Author's note: I enjoyed writing this too much to wait to share it. This is definitely my adult mental escape. Enjoy!
The sun shone intermittently the next morning. Scarlett waited until Aunt Pitty, Mammy and Uncle Peter were out of the house and on their way to Mrs. Bonnell's before dressing and sneaking out of the house. When, at last, the front gate banged and she was alone in the house, she leaped from the bed and riffled through the clothes in the closet that had miraculously survived the siege and burning of the town. She would bring some of it back to Tara for they were in better shape than most of what they were wearing on a daily basis. The dress hung more loosely on her than even during the siege, but that couldn't be helped. She was not fooling anyone with her clothes or shoes, but no one else had anything much nicer than she did.
Sleep had refreshed her and given her strength and refreshed her optimism, and from the cold hard core at the bottom of her heart, she drew courage. No one, looking at her now, would have any doubt that poverty and want were standing at her shoulder, as they were for most of the Old Guard of Atlanta, but it gave her a shabby gentility that helped her blend back into the good citizens that she would be intermingled with.
She hastened down Baker Street to avoid the all seeing eyes of the neighbors. But when she reached the square she was met with the dilemma of how would she go about finding Rhett in this enemy camp?
She looked down the street toward the firehouse and saw that the wide arched doors were closed and heavily barred and two sentries passed and repassed on each side of the building. According toAunt Pitty, Rhett was in there. She squared her shoulders. If she hadn't been afraid to kill one Yankee, she shouldn't fear merely talking to another.
She picked her way precariously across the stepping stones of the muddy street and walked forward until a sentry, his blue overcoat buttoned high against the wind, stopped her. After a brief conversation, she was led into headquarters, which had been formerly a family home where she had attended parties and events throughout the war by second man cloaked in blue.
She went up the steps, caressing the broken white banisters, and pushed open the front door. The hall was dark and as cold as a vault and a shivering sentry was leaning against the closed folding doors of what had been, in better days, the dining room. Scarlett bravely told the man in charge her mission, "I want to see a prisoner, Captain Rhett Butler."
"Butler again? He's popular, that man," laughed the captain, taking a chewed cigar from his mouth. "You a relative, Ma'm?"
She was taken aback. The way he reacted…. why did Rhett have so many visitors? But she covered her thoughts by returned with the lie that she was "Yes—his—his sister." She could barely admit to herself, let alone a Yankee that she had offered herself to him as his a mistress. The shake could not be born if anyone were to know
At which the man laughed again. "He's got a lot of sisters, one of them was here yesterday."
Scarlett flushed. One of those creatures Rhett consorted with, probably that Watling woman. Little did it matter that her offer to him put her on the same level as the other women trying to visit him. She didn't see herself that way. But these Yankees thought she was another one. It was unendurable. And if he was receiving visitors from Belle or her like, why hadn't he gotten word to her? He knew the situation at Tara. Not even for Tara would she stay here another minute and be insulted. She turned to the door and reached angrily for the knob but another officer was by her side quickly. He was clean shaven and young and had merry, kind eyes.
"Just a minute, Ma'm. Won't you sit down here by the fire where it's warm? I'll go see what I can do about it. What is your name? He refused to see the—lady who called yesterday."
The fact that he had refused Belle, as she imagined the woman caller to be, soothed her pride. So she sank into the proffered chair, glaring at the discomfited fat captain, and gave her name. As she waited she mused about the shabby shape that her shoes were in, they were worn clear through, and she wished that she had put some cardboard in the sole to protect her feet from the cold wet ground. Finally, voices murmured outside the door and she heard Rhett's laugh. The door opened, a swirl of air gusting in around them and Rhett appeared, hatless, a long cape thrown carelessly across his shoulders. He was dirty and unshaven and without a cravat but somehow jaunty despite his dishabille, and his dark eyes were snapping joyfully at the sight of her. "Scarlett!"
