Chapter XII
Scarlett was smarting with anger and with disappointment as well...
... She thought Rhett most unfair and was crushed that, after so many months of treating her as an adult, he was now treating her like a child.
Almost as if to prove his point, she stamped her foot.
"You're being mighty unfair Rhett Butler!" She exclaimed, green eyes flashing darkly.
"If you say so, my dear. Yet, I remain firm. You have two choices in the matter. You may go back to the South, or Paris or England or wherever you like for that matter..."
"Without you," Scarlett interrupted.
"Without me," Rhett acknowledged. "Or, you may stay in Nassau, on the proviso that, when I am away, you must remain in these rooms unless Wade Hamilton is available to act as your escort."
"Hateful man!" Scarlett exclaimed, not knowing whom she was referring to Rhett, or Hamilton. She turned pleadingly sad eyes on him. "Have I displeased you in some way? Do you want me to leave?"
"Scarlett," Rhett said firmly, refusing to fall for her coquettish airs. "I am doing this for your own safety. Of course I want you with me. But Nassau is not a safe place for an unprotected woman and my absence will be conspicuous. I shall only be gone for forty-eight hours at a time and I will take you wherever you want to go upon my return. But you must promise me, faithfully, that you will do as I say and remain in these rooms while I'm gone."
Scarlett ranted and raged, pleaded and prodded, begged and beseeched, but Rhett was unmoving. Eventually, he extracted the promise from her he was after.
"And don't think I shall trust your word alone, darling," he warned her with a pinch to her downturned cheek. "My spies are everywhere, and should I hear of you going against my word, I shall ship you back to Clayton County faster than you have time to pack a single ball gown."
And so Rhett went. His trips, as promised, were mercifully short, but to Scarlett, they seemed an eternity. Despite the multitude of entertainments Rhett arranged for her, she was half crazed by the time he arrived home, too exhausted and filthy to care for anything except his bed for the next twelve hours at least.
"You promised me marriage to you would be fun," Scarlett had pouted, after one such event.
"Oh, do grow up Scarlett," he'd advised her shortly, before rolling on to his side and promptly going to sleep.
The one, strange bright spot in those miserable hours while Rhett was away where the occasional visits from Wade Hamilton. Whenever he was not running the blockades, he would visit with her for a few hours, a welcome interruption to the tedium of her solitude. In these hours, Scarlett came to appreciate the man a little more, for though he didn't flirt and flatter, nor say pretty things, his quiet, contemplative conversation was interesting and he would always go out of his way to tell Scarlett stories of her husband's antics as a young man.
"Have you forgiven him then?" Rhett had teased upon learning of Scarlett's pleasure in these visits. "For not being taken in by your Southern Belle airs?"
Scarlett had poked her tongue out at him in response, too glad to have her husband back to do more. She was lonely when he was gone, unused to inaction and her own company. She was not designed for such conditions and the melancholy she felt while left to her own devices was rather frightening.
Rhett was concerned. Hamilton's reports at how he had found Scarlett during these times were troublesome indeed. He was, however, at a loss for what to do. Blockading was proving to be a more fiscally rewarding venture than even he had anticipated and he was loathe to leave it before he'd made his share of the windfall. Leaving Scarlett was becoming increasingly difficult however, and she adamantly refused to return to her family for a visit, even for only a short while. Lessening his restrictions on her movement was not an option either, for his fear for her safety while unprotected was genuine. He was without recourse and, as a man of action, found himself growing increasingly frustrated, as his wife's despondency grew with his every absence.
One morning, in mid May 1862, Scarlett was wandering aimlessly through the corridors of their hotel, the Grand Victoria. Rhett had left the night before on another run, and she was already at a loss for entertainment. Her delight then, in finding a letter from home, can only be imagined.
It was in her Mother's hand, addressed to Mrs. R. K. Butler, care of the Grand Victoria Hotel, Nassau and dated some two weeks previously. She was impressed with the velocity of its arrival, for mail delivery had been sporadic for months now, and letters could, occasionally, take weeks, if not longer to arrive from home. Ordering a coffee service and waiting for its arrival, Scarlett settled herself on her favourite settee with a steaming mug of the brew and eagerly tore open her mother's dispatch.
