Hi, lovelies. I finally put a new chapter together. I apologize for being MIA for so long, the new job has been eating away at almost all of my time. I tried writing a paragraph daily, for the last three weeks, and that sort of worked. It's pretty much unedited, because I feel you've waited long enough. I see there are many new stories, and many updated old ones I love, so I will get to work on reading and reviewing. It's very good to be back….the GWTW fandom is one of the best places to be on the net.
Hugh Rittmeister finally stepped off the carriage, happy to stretch out his cramped legs. The morning's rain had not yet evaporated from the blades of grass that jutted from underneath the wooden posts by the paddock. Somewhere close by, he heard the high-pitched, irrepressible sound of boys' laughter. His ear followed the sound for a moment, as a vagabond might pause briefly by the church-steps at Christmas mass, and listen to the music.
Another sound behind him, soft coughing, called him back to himself. Hugh turned dutifully, and watched his daughter descend from the coach in his wake. She worse sensible brown travel clothes, her hand clutching a floral bonnet. Her thigh-high, laced boots stepped firmly onto the white stones of the driveway, crushing them beneath her.
Emma rarely laughed, her father thought. In fact, Emma rarely even smiled.
He tried to shrug off the unwelcome - and unusual - bout of nostalgia. He was here to secure a wife, a genteel, reliable wife, who would make sure that Emma, at least, had some chance at happiness.
Meanwhile, the sound of the carriage wheels had drawn several of the Ranch's inhabitants to the front of the house. Turning once more, Hugh recognized the Mr. Rhett Butlers amongst those advancing towards him. He remembered them well: They had been shining, if somewhat sporadic, stars of the Houston Season whenever they were in town, and their loss to the East Coast had been keenly felt both by their admirers and their detractors.
Mrs. Rhett Butler, dressed in a green walking dress, was as arresting as she had ever been, even though, he swiftly calculated, she must now be in her fifties. She was, Hugh acknowledged, one of those women whose allure seemed only to increase with age. When she smiled, he thought Captain Butler a most fortunate man.
"A rare privilege to see you again, Mrs. Butler," Hugh said, bending over her hand with an almost exaggerated formality. To his surprise, he discovered he meant it.
"Delighted," she murmured, in that soft, sultry voice of hers, that encouraged the listener to lean in just a bit more closely. When he raised his eyes again, he discovered her husband looking back at him, a mixture of amusement and severity in his face. Butler must now be in his late sixties, but he looked as formidable as ever.
"Captain Butler. How fortunate that I should run into you both," he improvised quickly." My aunt has been a-flutter all these weeks, when news reached us that you and your lovely wife have returned to the West. She will be sending out official invitations, but she would be delighted if you would join us at a small ball we will be giving Friday evening."
"We would be delighted," Rhett Butler drawled, after exchanging a glance with his wife. Hugh had the distinct impression that the delight was feigned, and did not blame him. He, too, often tired of the excessive socializing in the city. Mrs. Butler, however, seemed to smile with genuine pleasure at the prospect of dancing. Another point in her favor, Hugh thought. Nothing was more tiresome than seeing vivacious young girls turning into staid matrons the moment a man slipped a ring on their finger.
Thad, who had been helping the servants unload the luggage, came up to join them. The smile he cast at his aunt and uncle was wide, and curiously uninhibited.
"As you can see, I have brought the girls back in one piece," he reported with equally false pride and genuine mirth, casting a glance at the three damsels who had emerged from the other carriage.
"I would hope you would have," Scarlett replied, with just the right amount of maternal severity. However, a quick glance decided Hugh that she did not look truly concerned. It was a measure of their trust, he thought, that they had allowed Thad to escort Rose to Houston with no more discerning a chaperone than her soft-hearted, elder sister.
"Cousin Thad," called a young voice from beyond the stables. "Wait 'till you hear what happened! We found a bobcat. He has only three legs!" There was a thrumming of feet, and the boys burst into view. Dan, who was usually more sedate, arrived first, trying to pull himself up from a full run. He almost bumped into the young girl at Hugh's side, noticing her for the first time. "Excuse me," he murmured, distractedly. Emma scowled.