He had her hands in both of his and, as always, there was something hot and vital and exciting about his grip. Before she quite knew what he was about, he had bent and kissed her cheek, his mustache tickling her. As he felt the startled movement of her body away from him, he hugged her about the shoulders and said: "My darling little sister!" and grinned down at her as if he relished her helplessness in resisting his caress. She couldn't help laughing back at him for the advantage he had taken. What a rogue he was! Jail had not changed him one bit.
The fat captain was muttering through his cigar to the merry-eyed officer. "Most irregular. He should be in the firehouse. You know the orders."
"Oh, for God's sake, Henry! We can't put this lady in a barn."
"Oh, all right, all right!" He returned begrudgingly."It's your responsibility."
"I assure you, gentlemen," said Rhett, turning to them but still keeping a grip on Scarlett's shoulders, "my—sister hasn't brought me any saws or files to help me escape."
They all laughed and, then to her relief, the nice officer opened a door for them and urged them inside. "You see what a desperate character I am, Scarlett," said Rhett with a smile. "Thank you, Captain. This is most kind of you."
Scarlett nodded and murmured her thanks as well. Rhett bowed carelessly before taking Scarlett's arm and pulling her to her feet and through the door of the offered room. When he had closed the door behind them, Rhett came to her swiftly and bent over her. Knowing his desire, she turned her head quickly but smiled provocatively at him out of the corners of her eyes. "Can't I really kiss you now?"
"On the forehead, like a good brother," she answered demurely.
"Thank you, no. I prefer to wait and hope for better things." His eyes sought her lips and lingered there a moment. "But how good of you to come to see me, Scarlett! You are the first respectable citizen who has called on me since my incarceration, and being in jail makes one appreciate friends. When did you come to town?"
"Yesterday afternoon."
"And you came out this morning? Why, my dear, you are more than good." He smiled down at her with the first expression of honest pleasure she had ever seen on his face. Scarlett smiled inwardly with excitement and ducked her head as if embarrassed. "It is all right, Scarlett. I know that you've come for the money. I'm sorry I wasn't able to bring it to you before I was arrested."
She almost crowed in delight, "then you have the money for me? And of course, I came out right away. I've hardly slept for worrying about Tara, and then when Frank told me you were in jail I was terrified for you as well."
"Why, Scarlett!" His voice was soft but there was a vibrant note in it, and looking up into his dark face she saw in it none of the skepticism, the jeering humor she knew so well. Before his direct gaze her eyes fell again in real confusion. "Frank told me that you were in jail and that they might hang you." Her voice cracked at her admission, and real fear pierced her heart like an icicle. " And Rhett I was so afraid for you. If you aren't safe, then my family isn't either. Our survival is linked to your own."
"Ahh, Scarlett. You do know how to feed a man's ego." He chuckled. "It's worth being in jail to see you again and to know that you worry about me. I really couldn't believe my ears when they brought me your name."
"Oh, Rhett, they won't really hang you, will they?" And fear slipped into her voice once again.
"They might, but I'm using my contacts in Washington and in other high places to secure my release. I think that they won't be able to keep me much longer. I knew that you would be getting desperate and scared. I told you that I would take care of you, and I will make good on my word, even if it is the last thing I do."
"Spare me your gallows humor." Scarlett retorted hotly. "I don't want to think of anything like that happening to you. Yes, I need the money, but I don't want you to die. We'll find a way to get food and a roof over our heads, but not at the expense of your life."
His smile grew, for her passionate words seemed to come from a depth that she didn't even realize that she felt. "Scarlett," he crooned and reached under her chin and tipped her face up to his. "You are still beautiful. Your eyes have fascinated me since we met. But you deserve to be waited on hand and foot and dressed in anything but these rags. You should be dressed as a royal, and as soon as I get out of here, I am buying you a new wardrobe of the finest clothes that money can buy. You, my dear, were not meant to be a pauper, but a queen."