My darling daughter, (it read)
I have news, dear Scarlett, of the most alarming nature and only moments to pen this note to you. Forgive me, we are all well. As well as we may be given the circumstances. What I have to say concerns Mr. Brent Tarleton.
"Brent!" Scarlett exclaimed in surprise, putting down her coffee and, letter clutched in both hands, pursuing it with alacrity.
The Tarleton's received word a week ago from Stuart, that Brent had been injured at Pittsburg Landing. Our most honoured General Johnston was killed there, and all our hearts are breaking for the poor man, may he rest in peace. Stuart managed to deliver Brent home, before returning to his unit.
By the time he was delivered back to Fairhill and his mother, he was delirious and the worst was feared. Doctor Fontaine was called immediately and recommended amputation of his left hand. That being carried out, the best to be hoped for was that fever would not take him. To his mother's distress, fever did set in, and, in his delirious state, repeatedly asked for your sister, Caroline Irene.
The Tarleton girls came to Tara and, against my better judgment, I accompanied Careen to Fairhill. It was most improper, I know, to let her see him in such a state, but the Tarleton's, believing Brent to be dying, were most insistent, and your sister hardly less so. His suffering was lessened by your sister's presence at his side and, in a rare moment of lucidity, Brent begged your sister to marry him, from his sick bed. She accepted but, stepping in as a mother ought, I forbid it immediately, calling for calmer heads and less hasty actions. However, as Brent's condition turned for the worse, it was believed he had only days to live. Mrs. Tarleton was quite fierce, as I'm sure you might imagine, my dear. She told me in no uncertain terms that if marrying my daughter would give her son some comfort in his final hours, than she would not see me stand in their way. An appeal to Mr. O'Hara was without success and so, from his sickbed, they were wed.
I write you from the Tarleton's sitting room. Your father and I daren't leave for fear that the worst will occur. It hardly seems real that our very own little Caroline Irene is married to a man that may very soon leave us, but it doesn't do to think such thoughts. I must get back to your sister now; darling Scarlett, but I beseech you, pray for us. As many decades as you can manage my dear.
Our love, as always, goes to your husband and yourself.
I remain, your affectionate Mother –
Ellen O'Hara.
"Oh!" Scarlett wasn't aware that she was crying until her breath caught in her throat in a choking sob. Flinging the letter to the settee, she ran, stumbling, to her dressing room and began frantically searching through her jewellery box, a present from her parents' for her wedding. Pushed to the back and completely forgotten these twelve months, lay her rosary beads, worn from years of use when she had been an O'Hara, covered in an inch of dust from her year as a Butler. Falling to her knees in her dressing room, tears streaming down her face, she began frantically chanting the long ago memorized words, as her mother had asked her to do.
Logically, she knew herself to be too late. Her mother had written to her two weeks ago, the outcome of this tragedy had surely already been played out. Still, as she cried and prayed, her chanting to the Blessed Virgin bought her the closest thing to peace she could imagine at such a time.
Her mind was in chaos. Brent! Dear Brent, her very own beau, so handsome, so inseparable from Stu! Always a joker, a larrikin, how excited he'd been to go to war... and now the war had killed him!
And her sister, her baby sister, Careen! A bride and a widow at the age of fourteen. Scarlett's heart caught in her chest and a low keening sound escaped her throat at the thought of what she would do, should such a thing happen to Rhett. How Careen must be feeling! And she, Scarlett, so far away and so utterly powerless to do anything, to help, to comfort...
An incessant knocking on a far away door suddenly caught her attention, breaking through her frantic inner monologue.
"Mrs. Butler!" The now familiar voice of Wade Hamilton called through the door. "Mrs. Butler, let me in!"
Shakily, Scarlett rose to her feet and, on legs as unsteady as a newborn foals, stumbled to the front door in response to the ceaseless knocking of Wade Hamilton's fist.
"What has happened?" He asked immediately, his expression as calm as ever, leaving Scarlett to errantly wonder if this man was completely unflappable. "Are you injured?"
"No...no," Scarlett managed in response. "I've had... terrible news... from home."
A look of sympathy passed Wade Hamilton's features and, stepping inside the room without benefit of an invitation, he took her elbow and gently propelled her towards the sitting room. There, he deposited her on the same settee she'd sat upon whilst reading her mother's letter, before turning to the coffee pot that still sat there and pouring her another cup, dousing it liberally with brandy. Pushing it into her hands, he sat and looked upon her seriously.
