Chapter IX

Hoops in Paris were wider this season and skirts were shorter...

... Scarlett was delighted and not just with the fashions, but with Paris in general. Never in her life had she imagined such a fashionable, merry place, where everybody you saw looked as if they had stepped straight out of the pages of Godey's Lady's Book and were all equally as dapper and congenial as could be. Of course this was not true of all Parisians, but Scarlett had a long history of only seeing what she wanted to and the poor beggars and street urchins of Paris could never quite figure into her worldview.

She was delighted with everything she saw and proclaimed as much to her husband frequently. From the time she had stepped onto dry land at Calais she had been prone to fits of delight and satisfaction, the intensity of which only increased upon their reaching Paris. Her reaction upon seeing the rooms Rhett had taken for them quite put to shame any of her previous exclamations of delight, for she was left speechless and, as Rhett said, that was quite something indeed.

The bed was the largest and most opulent Scarlett had ever seen, made up with pure silk bedding and dozens of cushions. The bath was another matter entirely, so large that Scarlett couldn't imagine how long it would take to fill and so opulent that it sat on it's own purpose-built platform, pressed against a window overlooking the bustling Paris street below. So impressed was Scarlett by the size of it, that she declared you could fit four men in it if you so desired.

"Perhaps not four," Rhett had laughed. "But certainly two."

Scarlett had blushed darkly at such a pronouncement, for she was certain she knew which two people Rhett was referring to.

Rhett had been strongly in favour of staying in and testing the magnificent bed and bathing tub, but Scarlett had come to Paris with one purpose in mind and she would not be delayed. To the finest of the ladies fashion boutiques they were to go.

The Rue de la Paix was, to Scarlett, heaven on Earth. And visiting with her husband was a surprisingly enjoyable experience, for he knew all the best places to shop and to her surprise, was quite knowledgeable on women's fashions. Had he been less obviously masculine his ability to recall details of dresses, bonnets and coiffures would have seemed the rankest effeminacy, but he seemed perfectly at ease lounging casually in dainty chairs meant for far lighter frames, oblivious, or uncaring, to the scandalized looks other shop patrons cast him as his pretty young wife modelled one creation after the other before him. Rhett was determined to superintend all choices of colours, materials and designs himself and he threw money at he shop properties like it grew on trees.

"Oh Rhett you mustn't!" Scarlett exclaimed, secretly delighted as he ordered another half dozen gowns on their third day in Paris.

"Oh but I must, my dear," he responded smiling. "For what is money compared to a wife's pleasure?"

The other women in the shop sighed enviously, thinking of their own husbands who begrudged them every penny and every pound.

Triumphantly, Scarlett laced her hand through her husband's arm, tossing her head so the long ostrich feather about her bonnet danced prettily.

My, we're a handsome couple, thought Scarlett happily as they left the dressmakers and made for the small bistro that had quickly become their favourite.

"My darling, you look like a cat that's got into the cream," Rhett smiled as they promenaded together, smiling and nodding at those of equal fashion who passed them.

"Rhett I am happy," she announced. "But you ought not spoil me so, for I shall grow used to it and demand it forever if you do."

"Demand away my dear," Rhett replied as he settled her into a chair in the al fresco area of the bistro, sending the waiters scurrying for coffee and pastry. "For we're unlikely to run out of blunt any time soon and I enjoy dressing you up as a small girl does a doll."

Almost better than the shopping in Paris was the food. Rich stews and cassolettes in heavy creams, delicate pastries and biscuits and endless coffee. Oysters and mushrooms and sweetbreads and turkey livers and fish cooked cunningly in oiled paper and limes. And just when Scarlett would pronounce that she couldn't possible eat another bite, the waiter would bring out dessert and she would find her appetite again.

"My dear you shall soon be as wide as a house," Rhett proclaimed, watching in astonishment as Scarlett made her way through yet another chocolate and meringue stuffed pastry.

