Chapter 23. Fairly tale's fashion show, Rhett and Scarlett reunion
Note: You can "view" the sixteen models, as I imagined them and brought them to life in graphic mode with a photo-processing program (not Photoshop, unfortunately for me and the long working days - weeks...) on my blog . The address is truncated on this website, type (without spaces between words) alarecherchedutempsperdu. over-blog. com , and click on top of the page, on Gone with the Wind fantic The Boutique Robillard (English). That specific chapter is on page 3. – Check at this end of this chapter for more notes. Without modesty, I can assure you it will be a pleasure for the eyes!
For the ones who had already read this chapter, I have added almost three pages (description of the dresses of course, but also some more dialogues, and a tiny changes of some sentences that you might not notice, but which are capital for the direction my story took.
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Saturday, May 27, 1876, 7:15 p.m., Charleston, 26 South Battery, La Mode Duncan headquarters' garden
"A double whiskey, please! »
Mrs. Butler made a face of apprehension. If he starts with a double whiskey...
Rosemary's arguments had been convincing enough for Rhett to decide to please his mother and come to the reception.
He glanced around him: lights flooding the garden and the mansion, the most beautiful finery worn by the ladies, gentlemen in distinguished poses, prestigious military costumes... No doubt, his neighbor had done things in style.
The women around the table greeted him with surprised and pleased looks.
Charmingly, he paid his respects to Cathleen Vayton, lightly kissed the hands of Melina and Roselyne who blushed with pleasure. Mother and son looked at each other. She squinted her eyes in thanks for coming to join them.
Rosemary is right. I have neglected them too much. Tonight I am going to make an effort to forget what undermines me, and enjoy being among my own in my hometown. Asking the ladies to dance will be enough of a diversion. Unless the parade of mannequins excites me! he scoffed himself.
He noted the four empty seats. A bit odd for the hosts' table! In front of him stood the master of the festivities, turning his back to their table, his eyes riveted to the illuminated piazza.
"Que la fête commence ! "(Let the show begin!) decreed an energized Rhett in French.
From the side of the stage, speaking through a metallic sound enhancer, a member of the orchestra announced: "It is 7:14. The fashion show of the prestigious Charleston fashion house is about to begin. I wish you all a great evening! »
Immediately, the bustle of scattered discussions died down, followed by a disciplined silence. All eyes turned to the magnificent Charlestonian mansion, even more impressive under the lights. (*1)
The first instrumental measures of the famous "Carolina", interpreted by the pianist, the violinist, and the mandolin player rose solemnly. (*2)
Duncan felt excitement wash over him. Finally!
Installed in the front row, the Vaytons' table, like all the other guests, was watching for the slightest movement that would come out of the vast exhibition room on the first floor.
At the first notes of "Carolina", two silhouettes in blue and white tones were visible at the back of the room. Then they split up, one coming out of the arch of the right French door, the other one from the left.
In synchronization, they took counted steps on the loggia encircling the immense room, and disappeared each one by the arch leading to the second French window, like evanescent beauties, to then cross each other inside and emerge each one by the next opposite door.
This ballet was repeated identically with the third entrance, except that they appeared together at the end through the balcony door facing the garden and the guests.
As they descended the last step, the singer of the orchestra, who was entrusted with the function of master of ceremonies during the show, announced:
"La Mode Duncan" is proud to honor our beloved Old South states, and in particular its flora and fauna, through its creations tonight. These first two pieces represent the flag of our beloved South Carolina!"
The applause was unanimous.
The two young women turned elegantly on themselves and went down the stairs.
Together they walked slowly down the wide, parqueted center aisle, their footsteps muffled by the carpets, to cover the distance between them and the last tables, before heading back the other way.
This clever choreography ensured that everyone at the party did not miss any of the details of the Duncan Fashion Collection.
Comments were whispered between neighbors sitting nearby, so as not to break the magic of the moment, and disturb the score of the South Carolina Confederate anthem.
The ladies admired the originality of the outfits, while the men preferred to appreciate the curves of the mannequins, or to imagine their wives or mistresses in such attire.
Indigo blue, dear to the South Soft plantation, was the dominant coloring of these two dresses, as the blue note would be recalled in the composition of the twelve other models. The fabric chosen by the great couturier was damask, a fabric whose silk weave, a mode of interweaving the warp and weft threads, resulted in a contrast of brilliance between the background and the woven design. What a remarkable achievement the Vayton & Harvey mill had made, worthy of the Lyon silks in France!
The military officers were the first to be won over by the patriotic motif of these two creations, which was recognized by all spectators, the palm tree and moonlight, symbols of the Southern state flag.
On the first model, palm trees and crescent moons, embroidered in silver thread, coexisted with the full moon glittering with a thousand lights.
As for the second creation, it displayed even more proudly the patriotism of belonging to the old state of South Carolina. Tiny flags, sewn from silver metallic threads, gave the impression that they would flap in the slightest breeze, so meticulous was the folding of the silk that it gave them relief.
Fine leather and silk ballerinas echoed the colors of the ensemble, with the central theme of the palm tree embroidered on the front.
Around their waist, a silk velvet belt stood out by its emerald color, embroidered with delicate palm leaves in golden metallic thread.
The two young women carried carelessly on the shoulder a stole, pricked of small feathers of birds to the white dominants strewn with a cameo of blue downs. A long, wispy organza veil, which they had tucked under their forearms gloved with fine Calais lace, contrasted with the nocturnal theme in its soft yellow hue, as gentle as a sunrise.
The hat put the final touch to the toilet by taking the same fabric as the main skirt, and transforming into ribbons with complex folds. Those gripped two curled blue jay feathers. The seams extended by a border of palm leaves were in gold and silver thread.
The return of the first two young women to the front of the stage was greeted by ovations, which went up pleasantly to the delighted ears of the great couturier.
The timing was perfect between the end of the music played and the first notes of a familiar tune, the disappearance of the two mannequins towards the main entrance of the building, and the simultaneous appearance of silhouettes in the illuminated lounge.
