Disclaimer: Not mine.
Chapter 2
Bonnie started to fuss so Rhett set her down, giving Scarlett a sidelong glance as he did so.
"You're awfully quiet," he said, stretching out his legs and crossing one ankle over another as he lit a cigar. "Penny for your thoughts."
Ah. So he's noticed her flailing temperament, as well. She'd best rally.
"The snow is getting very deep," she replied archly. "I hope the train doesn't have to stop."
He took a long draw of the cigar, then flicked his ash toward a tray.
"Perhaps we'll be waylaid, a new experience for you, at least. The most interesting things can happen when one is waylaid on a journey. Where's your sense of adventure, my dear?"
"The war killed it," she sniffed.
"You don't regret the trip, do you?" he asked, almost casually, but something flickered in his dark eyes.
Surprised, she gave him a searching glance. Yes, that stony facade was cracking, but only barely.
Watching Rhett so closely was truly educational. She should have tried it a long time ago.
"No, I have quite enjoyed it," she admitted, then looked at him from beneath her lashes. "You?"
He smiled in an enigmatic manner but did not answer, pulling Bonnie closer and staring out the window himself.
"Alston Brooks certainly enjoyed your company," he remarked after a few minutes.
Scarlett snorted. "I suppose." Alston Brooks, a former Massachusetts business associate of Rhett's, had unfortunately been staying at the Leland House as well for the last week of the trip, and had followed Scarlett around like a lost puppy whenever he could—and whenever his wife allowed it.
Scarlett would have been flattered and might have passed the time engaging in a light flirtation (he was a handsome and wealthy man after all) if he hadn't been such an unrepentant Yankee, and with such an unpleasant Boston accent, to boot.
"I believe he was quite smitten," Rhett drawled. "And also quite disappointed when you rebuffed his advances."
Scarlett gave a delicate shrug. Many men had been smitten, and fell almost immediately for her accent and looks. Why was Rhett deviling her about that stupid Brooks fellow?
Bonnie suddenly protested being held. "Want Mama," she chirped and disentangled herself from her father's arms before toddling on chubby, sturdy legs to Scarlett, who couldn't contain a victorious grin as she lifted the child into her lap.
Rhett grimaced but did not attempt to stop his daughter. He'd had to get used to this new practice lately. While he'd been showing Wade 'man matters' at the resort, Scarlett had stolen more than a few minutes with Bonnie.
At first, she'd had no choice, as Prissy acted like a cat that had been thrown into a rushing river as soon as they hit true winter weather, wild-eyed and wailing and complaining to no end.
Scarlett wanted to slap her on more than one occasion when Prissy swore she would surely freeze to death if she went outside even for a minute, just the foray from the door of the hotel to the carriage apparently being far too much for her employers to expect; but somehow, Scarlett managed to quash the urge.
Secretly she agreed with Prissy, to a certain extent. She'd never experienced cold like this, and during the first few days of the trip, the slicing wind and mind-boggling low temperatures almost put her in a panic. But she couldn't lose her composure, couldn't appear weakened by something so innocuous on the surface in front of Rhett; and so she forged ahead as if the brutality of their current environment did not matter at all, and looking after the children by herself didn't inconvenience her in the least.
But thankfully it did warm up to at least the mid-twenties during the day that first week, and soon after, as Scarlett started to spend time with her youngest, she found she quite enjoyed it.
The child seemed to have been made solely from Scarlett and her pa, with her dark curls and blue eyes, and unmistakable Irish temper. Once Scarlett realized this, her attitude changed. They got along quite famously, when given the chance, and no one could deny what a pretty picture the mother and child made together.
Ella was not immune and regarded her mother and sister's camaraderie with wonder and a hint of longing; it was a look, a sliver of an expression that Suellen used to give Scarlett as a child. It struck a long-forgotten chord, and for the first time, Scarlett feared for her firstborn, having a sibling who was so much more attractive.
Not a Suellen, she lamented to herself. I can't raise a bitter and resentful child just like her. I couldn't live through it again. It would be a damnation.
As if on cue Bonnie leaned over and snatched Ella's new doll right out of her hands. Scarlett made her give it back instantly, despite the child's bellowing. She thought Bonnie would insist on returning to her father—they played musical laps quite often, now that Bonnie'd started spending time on hers— but she didn't, instead opting to slide over and settle down deep in the seat beside her and lean against Scarlett's arm.
Scarlett forced herself to play with Ella, the fear of living with a future Suellen for the next ten years or so fresh in her mind.
And it wasn't so bad when there wasn't anything else to occupy her time. Ella's boundless creativity complemented her sweet nature, and Scarlett found herself laughing out loud several times. Apparently, Rhett's story-telling mastery had rubbed off and the child reminded her of him as she paused for effect and painted pictures with her colorful descriptions and simple words. Even Wade expressed amusement, looking up from his book from time to time to watch his sister as she regaled his mother. And his baby sister, who was listening despite her former annoyance.