"Rhett, you can't. You know it isn't proper for a man to buy things like that for anyone other than family." But she laughed in soft excitement and spun about on her toes at the thought of new clothes. Few things could distract her from her utter darkest moment than the thought of new clothes. And his black eyes took her in with a glance that missed nothing, that old impudent unclothing glance which always gave her goose bumps. "We might be playing that game in here, Rhett, but it still isn't proper, and you know I won't be able to accept them. No matter how much I wish that I could." She sat down glumly.
"You're going to accept my money, aren't you? As my mistress, I will" most definitely find a way to lavish you with gifts and the finest food. You've lost weight since I was at Tara, and you didn't have any weight to lose then. Have you eaten anything since I left Tara?"
"I was too worried about your return and saving Tara, and then when you didn't come, I could hardly manage a bite or two of food."
His brows knit together in hot fury, and she shied away from him, but he quickly reigned his emotions in. "I maybe a monster of selfishness, as you ought to know. I always expect payment for anything I give. But perhaps I will do something to make it proper to shower you with gifts." She stared at him in puzzlement. He had already agreed to post her to be his mistress, and surely she was misunderstanding what he meant. Her heart was fuzzy with exhaustion and fear. Then the reality of the situation struck her in the face once again as she looked around. This was no game. This was life and death. He was the only hope for Tara and for herself and for Wade. She became suddenly serious, dropping the artifice and flirtation, "Rhett, are they going to let you go? What is going to happen?" Her lip trembled. "Everything I've done to save my family and save Tara, and you… Is everything going to go up in smoke like Atlanta did?"
He swiftly covered her hand with his and then pulled her into his arms as he had done the night they fled Atlanta when she was breaking down in front of Aunt Pitty's house. "Your distress does you credit. There's no telling when I'll be out. Probably when they've stretched the rope a bit more."
"The rope?"
"Yes, I expect to make my exit from here at the rope's end."
"They won't really hang you?" She gasped in horror as tears pricked at her eyes.
"They will if they can get a little more evidence against me."
"Oh, Rhett!" she cried, her hand at her heart.
"Would you be sorry? If you are sorry enough, I'll mention you in my will." His dark eyes laughed at her recklessly and he squeezed her hand. "According to the Yankees, I ought to have a fine will. There seems to be considerable interest in my finances at present. Every day, I am hauled up before another board of inquiry and asked foolish questions. The rumor seems current that I made off with the mythical gold of the Confederacy."
She peered up at him, "Well—did you?"she couldn't help but ask him the bold question.
"What a leading question! 'Nihil desperandum' is my motto." his eyes gleaming as he grins at her.
"What does that mean?"
"It means 'maybe,' my charming ignoramus."
"Oh, you're too smart to let them hang you! I know you'll think of some clever way to beat them and get out! And when you do—"
"And when I do?" he asked softly, leaning closer.
"Well, I—" She looked up into his eyes with one swift imploring glance full of conflicted feelings, "I've agreed to be your mistress…" She finished lamely, but he seemed to recognize something else within her gaze for his eyes leaped with fire. He squeezed her hands and she gazed into his until the tears began slipping past her careful guard, "Oh, Rhett, I'd die if they hanged you! I couldn't bear it! You see, I—" And, her lids fluttered down again as her words faltered.
His hands closed over hers in so hard a grip that it hurt. After a moment of silence, she opened her eyes. His black head was bent over her hands and, as she watched, he lifted one and kissed it and, taking the other, laid it against his cheek for a moment. From a man as volatile as Rhett Butler, this gentle and loverlike gesture startled her and stirred a flurry of sparks of emotion in her chest. She wondered what expression was on his face but could not tell for his head was bowed.
