Scarlett eyed up her lacklustre cards, annoyed that once again she was destined to be on the losing side. Usually, she was unbeatable at whist. The game lent itself well to her calculating mind and it was a rare occasion when she found herself unable to outsmart her opponents. Of course, this was the first time she had been saddled with the flibbertigibbet Bridget Flaherty as a partner. The woman was simply hopeless and Scarlett had spent the better part of the afternoon trying and failing to make up for her mistakes.

It didn't help that Bridget was already in her bad books for having dared to wear a green dress to last week's gathering at the Gelerts' when Scarlett had already informed everyone of her own intentions to do just that. Thanks to Bridget's woollenheadedness, they had arrived in near identical gowns and the ensuing embarrassment had been enough to ruin an otherwise pleasant evening.

Her irritation rising as she recalled the event, Scarlett decided she wasn't going to hand over any more of her hard-earned money to the likes of Mamie Bart and Sylvia Connington. Throwing down her cards in a fit of pique, she stood up and declared she was going to see where Mammy had gotten to with their drinks.

The other women startled at the sudden movement, for all were more than a little intimidated by her superior social standing and infamous bad temper. Scarlett smiled to herself, enjoying the power she wielded over their heads. It was particularly satisfying as Scarlett's standing amongst the Old Guard had fallen sharply since her marriage to Rhett. She had seen little of her neighbours since returning from her honeymoon in New Orleans. Were it not for Melanie and Aunt Pitty's visits and the odd, increasingly infrequent calls from the men Rhett had helped to save in the Shanty Town raid, the Butlers would have been completely cut off from the pre-war population of Atlanta.

Most days this growing divide didn't trouble Scarlett much. The mills and shop kept her busy, and she had found herself a gang of new and better friends. Friends who didn't drone on endlessly about the past but chose to live exclusively in the present. Friends who talked about interesting, exciting things like balls and fashion and money and who shared Scarlett's own unsentimental outlook on life.

Still, it was a shame that more people hadn't come to marvel at her new home. After months of living in a suite at The National, Scarlett was put out that so few of her old rivals had felt themselves grow sick with envy at the sight of the plush carpets and opulent, multi-mirrored walls that adorned her new abode.

It was to this end that she had decided to host a party, or 'crush' as it was now fashionably termed, in a few weeks' time. The gathering would be a perfect opportunity for her to invite every last old cat and jealous, plain-looking spinster and show them just how wonderfully her life had worked out. She knew that once they saw her beautiful home - larger and more splendid than anything this city had ever known - they would be forced to take back their hateful opinions and admit that she was indeed a fine lady after all.

She planned to invite her new friends as well, not so much because she actually wanted them there, but because it would show everyone just what gay, fun people she now chose to associate with. People could be so nasty about her new set. Melanie was often quietly disapproving, while Rhett was downright contemptuous. Even her own servants turned up their noses when she invited them round to the house.

Take Mammy for instance, Scarlett had clearly asked for drinks to be brought through to the parlour almost an hour ago and yet still there was no sign of them appearing. It was insolence of the worst kind and Scarlett would not stand for it. Storming down the hallway towards the kitchen, Scarlett pushed open the door to find Mammy and Lou speaking together in hushed voices, their frowning faces and unhappy eyes making the topic of their conversation all too clear.

'Just what do you two think you are doing? Standing around gossiping like a couple of old maids when there are plenty of jobs that need seeing to. And just where are the ladies' drinks I asked for? Mammy, if you're getting too old to carry out my orders then kindly let me know and I'll happily put you on the first train back to Tara.'

'They ain't no ladies, Miss Scarlett,' Mammy said, staring her employer down. 'Why, Miss Ellen and I done raised you better than this. Them women is worthless.'

Shocked by Mammy's bluntness, Scarlett walked away before her emotions got the better of her, calling over her shoulder that Mammy could either bring in the drinks or suffer the consequences.

How dare she speak to me like that? Scarlett fumed as she made her way back to the parlour, fighting back angry tears at the implication that her dear mother would be ashamed of her behaviour. Blocking out the small voice that questioned if Ellen would be, she forced her anger to switch directions, pushing it towards the man who always seemed to bear the brunt of her ire these days.

