Rhett was already gone when Scarlett rose the next morning. At least she knew where he was now, she thought with a wry smile.
The house seemed very empty without him, and she renewed her efforts to be the busiest woman in Atlanta. She visited the lonely and the sick, though not Belle of course. And she found again that bringing pleasure to others brought pleasure to her also. She visited Aunt Pitty and India while Ashley was out at the mills. She avoided Ashley as much as she could. She could not bear his sympathetic looks. But Aunt Pitty and India behaved as if nothing was amiss, merely enquiring in passing after Captain Butler's health. Scarlett was tempted to reply 'I'd be the last to know, he's living in a brothel', but she held her tongue and answered tactfully and vaguely that she believed him to be well.
When she called on Mrs Meade she happened to catch Dr Meade at home also. She longed to ask him if Belle was really dying and if he had been there lately. She longed to ask after Rhett, but she would not humiliate herself that far. But surely, she thought to herself, Dr Meade knows that Rhett is living there. And her cheeks burned with shame.
Dr Meade was a wise old doctor who had seen much and understood much. He saw her discomfort and guessed the direction of her thoughts. His patients' secrets were of course safe with him, but Rhett was not his patient.
'Scarlett', he said, 'I am concerned about your husband, He is heedless of his own wellbeing. He is drinking heavily and neglecting himself. If you have any influence with him you should encourage him to take more care.'
'Oh Dr Meade', Scarlett responded. She was about to say Rhett would not listen to anything she said and anyway she never saw him, but she caught herself in time and instead mumbled 'Thank you. I will try'.
The first day of February had been wild and stormy. Scarlett was looking forward to getting home after her trip to the store. It was really not good weather to be out in. She would change out of her damp clothing, then curl up in front of the fire with a cup of hot chocolate to warm her frozen fingers, while she waited for dinner to be served.
As she entered the house however, she was surprised to see a man's hat and coat hanging dripping wet in the hall. She paused for a minute to inspect them, hardly daring to hope that they might be Rhett's. She had just come to the conclusion that they did in fact belong to her estranged husband when she heard a cough coming from the library. It was Rhett. 'I hope he is not too drunk today', she thought to herself. Cautiously she opened the library door. Rhett was sitting in his armchair drinking. He did not smile at her but his voice bore her no malice as he addressed her; 'Mrs Butler, as you see, the gentleman of the house is at home. Do come and join me.'
'Hello Rhett', she said. 'How are you?'
'I am tired and pleasantly intoxicated', he answered. He poured a drink and passed it to her as she sat down opposite him. She saw that he did indeed look tired.
'Well I will try not to spoil your pleasant evening', she smiled.
'I did not say I was having a pleasant evening Scarlett, I said I was pleasantly intoxicated, which is not the same thing.'
'Oh', she said, and her brow wrinkled as she tried to grasp his implication.
Rhett took another swig of brandy. He coughed again, and it was a deep, rattly cough. Scarlett suddenly remembered Dr Meade's warning, and she looked at him carefully. 'Are you unwell, Rhett?', she asked.
'No, it's a slight cough, that is all', he replied. 'But I am very tired. Belle was buried today and it has not been easy. I will sleep well tonight and then I will leave in the morning.'
He pushed himself out of the chair and headed for the door. He paused there and turned. 'Goodnight Madam', he said formally, and Scarlett was left alone as he headed up the stairs.
Rhett did sleep well that night but he did not leave in the morning. He found himself even more tired the next day than he had been the previous evening. He announced that he had postponed his departure to the following morning, and proceded to spend the day at home drinking. His cough grew worse and the following night his sleep was restless, disturbed by bouts of coughing which were heard all over the house.
The next morning Rhett did not get up. His manservant reported that he was more unwell. Scarlett doubted that he would want to see her, but she was worried about him, so she went and stood outside his door. It was so unlike Rhett to be sick. In all the years she had known him she did not recall him having so much as a head cold. Cautiously she peeped in. He was lying propped up on pillows, with his eyes closed. His forehead was beaded in perspiration and his breathing was fast and shallow. He must have sensed her presence, for he opened his eyes and turned his head towards her.
'Rhett, you are unwell', she said, as she cautiously approached his bed.
'An unfortunate fact', he replied flatly.
'Dr Meade said you would get unwell because you haven't been looking after yourself.'
'Indeed', he answered.
They studied each other in silence for a few moments. There was something discomforting to Scarlett to see Rhett looking so helpless. This Rhett had no strength to argue with her or to shelter and protect her. He had nothing, in fact to give her. On the contrary, she realised with a shock that he needed her to be strong for him.
But he was a proud man, she thought with a sigh, he would never admit to his need.
'Rhett', she pleaded, 'let me look after you. I am a good nurse'.
He smiled weakly. 'You, a good nurse!' he mocked. 'You were the most reluctant nurse in all Atlanta'.
'Well, maybe,' she acknowledged, with a rueful smile. 'But I couldn't abide that nasty war hospital and all those moaning soldiers with bits missing. It was all just too terrible'. She shuddered at the memory.