As she watched him through the veil of her lashes he turned her hand over, palm up, to kiss it too, and suddenly he drew a quick breath. Looking down she saw her own palm, saw it as it really was for the first time in a year, and a cold sinking fear gripped her. This was a stranger's palm, not Scarlett O'Hara's soft, white, dimpled, helpless one. This hand was rough from work, brown with sunburn, splotched with freckles. The nails were broken and irregular, there were heavy calluses on the cushions of the palm, a half-healed blister on the thumb. The red scar which boiling fat had left last month was ugly and glaring. She looked at it in horror and, before she thought, she swiftly clenched her fist.
Still he did not raise his head. Still she could not see his face. He pried her fist open inexorably and stared at it, picked up her other hand and held them both together silently, looking down at them.
"Look at me," he said finally raising his head, and his voice was very quiet.
Unsure of his reaction, she met his eyes. His black brows were up and his eyes shone brightly. She tried to wrench them away but he held them hard, running his thumbs over the calluses.
"These are not what the hands of a lady should look like, you deserve so much more," he said but continued to cradle them in his larger ones.
"I'm sorry Rhett. I should have worn gloves to hide them." She cried softly, "Everything's as wrong as it could be. Father is—is—he's not himself. He's been queer ever since Mother died and he can't help me any. He's just like a child. And we haven't a single field hand to work the cotton and there's so many to feed, thirteen of us. And the taxes— they are so high. Rhett, we're been just this side of starvation. We've never had enough to eat and it's terrible to wake up hungry and go to sleep hungry. And we haven't any warm clothes and the children are always cold and sick and—" She paused, loath to admit her weakness, despite his previous knowledge. "I shouldn't burden you with this. You've already heard my sad story. And you can't do anything about it from here."
"No, I appreciate that you were honest with me about the situation at Tara when I was there. I would have been very angry with you if you had tried to lie about the conditions, and then I had discovered your deception." He bent and kissed the healing blister and then moved on to sweetly kiss the bright red scar on her palm. "I will find a way to save Tara so that your hands never look like this again."
She was sitting in stunned silence, not knowing how to react to his kind promises.
"Scarlett, I will not hold you to this if you choose not to wait to see if I live or die at the end of a rope, but if you will allow me, I will marry you, if you will have me, so that you never work a day again in your life."
"Rhett…" she sputtered, briefly thinking of how she never intended to marry again, but as she stared into his eyes, she felt that warmth rush through her again. She nodded her chin ever so slightly, and then his lips were upon her, hot and slow and desperate and forceful, filled with the promise of things she couldn't name, feelings that she hadn't even known existed, that only he seemed to give life to, and she surrendered to the haze of his ardor. It didn't matter that they were inside Yankee headquarters or that he was possibly going to hang for his crimes. His kisses drove everything else away. All she could think of was him and how he made her body tremble and how she wanted to press her body even closer to his. It felt like a fire blasting within her, as his hands roamed over her. His lips left hers and trailed down her neck, when suddenly his body grew rigid.
"We need to stop. I will not take you in a jail like common whore, no matter how much I might enjoy myself in the moment." He added with a leering grin. "I will not treat you like that." He offered. "If you'll have me, which I think you just consented to, I'll find a way for us to marry, so that even if I do hang, you will receive everything that I have in my name."
"But, Rhett…" she interjected.
"No, I will find a way to beat this, and if I find that I won't I will request for them to allow me to marry you here if nothing else. And I will get your answers shortly." He brushed the back of his fingers across her face gently. "And before you return to Tara, I will get you food enough so that none of your people will go hungry again."
" We don't have much time. I have got to have the money soon if I'm to save Tara, Rhett. They'll turn us out in the road and that damned overseer of Father's will own the place and—I can't let Tara go. It's home. I won't let it go. Not while I've got breath left in me!"
"If all else fails, I will pay whatever it takes to buy it back without the fool who buys it know that I'm connected to you. And if he refuses to sell, I'll find a way to force him. I'm not without means." then he chuckled. "The Irish," said he, lowering his chair back to level and removing his hands from his pockets, "are the damnedest race. They put so much emphasis on so many wrong things. Land, for instance. And every bit of earth is just like every other bit. "
"Oh, Rhett, how you run on! If you want to insult me, go on and do it but give me the money."