"At the barbecue at Twelve Oaks you told me you liked a girl with a healthy appetite," Scarlett retorted.

"And I do, but I have no desire to have a wife who looks as though savages ought to be worshipping her as they do in the Orient," Rhett replied sardonically, knowing that Scarlett had no idea what he was talking about, but not caring to explain. "And if you grow so fat that you must walk sideways through doorframes, I shall divorce you."

For a moment, Scarlet gaped, for she had grown up in a household where the word divorce was treated in the same way an obscenity would be. The idea was unthinkable and though she knew Rhett was kidding, she felt a shiver run down her spine, as if somebody had walked over her grave.

"You wouldn't divorce me," she told him. "Not if I were as wide as a house and as ugly as a mule. I shouldn't let you."

Rhett laughed at this.

"Am I to assume then, my sweet wife, that you are finding being married to me is to your satisfaction?"

"Always looking for compliments," Scarlett sighed, in one of the first true witticisms Rhett had ever heard from her. "But you know full well I like it very much. And not only for the pretty clothes and bonnets and shoes."

The smile she gave him then was almost sweet and as lacking in guile as any Rhett had seen her give. He was disgusted with the irregular beat his heart gave in response.

Scarlett's embarrassment when Rhett began to instruct the seamstress as to the acquisition of under garments was extreme. Her face flamed and she ducked her head as he ordered chemises, nightgowns and petticoats of the finest linen trimmed with dainty embroidery and infinitesimal tucks. He finished with silk stockings, dozens of pairs, not a single set with cotton tops.

"I thought by now you would have been completely comfortable with your old husband," Rhett had teased her later, once they were comfortable ensconced in their rooms.

"I am very comfortable with you," Scarlett replied, allowing herself to relax into a high backed armchair, her feet aching from a long day treading Paris' fashionable district. "It was the shop assistant, not to mention the half dozen other customers that caused my mortification!"

"All the other women in that shop were simply mad with jealousy, my dear," Rhett told her, kneeling before her and removing her slippers from her feet in a gesture that was almost shockingly intimate.

"Because of my handsome husband?" Scarlett asked with a role of her eyes, the effect quite ruined by the moan she gave as Rhett began to massage her feet tenderly.

"Thank you, my heart," Rhett grinned roguishly. "But no, they weren't jealous because of the manly good looks of your swarthy husband (though for certain that may have played a role!) They were jealous, honey, because none of their husbands would know what ladies undergarments looked like, let along knowing their wives sizes and preferences."

"You do run on," Scarlett scoffed, running an errant hand through her husband's dark hair.

"I'm serious Scarlett, you are too young, and too naïve to know that what we have is exceptional, rather than the norm for married couples," Rhett's fingers trailed over the arch of her foot, disappearing under her skirts to lightly stroke the backs of her knees. Scarlett shivered with pleasure.

"I've no idea what you're speaking about," she gasped, trying, and failing, to maintain a dignified air.

"I'm sure you don't," Rhett told her, now pressing kisses into her instep. "My darling Scarlett, don't you know that most gently bred women never feel the way you're feeling right now in their entire lives?"

"What do you mean?"

"The desire coursing through your veins, making your heart thrum and your pulse flutter is as rare as it is precious. Most husbands, myself obviously being the exception, care only for their own pleasure and are too eager to take any care with their mortified new wives and so transform the marriage bed into a thing to be dreaded rather than enjoyed."

"You ought not talk about such things," Scarlett scolded, half outraged, half intrigued by such scandalous discussion.

"No perhaps I shouldn't," Rhett told her. "But the fact is Scarlett, the fact that I am comfortable discussing such things is the only reason you have enjoyed...erh... certain aspects of our marriage as you have thus far."

"Am I... wrong to enjoy our... marital duties... as I do?"

"Not at all," Rhett replied immediately. "And I do wish you wouldn't refer to them as duties Scarlett. Love making is meant to be enjoyed, by both parties."