At different points Scarlett noticed Rhett watching them in a somewhat bemused fashion, and she stifled the impulse to stick out her tongue. There wasn't anything else to do here in this compartment, she might as well enjoy her children, as strange a concept as that might be, even to herself.
"I suppose," he began after Ella's last tale concerning a porcupine and a love-struck bullfrog ended, and a certain inflection in his tone made Scarlett's back immediately stiffen. "That you'll be wanting to get back to your businesses. The last few weeks surely have been difficult for you." He took a sip of his freshly-prepared drink. "You must be positively itching at this point."
He ignored her piqued stare.
"I have work to do," she said finally, and the corners of his mouth went down in a manner that they hadn't for at least the last couple of weeks. "I have to make up for the time I've lost …" her voice trailed off as he turned his face away, staring out the window again.
Oh! Rhett didn't understand, he would never understand the pressure she exerted on herself, all the things she felt she had to do to make sure all her folk were satisfactorily situated, at all times, and for the future.
That everyone at Tara had what they needed, and Pittypat and Eulalie and Pauline, and even Henry sometimes; and, yes, Ashley and Melanie and Beau, as well as the long-timer servants, who were really family more than anything else at this point; and that of course, her children were warm and fed and clothed and had someone to teach them and look after their needs.
Her eyes drifted back to the attractive picture her offspring made, and felt a rare maternal swelling in her breast. She'd carried each of them, built them with her body, and they were true reflections of her and their fathers. She loved them, she did, even if they annoyed her with their constant prattle and seemingly endless demands, and even though she didn't quite know what she was supposed to do with them on her own.
Prissy, she thought darkly again. When we get home I shall inform her we've purchased a holiday cottage and intend to spend entire winters up North with her every year from now on. That'll teach her.
A secretive smile lit her face at the brilliant plan until Rhett glanced at her and frowned.
She sighed.
Now that he'd started frowning again she doubted he would stop. She wondered for the thousandth time why he had been so hell-bent to marry her, well, other than for that. And that was a loaded topic she didn't care to pursue in her head at the moment.
Just that moment Bonnie hopped down and returned to her father.
No, Scarlett preferred to bask in the warmth of the compartment, the beauty of the landscape gliding by outside the window, and perhaps nod off to sleep while Rhett held the baby. Taking care of the children without a nursemaid had tired her.
Yet it had still been pleasant, away from Atlanta and all it entailed. Melly had started planning Ashley's 35th birthday before Christmas, and it a full four months away. Scarlett knew she'd been scrimping and saving for the event, planning each little detail down to the penny.
Ashley. A small, wistful smile curved her lips. Hurriedly she glanced at Rhett to see if he noticed but he was busy smoking and talking to Bonnie about the history of New York state as if she cared or comprehended.
She hadn't seen him in weeks and looked forward to their first visit. He would greet her with a huge smile, admire her new white fur muff and hat, and make her feel young and beautiful, light and free again, as he always did.
But then a tiny and unwelcome niggle of guilt pulled at her conscience. Melly was working so hard, scrimping so much, and Ashley stayed lost inside his head, not providing, and running her mill into the ground if she wasn't on him like a duck on a Junebug. How was Beau ever to attend university? Or take a world tour?
And Melly wasn't strong, she had never been strong, and couldn't afford household help other than one girl who did the hard lifting with the laundry and whatnot. She was going to have to a hire day worker for the birthday party, a blatant mark of shabby gentility.
Why, he's not trying to better anything. Just survive, and barely.
It was becoming more intolerable as time went by.
When she defended him to Rhett, that Ashley was not of this world, was not built for mundane drudgery, he would simply state, "Neither were we."
We. Neither were we.
And he was correct.
A furrow formed between her eyes. Something about Ashley's appeal had started to dim as of late. A small voice inside her head whispered the words that had been forming for some time …
Ashley has no gumption. No gumption at all.
Her eyes widened. She'd put her finger on it, alright. This concept she'd been searching for was right in front of her face and she couldn't deny it.
The phrase started repeating itself in her head as the wheels of the train chugged on. In time with the sound, chug chug chug, with a click at the end …
No gumption.
No gumption.
No gumption at all.
She couldn't stop it, now that it had started.
No gumption.
No gumption.
No gumption at all.
It became almost maddening and she pressed her hands to her temples, willing it to stop. She must distract herself.
Weariness set it. She'd not moved this much, well, since living—if you could call it living—at Tara after Atlanta fell. She'd never admit to Rhett that her legs still ached from skating and her back and hip were seriously bruised from that one bad fall on the ice.
She contemplated her traveling dress and the rather heavy and definitely inelegant boots Rhett insisted she wear, and the children don similar as well, for the trip home, in case they had to tread through the snow at train stops to visit a privy or stretch their legs on the long trip.