"Emma Rittmeister," Thad introduced them, "this passel of boys is my cousins. Dan, and Perry, and this is Gerry." He pointed to a brown-eyed version of the older two, distinguished only by his size and his air of studied self-possession. Hugh grinned. It seemed Captain Rhett Butler had left very little imprint on the exterior of any of his four children. Admittedly, they were a handsome lot.
The three boys nodded politely, but it was obvious that his daughter was not pretty enough to divert their attention from bobcats. Hugh felt a twinge of sadness. It was difficult to be unattractive, especially for a woman. He glanced at the three older girls again, linking arms, and making their way into the house. Hugh studied Ella's profile as she passed, regarding her in the new light of her half-siblings. He shook his head thoughtfully.
Thad, in the meanwhile, had patiently sorted out the boys' garbled account of a pond and a Native man, and sighed. "I had better go to the stables, then, and make sure the kitten is housed safely." He looked around, and his gaze, strangely compassionate, rested on Emma. "Perhaps you'd like to come with us, Miss Rittmeister, and make sure I'm not eaten alive." The young girl, old enough to be susceptible to his charm, blushed furiously, and nodded. They swarmed off in a pack, surrounding their taller cousin as they walked.
"Thad has always been good with children," Hugh said thoughtfully, naïve like most fathers about the inner working of a daughter's mind.
Captain Rhett Butler, who was not naïve, flashed his expanse of impossibly white teeth. "Indeed," he drawled, with obvious amusement.
Scarlett, who knew him longer, noticed the twinkle in his eyes. She shook her head, as if to rid her ear of buzzing flies, and gestured to Hugh. "Do come inside, Mr. Rittmeister, and freshen up! Belle has tea prepared for us in the drawing room. She will not thank us if we keep her waiting, for she has baked scones especially for today."
If Hugh was aware of Rhett Butler's past relationship with Thad's mother, and thus marveled at the affection in Scarlett's voice, he hid his sentiments admirably.
"Do call me Hugh," he said, with unplanned and unforced affability. "After all, we are such old friends. "
"Scarlett," she immediately replied, and her smile held the full blast of her charm. Hugh blinked. He watched her walk a half-stride in front of him, and achieved an entirely impartial admiration for the sway of her hips.
They entered the house through the front terrace. The French doors of the drawing room had been thrown open, and he caught the scent of tea and freshly baked scones. A tall, plump woman, in a dusky blue morning dress, stood to greet them. They were not strangers: Hugh had met Belle Watling on previous visits to the Ranch, and she had always treated him with the same shy deference she treated all of Thad's genteel acquaintances.
She now bade them sit down, as tongue-tied in his presence as ever, but the girl's lively chatter about their trip to the city did not allow for awkward pauses.
"How was the ball, my love," Scarlett asked Rose, a dreamy tone in her voice, as the glories of balls past paraded in front of her eyes.
"It was…. nice," said her daughter, noncommittally.
"Nice!" Scarlett ejaculated, rolling her eyes. "Well! I admit I wonder at you sometimes, my dear. I am very glad you are engaged already!" With that cryptic utterance, she dug enthusiastically into her scone, licking the cream off her fork with relish.
In the light filtering through the terrace doors, Hugh saw mother and daughter side by side for the first time. They made an arresting picture, and while he was forced to acknowledge the classical perfection of Rose's features, he could not help but feel that Captain Butler had drawn the more palatable prize.
Indeed, had Belle Watling only known it, she would have found in him a detractor of the lovely Rose Butler almost as ferocious as herself. Like most men, Hugh did not appreciate irony in a female, and despite their brief acquaintance he already suspected vast and untapped reservoirs of mockery beneath those deceptively sweet corn-flower blue eyes. He also, perhaps more justly, made assumptions about her deeper nature as he watched her bump against a table, and topple over a water glass.
"Rose," Scarlett admonished, with something like embarrassed laughter. Rose mumbled an apology, but her face remained impassive, bearing not even a flush of maidenly red. It was not haughtiness, although it bore its mask, nor was it precisely arrogance, although Hugh could not have known that. Belle Watling looked at once smug, and helpless. It was, after all, not her place to speak out.