"How do you know so much Rhett?"

"I told you the first day I met you, Scarlett, I'm no gentlemen."

"What does that mean?"

"It means that I have spent the last decade or so interacting with the most base elements of society, Scarlett. Men and women who have no difficulties in freely discussing such matters thoroughly and often. And when one spends time with such people Scarlett, you're sure to pick up a thing or two."

"Do you mean... women of ill repute, Rhett?" Scarlett gasped, shocked.

"Indeed my lovely innocent wife, I do," Rhett's smile was mocking, and a week prior, Scarlett would have missed the anxious gleam in his eyes. "Have I shocked you now?"

"No indeed," Scarlett responded pertly, though truly, he had. "And so long as you only lay your erh...talents at my disposal from now on, I have no issue at all."

He threw his head back and laughed at that, long and hard.

"My talents, as you call them, are entirely yours now honey. Do with them what you will!"

One morning, two weeks after their arrival in Paris, Rhett announced he was going out on business that day.

"Without me?" Scarlett asked in surprise from where she lay in bed.

"That was my intention," Rhett smiled teasingly. "However, if you should wish to attend my solicitors office with me I won't say no."

"Rhett!" Scarlett pouted. "What am I to do all day? I don't know anybody in Paris except you!"

"I'm sure you'll find someway to entertain yourself," Rhett shrugged, slipping on a set of cufflinks. "What did you do at Tara to occupy yourself?"

"Went ridding, visited friends, entertained our neighbours. If I was truly bored I helped Mother with the mending."

"I'm afraid I don't have any mending for you to do," Rhett apologized mockingly. "But if it is that important to you I shall certainly tear one of my shirts for your mending pleasure."

"You're being hateful," Scarlett sulked childishly.

"My deepest apologies Madam," Rhett was sarcastic now. "My oversight was that I believed I married an adult capable of entertaining herself for a few hours. I can see now that I was mistaken."

"If you're going to be awful like that then I should be glad to see the back of you," Scarlett turned her head, her voice frigidly cold.

He was perched on the bed in an instant, her hand in his.

"I'm sorry Scarlett," he murmured, coxing her chin upwards with his hands. "I won't be long and I shall promise to make it up to you. In the meantime..."

He left her then, moving towards his dressing room. When he returned, it was with a heavy, leather bound volume in hand. "Why don't you read this? I think you would enjoy it."

"I don't read novels," Scarlett turned her nose up at his offering, still hurt by his mocking.

"You might like this one. It's set in the homeland of your ancestors and it's about two cousins fighting for the love of a noble woman. It also details the Famine your father has told you so much about."

"No thank you," Scarlett replied pertly.

"Well, you may yet change your mind," Rhett sighed, looking at his timepiece and accepting that there would be no resolution before he was forced to depart. "I'll return in time to take you out for lunch. Goodbye, Scarlett."

"Goodbye Rhett."

"No kiss for your departing husband?" He asked leaning towards her.

The kiss that Scarlett pressed on his lips was almost sisterly in nature and ruefully, Rhett laughed as he decamped.

With a sigh, Scarlett reached for the latest issue of Godey's, but after several minutes, gave it up, unable to delight in the clever illustrations found within it as she normally did.

Calling the maid, she took her time about dressing, then spent half an hour attempting a complicated new hairstyle that she had heard about whilst visiting the seamstress only the day before. When she had accomplished it, she looked at her reflection critically in the mirror, thinking how awful it was to be dressed so beautifully and yet have nobody to show it off to.

She had letters from both her mother and Melanie Wilkes that she was yet to respond to and she supposed that now would be the time to do it. She spent some time composing, lengthy, thoughtful replied to each, not considering the delight she would give each of the women upon their receipt. Having finished, Scarlett made her way to the lobby, handing over her missives to the concierge who promised to see to their immediately being sent out.

