Chapter VII

Scarlett O'Hara could never rest well except between linen sheets and on the softest feather beds...

... But she could have slept on wooden planks that night, as exhausted as she was. Scarlett was pulled from sleep what felt like five minutes after she had first closed her eyes. Her husband's lips danced tantalizingly down her throat, his moustache tickling her sensitive, love bruised skin.

"Let me alone Rhett," she whispered, flinging up a hand to shield her eyes. "I'm so tired."

"I know my pet," he nuzzled his nose into the crook where her ear met her neck. "But I believe we should expect my mother for breakfast, and I thought you might like to be dressed for her arrival."

Scarlett flew into a sitting position, taking in her husband, already immaculately turned out in a ridiculously dandy-like morning coat. His shave was so close his skin gleamed, his hair so well slicked that not even the strongest wind should dare to blow it awry.

"Rhett!" She gasped, scrambling from their bed and taking in her wild appearance in the mirror that hung before her. Her hair was snarled and tousled, her eyes heavy with sleep, every inch of available skin peppered with marks from Rhett's teeth, tongue and moustache. Her hair alone would take an age to tame into something manageable, never mind what she would do with her neck and shoulders!

The sound of her husband's laughter floated through to her in the dressing room, but she had no time to reproach him as she hastily donned her underthings, then ran from the closet, corset in hands.

"Quick Rhett, lace me up!" She demanded, thrusting the whalebone towards him.

"With pleasure my darling wife," Rhett's grin was mocking. A moment later he went on. "There you are my dear, eighteen beautiful inches wide."

"Take it to seventeen," Scarlett ordered, sucking in a breath in preparation for the squeezing she was sure would follow.

"No," Rhett responded definitively.

"Rhett," Scarlett wheedled. "I want to impress your mother."

"And you think having a seventeen inch waist is the way to do it?" Rhett laughed. "No Scarlett. My mother couldn't care if your waist was seventeen inches or thirty seven inches."

"Oh yes she could!" Scarlett exclaimed.

"Trust me Scarlett. My mother would rather you were the dowdiest of belles, but kind and loving to her poor son, than a beauty with a ten inch waist who was a viper."

"Oh you're horrid!" Scarlett fumed. "Lace me to seventeen inches Rhett, or I shall breakfast with your mother dressed as I am!"

Immediately, she knew she'd made a mistake.

"Oh my darling," Rhett laughed, drawing her into his arms and kissing her soundly. "Don't ever gamble with me my dear. I made my fortune at the card tables and I'm an expert bluffer."

"My waist was seventeen inches the day we met Rhett," Scarlett squirmed in his arms. "Please, oh please?"

"Oh turn around then!" Rhett threw up his hands in exasperation, though his smile told her he wasn't truly annoyed. "If you faint, I shan't revive you."

"Oh poo Rhett, I've never fainted a day in my life," Scarlett gasped as he tugged on her laces, with far more force than was strictly necessary. Laced to her satisfaction now, she pressed a fleeting kiss to his jaw and then flounced into the dressing room. She knew just the dress to wear to meet her mother in law, one of the few dresses Ellen had had made up for her before her wedding. At the time, Scarlett thought it frightful, with its high neckline and covered arms and bosom, but she knew she looked quite well in it. The apple green was exactly her colour, and the pretty lace cap that went with it was quite the thing to set off her dark hair. Struggling into it herself, then working to tame her hair into something presentable, Scarlett examined herself critically in the mirror. She looked every inch the young bride, sedate, respectable and rather boring. Smothering a sigh she moved out to the sitting room, spinning in a circle for her husband.

"What'd you think?" She asked coquettishly.

"Good God!" Rhett broke into a roar of laughter. "Good Lord Scarlett, you look positively matronly!"

"That's rather the idea Rhett," Scarlett pouted. "Seeing as I now am a matron. I'm trying to look respectable and impress your mother."