Thad, who had just entered the room with Emma, wordlessly took in the scene, turned around, reentering shortly after with a stack of towels. He handed one to Rose, a practiced, unconscious movement, and Hugh wondered how many water glasses had met a similar fate over the years, and had been dealt with with the same quiet efficiency.
His eyes went to Charlotte, who was standing at the far side of the room, and almost involuntarily, he smiled. She was laughing at something that Ella had said, and good-naturedly trying to include Emma in their conversation. She was a tall, busty girl, without her cousin's harmonious features, but she moved with all the grace Rose lacked. If one could look past her somewhat over-sized nose, she possessed pretty blue eyes, and thick golden hair that caught the light. She was not delicate, but like Scarlett she would age well, probably looking much the same twenty years hence. Hugh felt he wouldn't mind looking at her for the rest of his life.
Charlotte must have felt his gaze, unused as she was to have a man's eye on her for long. She gave him a half-smile that showed him how unsure she was of his intentions, although they were as straight-forward as they were simple. He needed a wife, and what he had seen of Thad's fair-haired cousin told him she would answer nicely.
"I hope you are enjoying the view," Charlotte said, making a valiant attempt at polite conversation. She gestured to the panorama beyond the window. "One can see all the way to the top of the hills from right here!"
"As a matter of fact, I am enjoying the view," Hugh laughed, winking at her in a mildly suggestive manner. Young Scarlett would have tossed her head to make her earrings dance, and murmured fiddle-dee-dee. Charlotte blushed. Men did not flirt often with her, it appeared, which was his good fortune.
Outwardly, however, he sobered quickly. "My apologies. I did not mean to embarrass you, my lady."
She blushed more fiercely. "Oh no," she cried, with that quick sense of justice he had witnessed at the ball. "It is not that! It is just …..men do not often say such things to me." This was said in a straight-forward manner, and simply meant to convey information, not to garner sympathy.
Hugh found her artlessness charming, and he wondered if the eligible swains of Charleston were really such fools. Then again, his very discerning friend had also fallen for her younger cousin. He smiled at her again, this time more fully. She was looking back at him as if she found him handsome, and like any young man, he reveled in it.
Unfortunately, he had little time to indulge the feeling. A shadow falling on them both heralded the advent of her uncle, who had stepped to join their small group. Once more, Hugh admired the force of Captain Butler's presence, and then cursed it, as it soon became clear he was being exhaustively assessed as to his intentions and his prospects. It also became clear that "joint interest in a few silver mines" or "trading in the stock market" was much too vague to satisfy the man. After being figuratively turned up-side down, shaken and wacked with a carpet-beater for the most minute details, he was sure Captain Butler could make an accurate guess as to his net worth down to the last few dollars, recite his domiciles and his holdings, his connections and his prospects, and account for almost every minute of how he spent his days. There was only one thing Hugh managed to keep from him, and even that, he felt, was merely a courtesy that would be investigated further.
Then the man smiled, apparently satisfied for now, and moved on to social pleasantries.
"Nevada," Captain Butler repeated. "I believe I have met your father, once or twice. An admirable man, if somewhat eccentric."
Hugh laughed, "Eccentric" was certainly a term that applied to his father. "And of course you knew my mother," he added.
"Indeed," Captain Butler replied, genially. "And we are looking forward to seeing your aunt again as well. We have been gone too long."
And with that, he released them.
Charlotte smiled apologetically after his retreating back. "Uncle Rhett is…."
Hugh laughed. "It's quite all right. He cares about you, and wants to make clear you are …..protected."
"Fiddle-dee-dee," said Scarlett, coming up from behind her niece. "As if she would need protection from a fine gentleman like you." Her eyes gleamed up at him, and he saw nothing but approval for him in their green depth. He decided there and then that her appeal was that her presence was both invigorating and restful for a man.
Rose, who had also joined them, arched a slender eyebrow. "It is the fine gentlemen we need protection from most, Mother." The tone was humorous, but he resented the studied neutrality of her gaze, so different from her mother's, that warned him that he would be judged on his merits, and that judgment was still pending.
