Part III
Chapter XVI
The Yankee blockade about the Confederate ports had tightened, and luxuries such as tea, coffee, silks, whalebone stays, colognes, fashion magazines and books were scarce and dear in Atlanta and indeed the whole South...
... The profit Rhett and Wade Hamilton were making was incredible, though it was hardly without a lot of hard, dangerous work. As the security about the blockade increased, so to did the risks surrounding it and hardly a week went by when a blockade runner didn't lose a ship or dump a cargo.
The crowd of blockade runners and wealthy merchants that made their homes in Nassau hardly let this increased danger dampen their enthusiasm however, and the frivolous, gay climate that Rhett had first introduced Scarlett to continued. Every night the Grand Victoria Hotel hosted amusements of one sort or another, balls and bazaars, dinner parties and dancing, teas and political discussions. What once had been an exciting, round the clock party had started to wear on Scarlett as 1862 drew to a close, when Rhett found a suitable house for them to take, Scarlett couldn't pretend at anything except relief.
The house was surprisingly large for Nassau, built with wealthy tourists in mind and inhabited until recently by an English sea captain, his wife and their brood. Scarlett was delighted to find it had a ball room and immediately began planning her first soiree.
"It shall be a welcome party for Brent and Careen," she announced to Rhett with a brilliant smile. "For we never did anything for them at all and now we may."
Rhett smiled indulgently, not bothering to remind her that Brent and Careen had made Nassau their home more than two months ago now.
"Whatever you like dearest," he told her. "I'm sure you're aware that cost is no hurdle."
"You are good Rhett," Scarlett flirted coquettishly. "Who knows, perhaps I shall manage to get some champagne for the party. You know what a glass or two of that does to me."
"I wait with bated breath for such an occurrence Mrs. Butler," Rhett replied mockingly, causing Scarlett to pout. It did not escape her notice however, that, upon returning from his next blockade run, Rhett had taken on a cargo of a dozen crates of real French champagne and presented all of them to Scarlett in preparation for her party.
Planning a party was rather more work than Scarlett had ever imagined it to be. Ellen had made such preparations appear seamless, at least to Scarlett, and more than once Scarlett silently worried that she might be in over her head. Goods and supplies were plentiful in Nassau, but good help was incredibly difficult to find and more than once Scarlett found herself longing for the steadfast loyalty of Mammy, Pork and the other Tara slaves.
"I shall send each of them a gift," Scarlett announced to Rhett one afternoon, lamenting the difficulty she was having in hiring and keeping a decent, capable staff. "For I do not believe I ever truly appreciated them before I've had to deal with these lazy Nassau servants."
"You should never know how much that might mean to them Scarlett," Rhett had commented approvingly, as she made long lists of what she ought send to each and every one of the Tara slaves. "And what shall you send Mammy?"
"Oh Mammy, Rhett I hardly know. I thought of some material for a new frock or turban? Or perhaps a lovely bottle of rum, but I know Mother would disapprove so!"
"My mammy always said that when she went to Heaven she wanted a taffeta petticoat so stiff that it would stand by itself and so rustly that the Lord God would think it was made of angels' wings. Let's send Mammy some red taffeta and have an elegant petticoat made for her."
"Lord Rhett, she should just die to own such a thing. You are good," carelessly she kissed him square on the mouth before flouncing off to see to some other trivial party detail.
The party was the most extravagant thing Nassau had ever seen. A big brass band played through the night, food and drink flowed through out the evening and at midnight, brilliant fireworks exploded out over the Butler residence, delighting all in Nassau that night. Dawn was breaking over the horizon by the time Scarlett and Rhett finally saw the last guests to the door and trudged up to bed themselves.
"We were a raving success," Scarlett murmured, as Rhett began unlacing her with quick, sure fingers. "Nassau has never seen a party like tonight."
"No indeed, my dear, all thanks to you," Rhett smiled, pressing a soft kiss to the back of her neck. "And my wallet I can suppose."
"Don't tease Rhett, I'm too tired to care," Scarlett let her gown fall to her feet and then draping it carelessly over a nearby chair. "I shall sleep till noon, at least."
"You have certainly earned it, my perfect little hostess," Rhett climbed into bed beside her, immediately pulling her backwards until her spine clung to his chest, his arms coming around her waist tightly.
"Oh Rhett, tonight was so exciting," Scarlett sighed, snuggling deeper under the blankets and letting his warmth and the steady thrum of his heartbeat lull her towards sleep. "You are right, life married to you is as much fun as you promised it would be."