The privileged participants in this high-class show let out a few cries of surprise as they discovered the shadows whose shapes became more precise as the ballet took place. This time, there were four of them, each one entering through an archway, crossing each other inside, and emerging on the other side, to finally turn with majesty all around the loggia.
The inventor of ballet was delighted with the visual result. What a great idea to have chosen this Italianate house as the home of "La Mode Duncan"! It was built for southern belles to parade around in, Duncan convinced himself.
The group descended the steps, two by two, and curtsied.
The master of ceremonies announced: "The great designer Duncan Vayton brings to life, through these four sets, the Mississippi Magnolia, the South Carolina Yellow jessamine, the Alabama Camellia, and the Georgia Cherokee Rose. (*3)
His intervention was rewarded with a round of applause.
The four models walked down the main aisle.
So that no sophisticated ornament would escape the intrusive eye of fashion lovers, the mannequins stopped every eighty inches, turning in a double towards the seated people, then, in a light round, changed sides, before resuming their cadenced walk.
John and Petyr had thus all leisure to detail the anatomy of the beautiful New Yorkers, the curve of the hips or the chest magnified by the bustier. Rebecca preferred to compare the four models with those who had preceded them.
Accustomed to wearing the richest fabrics, she immediately recognized the distinctive silk brocade richly woven with embroidered flowers in relief, whose contours had been embroidered with metallic gold thread.
The delicate white petals of Georgia Cherokee roses and Mississippi magnolias scattered in profusion over the moiré fabric with its hints of blue.
Presented in their iridescent, mauve-tinged taffeta case, Charleston's camellias were paraded with panache, as they benefited from a special treatment. The artist had chosen to transform each virginal white or scarlet red bud into a silver-faceted diamond, displaying his singular attraction for this fragile flower.
As for the yellow jessamines from South Carolina, they broke away from the bluish hues to dot the ivory muslin. However, to ensure that their bright yellow was not too flashy, the Charlestonians' fetish flowers had been inlaid into the fabric - a feat of weaving and seamstresses - so much so that one could only make out their silhouettes. Fortunately, golden yellow regained its flamboyance, cinching the bustier with yellow and green pearls in the miniaturized image of the prolific jessamine. However, the rebellious flower fell into line with its three consorts, respecting the bluish lineage thanks to the feathers dotting the white down of the stole, covering a long translucent veil that floated around the silhouettes of the four young women like morning dew.
The same miniaturization was applied to the three other flowers on the bustier and the inner lining of the train. Every detail, however partially hidden, testified to the designer's inventiveness and the mastery of La Mode Duncan's Haute Couture atelier.
Shoes, hats, and emerald belts adopted the same embroidery pattern.
"An exceptional work of finesse! " Rebecca puffed out her chest with pride at having such a flamboyant artist as her lover.
The four mannequins returned to the main entrance of the building, and another tune was played by the orchestra.
Three new girls replaced them, walking across the floor of the terraza.
At this precise moment, one heard "Oh!" of surprise: the second floor was in its turn invaded by a farandole of six silhouettes turning around the piazza, marking a time of stop under the arch of the balcony, so that all the spectators could rejoice in this enchantment of colors.
The evening's host introduced the three New Yorkers clustered at the top of the steps: "Ladies and Gentlemen, I am pleased to present to you the Louisiana Black Iris, the Florida Orange Blossom, and the Texas Bluebonnet!"
The admiring exclamations had not ceased since the parade of mannequins around the first-floor balcony. They intensified even more when this new tribute to the flowers and fruits of the Old South paraded down the central aisle among the astonished guests.
Despite the mourning that continued to sadden Aymeric Vayton's widow, the mother of the evening's hero was glowing with pride. Eleonor Butler gently touched her hand: "How could your son create such dreamy finery?" With a lump in her throat, she could not answer, and thanked her with a nod.
Her daughter was more expansive in testifying to her enthusiasm: "My brother is a genius!"
Despite his reluctance to join Charleston's social event of the year, Rhett, an aesthete in his blood, had to admit that the show was to his taste, as much for the originality of the gowns as for the strategically revealed curves of their models. From there to praise the "genius" of that pretentious Vayton.... His lips quirked in disdain.
At the Paxtons' table, the pleasure of the eyes was combined with the sparkle of the Champagne bottles, which made the cheeks of the young women turn pink.
Petyr did not know where to direct his attention, so much did the models' deep necklines, arched and swaying hips make him fantasize.
I am tempted to beg Duncan to reserve the iris dress for me. Although I am afraid the price is outrageously expensive and beyond my means.... Rebecca had selected her favorite dress - and rightly so, for the model was breathtaking!
Laying delicately on their bed of ivory silk, the flowers dotting the skirt had been magically transformed into jewels of purple and silver sparkle. An iris trimmed with organza and tiny pearls hung at the nub of the breasts, directing attention to the purple nuggets clustering on the bustier. The same nuggets were found, as in previous models, inside the exposed lining of the train. To complete the regal elegance of the Black Iris of Louisiana, the model wore a stole over her shoulders, trimmed with mauve feathers that smothered the white down, above a long veil of violet chiffon.
In contrast to the induced eroticism of the dominant, upright pistil of the Louisiana Black Iris, the Oranges Blossom of Florida was as innocent as a soft spring day, gilding the fruit's peel with rays of sunlight. The translucent orange blossoms were absorbed by the moiré-hued white skirt, whose organza was so fine it gave the impression of being translucent. Even the soft gray veil evoked the quietude of calm, radiant weather.
As for the tribute to the Texas Bluebonnet, many of the men in the audience must have wanted to bite into its round, purplish bunches, ready to be picked amidst their tender blue counterparts, not yet ready to be harvested.
Hands were getting sore from so much clapping, and voices were getting tired from so much complimenting.
But the show was far from over!
