Chapter II
Scarlett loved Twelve Oaks even more than Tara... On the porch steps stood John Wilkes, silver-haired, erect, radiating the quiet charm and hospitality that was as warm and never failing as the sun of Georgia summer...
... Gerald was out of his seat and off down the driveway before the carriage had stopped moving, greeting their ever-smiling hosts before moving in the direction of the card tables. Scarlett's eager eyes scanned the crowd for Ashley, but he was not on the porch. There were Stu and Brent Tarleton, Alex and Tony Fontaine, Dimity Munroe and the two Calvert boys, so many friends and beaux, but no Ashley.
Worst still, nobody seemed to have noticed the arrival of the party from Tara and with Scarlett looking so fetching in a dress that really wasn't suitable for morning wear! A pretty scowl crossed her features. She'd fought Mammy tooth and nail to be allowed to wear the green muslin; she could barely breathe laced as tightly as she was! And now not a single one of her beaux was there to admire how well she looked. Scarlett barely restrained the urge to stamp her feet in frustration.
Behind her, Scarlett heard Suellen preen and resisted the urge to slap her dowdy face. As it was, Scarlett couldn't hold back a role of her eyes, for approaching was Suellen's only beau, Frank Kennedy. Uncharitably, Scarlett thought she would rather have no beaux at all then have plain, fussy, old Frank Kennedy play court to her. To be sure, he owned more land than anybody in the County, but that couldn't make up for the fact he was forty, slight and skittish and forever perpetrated the nervous airs of an old maid.
Still, Scarlett grinned vindictively as Frank paused on his way to the carriage, she would have the last laugh. For their was no doubt in her mind, in anybody's mind, that Frank was on his way to Suellen, but, with nobody to hand Scarlett down, he'd be forced to do the gentlemanly thing and attend the eldest O'Hara daughter first. Scarlett barely resisted the urge to stick her tongue out at her measly sister in malicious triumph.
Oh to be attended by Frank Kennedy though! Would the ignominy never end?
Scarlett silently resolved to be as courteous as she could. Mammy and Ellen had spent her entire life impressing upon her the behaviour expected of a lady, and though Scarlett had always attended and was, at the surface, every inch the young miss, nothing could overcome her Irish heart and naturally unladylike impulses.
So lost was she in her malicious thoughts, she missed the approach of a second gentleman alongside Mr. Kennedy.
"Miss Scarlett?" The nervous stammer of Frank Kennedy called her attention. "Please allow me to present Mr. Rhett Butler."
Scarlett's eyes snapped to the stranger beside Mr. Kennedy and she blushed long and deep, immediately feeling that her dress was too low in the bosom. The stranger was staring at her in a coolly impertinent way that left embarrassment and feminine pleasure mingling in contrast in her mind. He looked quite old, thirty-five perhaps; he was a tall man, heavily built, bulky in the shoulders, but tapering to a small waist and absurdly small feet in varnished boots. She had never seen a man with such wide shoulders, so heavy with muscles, almost too heavy for gentility. He was dressed in the clothes of a dandy, a contrast to his body, which was powerful and latently dangerous in its lazy grace. He was dark of face, swarthy as a pirate, and his eyes were as bold and black as any pirate's. His hair was jet black, his black moustache small and closely clipped. He had an air of utter assurance and insolence about him, his every movement proclaiming that he was a man of lusty and unashamed appetites.
When her eye caught his, he smiled, showing animal-white teeth. There was a cool recklessness in his face and a cynical humour about his mouth and, as his smile widened, Scarlett caught her breath.
"Charmed I'm sure," she murmured, quite cross with the breathless quality to her voice.
"I'm sure," he responded sardonically.
Immediately, Scarlett felt cross. Why, she was unsure. She was unused to being treated in such a way by a man and if she had met him anywhere else she would have thought him quite ill bred. There was an undeniable look of good blood in his dark face, outlined by his thin hawk nose, over full red lips and wide-set eyes and Scarlett told herself that no man that couldn't be trusted would be found at Twelve Oaks that day. All the while her every instinct screamed that this man was dangerous to her.
"May I, Miss O'Hara?" The man called Rhett Butler bowed low, almost mockingly so, before extending his hand to assist her descent from the carriage. He grinned at her then and his gaze went over her in a look blatantly devoid of the deference she was accustomed to.
"He looks as if he knows what I look like without my shimmy!" Scarlett thought to herself, resisting the urge to tug on the neckline of her gown. Still, she wasn't Katie Scarlett O'Hara for nothing and, with a toss of her head, extended her gloved hand to this dangerous stranger, allowing him to hand her out of the carriage and wrap her arm about his elbow to lead her up the front porch steps.