"Please drink, Mrs. Butler. It will make you feel better."
Obediently, Scarlett drank, coughing against the bitter combination of strong coffee and heavy spirits. The cup warmed her hands however and the liquid cleared her brain, alleviating the fog that had descended upon her as she read Ellen's missive.
"Better? Good," the look Hamilton gave her could almost have been a smile. "Would you like to talk about it?"
Tears immediately sprang into Scarlett's eyes again at his words and, from shaking hands she passed him the now crumpled letter. Immediately, he smoothed it, his eyes darting across the page as he took in her mother's words.
"I'm terribly sorry, Mrs. Butler," he murmured. "How dreadful for you all. Are you well acquainted with your sister's husband?"
"He was my beau first," Scarlett whispered, with half a smile as she remembered Brent and Stu's antics and tomfoolery. "We were such good friends. We used to race through the countryside, the three of us and they'd always claim they were letting me win, even though we all knew I was the swiftest rider. He was so excited to go to war... so ready to fight..." She broke off with a sob.
"Sissy though, my sister, Careen, that is, she's always loved him, from the time she was a little girl. Oh we used to tease her about it. And to think, that by now... she's probably his widow," Scarlett dissolved into tears again.
"Your sister must be very young?"
"She's not fifteen," Scarlett confirmed, gratefully accepting the handkerchief he silently passed her.
"So young to be a bride, too young to be a widow," real regret tinged Wade Hamilton's tone. "War is an awful thing."
"Oh that I could go to Mass!" Scarlett exclaimed, feeling, for the first time in her life that prayer might be the only solace available to her at that time. "Damn Rhett and his silly rules!"
"Should you truly like to find a church?" Hamilton asked quietly.
"Oh, very much!" Scarlett exclaimed. "I haven't been in so long and Mother would be so disappointed if she knew. And all I can do from blasted Nassau is pray."
"Go and tidy yourself Mrs. Butler," Hamilton responded easily. "I shall take you to mass if you so wish."
"Oh Mr. Hamilton, would you?" Scarlett exclaimed, delighted. "Oh you are so good! I won't be a moment."
He was waiting for her upon her return and gallantly offered his arm.
"Should you mind the walk?" He asked, as they made their way through the hotel. "The Church of the Sacred Heart is not far and it would most likely be quicker to walk than to try to hire a conveyance."
"I shouldn't mind," Scarlett replied, enjoying the play of sunshine on her upturned face. Her head ached from crying and the sun helped to clear the fog from her senses.
It was, indeed, a short walk to the Church. Scarlett hesitated before entering, suddenly feeling the guilt of a years worth of missed visits and committed sins.
"Father Berneise is very kind," Hamilton told her, giving her the courage to walk through the doors.
The pair crossed themselves as they entered.
"Hello Wade," a voice to their left startled Scarlett. The church was both cold and dark and the combination was rather eerie.
"Hello Father," Hamilton responded politely. "Will you allow me the honour of introducing Mrs. Rhett Butler? I believe I've told you of her husband, whom I was at West Point with."
"Indeed, a pleasure, Mrs. Butler," the priest intoned.
"Hello Father," Scarlett replied, a little shyly.
"Mrs. Butler has had some unfortunate news from home regarding her brother in law," Hamilton continued. "And she wished to come and spend some time in prayer."
"You are very welcome, Mrs. Butler. Would you like to say a rosary together?"
"Yes please, Father," Scarlett responded, her soul soothed at the thought alone.
"I shall wait for you outside, Mrs. Butler," Hamilton told her. "Please don't rush on my account."
"Please, won't you consider staying Wade?" Scarlett asked, surprising herself. "Every prayer helps after all."
"If you wish, Scarlett," Wade responded, moving to kneel.
"Hail Mary, full of Grace, the lord is with thee..."
Rhett's alarm at finding his friend and business partner waiting for him at the docks upon his return the next afternoon was profound.
"Scarlett?" He demanded immediately, swinging over the side of the steamship, completely ignoring his usual fastidious way of unpacking all good's and cleaning down the ship before touching dry land himself.
