you can't see that for yourself, mother, I will tell you the same thing I tell every one of the girls that you've saddled me with. You need not understand, but you do need to obey."

"I never gone in for none o'that opium nonsense," she protested, as if he had asked her an entirely different sort of question. "Nor cocaine, neither. Likker was always good'nuff for me. And I done little of even that since I came here. Livin' with you's enough to drive a saint to sobriety."

He smiled, and to her surprise, hugged her briefly. "I'm sorry I'm such poor company, mother. I wish I had more to offer you in terms of entertainment. I'll be going down to Houston on Tuesday for business, and intend to stay for at least two weeks. Perhaps you'd like to accompany me. Catch some shows. Enjoy city life for a change."

"Oh no," she replied, swiftly. "I ain't sayin' I's cravin' excitement. I done had enough of that to last me for life. And I like livin' here. I'm glad I can help them girls, even if they do mess up every once in a while. I'm glad ter spend some time with you, even if you is all grown now, and don't need no mother no more. I just wish you got yourself a wife, and I'd have some grandkids to look after. " She paused, as if debating whether to continue. "Don't go wastin' your life over that girl, Thad. She ain't worth it."

"I don't intend to," he said, evenly.

"I know all about pinin'," she offered. "I pined first for your father, then for your uncle. Lotta good it did me, too. They never forgot what I was for a minute, though they was quite happy to take what I offered 'em. She'll never accept you, and what's worse, they won't neither."

"The world has changed."

"Not that much." She smoothed down her hair, which was mainly white now, with a few remaining reddish streaks. "That widow ain't so bad. Fake as a three dollar bill, of course, but ain't most wimmin? She's sturdy enough for hard work, and still young enough ta give you children. Nice to look at, which matters to you fellas. And raised here, so she won't mind where you come from, as long as you pay her bills, and buy her lotsa pretty dresses an' take her to Houston four times a year."

The smile had disappeared from his face. "I want more than that in a wife, mother. I always have."

Decades in the brothel business made her grin at him. "Yes, you's one of those that likes talkin' to wimmin. But those that can talk the talk ain't always those that work out between the sheets. That little missy of yours ain't got what it takes to keep a man happy, if you ask me, and I seen a lot of girls come and go. You may be in for a big disappointment."

To her surprise, he laughed. "You'd best stop now, mother, or I'm going to start thinking you know as little about women as you do about men."

"I'm right," she insisted. "You'll see. And then it may be too late."

"Cousin Thad. Auntie Belle." A sleepy Perry had wandered into the kitchen. He was rubbing his eyes. "What's for breakfast?"

~~oo~~

They had stood in the haberdasher's store, looking at a selection of new bonnets, when Ella had suddenly paled. "Owwww!"

"Ella," Phoebe asked, with concern, dropping the hat she'd been holding back on the counter. "What's wrong, dear?"

"I'm not sure," Ella whispered, her face contorted with pain. "My back hurts. And ….."

The concern on Phoebe's face grew. "And what, sweetie?"

"There's something wet on my legs," Ella whispered, too miserable to care about her shame.

"Oh dear." Phoebe squeezed her hand, and then knelt down in front of her sister-in-law. "I'm going to lift your skirts to take a look, love." She smiled up at Ella's mortified expression. "Don't be embarrassed, sweetie. We need to know what's going on."

Ella's cheeks were stained red despite the deathly pallor of her face. Phoebe let the skirts drop again, doing her best to arrange her face into a semblance of confidence as she rose. She tried to smile reassuringly while she looked around.

"You," she called to the shopkeeper, who had returned from the back to retrieve more inventory in the form of oval boxes. "Mrs. Thornton needs to lie down. Now. You will have a sofa somewhere in the back we can use. And bring me a piece of paper and a pen."

The shopkeeper, who didn't love customers who imposed upon him in such a manner, was propelled forward only by the cold sense of urgency in her voice, and the determination in her face. When he had shuffled up to look at Ella, he sat down his boxes, and frowned.

"There's blood on the floor. It'll stain the upholstery if I….."

"We will replace any damage to your furniture," Phoebe said icily. "Now please lead the way, unless you want Mrs. Thornton to faint right here in the middle of the store."

He threw her another look, and decided she was the sort to cause a major uproar if he disobeyed her. The thought outweighed his concern for his sofa. "This way," he muttered, reluctantly.

They installed Ella on the worn-down sofa in the back of his office, and after further prompting, the shopkeeper produced first a blanket, then a paper and a pen. Phoebe took both, and scribbled a name and an address on the paper. "Here. This is the name and address of Mrs. Thornton's personal doctor. Have one of your lads run down immediately and fetch him. Tell him," she said, in a low voice, "it looks like she may be suffering a miscarriage."

"In my store?" he grumbled, but sighed when he met her eyes. "All right then. But I'll be needing funds to cover my ….."

With a look of disgust, she opened her purse, and pressed several bills into his hands. "Take this for now. If you help us, I may give you a bonus at the end. Now go."

After he had left, she returned to Ella's side.

"What's wrong with me," Ella mumbled. "He said there was blood ….."

"Yes, there was," Phoebe answered, gently. "Listen to me, Ella. Was there any chance that you might be …pregnant?"

Another faint flush appeared on Ella's cheeks, reabsorbed almost immediately by the pallor. Finally, she nodded. "We weren't telling anyone because of what happened the last time. I wanted to wait until I was safe. But now…" She let out a sob. "Will I lose this baby too, Phoebe? I don't think I can bear it, again. Please help me keep it! Please!"

A look of deep sadness briefly crossed Phoebe's features. "I don't know, sweetie. Right now, I need to make sure that you're all right." She bowed her head as she sat next to her, holding her hand. As the mother of an infant, she felt Ella's agony even deeper.