The farandole resumed. It was the turn of three more young women, this time transformed into symbols of American wildlife. When the speaker announced the South Carolina Wren, followed by the Georgia Brown Thrasher and the McCown Longspur, people were eager to see the embroidered plumage of these symbolic birds.
Admirers of the Prince of Fashion's creations were not disappointed. While the tone was the same for all three gowns - sheer white moiré silk skirts and velvet satin bustiers wrapped in sky-blue veils turning to turquoise, similar to their stoles - they were stunned by his ability to renew his inspiration while dealing with the same theme.
The Georgia Brown Thrasher, with its typical long tail, unfurled its wingspan in vertiginous flight, its height in the horizon symbolized by the smallness of its waist setting the emerald belt. After a series of sweeping curves around his fellow birds clinging to the branches. It grew in size until it reached the bottom of the skirt, its powerful wings outstretched.
The South Carolina Wrens, earthworms in their beaks, hid their bouncing bellies under the branches. The designer's inspiration and the fairy fingers of the Atelier's seamstresses had succeeded in embroidering the fifteen or so birds in such a way that they appeared to be playing hide-and-seek inside the fabric.
What could be more symbolic than for the Civil War hero to have chosen the McCow's Longspur , named in honor of a former General of the Southern Army and renowned ornithologist, as a fitting end to this sampling of the birds that made their nests in the Southern States. The soldiers honored near the stage roared with pride.
Many people's eyes widened as they wondered if the sunset, which had disappeared behind the facade of the Italian building, had not reappeared by sleight of hand on the skirt. Duncan Vayton had used the reddish tinge of the bird's back to make it blush in front of the setting sun, just as darkness was beginning to set in. The buntings, arranged in martial array around the corolla, had been completely eaten up by it, turning them into black and white shadows.
The audience felt transported back in time to a world of sweetness, where the senses were satiated. The richness of the fabrics and the exclusivity of the artistic creation, combined with the dancers on both floors who continued to crisscross gracefully, in cadence with the music of the orchestra, all contributed to the guests present feeling privileged to experience a historic festive moment for the city of Charleston.
At the Vayton table, the women were enthusiastic. "How proud I am of my brother! "Melina exclaimed. Her mother said nothing, but her features softened. Aymeric would have been pleased with the work his heir has done.
The three youngest women were chatting among themselves, comparing toilets. Melina had been carried away by the successful flight of Georgia's Brown Longspur, while Roselyne raved about the flamboyance of South Carolina jessamine.
Rosemary Butler took in the rich display of fabrics, each more refined than the last. More prosaically, she addressed her new friend: "Your brother has used every imaginable range of the indigo blue you produce, from sky blue to parma. What a harmonious composition! One detail surprised me, however. Unusual in this color chart. Can you guess what it is?"
Roselyne and Melina began to search. But to no avail.
Satisfied with her superior sagacity to the girls, Rosemary took pity on their mediocre cogitation: "all twelve girls are wearing emerald sashes. A green color that contrasts with the chosen chromatic theme. Isn't that curious?"
Her two friends exclaimed in unison, congratulating her on her observational skills.
Rosemary had preferred the simplicity of the wrench, while Roselyne raved about the flamboyance of the South Carolina jessamine.
Rhett appreciated his mother's serene look. She seemed serene. It pains me to admit that Vayton has succeeded. Charleston's charm and grace are very much in evidence tonight...
This reflection that came from afar, got stuck in the deepest part of him, without him being aware of it. A definitive sentence pronounced in Atlanta, a bitter taste in his mouth...
He was thirsty! Damn, he was thirsty! How much longer was this dress debauchery going to last? He was getting impatient. Looking at the pretty girls in their beautiful finery had amused him for a few minutes, but he had quickly grown bored. He could hardly wait for the sommelier to show up at their table, and for the ball to begin, so that he could fulfill his duty as a good son by dancing with his mother. Then, he would return to his den where nothing could reach him anymore.
He chose to question Melina. As the designer's sister, she should know the answer.
"Do you know how many other dresses are to be presented?»
Melina was attracted to Rhett. Not sentimentally, but because she found this character amazing, whimsical, secret, and adventurous. In short, everything that would make many young girls like her dream. She was happy to answer:
"My brother told me about fifteen models. So we should see the last three young ladies appear in a few moments. »
Indeed, the trio of Birds had just reached the main building. There was an unusual break in the frantic pace that had been established since the beginning of the evening. The silhouettes on the floor had frozen.
Melina commented, "This is the grand finale. My brother must be on hot coals! »
Throughout the performance, Duncan had been attentive to the slightest movement of the Iron Palace models, not caring about their bodies but about the fall of the fabric, and the success of the cut made by his "little hands". He was proud of them tonight and of Blanche. What would he have done without her to organize this show, in addition to having perfectly directed his seamstresses? And this was only the beginning...
Soon, soon, I am going to have my reward... Just a few more minutes of wait be, and I am allowed to see it, just as I have been dreaming about for months!
He had warned Blanche. He did not want to see his masterpiece worn by Mrs. O'Hara before the show. It was his pleasure, his fantasy, to make the surprise of admiring his muse in the light sheath he had imagined for her, last as long as possible. Just the thought of it made his heart race. He laughed at himself. I might have a heart attack soon under these conditions!
"Mother, is it our turn soon? We have been waiting a long time. The dresses are beautiful from here, but I cannot wait to show mine. »
Scarlett let out a small, discreet laugh, answering her daughter's restrained impatience. From where she and her two children were seated, at the back of the huge room on the first floor, they had a bird's eye view of the models performing their choreography, inside and around the balcony of the loggia. As she and Wade stood, they could see the models parading along the tables in the lighted garden. Ella had watched them, standing on a chair.
Scarlett did not regret not being in the audience. He saved Ella and me for last. For me to wear the chef d'oeuvre of the 'La Mode Duncan' collection, as the Frenchwoman says. I would find that perfectly romantic... If dear Duncan had been honest from the start!