Rhett was being far too lenient with Mammy. It was giving her ideas above her station. Since they'd begun living together, he was forever consulting her on how best to run the household or deal with the children, bowing to her opinion as if it was the only one that mattered and often completely disregarding Scarlett's own thoughts in the process. There was something downright unmanly in the way he deferred to her. It was a strange notion as Rhett was the most masculine person she had ever met and yet he seemed to revert back into a little boy in Mammy's presence, as if his longing to be accepted by her overrode his usual domineering tendencies.

She'd argued with him about it already, of course. There were precious few subjects they hadn't argued about recently. It was strange as they had rubbed along happily enough on their honeymoon and then again during their extended stay at The National. Rhett had been so gentle with her during that time, relinquishing his usual jeering bravado in favour of giving in to her every demand and going out of his way to make sure all her whims were seen to.

She should have known such behaviour would not last. The man was a first-rate skunk, and therefore hardly likely to play the role of the doting husband for long. Still, she could not help but regret that all the pleasantness had ended so soon. It had been nice not to fight with him for a while, to know she could turn to him with her concerns during the day and demand he wrap her up in his arms during the night.

Yet, when he'd carried her across the threshold of their new home, some vital cord between them had been severed. Gone was the tentative intimacy they had shared while away and in its place had settled a cool form of detachment. Recently even the thin veneer of politeness they'd both striven to maintain had faded away, replaced by cruel jibes and loaded silences. She didn't know what had brought about this alteration in him for certainly she had done nothing to provoke it. She treated him in exactly the same way she always had and couldn't understand why this no longer seemed to be enough when he'd never taken exception before.

Sometimes when she turned around quickly or glanced at him out of the corner of her eye, she'd catch sight of that old cat at a mouse hole stare and wonder if it was just her imagination or if his lips really were a fraction more pursed nowadays, his jaw a little more strained as if it was beginning to pain him to sit back and wait instead of simply pouncing upon his prey.

Part of her wanted to know what he was waiting for, to drop all the pretence and demand he tell her why he looked at her so strangely sometimes. It would take such a lot of effort to draw the truth out of him, though. Effort that could be more profitably spent elsewhere. The man was a mystery to her and no doubt always would be. In all the time she had known him, she couldn't recall him ever giving her a straight answer in response to a personal question and she didn't have the patience to try and decipher his riddles anymore.

If he wanted to, he would tell her. If not, she had plenty of other things to be getting along with. Rhett was only a small part of her life these days, and if she missed the closeness that had sprung up between them after the wedding, then she would simply strive to fill that growing emptiness with more work.

Nearing the parlour door, Scarlett paused to wipe at her damp eyes, refusing to let her new set sniff out any weakness.

'Did I tell you Alice Gelert came to see me yesterday?' Mamie Bart asked, her voice floating out into the corridor and bringing Scarlett up short.

'No, whatever did she want?' Bridget asked, her common brogue utterly foiling her attempts to sound like a lady.

The three of them always tried so hard to appear refined around Scarlett, no doubt hoping to break their way into Atlanta's upper echelons by riding on the back of her skirts. It amused Scarlett to finally catch a glimpse of the grit that lay beneath the gold.

'She's in the family way and wanted my help getting out of it.'

Pressing herself against the wall, Scarlett bit her tongue to stay the stream of questions that were itching to be let loose. They rarely gossiped around her for fear of revealing their seedier natures and she was eager to hear more of what went on behind closed doors. Of course she knew a lot of it already, Rhett having decided to divulge all the dirty little secrets they sought to conceal one night when they'd been lying awake at the hotel, feeling oddly close as they whiled away the night-time hours by laughing loudly at the absurdities of others.

'Again? Why, that must be the third time in the last two years,' Sylvia cried in disbelief.

'Try the fourth,' Mamie Bart whispered. 'You know how she is. I've told her time and again how to go about avoiding it, but she won't have it. Says it's not half so pleasurable that way. It'll most likely kill her, but she just won't stop. You'd think she was still a newlywed from the way she carries on.'