"She's fine," Wade responded. "Or as fine as may be. She's received news from home that her sister has married her beau on his deathbed. She's rather upset."
"Over Frank Kennedy?" Rhett asked in bemusement.
"A Mr. Brent Tarleton, I believe."
"Good Lord," Rhett breathed. "You don't mean to tell me that little Miss Careen? She's fourteen years old!"
"Mr. Tarleton's mother would broker no opposition apparently. Her boy was dying and his dying wish was to make Miss O'Hara his bride,"
"Scarlett must be distraught," Rhett murmured.
"I came to visit with her shortly after she'd had word," Hamilton replied. "She was very distressed. I took her to see Father Berneise and I think he was able to offer some comfort. Still, go to her. I will see to the goods."
"You're a good man, Wade Hamilton," Rhett told him, clapping him briefly on the shoulder before setting out for the Hotel and his wife.
"Wade Hamilton is a good man," Scarlett told her husband later that evening. "I may not understand him in the least, but I know he is a good man."
"So I have been telling you, my dear," Rhett replied, kissing her forehead affectionately. "What has convinced you?"
"He was so kind when... when Mother's letter came," Scarlett responded. "No other man would have been as kind and generous as he was. I'm glad you're friends with him, Rhett."
"Thank you for the crumbs from your table, Mrs. Dives," Rhett laughed. "But I'm glad you now see in Hamilton what I do. He's a good friend for us to have."
And Wade Hamilton was indeed, a good friend to have for the Butler's, as they waited for news from Clayton County. Fittingly, it was he that delivered the long awaited letter from Scarlett's mother, almost a week after her first.
"You read it Rhett," Scarlett said, turning away from the unassuming letter, unable to stomach the thought of the news it would contain. "I can't stand it."
"Read it Scarlett," Rhett pressed it into her hand, a minute later. "I think you should be surprised."
With shaking hands, Scarlett read –
My dearest Scarlett,
My darling daughter, I have the best news we could possibly have hoped for. Forgive me for not writing sooner, it seems that we have hardly had a moment in which to pick up a pen and acquaint you with the whole of it. I shall not delay any longer in telling you that our prayers have been answered, Brent is well again.
His fever broke three nights ago, thanks, in no small part I am sure, to your sister Careen's excellent ministrations as a nurse. He awoke the next day and though in horrid pain, he was once again, completely himself. He still keeps to his room of course, but Doctor Fontaine believes he is now all but completely out of danger and will survive his wounds.
My concern, my dearest Scarlett, now turns to your sister. I cannot regret the comfort their marriage bought both Brent and Careen at the time, though the obvious permanency of their state is worrying. She is so young, even younger than you or I when we were wed, and she knows him so little. I worry also, for him, now without his hand, he will be unable to rejoin his regiment, such a thing affects a man terribly. My concern for their future together is real.
The rest of us are well, your sister Suellen worries day and night for our dear Mr. Kennedy, her worry only exacerbated by poor Brent's situation. Your father and I busy ourselves with the running of Tara and it seems that life may soon be returning to some element of normalcy.
And how are you, my little Katie Scarlett? (Forgive me, darling, for no matter how old you may be, or how long you might be married; you shall always be my very own little girl.) We all miss you here, very much. Please do write to your sisters, particularly Careen, for I believe the advice of a recently wed sister may be invaluable to her at this time.
How is dear Captain Butler? The South is full of tales of his bravery and daring. I pray that he remains safe while delivering the goods we are so desperately in need of. I pray for you too, my darling girl and wish that I may seen you as soon as may be.
I remain, as always, your affectionate Mother –
Ellen O'Hara.
"Oh Rhett," Scarlett threw herself into his arms, weeping openly. "I'm so glad, so glad."
"The hardest battle has yet to be fought," Rhett responded sagely. "For they are married now, and, as your mother points out, that is forever. And a man as injured as Brent Tarleton likely is... Scarlett, should you like to go home for a visit?"
"Oh, please Rhett," Scarlett agreed immediately. "Let's."
"As soon as we might organize it, my dear," Rhett confirmed, squeezing her tightly. "I'll have you at your beloved Tara as soon as may be."
Scarlett sat down to pen a reply to her family –
Mother, she wrote. We are coming home...