He felt morally justified in his dislike. He saw her reserve as miserly, that she was guarding her affections. It was unworthy of a young girl, who should feel charity towards all of mankind, or so he told himself.
"'Tis a good thing, then," called Thad, who was pouring tea on the other side of the room, "that you are to marry me."
Rose half-turned. She had few child-like traits left, and none of them were observable in company. "You are fine enough," she told him, as he advanced towards her with a cup and a saucer. "And if you made that cup of tea for me, I will challenge any and all who dare cast doubts on your breeding."
With that, she took the cup out of his hands, raising it to her lips, a distinct challenge in her eyes.
Thad shook his head at her, and threw a pointed glance at Scarlett. "Not even wed, and already I am under the cat's foot." He made a poor attempt at looking appropriately put-upon, as he went to fetch himself another cup.
Hugh watched them. Fetching the towel had been natural, fetching the teacup was ….not precisely theatre, but he was still left with the impression of impassionate but inexperienced young actors practicing the first scenes of a new role.
All in all, it had been a good day, and it was entirely his own fault that it went awry. It did not happen during lunch, which was warm and boisterous and familiar. Nor during tea-time, which picked up on the light mood set earlier, and he had the pleasure of making Charlotte laugh several times. No, it was later in the afternoon, when the two couples had taken their walk about the Ranch, visited the bobcat, and then gathered around the corral to watch Thad break in a two-year-old colt.
It was a spirited young animal, and it this was only its second or third time under a saddle. The colt attempted to rear on its hind legs, it attempted a crab-walk to the side, and, failing to dislodge its rider, tried dashing across the corral at full speed. The on-lookers were silent, knowing that calls of encouragement would further spook the horse. But there where smiles on the girls' faces, because it was a lovely horse, and Thad's looks were always at their best in motion. It was then that the bile rose in Hugh's throat.
"Handsome, isn't he," he said to the blonde girl beside him, with barely controlled snideness.
Charlotte, who was nothing if not forthright, did not demure. "Oh yes!" she said, thinking perhaps he was as possessive of his friend's beauty as she was of Rose's. "I'm sure there is few men who surpass him for looks."
The anger accelerated to a crescendo, and then peaked. "Then you must make haste. There is time, yet, to divert his attentions from your cousin."
Charlotte gaped at him, uncomprehending. He knew, on an instinctual level, that the accusation had been vastly unfair, but he could not stop himself. As in slow motion, he watched the humiliation in her face turn to fury.
"Oh," she cried loudly, heedless of the horse, "how could you?" She raised her hand, and slapped his cheek soundly, the sound echoing across the hills like a gunshot. Then, obviously horrified at both him and herself, she turned, a sound escaping her chest like a sob. She ran towards the house, her skirts billowing behind her. Hugh watched for only a moment before stalking off in the opposite direction. The gates of the approaching dusk closed behind him.
The colt, who had panicked at the noise, now attempted to unseat his rider in earnest. Thad managed to slide off, and pulled himself over the fence before the frightened animal erupted in a series of bucks and kicks.
"Are you all right?" Rose asked. Her voice was steady. She had not overheard the conversation, but she had witnessed Charlotte's exit, and Thad's struggle. She had not called out in fear.
"I'm unharmed," he said. His eyes fastened on Rose's collarbone, which was laced with tiny beads of sweat, though the afternoon's warmth was fading. Her hand brushed against her neck, with an erasing motion.
"I wonder what happened between them."
"I have no idea." His voice was low, but his tone was not as compassionate as it might have been. It was not just that he had little patience with people who spooked horses. And he was right to be concerned: it was never safe to set a mind like hers wondering just how meaningless her life would become if she lost him.
An hour later the earth had changed its cloak from twilight to night. Captain Rhett Butler made his slow and cautious way amongst the stables. For any onlooker, he seemed to be stepping out merely to catch a whiff of air along with his cigar. The end gleamed red in the darkness as he exhaled grey smoke.