She was breathing easier now. Being what he was, Rhett would naturally want to torment and tease her as much as possible to pay her back for past slights. Well, she could stand it. She could stand anything. Tara was worth it all. For a brief moment it was mid-summer and the afternoon skies were blue and she lay drowsily in the thick clover of Tara's lawn, looking up at the billowing cloud castles, the fragrance of white blossoms in her nose and the pleasant busy humming of bees in her ears. Afternoon and hush and the far-off sound of the wagons coming in from the spiraling red fields. Worth it all, worth more. And maybe marrying him would be better than marriage to Charlie. Charles has never made her tremble from his kisses or feel like fire was engulfing her.
Suddenly some of the tension left her, and the hunger of the months and weeks was upon her. Her head began to swim, but she didn't even have two cents to rub together, nothing to buy even the smallest bit of food. Her head went up. "Can you give me any money now?"
"No, I'm not able," he said, in a voice laced with regret.
For a moment her mind could not adjust itself to his words. For all of her assurances, she suddenly felt so desperate.
"I couldn't give it to you, even if I wanted to. I haven't a cent on me. Not a dollar in Atlanta. I have some money, yes, but not here. And I'm not saying where it is or how much. But if I tried to draw a draft on it, the Yankees would be on me like a duck on a June bug and then neither of us would get it. I'll give you my lawyer's name, and hopefully he will answer you to get what you need. What do you think of that?"
Her face went pale. "I'm scared Rhett. You've made so many promises, and I want to believe you, but what if they don't let you, what if nothing matters, and they hang you and Tara is sold and we are thrown out on the street what if one of us gets stuck," and the panic was building in her voice as the weight of the last year and a half crashed upon her. Her voice rising in panic and swift as a panther, Rhett was beside her, his hands cradling her, his arm tight about her waist. He held her so tightly. His face was white under its tan, his eyes hard and anxious as he lifted her completely off her feet, swung her up against his chest and sat down in the chair, holding her in his lap. She'd never fainted in her recollection, but wondered if this is what that it felt like.
"Darling, for God's sake! I'll find a way, even if you may not like the method. Do calm yourself. Do you want the Yankees to see you like this?"
She was beyond caring who saw her, but dizziness was sweeping her. She could not breathe; her stays were like a swiftly compressing band of iron. Then his voice became thin and dim and his face above her swirled in a sickening mist which became heavier and heavier until she no longer saw him—or anything else.
When she made feeble swimming motions to come back to consciousness, she was tired to her bones, weak, bewildered. She was lying back in the chair, her bonnet off, Rhett was slapping her wrist, his black eyes searching her face anxiously. The nice young captain was trying to pour a glass of brandy into her mouth and had spilled it down her neck. The other officers hovered helplessly about, whispering and waving their hands.
"I—guess I must have fainted," she said, and her voice sounded so far away it frightened her.
"Drink this," said Rhett, taking the glass and pushing it against her lips. "Please, for my sake."
She gulped and choked and began coughing but he pushed it to her mouth again. She swallowed deeply and the hot liquid burned suddenly in her throat.
"I think she's better now, gentlemen," said Rhett, "and I thank you very much. The realization that I'm to be executed was too much for her."
The group in blue shuffled their feet and looked embarrassed and after several clearings of throats, they tramped out. The young captain paused in the doorway.
"If there's anything more I can do—"
"No, thank you."
He went out, closing the door behind him.
"Drink some more," said Rhett.
"No."
"Drink it."
She swallowed another mouthful and the warmth began spreading through her body and strength flowed slowly back into her shaking legs. She pushed away the glass and tried to rise but he pressed her back.
"I need to be going."
"Not yet. Wait a minute. You might faint again."And I won't have you fainting in the road."