Blanche Bonsart's first assistant approached her, black velvet case in hand, and handed it to her.
"Mr. Vayton insisted that I bring them to you at the last moment." She did not mind the eyebrows raised in puzzlement by the pretty lady benefiting from her boss's attentions, and did as she was told. She opened the small box.
Scarlett put her hand over her mouth to keep from letting out a cry of amazement. What a beauty!
Under the chandeliers illuminating the vast salon, a river of emeralds and diamonds, accompanied by earrings, gleamed with a thousand lights (*4).
"This set is breathtaking. I thank you for showing it to me to distract our waiting."
"Madam, could you please lift your hair a little so I can hang the necklace?"
Scarlett's brain recovered from the shock. "I cannot accept the responsibility of wearing such jewels." This sentence was recited out of pure Southern Lady's automatism. In fact, she could not wait to put them on for at least a few minutes.
In response to her doubts, the perfect employee clarified, while locking the clasp: "These are Mr. Vayton's orders. The size fits your neck perfectly."
Despite the nervousness of all the employees preparing the mannequins, the first assistant had no trouble hanging the diamond balls holding the emerald drops around her ears.
With that, and a nod of her head, she set off again, leaving Scarlett in awe.
Duncan, you are crazy! What honor do you bestow on someone you have only met three times, dedicating your flagship model to her, and making her wear jewelry whose value I ca not even begin to imagine?
She straightened up. Glad to see that her power of seduction over men was as powerful as ever.
Wade stood, looking calm. But an underlying anxiety nagged at him more and more. He was afraid that his little sister would be impressed by the crowd, that she would panic, that she would not dare to take another step. He looked at his mother. So beautiful... She would protect her, as she had always done.
"Blanche has just warned us. The two ladies in the green dresses are going to march down to the garden first, and then they will come to get you. Do not worry, I am here, and I shall be with you very soon. »
Then, addressing her son: "Wade, Blanche explained to you what you should do, didn't she? I am counting on you! "As a sign of encouragement, she lightly stroked his sleeve.
Invested in his mother's trust, the boy replied, "Do not worry. I will watch over my sister."
Scarlett, decidedly won over by unusual maternal impulses, allowed herself a caress in her daughter's hair. Ella Lorena Kennedy transformed into the Evening Fairy in the most uptight town in the South!
As for me... What will happen when the former Mrs. Butler is recognized? Courage! I have faced Sherman's army. I guess I shall be able to face the hostile gaze of any Charlestonian tonight.
The minute's pause that followed the discovery of the twelve Haute Couture outfits allowed the assembly to discuss more freely with their table neighbors. The conclusion of the fashion show was already drawn: a complete success, the event of the year in Charleston, or even of the decade, according to some commentators who were a little too excessive.
The night was beginning to flood the street of the Battery. It did not matter. The profusion of hanging torches and table lamps lit up the garden as if in broad daylight. The two floors of "La Mode Duncan" were as brightly lit as the flames of a fireplace. The chandeliers hanging around the outside railings enlarged the halo of the gave and were turning the female figures into mysterious will-o'-the-wisps.
Suddenly, the first notes of the piano were heard. „Shushes" were whispered on both sides of the garden.
The famous Aura Lea rose in the night, adding to the magic of the moment. (*5)
At the same time, the perimeter of the two loggias was invaded by a swarm of young girls. Six models on the second floor, the other six on the ground floor, had just resumed their choreography of disappearances, crossings, farandoles inside, and reappearances, to the languorous rhythm of one of the most famous sentimental ballads of the wartime.
Then, on the balcony facing the garden, two elegant women appeared who were astonished by the predominantly green tones of their dresses.
In a solemn tone, the Master of Ceremonies announced: "Ladies and gentlemen, The Peach and its Flower, The Atlanta Peach Tree! »
From the four corners of the tables, unanimous applause answered him. Except for one person.
Rhett, who was beginning to sink into a fog of boredom, suddenly snapped out of his torpor. His heart skipped a beat. The words smashed into his brain: "peachtree, Atlanta". Peachtree Street, his house, Scarlett, his home, the children, his family….
His discomfort must have been evident on his face, because Roselyne's hand came to rest on his, "Are you feeling ill, Rhett?"
He mimed his usual nonchalant smile. But it did not reach his eyes. "A little temporary trouble. Everything is fine, my dear Roselyne. I am touched that you are worried about me. It is too much honor. »
These caressing words had the expected effect: Roselyne blushed, her hand trembled, and she withdrew it and put it wisely on the table.
The thirteenth and fourteenth mannequins had also just walked down the center aisle carpet.
The ladies of Charleston scrutinized the garment tribute to the Georgian city. The silk velvet skirts were in the famous Charleston dark green topped with a soft green veil and tender white down. The same emerald silk belt, a now-familiar accessory, completed the cohesion of the fourteen models.
On one of them, impressive peach blossoms with delicate pink petals partially covered the skirt. Thanks to a stratagem devised by the artist and brought to life by the sophisticated embroidery of the "little hands", they were concealed in the shadows of the green vegetation. The perspective effect was enlivened by the application of smaller flowers on top, this time in bright pink.
While the silk-petal bouquet adorning the bodice was unmistakable to all, the keenest observers - Rebecca was obviously one of them - were aware of the presence of an intruder. A bee was foraging for the precious peach tree pollen inside the corolla. It had managed to blend into the background of the foliage, but was making a more pronounced appearance on the small flowers in the foreground, eventually landing with aplomb on the muslin wrapped around the girl's forearms.
The penultimate model in the show wore peaches, with their variegated skin of red, pink and light green, in the folds of her skirt and on the corolla. Fleshy peach quarters and scarlet pits bursting with juice under the sun's rays appeared in perspective, like an invitation to be harvested.
At the Paxton table, Gladys did not know how to hide her shame at her husband's ostensible excitement. He was fidgeting in the chair and glancing shamelessly at every New Yorker woman. Perhaps also in a desperate attempt to arouse the jealousy of his former mistress, he insinuated: "These juicy fruits make me want to devour them whole!"