"You needn't worry," came a decorporalized voice, somewhere to the left of the shadows. "I will leave for the train station tonight. As soon as I…"
The older man may have smiled, though his features were masked by smoke and darkness. Instead of answering, he held out his cigar case in silent invitation. After a moment's hesitation, Hugh stepped out into the small circle of light.
After lighting his own ember, and inhaling, he let out the air again in something like a sigh. "I assume Charlotte told you what happened."
"She did her best not to," Captain Butler replied, genially. "However - I have my ways."
Hugh snorted. "Of that, I am sure." There was a strange, almost familiar atmosphere between them, that he did not understand.
"Should you not be berating me?" he asked, almost angrily. As if he was not being given his due.
"I will if you wish," Captain Butler replied, with an amusement that seemed equally misplaced. He took another drag of his cigar. The other man seemed to be waiting for something. And then, finally, it began to make sense.
"You know," he murmured, without rancor. "Did …..Thad tell you?"
Captain Butler laughed. "My nephew is somewhat more resistant to my powers of interrogation than my young niece," he said. "No, I had you investigated, of course. Long before you ever set foot on this threshold." He smiled fully this time. "We care about Charlotte, you see."
"Yes, I see," the younger man said, his voice wavering between resignation and defiance. "What exactly did they tell you? That my young wife ran off with another man, only two years after we married? Leaving me with a one-year old girl to raise on my own?" He tried to keep the emotion out of his voice, but even after all those years, it was still not entirely possible. There was an undesirable waver in his tone. "Did they also tell you their carriage overturned a mere two hours into their flight, sparing me the trouble of bringing them both to earthly justice?" He cast a look into those black eyes, but he was too distraught to try to read the expression. "Did they," he instead continued, almost savagely, "also tell you that the other man was my best friend from childhood? Someone I grew up with …..that I had…..trusted….."
"The report was quite thorough." The words were gentle, but there was no unwanted pity.
"Yes, of course. " The emotion was gone, leaving nothing in its wake. Her face had faded long ago in his mind, leaving behind only mundane adjectives - the grace of her figure, the regularity of her features. She had left them behind like clothes she had outgrown, or withered leaves cast from a tree in springtime.
He groped for a small strand of sense. "But if you know all this already, why…."
"Did I interrogate you at tea-time? Because you expected it, of course. And because I wished to see how forthcoming you would be."
"Of course," Hugh said, with the air of one bested at every turn. He lapsed once more into silence.
"You know, of course, that Charlotte has no interest in Thad," Captain Butler said, conversationally, breaking into his reverie.
"Yes, but…."
"Or vice versa."
Hugh shot him a look, and strangely enough, Captain Butler laughed. "You don't fully trust his attraction to Rose, because you cannot understand it."
Hugh seemed to weigh what to say. After all, this was the girl's father. "Rose is very beautiful," seemed neutral enough.
"Yes, like her mother. And there is a price attached, of course, as there is for most things that are fine on the surface. A woman can try to revel in it, like Scarlett did in her youth, or despise it like Rose, but neither one can change it." The two men blew out smoke together, even though they did not yet see eye to eye. Hugh shifted his weight.
"Don't you see?" Captain Butler said finally, when the silence had begun to stretch, and Hugh had not jumped to fill it. "Thad loved her before she was beautiful. And she loved him before she knew that he came with….. labels. They have no choice but each other, unless they chose to be a canvas and a caricature. It will be daunting, if even his friends can't make sense of it." Another pause, almost like hesitation, and he added, softly, "it is difficult enough to wed fire to fire, and not combust, or run out of air."
Somehow, it seemed as if he were no longer talking only about Rose and Thad.
Suddenly, there was a sense of clarity. "You…."
The black eyes twinkled, this time with self-mockery. "Yes, Yes. I, too lost what I did not have, and regained it through sheer damned luck, and I will be damned if I ever take it for granted again. Now go back in, and apologize to Charlotte, before they send a search party after us."
He patted him on the arm with something like encouragement, before turning, and leaving Hugh once more to his thoughts.
The Snowy Owl watched from the willow tree, as he finally stomped out his cigar, and headed out into the night.