She lay relaxed for a moment, trying to summon some emotion to her aid, trying to draw on her strength. But she was too tired. She was too tired to care very much about anything. Defeat lay on her spirit like lead. She had gambled everything and lost everything. Or it felt like she was losing everything. Despite all of his reassurances, she still could not believe that Rhett was going to be able to do anything to save her. This was the dead end of her last hope. This was the end of Tara, the end of them all. For a long time she lay back with her eyes closed, hearing his heavy breathing near her, and the glow of the brandy crept gradually over her, giving a false strength and warmth. When finally she opened her eyes and looked him in the face. "I'm going to be going now. I'll wait for word from you." she returned, the defeat still heavy upon her.
He tugged at her hand. "Just wait for word from me. I'll take care of it, even if it is the last thing I do. And I do mean that literally."
She shuddered as she rose to her feet, snatching up her bonnet. Why must he be so glib about his own life when his was so closely tied to her own?
He suddenly had her by the shoulders. "Not quite yet. Do you feel well enough to talk sense?"
"I'm fine!" She returned the strength returning as her anger at being in this situation rose up within her.
"You are well enough, I see. Then, tell me this. Was I the only iron you had in the fire?" His eyes were keen and alert, watching every change in her face.
"What do you mean?"
"Was I the only man you were going to talk to? Are there any other men on your string? Tell me!"
"No. Who else would be in a position to help me? I already committed to being your mistress, now I'm your fiancée. I just agreed to marry you? Have you forgotten so quickly?"
"No, I haven't forgotten that I was desperate enough to ask, or you were desperate enough to accept. Though I can't imagine you without five or six beaus in reserve. Surely someone will turn up to help you. What about the honorable Ashley Wilkes?"
"What good would Ashley Wilkes do? His only suggestion was for his family to move north and for mine to give up and move to Savannah or Charleston or move in with Aunt Pitty. He is completely useless." She made no attempt to soften or quelch the disgust she felt at Ashley's response. "He scolded me about associating with you, as though you were dirt under his feet. But then he certainly didn't have anything helpful to suggest. He just wanted me to admit defeat. I've worked too hard to hold on to Tara and keep my family going to quit now. I don't know how to fix this situation, but I'll figure out something. Hopefully you'll be able to follow through with your promises." she said and wearily put on her bonnet. She wondered how he could jest so blithely with a rope about his neck and her pitiful circumstances before him. She did not even notice that his hands were jammed in his pockets in hard fists as if he were straining at his own impotence.
"Cheer up," he said, as she tied the bonnet strings. "You can come to my hanging and it will make you feel lots better. It'll even up all your old scores with me—even this one. And I'll mention you in my will."
"Would you stop making a joke of it! I don't want to see you hanged! Maybe I was angry enough after you left me on the way home at rough and ready that I thought I did, but I don't. And your jokes just make me question your ability to fulfill what you promised. So no thank you, and even if you can only help by including me in your will, they may not hang you till it's too late to pay the taxes," she said with a sudden malice that matched his own.
He sighed."Scarlett, I can't do anything at this moment, but I will. Just go to Aunt PittyPat and wait for me. I'll help you as much as I can. As God as my witness, I will find a way.." He grabbed her hand and kissed it once more. "And hopefully, I will be seeing you very soon. Hopefully, someone in my contacts will respond, the sooner the better." He pulled her into his arms, holding her close. He tipped her chin up so that she was staying up into his eyes, and his lips descended gently, softly caressing hers with a promise of more. "Sweet." And then he stepped back from her. "I'll find a way. I'll call in every favor I have, so you don't have to suffer anymore."
Scarlett nodded at him and slipped out the door and left the headquarters behind, still a little terrified and desperate as when she had arrived. She prayed that a miracle would happen, for that is what it felt like it worked take now. But she would shoulder this burden and wait for him. She hoped that the wait wasn't long.