It was still at least two hours before Scarlett believed she could reasonably expect Rhett's return and she was at a loss for something to do. Vaguely, she considered taking a walk, but dismissed it, realizing that without Rhett's guiding hand she was liable to lose her way.

The novel Rhett had recommended to her lay forgotten on the bedside table. Errantly, Scarlett picked it up, running her fingers along the soft leather, before tracing the gold embossed lettering on the cover –

Castle Richmond, a novel by Anthony Trollope

There was a soft chaise out on the sun-drenched balcony, calling her name. It couldn't hurt to flip through a few pages...

That was where Rhett found her upon his return some two hours later, curled into a comfortable ball, book in hand, eyes darting frantically across the pages, elegant dress and coiffure quite forgotten.

To imagine that the enjoyment of one novel would irrevocably change Scarlett in essentials would be foolish. Still, even without these expectations, Rhett was pleased to have seen her pursuing the tomb he had recommended. And later, as they dined in the afternoon sunshine, Scarlett's dress and hairstyle long since mended, he told her as much.

"Well, it wasn't a bad way to waste an hour or two, but honestly Rhett, I'd rather be shopping or gossiping."

"A fact I'm more than aware of my dear and that is why I've accepted an invitation for us to attend a ball tomorrow evening," Rhett told her with a wry smile. "Perhaps if you meet a few ladies whose company you can tolerate, you won't react quite so petulantly next time I have business to attend to."

"I thought we were on our honeymoon," Scarlett pouted. "I wasn't aware husbands conducted business on their wedding trips."

"What an awful, mean-hearted husband you have!" Rhett cried. "My poor dear Mrs. Butler, to be so neglected!"

"Oh do be serious," she hissed.

"Scarlett, as I intend for us to reside in Paris for some time, their will often be times when I need to see to matters of business. Even scoundrels like me must source their blunt from somewhere, particularly when I have such an expensive little wife to maintain."

"Where does your money come from?" Scarlett had never considered the question before.

Rhett laughed.

"Only you, dearest Scarlett, would wait a fortnight into marriage to consider how her husband intends to provide for her. I had considered you more mercenary than that!"

"I knew Pa wouldn't let me marry a Pauper," she brushed off his words. "Besides, it's obvious to look at you that you're hardly hard-to-do."

"My charming little ignoramus," Rhett murmured, with an expression so tender that the words were a caress. "So unthinking, so naïve. How I could have taken advantage of you had I chosen the less honourable course."

"Fiddle dee dee!" Scarlett exclaimed. "I'm not so green as you think."

"There, we must agree to disagree my darling wife," Rhett picked up her hand and pressed a kiss to her palm. "Shall you like attending a Parisian ball?"

"Oh I suppose it shall be much the same as a ball back at home," Scarlett shrugged. "Though I do look forward to dancing. I shouldn't have gone so long without a reel since I was fourteen."

"An age, I'm sure," Rhett replied with mock solemnity. "And who shall you dance with?"

"Oh anybody who cares to ask I'm sure," she lowered her eyes flirtatiously, peeking out at him coquettishly. "Though I do hope a certain gentlemen will ask me once or twice."

"Determined little flirt," he chucked her beneath the chin. "Well my dear you should be pleased to know that I intend to have all your dances. Maybe I'll give the other boys a chance after I've had five or six in a row but..."

"Rhett you are a fool."

"For you, my dearest wife."

Scarlett couldn't have been more wrong, balls in Paris were an entirely different matter to balls in the South, or to anything else Scarlett had ever experienced. It was, as was fashionable, an absolute crush of people, all bedazzled in the brightest and most spectacular of fashions, all laughing and drinking and dancing without a care as to the solemn proprieties Scarlett was used to. The music was loud, the champagne free-flowing and the people, to Scarlett at least, utterly charming.

She told Rhett so as they danced and he laughed, squeezing her about the waist tightly.