'Yes', he responded. 'Well at least I still have all my bits'. And he smiled at her again, the little half smile that she knew so well. She had not seen him smile like that for so long she almost forgot he was unwell. But then he had another bout of coughing and expectorated some thick green sputum onto his hankerchief and she was brought back to reality. He leaned back onto his pillows weakly and gasped, 'There, I bet you are disgusted and want to leave now.'
'Do you want me to leave?' she asked softly. He looked at her for a long time, and she held his gaze. 'No', he replied at last, almost reluctantly.
And so she stayed, and as she did all those nursing duties that she had done for the Confederate soldiers, she marvelled that it was not a chore to do those same things for Rhett. She gladly sponged his brow, and gave him cool water to drink, and helped him change into a clean nightgown, and plumped up his pillows for him. When he slept, she sat patiently at his bedside, and when he woke she smiled at him tenderly.
In the evening he was restless and seemed agitated. When he asked again for a drink Scarlett held up the glass of water to his lips, but he turned his head away. 'Please Scarlett, get me some brandy'.
Scarlett hesitated. Dr Meade had said that Rhett drank too much, and it was bad for him. She wasn't sure it was the best thing for an invalid. But Rhett pressed her; 'Please Scarlett, I really need a drink, please get me a little brandy'. She relented, because she wanted to please him, and as the warming liquid passed his lips he seemed to relax and she felt that maybe she had done the right thing. He slept for a little after that, but his sleep was punctuated by a hacking cough and his breath came in short rapid gasps.
That night Scarlett made her bed in Rhett's room, on the mattress which had been Bonnie's. Some time in the early hours of the morning she woke to the sound of the bed rattling. She sat up and reached out towards Rhett. He was shivering violently and his teeth were chattering, but his skin was burning hot to touch. 'Rhett?' she whispered. 'I am so cold', he murmured in reply, 'so cold'. 'But you feel hot Rhett', she said with alarm, 'You have a raging fever'.
And then he whispered, so quietly that she almost thought she had imagined it 'Hold me Scarlett, I am so cold'. Slowly she came towards him. It had been so long since they had shared a bed, she wondered if he really meant it. She half expected him to flinch at her touch again and turn away as he had at Christmas, but he lay in her arms shivering without protest. Gradually the shivering subsided and he drifted off to sleep again. Scarlett lay still, afraid to move lest she disturb him. How wonderful it was to be curled up next to Rhett.
The next morning Rhett was even more unwell. He had a high fever and was agitated and confused. His eyes darted around the room and he appeared to be hallucinating. His breathing was more laboured and he coughed frequently, though more weakly than before. Scarlett sent urgently for Dr Meade.
Dr Meade was grave. 'Scarlett, Captain Butler is extremely unwell. It is as I had feared, he has let himself get so run down that pneumonia has taken hold. He has a severe case, and is also suffering from acute alcohol withdrawal. I will leave you this draught for him which you must administer whenever he is agitated. It will help to calm him. I will call again tomorrow.'
Scarlett thanked the doctor and saw him out. Rhett was very agitated when she returned, calling out and trying to climb out of bed. It was all she could do to get him to take a teaspoon of the draught Dr Meade had left. Finally he lay calmly again and Scarlett dozed in a chair.
She woke some time later to hear Rhett shouting 'Let me go, let me go', as he struggled against three servants who were trying to administer his draught. 'Let him go', she ordered sharply, and as they did so he fell back at once into his pillows, exhausted. Then she coaxed him to swallow the draught, and he drifted off to sleep.
For the next two days Scarlett did not leave his side. Dr Meade came again and said there was nothing more to be done. Rhett raged incoherently for the most part, tossing and turning, trembling and sweating. At times he seemed to believe he was blockade running or back in the last days of the war. He would shout such things as 'Quick, man the guns' or 'Look out, we've been seen' or 'Hide the gold man' or just, 'Run, run'. He would look alarmed and Scarlett would hasten to administer the draught. Once he cried out 'No Bonny, no', then mumbled 'dark, dark' over and over as he thrashed around in the bed. At other times he would say women's names. 'I'm sorry Letitia', or 'Mary, Mary', or 'Oh Julia'. He mentioned a great many women's names, and some were foreign and strange to Scarlett's ears, like Mireille and Chantal and Madeleine. Sometimes he wept, and called Scarlett's name over and over. And often he called for Belle. 'Hold me Belle', he would say, 'I can't bear it any longer.' Through it all, Scarlett sat by his side, wiping his fevered brow, giving him water, holding his hand and saying 'Hush, Rhett, I am here'.
On the seventh day of his illness the raging stopped, and he lay still and pale. His breathing was fast and shallow and there were dark shadows under his eyes. He did not respond at all to those around him, and Scarlett was afraid. She had seen men die of pneumonia in the hospital and they had looked just like this. Dr Meade came and confirmed her fears. 'He is close to death Scarlett', he said. 'I fear he will not survive the night'. Then he added 'but if he is still alive in the morning he may pull through'.
That night Scarlett lay in the dark listening to his breathing. Every so often it would pause and Scarlett would sit up in alarm, waiting for the next breath. As the pauses became more frequent she went to him and brushed his face gently with her hand. 'Rhett', she whispered softly, 'Rhett, please don't leave me'. He did not respond.