Gladys blushed, and once again cursed Petyr Matisson's bad manners. Surprisingly though, John echoed his friend's husband's inappropriate remarks, adding: "Those bees are lucky to be able to forage such temptations... "
Gladys almost choked on the sip of water she had just swallowed to try and wash away the marital affront. But this was more serious! How could "her" John, so perfect, let himself go like that in public?
As for Petyr, he seemed delighted by this innuendo, so similar to his own, and shedding new light on his mistress's brother.
Rebecca raised an eyebrow and moved her lips ironically. This did not escape John's notice. He leaned towards his sister, whispering in her ear: "That lecherous Matisson will be able to tell our circle just how much the bachelor Paxton likes to fool around. Which is fine by me. Because I only want to pick one flower..."
The outline of a smile blossomed on the Mansfied widow's full lips. Without a word, she accepted his light caress on the back of her hand.
When the Peachtrees from Atlanta were once again near the stairs, they paused and turned toward the steps.
The twelve silhouettes froze outside the two loggias.
The piano solo was immediately accompanied by the soft sounds of the violin and the cheerful notes of the banjo, giving Aura Lea a light touch. (*6)
The spectators were holding their breath, waiting for the final bouquet.
Duncan was stamping his feet, no longer hiding his impatience.
Melina, like many of the ladies present, was dying of curiosity to discover the fifteenth model, Duncan Vayton's masterpiece.
"What a wonderful set up to make the surprise complete!" Turning to the only male opinion within reach, she asked, "Don't you think so, Rhett?"
This one nodded while forcing his enthusiasm. He decided to indulge the mood of his young and friendly neighbor, and turned, too, towards the stairs.
It was not one person, but two, who were walking through the open French doors.
"Oh!" Cries of exclamation could be heard all the way to the back of the garden, "Oh!"
The stunt had been successful. Two children had come to rest at the top of the steps.
A handsome teenager, elegantly dressed as a true Southern gentleman, held the hand of a little girl.
Under the effect of the many lighted torches, the child glittered with a thousand fires produced by a rain of silver stars poured on the soft and glossy green fabric of the dress. Her long red hair seemed about to catch fire, so much the strong luminosity intensified the coppery reflections of her curls intermingled with the emerald-green ribbons.
Her white starched petticoat exceeded the skirt. She was clutching in one arm a porcelain doll, with the same red hair and green starry dress. This detail added to the enchanting spirit of this apparition, out of a fairy tale for children.
Men and women were definitely won over by the sweetness of the picture.
Cathleen was moved. She had dreamed so much about having offspring for Duncan and Melina! Her heart melted at the sight of the two well-behaved children.
The second they walked through the door, Rhett's heart raced. His hand gripped the back of the chair, threatening to break the wood.
This is another one of my hallucinations. My mind has been so fogged up with alcohol for months that the mere mention of "peachtree" makes me think of them. They are just two children who look like them because she has red hair and he is taller. Besides, how could I recognize them? It has been more than two and a half years since I have seen them. How old was Ella when I left? Six and a half? And Wade rather ten? The boy in front of me almost looks like a young man now. So tall... and looking more and more like Charles Hamilton. I do not get it or I am going crazy!
He let out a groan and held his head in his hands.
Around him, the women were surprised by his sudden distress. Mrs. Butler looked more closely at the two children facing them. Why the reaction? Would it be? No! Why would Scarlett's children be in Charleston, being part of our neighbor's fashion show?
Then her son raised his head and watched her. It was a child's look for help to his mother before he lost his mind.
She did not know what to say. Simply: "Rhett! "in a tone that was meant to be as soothing as possible.
He looked at her in panic. A frightened animal waiting for the hallali! she recognized sadly. Then he fixed again his glance on the two children.
Cathleen allowed herself to quietly question her neighbor. "Is your son not feeling well? »
Wearily, Eleonor admitted: "No, these two little ones remind him, weirdly, of his two stepchildren, the children of his former wife.»
"Ah, I feel sorry for him. Your son has suffered so much with the loss of your granddaughter, you told me. It is normal for the sight of a child to being upset. »
However, Cathleen thought, deep down, that Captain Butler was really fragile to have his mood altered by the mere sight of a random infant…
Rhett told himself that it was all a dream. But deep down, he knew. He had been there a few months after Wade was born. He had dreamed that the child Scarlett was carrying was his, instead of Frank's. He had held them in his arms, comforted them. And, during his marriage to Scarlett, he had felt like he was treating them as his own. Well... not really, not like his Bonnie. What did it all mean? Could it be because of the Robillard aunts? Maybe they were on vacation at their house, and Vayton had stumbled upon them and then introduced them to his fashion exhibit.
All these long speculations were issued in a flash. He witnessed the moment when Wade - Wade? Really? - holding his sister firmly by the hand, helped her down the stairs. At the bottom of them, he saw the boy lift his hat to greet her. He bent down and kissed her hand, as if to a Lady of Atlanta.
Rhett caught Ella's stunned look. She almost burst out laughing to see her brother so chivalrous with her.
After greeting her like a gentleman, he walked away in the direction of Vayton, replaced immediately by the Peachtree models from Atlanta.
"It is so obvious! Of course, they are my stepchildren! »
Georgia Peaches and Atlanta Peachtree models flanked the little girl and held her hand.
The speaker solemnly announced: "Please welcome The Princess of Atlanta! ».
We heard "Bravo! Bravo! "from all sides. They communicated from table to table, congratulating their host for having graced them with such a charming surprise.
Cathleen and the women who accompanied her applauded loudly.
One hand still clutching the back of the chair, as if afraid of collapsing, the other closed in a tight spot, Rhett's eyes had grown misty. How pretty you are, my little girl! Scarlett would be so proud to see you dazzle all of Charleston!
His heart sank at the sight of Wade, the ever-loving Wade, now standing beside his neighbor.