Little had they known that that evening would mark the last of the really carefree, easy nights for them for some time to come.
The increased Yankee security around the Blockade made Rhett's runs more difficult and, as a result, he was away for longer periods of time and more regularly too. Scarlett did her best to not feel abandoned, but, having lived her whole life being denied nothing, it was rather hard for her to be congenial when she was being denied her husband's presence more often than not.
During the day, Scarlett was able to remind herself that her husband ran the blockades for her, for their future, for the money and security it would provide. She was able to remind herself that he had brought her sister and her brother in law to Nassau, mainly for her own comfort and appreciate the effort he had gone to, on her behalf. Careen and Brent were a God-send on those long days, while Rhett was at sea, but not even they could comfort her on the long, lonely nights, when the bed was cold and empty and Scarlett longed for the strength and warmth her husband sleeping beside her provided her with.
Had Scarlett been more introspective in these days, she might have realized the truth of the feelings she had long since developed for her own husband. But not being one to reflect, Scarlett thought little of how she felt for him, except to miss him when he was gone and relish his attentions and care when he was home.
It was one such lonely night, as Scarlett sat alone in her chambers, unwilling to retire to her lonely bed, that she had a realization of another sort. She had been engaged in re-reading a letter from Melanie Wilkes, when she realized that it had been months since she had last thought of her once beloved Ashley.
Dropping Melanie's letter and staring into space, Scarlett tried to think of a time when Ashley had last crossed her mind, voluntarily or involuntarily. Melanie's letters often bragged of him, telling stories about the letters he sent her, his bravery on the battlefield and his recent promotion to Major. Beyond that, when did she think of him? Perhaps when she saw a blonde haired gentleman, or sleepy, grey eyes? Could Rhett have driven the specter of her childhood love completely out of her mind altogether? The idea seemed unthinkable; she loved Ashley, didn't she?
Vaguely, her mind took her back to the Library at Twelve Oaks, and the mortification of the scene that had followed her declaration of love for him. Had she meant the words then, when she had said them? Ashley seemed to think not. She remembered the sentiments slipping unbidden from her lips, the fog that had surrounded her as she saw childish dreams slipping from her. Was that what her love for Ashley had been? Childish dreams?
She thought of Careen, married, blissfully happy with the man of her childhood dreams. Would Scarlett have been as happy married to Ashley? She thought of his love of books, philosophy, art and poetry. She thought of her father's words, that Wilkes' went through the motions of Southern life, but never enjoyed balls and routs and parties and cards as much as other's did, their heart was never truly in it. Could she have lived like that? Ashley seemed to know that she couldn't.
For a wild moment, Scarlett thought about life as Ashley's wife, rather than Rhett's and immediately felt ill. She jumped from her chair, pacing the bedroom she shared with Rhett frantically. The thought alone was wrong, disloyal, and unfair to the husband who had been everything she might ever have hoped for in the partner of her life. Certainly Ashley never would have treated her the way Rhett did. With teasing, loving care, as an adult, not a chattel or a silly woman to be placated and doted on. The experiences he had given her; balls and parties and foreign countries. Exotic foods and wines and people and everything that was fine and fun in life. The way he had made love to her as promised, never ceasing his flirting and fun, never telling her to grow up and act like a matron now that she was one. He encouraged her bad behaviour and it was fun in a way that Scarlett had not anticipated, he had been right the first day they met when one didn't have to worry about reputation or honor, there was all sorts of fun to be had.
Pausing by the window and looking out over the still-busy Nassau street, Scarlett thought of what her life would have been had she not married Rhett. Certainly she wouldn't have been in Nassau right now. She might have been at Tara, or even Twelve Oaks, alone, while Ashley was off at war. Might they have had a baby by now? Would they have had time to create one? She blushed darkly at the thought. Some instinct within her told her that the passion and pleasure she experienced with Rhett would never have been possible for her and Ashley. The explosive heat that seemed to crackle around her husband and herself, the chemistry that always bubbled away, just under the surface of her skin... she had never felt such things with Ashley. Scarlett raised cold hands to hot cheeks, willing her blush to recede, though there was none there to see it.
Scarlett had long since been glad that she had married Rhett. She had enjoyed their life together thus far, had enjoyed being the pretty young wife of such an exciting, virile man and all the excitement and fun that it had entailed. But now, for the first time she was grateful for his actions that day at Twelve Oaks, grateful that he had pushed the issue, acted on the innate attraction between them and all but trapped her into marriage with him. What might have happened if she had not? Where would she be? Would she be alone or would she have married someone else? Certainly not Ashley, he had made sure of that. Who might she have ended up with? Would she ever have known the fun, excitement and passion she knew with Rhett? Instinctively, she knew she would not have.
