As Christmas drew near and the weather became steadily colder, Scarlett busied herself with whatever she could. She was always the first to volunteer for any committee or project that would keep her from her dark, empty house. On Mondays the Atlanta Ladies Musical Club met in her home, on Tuesdays she attended the weekly meeting of the Society for the Beautification of the Graves of our Glorious Dead. On Wednesdays she went visiting, and on Thursdays she visited the store. On Fridays she played bridge, and Saturdays she spent with the children. Sundays she devoted to letter writing. She wrote to her aunts every week, and also to Will and Suellen at Tara. Sometimes she wrote to other county folk like the Old and Young Misses, and the Tarleton girls. Once she even wrote to Cathleen Calvert. She wrote to Rhett every Sunday too, but she never posted those letters. She knew he did not want to hear from her, and she did not wish to irritate him. She always burnt her letters to Rhett as soon as she had written them, but somehow she felt better for having written them.

She planned an elaborate Christmas celebration at her home. There was an enormous Christmas tree which she and the children had spent a whole day decorating. And there were wreaths and Nativity scenes and gay streamers. She had invited Aunt Pitty, India, Ashley and Beau, and they had actually accepted her invitation! Scarlett was determined that everything should be perfect for their first Christmas without Melly.

Finally Christmas day arrived. Scarlett greeted her guests warmly. Aunt Pitty was effusive in her thanks for Scarlett's hospitality and bubbling with childlike excitement. Beau said 'Hello Aunt Scarlett, thank you for having us' then ran off immediately to find Wade. Ashley and India stood with quiet dignity. Scarlett thought that they both looked rather pale and joyless, but then, the Wilkes were a pale lot, and they had had a difficult year. She clasped one of their hands in each of hers and said 'How kind of you to come, do come and warm yourselves by the fire'.

The servants had worked all day to prepare a magnificent eight course feast.

As the evening wore on, the guests became progressively more relaxed and happy with every course. The wine was excellent, and when they reached dessert, Ashley stood to his feet to propose a toast. 'To our dear Scarlett, may you always be surrounded by loving friends', he said. 'To Scarlett', the others echoed, as they drank her health.

'And now let's drink to the new year, may it be better than the last one', Scarlett responded. 'I'll drink to that', Ashley replied with a sad smile.

Then India stood to her feet. I would like to propose a toast too', she announced. 'To absent friends'. There was a brief pause as they each thought of all the loved ones no longer with them; especially they thought of Melly, whose ghost seemed very close at that moment. And Scarlett thought of Rhett.

'To absent friends', they all murmured as they clinked their glasses together.

At that moment there was a loud crash in the hall. They looked at each other in alarm. 'It's probably just a servant dropped something', said Scarlett lightly. 'Excuse me for a moment'. But as she rose to her feet, the dining room door swung open and Rhett staggered in, looking very drunk, unshaven and disshevelled.

'Well, well, what a pretty scene', he slurred. 'Good evening Mr Wilkes, ladies.' He removed his hat and attempted a somewhat unsteady bow.

'Hello Rhett', said Scarlett levelly. She was shocked at his appearance. Her heart thumped forcefully in her chest. She glared at him, embarrassed that he would show himself in such a state, annoyed at him for disrupting her party, and afraid of what he may do next.

'Oh dear me', trilled Aunt Pitty nervously, 'Oh dear dear me', and then she swooned. India busied herself in an attempt to revive her with smelling salts.

Ashley rose slowly to his feet. 'Good evening Captain Butler', he responded. 'We have had a very pleasant evening, but now it is late and we must be going. I hope we will see you again soon.' He turned to Scarlett. 'Thank you my dear, it was most enjoyable. Please be so kind as to call for our carriage.'

After she had farewelled her guests, Scarlett hurried back to the dining room to find Rhett. He was sitting at the table, head in his hands, but he looked up at her entrance.

Scarlett's green eyes flashed angrily; 'Rhett, why did you have to do that? It is Christmas Rhett, in case you hadn't noticed, Christmas! And I had gone to a lot of trouble to make sure that Melly's family had a pleasant evening. We were having such a lovely time until you came and ruined it. How could you?'

Rhett glared at her darkly, then he got up and started to pace up and down the room in an agitated manner. Suddenly he turned and snarled at her 'I wouldn't expect you to understand. You've never understood'. And he gave the dining table an angry shove. The remains of the dessert went crashing to the floor along with all the cutlery and crockery. Jelly whip and cream splattered on the wallpaper. Scarlett jumped back, narrowly avoiding getting her toes caught under the edge of the table as it fell.

Rhett surveyed the chaos then sat down abruptly on the floor with his head in his hands, back against the wall. Scarlett studied him. Where was his biting repartee, his witty cutdown? He was clearly intoxicated, but she had seen him intoxicated before, and he had not looked like this. He looked . . .defeated. At that realisation her heart went out to him, her anger melting away. Cautiously she knelt before him. 'Rhett, what's wrong?', she whispered as she reached towards his arm. But he flinched as her finger tips grazed his forearm. 'Don't touch me', he growled irritably, turning from her.

She stepped away from him and sank onto a dining chair. She did not move then. She hardly breathed. She wanted so much to go to him, but he didn't want her and she didn't want to make him leave.

After a long time Rhett raised his head and ran his fingers through his hair.

'Forgive me Scarlett, I am not myself tonight,' he said in a quiet, carefully controlled voice. 'I am exceedingly drunk, as you have no doubt noticed. Shall I tell you why?' Scarlett nodded wordlessly. 'Belle is dying. She has not been well for a while and …' He looked away briefly and then rushed on 'and I have been caring for her. Dr Meade came today. He said she has a tumour. There is no hope. And she is in such awful pain I cannot bear it'. He looked at her then, a wild, hurting look.

Scarlett breathed in and out, in and out. Carefully controlled breaths, as she digested this news. Rhett had been in town for goodness knows how long, with Belle, and she hadn't known! She was hurt at that, despite herself. But Belle was dying. That brought her guilty pleasure. She had always resented Belle for being better at loving Rhett than she had been. Maybe without Belle to turn to there was a chance Rhett might come back to her.

She looked at him again. She had never seen him look so unhappy. and she saw then, with a heavy heart, how deeply he cared for Belle. Grimly she acknowledged to herself that Belle had been more of a wife to him than she had ever been. Belle had comforted him and loved him when she herself had rejected him. But soon, she reminded herself, Belle would be dead. Her mind raced as she considered how best to respond, in a way that would be best for Rhett and win his respect. She wanted to tell him to stay away from that whore, but she knew he would take no heed of her.

'Ah Rhett', she sighed eventually, 'you must be strong. She has always been there for you. You must be there for her.'

Rhett frowned in an effort to focus his befuddled brain to make sense of her words, so unexpected were they. She studied him in return, and was reminded how very intoxicated he was. She added hastily, 'But not tonight. Tonight you need to sleep. Tomorrow you must go to her. I will get Pork to help you to bed'.

She walked to the door, then turned and said, 'It is good to see you. I have missed you'. She summoned Pork and then walked gracefully up the stairs, chin up and back straight. Silent tears coursed down her cheeks unchecked, as she cried for her ruined dinner party, for her ruined marriage, and for her husband's suffering.