Perhaps she'd loosen her boots and dress and take a quick nap to get her mind off Ashley. And then later, she'd put on her dressing gown after an early dinner. If she was lucky the children would sleep for most of the way to Atlanta.
Yes, she'd take a nap and let Rhett take care of her brood by himself since he thought he was so capable. A feline little smile curved her lips as she settled back into the upholstery and closed her eyes.
A couple of hours later a screeching sound, then a big bump jolted her awake. Flames down the track outside the window caught her confused attention as smoke and screams filled the air.
Still barely conscious, she felt Rhett thrust Bonnie into her arms and she looked up to register the alarmed expression in his countenance just as he uttered a few hurried words about taking care of the children. She caught only the tail end of his coat flutter as the compartment door closed behind his back.
She turned her gaze to the wide eyes of Wade and Ella, who appeared paralyzed as they stared at her, both obviously just woken from sleep themselves.
And then all hell broke loose.
OOOOooooOOOOoooo
Fun Facts:
A brief history of the idiom "A penny for your thoughts"
First used by English statesman Sir Thomas More in his 1522 book Four Last Things, the idiom "A penny for your thoughts" has retained the same meaning for nearly 500 years. In his text, he uses the saying to refer to a pensive vagrant on a pilgrimage:
"As it often happeth that the very face sheweth the mind walking a pilgrimage, in such wise that, not without some note and reproach of such vagrant mind, other folk suddenly say to them, 'A penny for your thought.'"
22 died in 1871 New Hamburg Train Crash
by Anthony P. Musso For the Poughkeepsie Journal
On the frigid night of Feb. 6, 1871, a 25-car freight train known as "Extra Number Three" departed Greenbush, a suburb of Albany, southbound along the Hudson River Railroad line. Because the train's iron wheels became brittle in bitter cold, its brakes and axles were inspected before the train began its journey.
Coupled with the fact that the train was hauling oil-filled tank cars, that night's run was filled with uncertainty. The train's conductor, Edgar Underwood, despite being experienced in his job, failed to adhere to a new safety procedure that called for him to string a bell rope through the cars to alert the engineer of an emergency.
The same night, at the 30th Street Depot in New York City, the "Second Pacific Express" was six minutes late leaving for Albany, Buffalo and points west. Despite the delay, the railroad superintendent advised its engineer to use caution and to avoid trying to make up lost time due to the weather. As it traveled northbound along the route it lost additional time.
At 10:17 pm, as the freight train exited the tunnel just north of the New Hamburg station, Dan Carroll, the station switchman, observed sparks emanating from beneath an oil car in the middle of the train. Determining that a broken axle was causing the sparks, Carroll attempted to alert the middle brakeman — Underwood's brother Charles — who was in the caboose to stay warm.
When the damaged car passed over the switch just south of the station, the axle disengaged, causing the train to bounce while it proceeded forward. Without having the bell rope installed, none of the crew could alert the engineer to stop the train.
As the train neared the drawbridge over Wappinger Creek, the damaged car struck a bridge piling, tearing away from the preceding car and flipping over. It came to rest at an angle across the northbound track.
Finally stopping the train and aware that a northbound train would be arriving at the location soon, the engineer grabbed a red light and instructed a flagman in the nearby tower to join him running south along the tracks to signal the danger ahead.
As its passengers began to settle in for the night, the engineer of the "Second Pacific Express" faintly noticed what appeared to be two red lights and a bright white light ahead. He signaled the brakemen to engage the patent brakes, which didn't hold because they were designed for coaches, not large sleeper cars. In desperation, the train was thrown into reverse.
Unable to stop, the northbound train crashed into the disabled tank car that sat in its path, causing an explosion. As the northbound train lay on its side on the bridge, it, all of the oil tank cars and the bridge became engulfed in flames.
Within seconds, the burning bridge collapsed, sending a number of the damaged train cars into the icy waters below. The William T. Garner Engine Company from Wappingers Falls responded quickly and a work train fitted with a crane was dispatched from Poughkeepsie. As shocked residents took in survivors, others began to recover bodies.
In all, 22 people died as a result of the accident and the incident received coverage in newspapers across the country.
Curiously, I can't find the origin for the expression 'like a duck on a June bug' but it is unilaterally believed to be Southern, in the same vein as 'white on rice'. If I find something, I will let you know.
A/N Hello lovelies! I'm getting this out to you now so I can work on …. You know what I'm working on :)
The New Hamburg train wreck is an inspiration for this story, but it won't be completely fact-based in this story. For one thing, the Second Pacific Express is going north when it wrecks, and our couple is definitely traveling south. So I'm having to tweak it, but several key details will remain.
Please note that I do not know as much about the history of railroads as I would like to, especially the railroad bond scandals. But I will learn.
Let me know what you think :) Peace, misscyn