"Well done," he murmured to her with a wry grin. "For a moment there, I thought you were going to throw me off and jump from that carriage yourself.
"Oh!" Scarlett exclaimed. Hateful man! Secretly though, she delighted at his teasing. How unusual to not be deferred to by a man! How utterly perplexing.
"Oh?" He echoed, with raised brows. "Have you anything to add Miss O'Hara?"
"What brings you to Clayton County Mr. Butler?" She asked, smiling saccharinely while internally gnashing her teeth.
"Bah! A swift deferral," he grinned at her again, leaving Scarlett to blush deeply, far more deeply than was becoming. "Business, as you're so eager to know Miss O'Hara. I've arranged to buy some cotton from your friend Mr. Kennedy."
"Indeed?" She queried absentmindedly, her eyes searching for Ashley as they entered the foyer of the great house.
"Do at least try to attend Miss O'Hara," his dark voice admonished her laughingly. "Shall I better hold your attention if I ask after your beaux? Though they all seem to be lacking, leaving you to my attentions for all this time."
"Why you... how dare... Mr. Butler you are rude!" Scarlett spluttered, though he spoke nothing but the truth, for not a single one of the young bucks that normally danced attendance upon her was to be seen at that moment.
"Undoubtedly so, my dear," he grinned sardonically; his eyes sweeping her body again in a gaze that made her skin break out in gooseflesh.
"Miss Scarlett," a soft, melodic voice called her name.
Scarlett turned and found herself face to face with Charles Hamilton. He was a nice looking boy with a riot of soft brown curls on his white forehead and eyes deep brown, as clean and gentle as a collie dogs. He was well turned out in the most fashionable of gentlemen's garments and blushing profusely, as he was shy with girls. He was Melanie Hamilton's brother, but, in that moment Scarlett could have forgiven him anything; he was exactly what Scarlett needed in order to escape the insufferable Mr. Rhett Butler.
"Why Charles Hamilton, you handsome old thing, you! I'll bet you came all the way down here from Atlanta just to break my poor heart!"
Rhett Butler laughed aloud at the look on poor Charlie Hamilton's face. It was obvious to the much-experienced Rhett Butler that Charles Hamilton was quite overwhelmed by the suddenly vivacious, flirting Miss Scarlett O'Hara.
"Why... Miss Scarlett... I..."
"Now, you wait right here till I come back, for I want to eat barbecue with you. And don't you run off with any other girl or I'll be mighty jealous!"
"I won't," he managed, his heart beating wildly as she tapped her fan on his arm, fluttered her lashes at him and made for the staircase.
The sound of Rhett Butler's mocking laugh followed her all the way up the stairs.
In the bedroom where the wrappers were laid, Cathleen Calvert and the Munroe girls lay waiting to besiege her.
"Darling, what where you doing with that nasty Butler man?" Cathleen exclaimed, taking her hands and pulling her further into the bedroom. "Don't you know?"
"Why, of course I know," Scarlett tossed her head impertinently, though truly, she had no idea what Cathleen was speaking of.
"Scarlett, your father will be fit to be tied," Sally whispered, pressing Scarlett's hand in her own. "You're lucky he didn't see you!"
"Pa couldn't care a whist about idle gossip," Scarlett leaned forward to pinch her cheeks in the mirror, now really curious as to the scandal surrounding the man she'd just met. "And I've agreed to eat barbecue with him this afternoon, and you'll see, Pa won't have a word to say about it."
It was a lie, but now that her curiosity was engaged, Scarlett would not be denied. Surely it would not be difficult to convince that rogue to eat with her. Her promise from only moments before of eating with Charles Hamilton was completely forgotten.
"Scarlett you are daring!" Dimity sighed, plucking at the sleeves of her sunshine yellow gown in an attempt to expose more of her arms. "And no matter what he might have done in Charleston, you must admit, he's ever so handsome."
"Those shoulders," Cathleen tittered.
"That waist," Sally sighed.
"That mouth!" Scarlett exclaimed.
Sally, Dimity and Cathleen exchanged significant glances.
"Oh Scarlett, you're not really to eat barbecue with him are you?" Cathleen asked. "It's sure to be the scandal of the year if you do."
"Fiddle dee dee!" Scarlett cried. "You watch me eat barbecue with him Cathleen Calvert."
"Don't argue with her Cathy," Sally advised. "If Scarlett's determined to have this Butler man for herself, at least the County boys might have eyes for us!"
"Oh girls," Scarlett giggled, secretly pleased and feeling unusually charitable. "You just tell me who you want and I'll be sending them right your way, never fear!"