"My delightful little country bride. So you like what you see do you? I certainly hope so, for now that we're out in society, we're quite unable to avoid events such as these."

"How do you know so many people Rhett?"

"Business my dear," Rhett responded. "You'll find that almost anywhere we go in the world I shall have business associates to be met with. My interests are many and varied and there is nearly always somebody to meet with and some business to be done. And of course these men I meet with have wives, daughters and mothers, all of whom want to meet the woman who snatched up the handsome Rhett Butler."

"You are full of yourself," Scarlett laughed. "But it is so nice to dance again. I didn't realize how I'd missed it."

"You shall dance all night if you wish," Rhett told her. "You are the most beautiful dancer I've ever held in my arms."

Scarlett blushed charmingly at that. Rhett so rarely said pretty things, though she knew, with a woman's intuition when he appreciated how she looked. But when he complimented her as he just had, the surge of delight and excitement that ran through her was quite overwhelming.

"You sweet man," Scarlett smiled fondly at him, quite surprised when he bent his head to bestow upon her a firm, sound kiss.

"Rhett we're in public!"

"Do you care?"

"Well – no! But a girl is supposed to mind."

"I can't tell you how glad I am that my girl does not then." He squeezed her firmly about the waist. The set ended and the dancers applauded appreciatively. "Would you like to wait and catch your breath, or should we dance again?"

"Let's have a break," Scarlett agreed willingly. "I thought you were here tonight to do business, not dance all night."

"I'll be forgiven," Rhett shrugged. "It'll be said that I was too besotted by my pretty young wife to do anything except dance and tomorrow I'll be mocked by men to stupid to be jealous. It won't bother me in the least."

"If it means you shall be away for longer tomorrow, than I would rather you do business tonight," Scarlett replied, accepting a glass of champagne from a passing waiter.

"My dear if I didn't know better I should say that you missed me today," Rhett teased.

"We've not been apart these few weeks," Scarlett said quietly, not rising to the bait he so temptingly dangled. "Of course I should miss you when you go."

"My darling wife!" The look Rhett gave her was smouldering. "Would that we were alone! But... no, it must wait. Come Scarlett, I shall do my business with my lovely wife at my side and hope that her battering eyelashes and coquettish smiles smooth the way for my dealings!"

Over the course of the next several hours, Scarlett was introduced to so many men that her head fair spun. She was unable to keep names and faces straight in her mind, though Rhett seemed to fair quite well indeed. The details of his business were of no interest to her, and when discussion turned in this direction, as it often did, she busied herself with looking around the room, comparing the gowns and adornments of the other women to her own and finding herself, usually, superior.

Her champagne glass was never empty, as the waiters filled it every time they passed around, delicious and exotic canapés were always soon to follow and the result was that, by the end of the night, Scarlett was both stuffed full, exhausted, and a little tipsy.

"There is a reason Mammy always said to only ever drink one glass of champagne a night," Scarlett giggled, as Rhett carried her to bed upon their return to their rooms.

"I am glad you chose not to listen," Rhett smiled as he pulled her slippers from her feet. "If you had, I would have missed this amusing spectacle you're presenting to me."

"I wouldn't have done this before I met you Rhett Butler," Scarlett told him sleepily. "You are a bad influence on me."

"I warned you as much the first day we met Scarlett," Rhett laughed. "Contrary child that you are, you refused to listen."

"I never would have drunk so much champagne before we were married," Scarlett continued, as if she had not heard Rhett's teasing. "And I wouldn't have worn such a low cut dress either." She plucked unthinkingly on the bodice of her rich blue evening gown.

"Has marriage changed you so much then my dear?"

"Of course," she responded, her words slurring as sleep claimed her. "Scarlett O'Hara never would have done any of these things, Scarlett Butler may do as she pleases."

"She certainly may," Rhett pressed a lingering kiss against her forehead. "Goodnight Scarlett."

He was met with no response, for Scarlett was already asleep.