"My darling, my mother knows me, perhaps better than any other person on this Earth. She hardly expects my wife to be respectable when God knows I myself am not."

"Last night you said I was a lady," Scarlett frowned at him, going to the closest mirror and straightening her lace cap. "Last night you said I was respectable. And if you want me to look like a lady in front of anyone it should be your mother."

"Quite right my dear, forgive me," Rhett bowed over her hand, his movements mocking. "Surely you can understand my shock at seeing you in this... get up."

"I thought I looked rather well," Scarlett fished.

"Pretty as a picture," Rhett replied, kissing her neck. "Though I'd rather you didn't buy anything like that again. I've ordered breakfast and I'll let the man in before I go. I'm meeting my mother downstairs to bring her up."

"Rhett?" Scarlett called him back. "Do you think she'll like me?"

"How could she not, my dear?" Rhett asked, drawing her into his arms again. "When she see's how happy you've made her most darling son."

"Oh get on with you," Scarlett giggled, settling herself into a chair and arranging her skirts to the best advantage.

An array of hotel employees arrived then, arranging a delicious looking repast as per Scarlett's direction. They had just filed out, leaving Scarlett to wait, when she heard her husband's voice, rich and lilting, drifting in from the hallway.

"I was lucky," another voice responded, sweet and soft, reminding Scarlett instantly of her own mother. "Maryanne Gouldberry is in town and staying at this very hotel. I shall visit with her once I leave you, so I shan't even be lying really."

"You might have told him," Scarlett heard her husband's voice, heavy with anger. "And let me deal with the consequence."

"No darling, you're on your honeymoon. Let me deal with your father."

They were at the door now, and Scarlett ran a last hand over her skirts, pasting her most pleasing smile on her face. She rose as Rhett entered the room, a handsome, dark haired woman in her fifties on his arm.

"Scarlett," he held his hand out to her, bringing it to his lips as he drew her closer. "This is my mother, Eleanor Butler. Mother, my bride Scarlett O'Hara Butler."

"Pleased to meet you Mrs. Butler," Scarlett curtsied prettily, before taking the older woman's outstretched hands.

"And you, Mrs. Butler," the woman smiled and Scarlett instantly received the impression that her son had inherited his mother's sense of humour. "But you must call me Miss Eleanor, as all our family does."

"Please call me Scarlett," Scarlett responded politely.

"Well we shan't stand on ceremony," Eleanor Butler settled herself comfortably on a settee Rhett indicated too. "We are family after all. Tell me of your wedding, Scarlett."

"Oh it was lovely," Scarlett replied happily. "We were married from my family plantation, Tara and half the County was there. There were garlands of spring flowers and hundreds of candles, my mother quite outdid herself."

"Especially considering how little time we gave her to plan the celebration," Rhett came to stand behind Scarlett's chair, his hands on her shoulders. "I confess I saw little but my bride."

Scarlett blushed becomingly and Eleanor Butler nodded her approval.

"I know your aunts' very well Scarlett," Eleanor mentioned, as Scarlett set about pouring coffee. "And have met your mother too, on occasion."

"Mrs. O'Hara asked to be remembered to you Mother," Rhett passed his mother a delicate china cup of coffee, prepared exactly to her liking. "She has fond memories of her visits with you."

"She is very kind," Eleanor thanked her son with a smile. "You have younger sisters I believe?"

"Yes, two."

"And speaking of younger sisters," Rhett interrupted. "I had hoped to see mine today. How is she?"

"Rosemary sends her regrets. She had a previous engagement that she was unable to extract herself from. If only you had given us more notice dear," Eleanor chided gently.

"And how are Ross and Diane?"

"The same as ever," Eleanor smothered a sigh.

"Ross isn't thinking of enlisting is he?"

"Oh no!" Eleanor gasped, as if she had never imagined such a thing. "Not with his condition."