Becoming desperate, she slapped his cheek hard. 'Rhett Butler', she yelled at him, 'don't you dare take the easy way out. Fight Rhett, fight for your life. Don't be such a coward. There's plenty of life left in you yet. I refuse to let you die. Fight! Come back to me!' His eyelids flickered slightly, but he gave no other sign of having heard her. However after that his breathing was more regular, and in the morning he was still alive.
From then on he gradually improved. The fever subsided, the breathing became less laboured. He still slept a lot, but he had periods of alertness, in which his eyes followed Scarlett as she moved around the room.
One day after she had plumped up his pillows for him he leaned back into them gratefully and said 'Thank you for your kindness Scarlett. You have been very kind to me and I do not deserve it.'
'Nonsense Rhett', she replied.
'Don't ever be afraid to be kind my dear. All truly great people are kind'.
Finally the day came when he was well enough to sit up in a chair.
'Scarlett', he said, as they sat together on the balcony outside his room, 'I fear I have imposed on your hospitality long enough. I will go to my mother's house in Charleston to complete my convalescence.'
'Don't be silly Rhett', she responded. 'This is your home. You needn't run away.'
'Ah, but I must, all the same', he answered, not looking at her. He leaned back and took a puff of his cigar, then was seized by a bout of coughing.
When he had recovered his breath, Scarlett said 'Rhett, you wouldn't make it to the front door, you can't possibly go to Charleston'.
But he responded firmly, 'I will go to Charleston Scarlett, as soon as I can walk to the front door'. 'Also', he added after a short pause, 'I must request that you respect the privacy of my bedroom'.
Scarlett felt his words like a physical blow. She took a few moments to compose herself before asking quietly 'Do you still dislike me so much Rhett?'.
Rhett sighed, then replied with studied nonchalence; 'Scarlett, my dear, you are even now such a charming innocent. Explanations are so tedious, but I see that I must explain. Firstly, I must point out that I have never professed dislike towards you, merely indifference. And now I find myself in a position of weakness, quite unable to defend myself again your charms. I am fearful of losing my heart to you again, and so I must remove myself until I am strong enough to withstand temptation.'
'Oh', she answered, and her mouth made a little 'o' as she tried to decide whether she should be pleased or upset at this news. He was still attracted to her, but he was afraid to love her!
'But Rhett', she responded, 'Don't be afraid. I would do anything for you'.
'Anything Scarlett?' His eyebrows rose and his lips curved up slightly. 'That is a generous offer. I may take you up on that sometime, but for now all I ask is that you let me go'.
'But Rhett, that's the hardest thing you could ask of me.'
'You just said you would do anything for me. But I see you didn't mean it', he smirked.
'Oh very well then, go to your mother's. But don't forget you promised to come back from time to time'.
'Yes I intend to, when I am stronger.'
'Wade misses you', she said suddenly. Rhett avoided her gaze and took another puff on his cigar.
'Yes', he replied eventually, and she wondered what he meant.
They lapsed into silence then, each lost in their own thoughts.
Scarlett thought first of Wade, and how disappointed he would be that Rhett was leaving again so soon, before he was well enough to spend time with him. She was disappointed herself too of course. Rhett was still far from well. But once his mind was made up there was no reasoning with him. She sighed. How lonely she would be without him. But at least he had promised to come back, and even better, he had admitted that he was still attracted to her.
Rhett was thinking how beautiful she was in the afternoon sun, and what a change had come over her since she let go of her childish obsession with Ashley Wilkes. Could he trust his heart to her again? He still carried the pain of all the previous hurt she had inflicted on him. She could be so cruel. He decided he was a fool to be attracted to her. He was like a moth foolishly drawn to a flame who kept returning to be injured again. He felt so tired. Yes, he needed to get away.
Three days later Rhett took his departure. He moved like an old man as he bent carefully to hug Ella goodbye. 'Goodbye Uncle Rhett' she said in her high pitched girly voice. He seemed to her so unlike his usual self that she was a little afraid of him. Wade stood next to his sister. Rhett pretended not to notice the tears in his eyes as he gave him a manly handshake and a pat on the back. 'Goodbye Wade, look after your mother for me while I am away', he said seriously. 'Yes, sir', Wade responded, and his shoulders went back proudly.
Scarlett accompanied him to the station. His forehead was beaded with perspiration by the time he was settled in the railway carriage. He was panting and his face was grey. He leaned back against the seat and shut his eyes for a moment, then opened them again to see Scarlett appraising him anxiously.
'Don't look so stricken my dear', he said, between breaths. 'I am perfectly well enough to sit all day in a railway carriage. Please smile for me'. She raised her eyebrows skeptically without smiling.
Just then the train whistle blew.
'Well goodbye then', he said roughly. Scarlett placed her hand over his and said softly, 'Good bye Rhett, take care'. Then she did smile at him, but it was a sorrowful smile, full of longing for him and pain at his leaving. He flicked his hand to motion her away, and she left.