It was at this point that Ella's two companions let go of her hand to disappear discreetly through the main entrance of the building.
Frank Kennedy's shy daughter stood alone in front of the crowd watching her. Mother told me to be brave. I have to honor her. All these people are smiling at me, and they applauded me. Does that mean they think I am pretty? She blushed with pleasure at this dream-like possibility. Mother assured me that the wait would only last a minute.
She turned to her left and met the eyes of her mother's friend who had sewn her princess dress. He was smiling gently at her. Don't be afraid, she reassured herself. He is protecting you too.
Everybody was surprised to see this little girl waiting. For what? For whom? Another model? There were only supposed to be fifteen of them. The party attendees were wondering who was going to appear from the balcony again.
The notes of Aura Lea fade into one of the most famous love songs popular during the war, Lorena. (*7)
The pure sound of the violin soared through the air in the Battery garden, in stark contrast to the repertoire that had been played so far. Admittedly, here again, it was the story of a love prevented and two hearts broken. Above all, it symbolized the pain of separation and the absence of soldiers during the war, to such an extent that high-ranked militaries had wanted to ban it from the front because it used to break the morale of combatants.
The violin, stripped of all embellishments and accompanying instruments, was giving goose bumps to both the old military veterans and the ladies present.
Duncan Vayton had demanded that this famous piece be performed so soberly, unlike Melina, who would have liked to immediately embellish it with the romantic lyrics. "For the launch of your masterpiece, don't you think it is a little too tragic?" Nothing could be done. Her brother held firm.
In the midst of this pomp of elegance and luxury, the haunting complaint vibrated in the accents of a painful lament. At the first chords of the music, Duncan's heart clenched painfully. A gaping hole threatened to engulf him, but closed immediately. The Prince of Fashion was staring, heart pounding, at the woman who was about to step forward in Lorena's cadence.
Rhett could not hear the music. He could not take his eyes off Ella. He was waiting with her , caught in a vortex where all thought was frozen. Only his body was reacting, his muscles tense and waiting for a release.
First a rustle of fabric. The slamming of high heels pumps on the floor of the piazza. His hearing perceived the onomatopoeias - "Oh!", "Ah!", "Whoa! ", of surprise and wonder, thrown across the garden.
He stubbornly stared for a few moments at the end of the shoes protruding from a golden skirt. His heart beat so quickly that he had the sensation that, if he raised his head a little more, he was going to stop breathing, frozen by the disappointment.
Because, even if he lacked the courage to raise his gaze on the one who was advancing, his body had detected her. All his nerve endings were leading to connect with her, by a familiar recognition. He pushed even more the nails in his palms, so that the pain of his bruised skin makes him return to the reason, or rather so that it continues to make live this mad hope, that it is her.
The waltz of torches, lanterns, and table lamps transformed the flaming wicks into incandescent luminosity that enveloped, like a spectrum, the contours of the figure. Each strand of metallic thread, embroidered on the luxurious silk, captured the slightest evanescent light, only to release it in a burst of sparks of gold, silver, and precious stones. Rhett's dark iris, drowned by emotion, only transmitted to his brain multicolored sparks blurring his vision.
The eye went up on the hips with curves magnified by the silk corolla, nd stopped on the waist shapely by the creamy bustier. This so fine waist that he had coveted to encircle her between his arms, since a famous barbecue of 1861, in the hope to be able to retain it forever prisoner.
Flashes of Lightning of emerald, with sharp angles, threatened to strike the one who would dare to embrace this waist, at the precise place where a voluptuous bulge announced the birth of the breast.
Rhett's throat was dry. Water might have been enough to keep him hydrated, but he would not - could not - risk taking his eyes off those hypnotic curves for a moment to pour himself a drink.
The figure was moving slowly. Not the divine ancient priestess Karomama, more than two thousand years old, who, in his hallucinations, had managed to mutate into an ersatz wife, but the real Scarlett, made of flesh and blood, whose hips swayed sensually in his direction. Or at least he tried madly to convince himself that her body had recognized him, and was coming to join him so that they could be united.
His breathing became breathless - he did not care if anyone could hear it around him. His hearing could only perceive the frantic bubbling of the blood that flowed through his veins until it sporadically hit his temples.
The roundness of her breasts... He ran his tongue over his lips to try to moisten them. When was the last time? Yes! Of course, how could he hide from his memory the last night when he had dared to imprison them in his hands, to make the nipple reddened by the desire twitch, until the moment of ecstasy when his mouth had enjoyed it?
The generous indentation of the bodice revealed the pearly complexion of her skin. Long black curls married its forms.
Her hair was spread out, without the restriction of a bun.
His blood ran cold. How dare he? Like a flash, he identified the source of his anger, his neighbor. Vayton! That bastard!
He did not understand - was not able to analyze - why Scarlett was in this damned fashion show tonight. One certainty was obvious for the moment: "He was the one who had the impudence to make her put on this too low-cut outfit, and let her hair down without restraint, while she only allowed herself to do so in the privacy of the bedroom. »
Her hair... Only he had the right to free it from its constraint. He alone had the right to admire the cascade of her long locks, dark as ebony, streaming on her naked shoulders. He alone was in right to make them drown in the intimate fold separating the two globes of her breasts.
But this hairstyle, revealed in full view of all the males present this evening, made him drunk with jealousy. This bastard exposed it to the eyes of all, while he alone...
No, I do not have any rights anymore. I am the one who divorced, he had to admit bitterly.
Nightmarish images passed by. Vayton removing the pins from her hair, stretching without restraint her silky locks on her body, caressing them, smelling them, kissing them...
"No!" A cry of rebellion burst from deep within his gut.
Rhett's digressions had lasted only a minute, barely enough for Scarlett to start taking a few steps out on the stairs.
He did not even realize that he had gotten up from the table at the first sound of footsteps.
Cathleen, Melina, and Roselyne looked at him, dumbfounded.