It was with all the determination of Caesar marching on the Spaniards that Scarlett made her way to eat barbecue that afternoon. Unlike her arrival at Twelve Oaks, her beaux had swarmed in order to position themselves to eat with her and with the practiced ease of a long time flirt, Scarlett managed to deflect them all.
"Oh Brent," she'd whispered, fluttering her fan and batting her eyelashes coquettishly. "You know I'd simply adore to sit with you above all things, but my poor baby sister... be a dear and eat with her won't you?"
It pained Scarlett to watch her beaux so easily defect from her, even as the eyes of her sister and the other County girls lit up as the gentlemen paid court to them. And all at her suggestion!
The one man whose attention she truly wanted hadn't so much as looked her way. Ashley spent his time with Melanie, sitting at a stool by her feet, talking quietly with her and smiling Scarlett's favourite smile. Beyond greetings, they'd exchanged nary a word. Oddly enough though, Scarlett seemed to have forgotten him, consumed as she was by her goal to eat barbecue with the handsome and scandalous Rhett Butler.
The barbecue had reached its peak and the warm air was full of laughter and talk, the click of silver on porcelain and the rich heavy smells of roasting meats and gravies. Most of the young ladies (many thanks to Scarlett) were seated with partners on the long benches that faced the laid out tables. Scarlett was not amongst them. Instead, like a general marching into battle, she searched for the Charlstonian devil and wondered how best to get him to play along to her will.
Not quite oblivious to the longing gazes being sent her way, Scarlett's determined gaze swept around the gathered Southerners in search of the one she had decided to favour. And there he was, leaning casually against a tree, one leg propped behind him on the stump, arms crossed across his broad chest as he spoke with Mr. Coomes from Fayetteville.
Determinedly, Scarlett made for him. His eyes were on her, she knew, dancing in a way that mocked her every step, but she could not back down now. Not when she knew that Cathleen and Sally and Dimity and all her beaux were watching. And not before she learnt of the scandal that made him such a persona non grata.
"Why there you are Mr. Butler," she flashed him her most dazzling smile from beneath bonnet and fluttering lashes. "I've not forgotten your promise to eat barbecue with me you know. I'll be quite bereft should you abandon me."
"Shall you my dear?" He asked laconically. "How remiss of me to... forget."
He was mocking her, Scarlett knew, but was powerless to stop it. She'd gone too far now to back down and so instead she threaded her hand through the crook of his elbow, and begged the pardon of the poor, confused Mr. Coomes.
"You're a conniving little minx, aren't you?" Rhett laughed shortly, taking control from Scarlett and steering her towards a little bench, set slightly apart from the crowds and gesturing for a servant to bring them plates. "Used to managing men and girls right and left? Well I'll tell you Madame O'Hara, I'm one man you can't manage."
"How you do run on, Mr. Butler," Scarlett simpered, smiling up at him like he'd delighted her beyond words, aware of the audience they'd garnered. "I so wanted to eat barbecue with you."
"And how admirably you managed to disperse your beaux!" He exclaimed, hand over heart. "You're like a little general, or a Chess Master moving his pawns. You're rather used to everything falling your way aren't you? What I wouldn't give to see you the day you're denied something you want. I should see quite the temper tantrum I'd wager!"
"Ooh, I don't know what you are!" Scarlett exclaimed, losing control of her temper for a moment.
Rhett grinned, white teeth gleaming against tan skin.
"What's a man to think Miss O'Hara?" He clasped his hand to his breast as if wounded. "Earlier you could hardly get away from me fast enough, now you've abandoned poor Mr. Hamilton and left him to his none-too-happy intended."
Scarlett glanced over where Charles and Honey Wilkes sat eating, exchanging scarcely a word between them, neither looking happy at the prospect of a lifetime spent together.
"Come Miss O'Hara and tell the bad man the truth, what have I done to pique your interest of a sudden?"
His expression was wide and invited confidence, his eyes snapping with sincerity and a healthy dose of devilry.
"Cathleen Calvert said... she said I shouldn't be seen with you, she thought I didn't know of well..." Scarlett peeked at her lunch companion from beneath her lashes. "The scandal surrounding you. So I said of course I did and I should eat barbecue with you anyway."
"And do you know?" Rhett raised his brows at her questioningly. "Have you heard from Charleston all the gossip about the big, bad Rhett Butler?"
"Well, no actually," Scarlett admitted, smiling broadly when Rhett roared with laughter.
"Well then my dear Scarlett, let me tell you a story that most certainly isn't fit for your young ears. Do eat up though. I'm sure your Mammy admonished you not to eat more than a sliver in front of gentlemen, but I like a girl with a healthy appetite. There you go, have a biscuit with some gravy. Good girl!"