'Speaking of newlyweds,' Sylvia said, her voice dropping lower. 'I notice Mrs. Butler isn't expecting yet. Strange given the fine figure of a man she's married to, don't you think?'

'Ah, but you know how these country ladies are. They bring them up so pure and sweet that they think letting a man kiss them on the hand is the height of passion,' sneered Mamie. 'A girl came to work in our establishment once who'd been brought up on a farm just this side of Greenville. She told me her mother used to say that being with a man was something that us girls just had to endure. Endure, by god! Can you imagine what that kind of thinking would do to you? Of course, after two weeks of 'enduring' she was soon quick enough to change her mind!'

'You think Scarlett feels the same way?' Bridget asked.

'I do. What's more, I'd be willing to put money on it. You only have to look at the stiff way she walks around to know she ain't never been introduced to the good things in life,' Mamie claimed, the cracks in her speech beginning to show.

Indeed the three of them had all started to regress back into their former, shadier selves, stripping off the guise of respectability like last night's ball gowns as they relished the chance to bring their self-professed leader down a peg or two.

'Poor girl,' cooed Sylvia, 'she doesn't even know what it is she's missing out on.'

The note of pity in her voice shook Scarlett out of the stupor she'd been languishing under and made the blood rise hotly in her cheeks. How dare these women feel sorry for her? Why, she had so much more than they would ever have! How dare they look down on her like she was beneath them in some way?

Mammy had been right all along: they weren't ladies. They weren't even close.

To think she had invited them into her home only to have them repay her kindness by speaking badly of her behind her back. Why, it was they who should be ashamed, not her. If Scarlett did not enjoy marital relations it was because they were not meant to be enjoyed, every well-bred woman knew as much. It was one of the very first things you learnt during your days as a belle. That these women thought differently was simply a sign of their common natures, their low-born statuses, their...

'My dear, what are you doing lurking in the shadows?'

There was a brush of warm air across her neck and a low, teasing voice in her ear. Scarlett jumped, spinning around to find herself face to face with a smirking Rhett Butler.

'Didn't your mother teach you not to listen in on other people's conversations?' His eyes lighting up with a teasing glimmer she had not seen in weeks, he leant closer to whisper, 'Although, given our particular history, perhaps it's a good thing she didn't.'

Unable to hear him over the pounding of her heart, Scarlett prayed hard that he had not been standing behind her for long. That he had not heard the vulgar things those dreadful women had been saying. The very thought of it brought on a sudden bout of nausea. Unable to look at him for fear of what she'd find in his eyes, she kept her face down, studying the carpet so diligently one would have thought she had never seen its like before.

'Scarlett?' he questioned, a note of concern entering his voice.

He reached out for her but she sprung back. She couldn't let him touch her. Couldn't let him see. He could always read her thoughts so easily and so she must take a leaf out of his book and hide her feelings away, push them down deep inside of her in a place not even his penetrating gaze could reach.

'I'm not feeling well. Could you tell Mammy to ask my guests to leave? I need to lie down for a while.'

'Certainly,' he said, reaching out a hand to touch her feverish cheek. 'Do you need me to help you up the stairs?'

'No, no, I can manage them on my own,' she stammered, pulling away and hurrying up to her room.

Slamming the door shut behind her, Scarlett fell upon the bed and pressed her face down hard into the pillow, wishing desperately that she'd never befriended such terrible, vile women in the first place.

Oh Lord above, whatever must Rhett think of her? To imply that she...no, she would not let herself think about it. Besides, surely Rhett would have been angrier if he had caught their words? For all his nonchalance, he was a proud man and Scarlett did not think he would stand to hear his wife slighted so in their own home.

Unless...no, it was far too horrible a thought...she could not believe it, she wouldn't...but, well, it was Rhett and...what if...what if...

What if he agreed with them?

Hello again. I'm giving this story a spruce up, cutting out some waffle and adding in some scenes. Who knows, I might even get round to finishing it before 2040. Stranger things have happened!