What's wrong with him? Why is he showing off in front of all of us? Duncan's mother could not believe her eyes. She leaned discreetly toward her neighbor.
Eleonor and Rosemary were devastated. Now, this Scarlett was back in their lives, in Charleston, among their friends, showing off as a model! Would she ever stop besmirching Rhett's name?
"I hope you won't mind my saying that, my dear Eleonor. But your son seems to have seen a ghost!»
Her neighbor nodded sadly. "That is true, indeed. The woman standing before us is his former wife.»
The three Charleston women were stunned. Duncan Vayton's mother expressed incomprehension. "But...Scarlett O'Hara is in business with my son. I had her in our home less than three months ago. I would never have thought... Between us, I can confess to being very surprised that my son chose her to represent his creation when he barely knows her. Who are the adorable little girl and boy? »
Eleonor replied laconically, "They are Scarlett's children. »
Roselyne did not miss a word of the conversation.
Mrs. Vayton still had not solved a mystery: "Mrs. O'Hara did not tell us in any way that the house next door to ours was her former mother-in-law's. »
Eleonor looked embarrassed. "I honestly do not think she had any idea. I never had her in my house.»
Both Vayton women almost fell out of their chairs. Neither of them dared to question Mrs. Butler further, but it seemed strange that Rhett's wife had never been invited by her mother-in-law.
"He again, to stand out and create a scandal!" remarked one of the guests gathered in the garden. "Only one is standing - besides the host - and that is Rhett Butler!" "I am not surprised. It is common knowledge that he is drunk every night. This is another of his drunken displays!", remarked another gentleman in the audience. The latter tutted the fact that if he was in a position to divulge this information, it was because he was an assiduous frequenter of the Gentlemen's Club, and in particular the second floor of the Haven...
Among the honorable ladies in the audience, Eulalie and Pauline Robillard were upset. Everything had started so well! They knew that being Savannah natives would not have allowed them to be among the privileged few invited by the prestigious Vayton family. And then Scarlett's former husband showed up again! Of course, with the help of their niece, the scandal would once again taint the Robillard family!
Rhett's exclamation of revolt made Wade turn around. Seeing his former stepfather standing there staring at his mother, he thought sadly that his presence among them would surely spoil the fairy tale atmosphere.
At that moment, the Master of South Carolina's most important cultural event for years to come was nothing more than a love-struck man hypnotized by the young woman's radiant beauty.
The object of his fantasies for the past hundred days stood erect, striding masterfully in step synchronized with the violin's song, her haughty bearing equal to that of a queen. My queen!
The intricate juxtapositions of enameled sequins, colored glass beads and metallic threads, interwoven into the sophisticated drapery and folds, had succeeded in creating the desired effect.
Under the prism of the light, the dress had become incandescent. The fire began to enter the shining ribbons slipped between the flounces of the skirt, went up, then dispersed in hundreds of emerald and silver nuggets thrown on the corolla. It finally took back forces by being magnified by the emerald flashes of the bustier.
Lightning had struck the shoulder pads and the arm contour frame, igniting the spiky embers of the golden and silver filaments.
The diaphanous organza tulle, thrown over the back, tried to calm the fire smoldering beneath this dress of passion. It was a losing battle, as a myriad of fiery sequins transformed Scarlett's emerald eyes into jewels, their brilliance competing with the breathtaking emerald and diamond set.
This unique artistic composition concluded the hymn to nature celebrated throughout the evening with the iridescent parade of metallic blue and green peacock feathers, lying on a delicate, long silver brooch attached to the top of the hair cascade.
Undoubtedly the finest masterpiece I've ever accomplished in my life as a Haute Couture designer! But how could it have been otherwise with such a muse for inspiration?
The designer's gaze wandered for a moment to admire his entire collection: the fourteen models had gathered on both levels of the piazza, unfurling a fan of emerald feathers. With delicate movements, they undulated in waves to the beat of the music. Well done! he congratulated himself.
Tomorrow, he would dedicate this same compliment to Blanche Bonsart. She had joined the crowd in the garden, but had remained in the front row to complete her check as Director of the prestigious Couture House. The woman from Lille was radiating with pride. Well deserved! concluded her employer.
He did not waste another second to revel in the appearance of the one who had upset the rhythm of his heartbeat at first sight.
From the piazza, Scarlett looked around for Duncan, and found him standing next to her son. With her dimples out, she responded to the talented designer's devastating smile.
She glared at the stunned audience. Charleston, here I am, stronger than ever! Let us see what your reaction will be when you realize that your darling child is being honored by the presence of the one you have been raving about, the scandalous divorcée of your native Rhett Butler!
Fortunately, her smirk directed at the ladies and gentlemen of the finest society could not be guessed by them at this distance.
She grabbed the edge of her train to hang from the discreet ring sewn for it, inducing an elegant drape, and prepared to "step into the arena" safely.
A resounding shout broke the reverent silence of the guests who were waiting for the next part of the show. Scarlett instinctively turned her head toward the spot from which an intelligible "No!" had just emerged.
That's when she saw him, only a few meters away from her. Standing there. Pale. Frozen like a statue. His black gaze sealed to her.
She felt as if the blood was leaving her face. She clenched her teeth, afraid that the tingling of contradictory emotions that assailed her would cross her lips in a stream of incoherent sentences.
What are you doing here? Are you going to spoil everything again, the moment I raise my head? Are you afraid that I will disturb the "charm and grace" of your well-meaning society tonight? You cannot hurt me anymore, Rhett Butler, even though your insults to force me into a divorce have burnt me!
The raised chin signaling the beginning of the hostilities, her irises threw bolts of lightning to him, of a green more intense than those which ignited her bustier.
But he did not move. No ironic sneer, no raising of the eyebrows to announce a mocking remark. Only eyes riveted to her.
The tremor that ran through her made her fear collapse there, in front of the crowd. She had the impression that his rapacious look was able to see her breasts rise anarchically under the irregular beating of her heart.