The doctor, a friend of Dr. Harrison's with a soothing manner and an air of competence, arrived within fifteen minutes, carrying a large black bag. He asked for hot water, clean sheets, and privacy to examine his patient. The shopkeeper's wife, who lived above the store and had been summoned by her husband's report, provided the former in ample quantities. She was a pleasant, round-faced woman who, unlike her spouse, seemed to feel for the elegant girl that had broken down on their premises.

Phoebe, who stood outside the office, finally let the depth of her concern and worry suffuse her features. "Thank you for your kindness," she told the shopkeeper's wife.

"Think nothin' of it." The other woman said, kindly. "We's all women, and we know how these things are." She paused for a moment. "Even if we don't really want 'em these things hurt like hell. And from the looks of her she wanted it badly."

"Yes," Phoebe nodded, with excruciating sadness at the unfairness of life.

"You may want to sit down, Mrs…."

"Hamilton. And no, but thank you for your thoughtfulness. I want to be right next to the door, even if I can't …..do anything." She smiled with an effort. "And how remiss of me not to ask your name."

"I'm Mrs. Carlson," the other woman said. "Pleased to meet you, Mrs. Hamilton." She threw her a look. "And I know you'll pardon my husband's ways. Business has not been brisk these past few years, and he's always worried about money. It made him harder than he used to be, but he's a good man, and a good provider."

"I'm sure," Phoebe said, hiding admirably whatever her thoughts might have been about a man in any kind of circumstances who considered his upholstery first, when faced with a young girl with blood streaming down her legs. This woman had to live with him, after all.

Dr. Blaire came out ten minutes later. He turned to Phoebe, who had also been his patient during her two pregnancies and deliveries, and of whose good sense he had a high opinion.

"I don't have good news, unfortunately. The cervix is fully dilated, and she is in active labor. She's barely five months along, and the child will not be viable yet. I'm sorry."

"So there's nothing you can do?"

"Unfortunatly, no."

Phoebe closed her eyes. "There's something else, isn't there."

He hesitated. "Please, tell me."

"Second trimester losses are rarely a good sign, Mrs. Phoebe. It's unclear why, but we believe it may have something to do with a weakness of the womb itself, which ….opens up under the pressure of the baby. She may never be able to carry a child to term."

She felt her eyes swim with sudden tears. "Thank you for letting me know."

"You won't be telling any of this to Mrs. Ella, will you?"

"Of course not."

He nodded. "We will have to stay here until she delivers. She's too far along to move her, and to weak to even attempt it. If you can bear it, you may want to come in, and stay at her side until it's over. It is difficult enough without having a mother, or a loved one, at one's side."

"Of course I can bear it," Phoebe said, pushing aside both her sadness and her fatigue. And the growing ache in her breasts, as her baby's feeding time approached.

~~oo~~

Some hours later, a very wan and pale Ella was laying in her bed in her in-law's house. Chase, who, as Phoebe suspected, was entirely useless in a crisis, was nonetheless as sweet and loving as ever, and concerned only with his wife's welfare. Even frivolous Charlotte seemed caught up in the sobriety of the occasion, and looked for ways to make herself quietly useful.

"It's the second time," Rosemary told Phoebe thoughtfully, when they crossed paths in the kitchen to order broth and wine for the invalid.

"I had no idea she was pregnant before, let alone that she was expecting again."

"It was an earlier loss last time, and thus much easier on her. We didn't think much of it, then. But now …..who knows is she'll ever have a successful pregnancy." Rosemary's eyes roved over Phoebe's figure, and Phoebe briefly wondered if Chase's formidable mother had badgered the same information out of Dr. Blaire that he had shared with her. "Not robust like you, that one, and more's the pity."

Phoebe could see the calculation in her eyes …..one daughter who might never marry, a daughter-in-law who was failing spectacularly in her duties as a brood-mare – and suddenly, her father's formidable spirit rose within her once more. She determined to do whatever it took to make this as easy on Ella as possible. No matter who disapproved.

There was a commotion in the hallway, and with considerable relief, Phoebe walked forward to greet her husband and children. Their maid had come along, holding the baby. She hugged Wade fiercely, heedless of who might see her. He pressed her briefly to his chest. "I'm so sorry."

She smiled up at him. "It's not me that we need to worry about."

He nodded. "I know. I wish that mother was here, or Rose…I hate to leave Ella to the tender mercies of Aunt Rosemary when we go home. I just know she'll make her feel awful about it." He looked down at his wife. "Should we offer to take her home with us until she recovers? Chase, too?"

"I've thought about it," Phoebe admitted. "But I don't know if being around a baby might not be worse for her! But I intend to ask, when she feels better. In these kinds of things one must assume nothing, and not beat around the bush."

"How did you get to be so wise?" he asked, placing a gentle kiss on her forehead.

"My grandmother," she answered, candidly. "She lost several children before finally carrying my father to term. She always said that the people who acknowledged her loss, and weren't afraid to ask direct questions about what she needed, were the ones that helped her most. And I can totally see why - for isn't that the best way to deal with almost any tragedy in life? I don't know why something like this should be different, merely because we like to pretend such things don't exist!"

She took the baby out of the maid's arms. The ache in her breasts had accelerated to a sharp pain. "I'll disappear upstairs for a bit. I don't know if you can see Ella yet, but you may want to keep Chase company. He's being awfully sweet, but I can see he's just as shook up as she is."

He watched her go, the ghost of a smile on his lips. I am a lucky fellow, he thought, handing his son over to Charlotte before going in search of Chase. When he caught sight of his brother-in-law's face, he sighed. Why can't everyone be?