Scarlett giggled despite herself and, as she reached for a slice of meat, found herself drawn into the hypnotic eyes of the swarthy pirate-like man.
"Well it's as simple as the day is long my dear," Rhett told her easily. "I'm not received."
"Not really!" Scarlett exclaimed, her mouth hanging open, despite a lifetime of admonishments from Mammy not to do so. "What did you do?"
Rhett laughed heartily.
"Straight to the point I see. Well my dear, my faults are numerous, and I haven't the time nor the inclination to relate them all to you now. But, simply put, one afternoon, at the urging of my made-in-the-eyes-of-God father, I took a good girl from a neighbouring family for a ride in my buggy. Somehow, she managed to lose her chaperone and then, calamity of calamities, the buggy crashed and the horse bolted. Well it was after dark by the time we returned home and her family and mine demanded I marry the silly nit. I refused and I was thrown out, never to be granted access to the hallowed parlours of Charleston society again."
"Oh," said Scarlett, her hopes dashed. She had been hoping for a much better story than that. Still, she could imagine the worst for the fool of a girl who tried to trap Rhett Butler into marriage. Had she had a baby? Been sent to live with elderly relatives? Been ruined forever? "What happened to the girl?"
"Nothing so dramatic as what you're hoping I'm sure," Rhett grinned at her disappointment. "She married my younger brother, Ross, when he wasn't man enough to stand against our father."
"Oh how awkward!" Scarlett exclaimed, hand at her throat.
"You would think so my dear, except for the fact that my father has refused my presence in their glorious abode since the day of the incident. I was cast out on my ear, left to make my own fortune with only the dollars in my pocket. And I've rather prospered truth be told."
"She sounds a ninny," Scarlett said aloud, before her brain could keep pace with her mouth. "I'm glad you didn't marry such a fool."
"Bravo Miss O'Hara!" Rhett lay aside his cutlery to applaud her. "I completely agree of course, though not many do. Tell me, have I not shocked you?"
"Oh Mr. Butler, it takes a lot more than that to shock me," Scarlett flirted shamelessly.
"That, my dearest Miss O'Hara, is a challenge no red-blooded man could deny."
Again the look, the one that left her feeling completely bare and shockingly overheated. Blood rushed to her face and Rhett grinned knowingly, almost as if he could hear her heart racing and the blood thrumming through her veins far too quickly.
The gentlemen of the party congregating on Scarlett's father and John Wilkes, all yelling over one another and scrambling to be heard, saved Scarlett the necessity of a reply. Scarlett rolled her eyes at words such as 'Fort Sumter' and 'succession.' Now Pa had gone and done it, the party would be ruined with talk of nothing but war!
"You may go and join the gentlemen, Mr. Butler," Scarlett informed him coolly. "I know how men love to prattle on about such things and I believe that I shall be called to nap with the other ladies soon."
"I shall stay here. I believe my views are unwelcome to the gentlemen of your acquaintance," Rhett demurred.
"Oh?" Scarlett queried, her curiosity piqued.
"Those damned fools are so full of Southern pride that they don't see the facts," Rhett told her, a little bitterly. "They don't see that there isn't a cannon factory south of the Mason-Dixon Line or that we've barely an iron foundry in the South. We've not a single warship and the Yankee fleet could bottle up out harbors within a week, they'd starve us all to death with nary a bullet fired. The North is full of thousands of immigrants, ready to fight to the death for their new homeland. They've everything on their sides, numbers, factories, shipyards and mines. We've not a hope in hellfire."
"What are you trying to say?" Scarlett demanded, a little scandalized and a lot thrilled at these naughty words being spoken to her.
"My dear Scarlett I'm saying we'll be licked good and proper in a month. Two, if the ladies donate their jewels to the cause. Have I shocked you now?"
"Hardly, Mr. Butler," Scarlet tossed her head jauntily. "Though if what you say is true, why don't the other men see it that why?"
"Pride, my dear, that damned Southern pride that blinds them to all but their conviction that the South shall never fall," Rhett sighed heavily. "Run along Miss O'Hara, I believe it's time for your nap." The sardonic smile was back now.
"Shall I see you later?" Scarlet asked, unwilling to part from quite the most interesting, and infuriating person she could ever remember meeting.
"Undoubtedly so," Rhett moved to his feet with a cat-like grace that Scarlett couldn't help but envy. "But for now, my dear, excuse me. I believe I best make myself scarce before I find myself unable to quell my mouth and at the barrel end of a group of enraged Rebels. Good day to you."