Fiddle-dee-dee! How has he kept the same power to impress me just by his presence alone?
Insensitive to the proximity of the hundred or so people who had their attention riveted on the two of them, she, the leading model of the fashion show, he, anachronistically standing and immobile, the couple started an impudent fight, with their looks as only weapons.
There was no way to escape. The first one to look down would be defeated.
Duncan, who had caught the slightest flutter of Scarlett's eye since she appeared on the loggia, immediately noted her change in mood. Intrigued, he followed the point to which she was directing her attention.
Rhett Butler! he flinched.
Contrary to what Eleonor had said, her son had finally come to accept his invitation. God knows Duncan had not encouraged his mother to send him a card. But she had unknowingly reassured him from the start that the Butlers' eldest son would not be coming, no matter how much his mother had begged him to.
He was the helpless witness of their reunion. Worse! He was the instigator by having played with fire, by accepting to invite his neighbors, by assuming that his luck would continue to protect him.
And now they were face to face. Duncan felt rejected by what was happening in front of him. A tragedy? A charade? A settlement of scores? Anything but a love match, because he could not handle the idea of that.
I need to calm down, trust Scarlett. He hurt her. She will not let him back into her life. Scarlett is mine now. It has to! His manicured nails dug into his palm, but the physical pain he felt could not compete with the pain that overwhelmed him at seeing the two former spouses hypnotized by each other.
In the middle of the crowd, they were alone in the world. Their dilated pupils engaged in a waltz where Rhett's dark irises went from right to left, following the slightest flicker of Scarlett's green eyes, which were trying to escape, only to turn back, and finally come to stick to those of his opponent.
Words were useless, as their story was theirs. It was enough for them to look at each other to understand - or to think they understood - what the other was thinking at that moment.
A game of repulsion, attraction, love, and hate began.
Scarlett's rage, her anger thrown violently in Rhett's face; his shame; his revealed regrets; the resentment of having been humiliated, thrown lower than the ground during their fatal conversation of November 1873; the years of humiliation of the castrated male who was denied conjugal duty; the jealousy of the woman cheated in the sight and sound of all Atlanta; the slow poison injected into Rhett's veins during twelve years - and even more! - spying on the slightest soft modulation of Scarlett's voice, the imperceptible flutter of an eyelash masking her trouble, a sudden flush coloring her upper chest externalizing a sensual impulse, all these passionate signs addressed to someone other than himself, to Ashley Wilkes.
Scarlett could no longer bear that accusing, suffering look. She wanted to get away from it but, with a power that only Rhett Butler could show, he captured her eyes again to tell her another story.
Their eyes clouded over with memories of their little girl's shared love; the turmoil of Rhett's tumultuous kisses; Scarlett's dimples; her husband's comforting arms as she emerged from a nightmare; his wife's soft, soft skin, her discovery of pleasure, their tender words whispered during their last night.
The features of the young woman softened, answering the shy smile of her former husband, as an invitation to resume their joyful complicity of former days.
Scarlett's heart was beating frantically, madly disturbed. She had hoped, she had believed, she had convinced herself, that her love for her husband, revealed late in life, had faded so quickly after his cruel attitude. Could it be that everything is not over?
Her eyes left those of her former love for a moment, disturbed by a movement beside him. A young and pretty blonde, stuck to Rhett's chair, put her hand on his sleeve in a possessive way, as if to attract him and make him sit down.
The high society young woman Rhett wants to marry...
Disgusted, the cheated former wife raised her chin, gave him a last icy look, and disdainfully turned away from this man who now belonged to her past.
Shocked by this rejection that stabbed him in the heart, Rhett collapsed in his chair.
The two former spouses could have felt as if their visual communication had lasted an eternity, so intense had it cut them off from the surrounding world.
In fact, Scarlett had only been standing at the top of the stairs for two minutes. Two long minutes during which the orchestra continued to play the romantic air of "Lorena". Two minutes a little longer than that was necessary for the fifteenth dress to be formally exposed to the eyes of the admirers; enough for the game they had just witnessed to elicit half-hearted comments from some who thought they "knew".
"Butler staring at this woman. Doesn't she fit the description of his wife? " The gentleman at the next table responded to this speculation. "She is his former wife. They are divorced. Do you realize that? One of the oldest families in the South soiled by divorce? " Another replied, "It has been a long time since either of them sank into scandal.»
And then the voices died out. The beauty wearing the prestigious designer's masterpiece had just descended the last step.
Immediately, according to the precise instructions given beforehand to the orchestra, the piano, and the banjo joined the violin on "Lorena".
The playful change of tone symbolically marked the release of tension felt by La Mode Duncan employees fearing an unforeseen event in the perfectly run show; the shoulders of the fourteen models slackened slightly as a sign of satisfaction at their mission accomplished; the young girls quivered in the hope of soon dancing with their suitors to this romantic tune.
The foot on the ground, Scarlett clutched firmly the hand of Ella who had waited quite patiently, unconscious of the tension to which her mother had just faced, so much she was fascinated by her magic dress. A real complicity passed between the mother and the daughter. A common pride, the conscience to live a unique shared moment which they would remember all their life.
As soon as this picture of filial love was painted, the turmoil felt a few minutes before, and the slander that had followed, was forgotten. Frenzied applause broke out across the garden, the fourteen models did the same on the balcony, and the soldiers ceremoniously pulled their hats in admiration.
Scarlett did not even have to look for Duncan. He was already at her side.
The master of ceremonies made his final announcement: "Ladies and gentlemen, I have the infinite honor of presenting to you the Prince of Fashion's masterpiece, entitled "The Thunder of Georgia".
The cheering started again.
Scarlett gripped Ella's hand tighter. This was the moment she had been dreading since the beginning of the show: the moment when she and Ella would walk down the main aisle and be watched by those Charlestonians who would undoubtedly be hostile to her.
She had a fit of panic, which Duncan saw immediately. