Chapter XVII

It was one of those rare December days when the sun was almost as warm as Indian summer...

... When the news came. She and Rhett were sitting quietly together in his office one late December afternoon, when the servant delivered a black-edged envelope addressed to Mr. R. K. Butler. Scarlett's blood turned to ice in her veins at the sight of it and she sat stock still as Rhett hastily tore it open and his eyes ran quickly over the words.

"Oh Rhett," Scarlett whispered, her heart at her throat. "Who is it? Not..."

"Cecilia Bennet has died in childbirth," he told her, his dark eyes hard and carefully blank. "The child survives, a little boy, Wilhelm Bennet V."

"Oh no," Scarlett breathed, flying to her husband's side. "I'm so sorry darling."

Rhett drew her down onto his lap, bringing his arms around her and squeezing far too tightly for comfort. Scarlett lay her head against his chest, thinking of the dark haired, statuesque woman who had been so kind to Scarlett in the first week of her marriage.

"Bennet must be beside himself," Rhett murmured eventually. "God he loved her."

"He is lucky then, to have her child to remember her by," Scarlett told him. "Better that, than to lose both of them."

"I doubt he'll see it that way," Rhett shook his head sadly. "He names me as little Wilhelm's guardian should anything happen to him."

"Oh Rhett, you don't think he would do anything foolish do you?"

"He's lost the woman he loved more than anything in the world, I don't know what he might do Scarlett," Rhett replied, squeezing her more tightly still. "He's taken the babe and headed for New Orleans. We have friends there, I only hope they shall see to him and keep him sane enough to father the child."

"Could you go to him?" Scarlett asked, not wanting her husband to leave but feeling that she must at least raise the issue. "Would you be able to get into New Orleans? You could bring him back here, Careen and I could help with the baby?"

"You are good, my dear," Rhett's lips ghosted over her hair. "I'll consider it, but getting in to New Orleans will be difficult at best. I'll write our mutual friends there and offer our support if needed."

The news of Cissy Bennet's death hung heavy over the Butler house for some weeks to come. The news from New Orleans had not been what Rhett had hoped for. Bill Bennet had arrived in the city of his youth, seen to taking a house and hiring a staff to look after his newborn son and then proceeded to drink, gamble and fight in the barrooms of New Orleans, to excesses he hadn't met when he and Rhett had been young bucks hell bent on self destruction and living fast and loose.

With every missive from their mutual friends in New Orleans, Rhett grew increasingly concerned and began to seriously consider going to New Orleans to see what could be done for his eldest friend. Getting into New Orleans would present a challenge, leaving the business for the amount of time that it would take, even more so.

Finally, a note arrived from Bill Bennet himself. Rhett read it eagerly, before throwing it to the floor, striding for the closest decanter and pouring himself a large drink, which he knocked back in a single swallow. Then, when the glass was empty, Rhett considered it with carefully blank eyes, before turning and throwing it against the Library wall.

Scarlett let out a little shriek of surprise at the sound of the shattering glass and turned surprised eyes to Rhett. Never before had she seen him lose his temper in such a way, and it both shocked and thrilled her. He was always so carefully contained, so in control, that such a display was as out of character as it was surprising.

"Rhett?" She queried gently.

"Read it," he told her, his voice hoarse. "Go ahead."

Scarlett picked up the letter at her feet and quickly scanned the words there.

Rhett, (she read)
I thank you for your concern, my old friend. Please know that I've stopped the behaviors that you, in your happily married gentlemanly glory, found so abhorrent. No more whoring, gambling and drinking to excess for me. Now that I have joined our glorious Cause, I shall have no time for such things.

Laugh, if you will, but I've joined up and shall join my new regiment in Virginia soon. Never fear, the child will be well cared for. I have paid the rent on the house we are living in through these next two years and the slaves are as loyal to him as they are to me. My hope, of course, is that I shall be killed in action. I shouldn't do anything as foolhardy as jump in front of a ball, but should one seek me out, know that I die with no regrets, for I shall see my Cecilia again.

And now my friend, I ask a favor of you. Once news of my death reaches you, get to New Orleans and take my boy. Adopt him if you please and you and your pretty wife may raise him as your own. I have left him everything I have so you needn't fear for his future security. See that he is educated as a gentleman and has all the advantages you and I had as boys, as well as the one thing we did not, understanding parents, who encourage rather than curb. When he is old enough tell him of me and more particularly, of his mother. Tell him he was loved by her, and by me and that I'm sorry I was not strong enough to be there for him, rather than dying alongside his beloved mother.

Rhett, you and I have been very good friends over the years and I know such news that this letter contains must grieve you. Know that I am thankful for your friendship, your advice and your companionship. Thank your pretty little wife for me, for taking on a child not her own and loving him, as I'm sure you both will.

I remain and always shall be, your devoted friend and servant –

Wilhelm Bennet IV.

Scarlett sat, shocked at reading such a careless, flippant letter, all but announcing Bill Bennet's intention to die. Sudden anger flared within her. Had Bennet not given a single thought to how Rhett would feel upon receiving such a thing. And to give away his child to them in such a manner! Scarlett felt sick at the thought.

Carefully picking her way through the broken glass on the floor, Scarlett came to stand beside her still husband, wrapping her arms around his waist tightly.

"I'm sorry, Rhett."

"He's mad," Rhett laughed hollowly. "Mad with grief and despair, not even caring to live, even for his child. Selfish bastard."

Scarlett bit her lip, unsure what she could say to make things better.

"What shall we do now?" She eventually settled for asking.

"There is nothing we might do," Rhett tightened his grip on her body. "We can't take charge of the child until he's dead, so until we receive word, we must wait."

Scarlett flinched at such cold-hearted words from her husband.

"Come," she said soothingly. "Have another drink."

Settling him in a chair, she poured another brandy for him and then went and settled herself in his lap.

"Thank you my dear," Rhett knocked back the warm liquid, enjoying the burn down his throat, craving more instantly. He continued talking to distract himself. "How shall you like being made a mother is such a way Scarlett?"

Scarlett didn't want to think about such a thing that day, didn't want to add her burdens to Rhett's, so instead she vowed to think of it tomorrow and replied –

"I shall like it very well, as this way at least, it won't ruin my figure."

Rhett laughed hard at this and pulled her closer still.

In the coming weeks, without telling Rhett, Scarlett quietly began to furnish a nursery and made discreet enquiries about acquiring a nursery staff. She continued to put off thinking about her feelings towards becoming a mother of another woman's child, instead concerning herself with the practicalities of the matter.

Rhett was another matter entirely. His behaviour since receiving Bill Bennet's letter had confused Scarlett in the extreme. He vacillated between loving, caring attentions towards her that were almost smothering in nature and sharp, sarcastic jabs at everything she did. Scarlett, unable to manage her own temper, often responded in kind and they would have flaming rows, where she would lose her temper and he would, without fail, keep his, infuriating her even more. As ready as Scarlett was to hold a grudge however, Rhett would never allow it, often coming to her at night with wordless apologies and deeply passionate kisses and caresses that would make Scarlett's anger dissolve into a puddle at her feet.

He was gone now, more often than he was home and Scarlett missed him fiercely, for even when he was home he was not the Rhett she had come to know so well. She was at a loss, not knowing how to fix the problem, not knowing how to avoid their arguments and not knowing what the issue was in the first place, aside from his grief over the predestined fate of his oldest friend.

Scarlett was left with the realization that despite being married to the man for near two years, she knew Rhett little, other than what he would allow her to know. This insight saddened her and she was left with the words Ashley had said to her that day at the barbecue at Twelve Oaks echoing in her ears –

i You would want all of a man Scarlett, his body, his heart, his soul, his thoughts. And if you don't have them you would be miserable. /i
She wasn't miserable! She wasn't! Until this point she had thought herself happy. But now she was left wondering what Rhett was holding back from her and why. She had given all of herself to him, her body, heart, soul and thoughts and she had thought she had all of him in return.

Unused to being denied something she wanted and equally as unused to the level of introspection it had taken for her to come to such a realization, Scarlett had withdrawn in a way that she never had before.

Her sister was the first to notice, Careen was surprisingly observant in a way people rarely gave her credit for and she immediately shared her concerns with her husband. It was painful to watch the normally vivacious, bright Scarlett withdraw the way she had, and the newlywed Tarleton's agreed something must be done.

Brent, who had developed a respectable relationship with his brother in law, resolved to discuss the matter with Rhett, for his interchangeable moods had not escaped his notice.

Before Brent could say anything however, Rhett came to his senses himself.

The four of them were eating together one night; a month after Bill Bennet's letter had arrived. Rhett was in old form, laughing and telling stories, the sort that would have previously delighted Scarlett. Instead, she sat, focusing on pushing the food around her plate in the hope that it would appear she had eaten more than she had.

Halfway through desert, Rhett noticed his wife's distraction and, for the first time in weeks, truly paid attention to her appearance. With her eyes downcast, the pallor of her skin and the dark circles about her eyes she looked ill and Rhett was suddenly worried. How long had she looked like that without his noticing? Was she ill and hadn't seen fit to tell him? Careen and Brent appeared unconcerned, how long had this been going on right before his eyes?

As soon as dinner was finished, Rhett stood and walked to Scarlett's side. She seemed surprised by his presence and he immediately felt ashamed, how long had it been since he had left off these little attentions to her and why had he ever done it, when the smallest of actions made her so happy.

Making their excuses to Brent and Careen, Rhett tucked her hand about his elbow and gently led her up the stairs. There, he deposited her in his favorite chair beside the bay window in their bedroom and knelt at her feet, taking her hands in his.

"What is it darling?" He asked, sotto voice. "Are you ill?"

"I'm perfectly fine, Rhett," Scarlett insisted, in a voice not her own.

Rhett was perplexed, ever since his insistence in the early days of their marriage that she always be truthful with him, he had not caught her out in a lie. Until now.

"Come now Scarlett, tell the truth, what is the matter?" Thinking teasing might be the best way to get it out of her he continued. "Are you not feeling all together? Is it your time?"

Any mention of such a thing had never failed in the past to embarrass Scarlett no end, now however, she didn't so much as blushed and simply replied in the negative.

"What is it, my baby?" He asked her, tenderly brushing the hair back from her forehead. "You're making me crazy with worry, Scarlett."

To her eternal shame, tears burnt in Scarlett's eyes. She didn't cry, never cried and certainly wouldn't cry in front of her husband. She jumped from her seat, brushed past her still kneeling husband and moved to stand in front of the window, tears blurring her vision and making her throat ache fiercely with the effort to suppress them.

"Scarlett, Scarlett," Rhett was undone at the sight of her struggling so valiantly to hold in her tears. Unable to help himself he picked her up in his arms and sat down in the chair, holding her close to him, tightly, as if he feared she would get away from him. "My dearest, won't you tell me what's going on in that pretty little head of yours."

Scarlett shook her head, her throat burning too much for words; her eyes dancing with unshed tears.

"Is it the thought of adopting Bennet's baby?" Rhett guessed.

"No," Scarlett croaked. "It's... it's... Rhett do you remember what Ashley said to me that day at Twelve Oaks in the Library?"

Rhett's features immediately hardened, a blank, inscrutable look immediately plastering over his face, his arms around her loosening.

"Vividly. What particular part of it?"

"He told me we, he and I, that is, could never be happy together, because to be happy I would need... all of a man," Scarlett whispered. "I never gave it a thought until lately and I've realized Rhett, Ashley was right, about so many things, but most of all he was right about that. And I have been happy and I thought I had all of you... until recently."

This bought Rhett up short. This he had not expected. Him? He had caused her distress? How?

"You've been so... different lately Rhett and I've realized I don't know which is the real you. The one who swept me away to Paris and made love to me constantly or this... sarcastic, unfeeling creature you've been recently. I know Bennet upset you; I know you've struggled with the knowledge that you're powerless to do anything in the face of his death but Rhett... I can't live like this."

She was crying now, openly and ugly and though she sat on his lap, for once she could not find comfort in his embrace.

"I'm sick of bickering and fighting and then making up and spending the night lost in each other. I've realized I've not got all of you and... it hurts Rhett, because, stupid girl that I am, I gave you all of me."

At another time, these words would have made Rhett whoop for joy, now however they were lost in the maelstrom of her words, tumbling about in his head.

"I've been a boor," he told her in a defeated whisper. "I've no excuse for my behaviour my darling, I'm only sorry to have hurt you."

"I don't understand, Rhett."

"How could you, my preciously young pet?" Rhett laughed shortly. "How could you know what it is to be confronted by one's mortality? You who is so young and unthinking, I hardly understand it myself Scarlett. Scarlett I've been in bar fights and duels, I've been at the end of madmen's gun's more times than I could count. I've taken my life in my hands in bars, on the goldfields of California and invaded foreign countries with shady characters like William Walker, all for profit. For years I made my way living on nothing but my skills with a gun and my steady hand at the poker table. And for much of that time I had Wilhelm Bennet alongside me. We both came through, each and every time, no matter how hairy things got, because we both held above all a stubborn determination i not to die. /i And it bothers me more than it should that Bill's suddenly lost that determination, that drive that saw us through so many horrendous situations. It makes a man wonder, my dear, what it would take for me to lose my will to live the way Bennet has, and I find myself not liking the answers."

Scarlett wanted to cry i Lord above Rhett! Don't speak of such things. /i But something stopped her. She knew, somehow, that that would be the least helpful thing she could do in that moment and instead simply cuddled closer to her husband, not understanding his sudden talk of death.

Rhett was surprised by her silence, unusual as it was for her and he was left wondering how badly he had hurt her with his distance and his mean quips and barbs over the last month. He had not liked knowing the power she had over him, had hated that he cared about her so much that, if he found himself in the same position as his friend, having lost his wife, he could understand the desire not to live any longer. So he had meanly distanced himself from her, except at night, when he was powerless to resist the siren call that was her body and her welcoming embrace. And now he was paying the price.

"Forgive me, darling," he murmured, nuzzling his nose against her willing neck. "I've been unfair to you and it stops from tonight."

"It hasn't been so bad," Scarlett shrugged dismissively. "I know there are many things you could never tell me Rhett, but, the things you might, if you would share them with me..."

"Of course my little darling," his lips moved gently down her neck, his close-clipped moustache tickling her neck. "Starting tomorrow. And we're going to take a trip, just a short one mind you, but we're going away."

"We are?"

"Yes Scarlett, we are. I'm going to take you to England like I promised I would while we were engaged. How do you like that, my dear?"

"Very much, Rhett," Scarlett replied happily, her mercurial nature allowing for the immediate banishment of that which had previously ailed her.

"I shall make the arrangements tomorrow then," Rhett agreed. "But for tonight..."

They lost themselves in each other then, fully enjoying their bodies, the easiest part for them to give and for the other to take. The rest would come.