"My younger brother was born with an irregular heart," Rhett turned to Scarlett and explained. "It has very little impact on his life, other than making him a lily-livered as a man might be and still call himself a man."

"That is unkind Rhett," Eleanor murmured disapprovingly

"And yet undeniably true," Rhett smothered a smile. "Come ladies, do have something to eat, I can't possibly demolish this repast by myself."

Conversation was casual as they ate, Eleanor mentioned the war but Scarlett begged off, instead changing the conversation to learning more about her new husband. To her disappointment, Eleanor had only positive things to say about her eldest son, though Scarlett was sure she must be more than aware of the mischief Rhett had caused as a child and as a young man.

Some time later, the food having been cleared away by the hotel staff, Scarlett began to feel that perhaps mother and son might appreciate some time to themselves. With a tact that was normally beyond her, she poured second cups of coffee for them all, before excusing herself.

"It seems to be warming into a lovely day outside," she mentioned, looking towards the window. "I think I shall take my coffee onto the balcony to enjoy the sunshine. No, no, no need to accompany me," she brushed Rhett off as he made to rise. "You two enjoy your coffee, join me whenever you like."

Rhett caught her hand as she passed, unfurling it and pressing a tender kiss to the inside of her palm. With a smile, she walked through the open French doors, settling herself on a patio seat, set slightly to the side, all the while congratulating herself on so neatly removing herself from the situation and allowing Rhett and his mother some time to themselves.

Until that was, that she heard the voices of Rhett and his mother through the open doors of the balcony and she heard her name mentioned.

"You seem quite enamoured with your Scarlett, my dear," Eleanor was the first to speak.

Scarlett froze, eyes wide, mouth open. A lady she knew, would have moved away or closed the door, but... well Rhett did persist in telling her she was no lady...

"A natural condition for a husband to his wife," Rhett responded.

"Is she equally as enamoured with you?"

Scarlett strained her ears to hear Rhett's reply.

"I can safely say mother that Scarlett is growing to appreciate my charms."

Even from outside the room, Scarlett blushed.

"Go ahead mother, and say whatever it is you are thinking," Rhett sighed.

"It's just... she is very young dear,"

Scarlett bristled, so what if she was young?

"She seems so... naïve and untried. So unready to be a wife," Eleanor paused here, obviously fighting for words. "I worry for you, my darling child. She has obviously seen so little of the world and you have seen and experienced so much, so much more than you would tell your mother I'm sure."

There was silence then and Scarlett sat outside, resisting the urge to storm inside and kick her mother-in-law out of their rooms. She had thought she had done so well, had thought that Eleanor Butler might actually have approved of her. Young! Why of course she was young, Rhett would never marry some on-the-shelf spinster like his sister!

"Scarlett is young," Rhett spoke eventually, shocking Scarlett. She had expected that he would speak for her, defend her and their marriage to his mother. His defection was surprisingly painful. "She's grown up in the country, the prettiest girl in three Counties and never experienced anything else. Her parents saw to her education, but she was never encouraged to think beyond what she had been taught. She has little experience beyond what was provided to her in Clayton County: riding horses, flirting with beaux and wearing pretty dresses. But there is something about her Mother, a willingness to learn, to be guided and moulded. She is fiercely intelligent in the things that matter and I believe that, with guidance, she will grow in the areas she now lacks."

"That is your intention then?"

"It is."

With shaking hands, Scarlett lowered her coffee cup to the small table beside her. Never in her life had she stopped to consider the way other's viewed her, as she was doing in that moment. Never had she considered that Rhett might find her lacking, that he might have married her with the intent of educating her, guiding her, taking her as anything less than she was. She was hurt, confused...

And determined to prove him wrong.

Katie Scarlett O'Hara Butler was not half Irish for nothing and, like her father before her, had never been one to shrink from a challenge. If Rhett intended to teach her, she would listen. She would prove to him, and his mother, that she was a lady, a woman, not a child... with God as her witness.