Scarlett had never given much thought to the idea of a soul mate. Such ideas were too complex, too ethereal for her frank, straightforward nature. But, as she climbed into her large, lonely bed that night, hugging Rhett's pillow to her and inhaling the scent of him that lingered there, Scarlett found herself wondering about their life together. Had they been destined for each other? Had some other worldly being known to send them to each other? Had she been formed, just for him, as she sometimes thought when they were lying abed together.
Giving in to such confusing thoughts, Scarlett surrendered to sleep. Rhett was due home the next morning and she couldn't wait to see him.
The next morning, Scarlett dressed with particular care, even more so than usual. Knowing Rhett preferred her in green, she chose a lovely white morning dress, with dark green vertical stripes. He had chosen it for her himself in a boutique in Paris and Scarlett thought it the picture of everything metropolitan and elegant.
"Don't you look pretty this morning, Scarlett?" Careen asked, as Scarlett swept down the stairs to breakfast. "Here, have a scone."
"I couldn't possibly," Scarlett told her honestly, for she had instructed her Abigail to lace her as tightly as may be and she could barely breathe, let alone eat. "Brent, are you for the docks this morning?"
"I'm meeting Rhett's shipment there," Brent replied with an easy smile. Scarlett could scarcely believe the difference in her brother in law since they had returned to Nassau some weeks previously. All but gone was the haunted, damaged man she had seen at Fairhill that first day and back was the joking gentleman of Scarlett's childhood. He was older now, wiser certainly and genuinely haunted by the thought of what his brother's must be enduring on a battlefield somewhere in the South, but, through the tender ministrations of his young wife and the genuine need Rhett and Wade had for him for the success of their business, his recovery was coming along nicely and Scarlett was relieved.
"Might I come with you?" Scarlett enquired, putting on her most beguiling smile that few men could ignore, not even those she was now related to through marriage. "I should love to surprise Rhett there."
"Scarlett," Brent's brow furrowed. "Wouldn't you rather stay here in the house? You'll be far from comfortable at the dirty, smelly docks."
"Fiddle dee dee," Scarlett brushed off his concerns airily. "You shan't here a peep of complaint out of me. I shall be quiet as a church mouse and leave with Rhett when he arrives. I won't be in the way at all."
Brent laughed outright at that.
"I know you too well, my dear, to believe a word of that. But if you want to risk your pretty frock go straight ahead. Careen, you're sensible enough to stay home I believe?"
"Certainly," Careen agreed with a fond smile. "I've a letter to Mother to finish."
"Well come along then Scarlett," Brent shook his head. "If you're not going to eat we may as well go."
Scarlett stepped into the corridor under the pretence of tying the ribbons of her bonnet, allowing Brent a moment to give his wife a proper goodbye. He was flushed and grinning happily when he met her at the door and if Scarlett had been less eager to meet her husband, she might have made the cheeky comment that bubbled up her throat.
Scarlett had spent precious little time at the docks since arriving in Nassau, for, as Brent had said, it was loud, fetid and filthy. As always, it was a hum of activity, cargoes being loaded and unloaded and sailors crawling everywhere.
"Rhett's just pulling in to dock now," Brent pointed out her husband's steamship, not far from shore. There it was, the Katie Scarlett, Rhett piloting it from the hull. Scarlett waved wildly and watched as, even from a distance, as his face broke into a swarthy grin and he stepped away from the wheel, sweeping his hat from his head and across his breast in an elegant bow.
Scarlett laughed delightedly, clapping her hands together excitedly, bouncing up and down on her tiptoes so she might see better. When the boat moved towards the dock, Rhett threw a thick rope to the waiting crew on the dock and, while the boat was still a meter away, jumped from the boat onto the dock and swept towards his wife with all the elegance and grace of a panther.
"Mrs. Butler," he bowed elegantly over her hand.
"Rhett, I'm so glad you're home," she smiled and threw herself into his arms.
"And what have I done to warrant such a welcome?" He asked laughing as he lifted her from her feet and into his embrace.
"I missed you," she told him.
"I missed you as well," he told her, his eyes snapping joyfully at the earnest expression of pleasure on her face at his return. "Come, Mrs. Butler, let's go home."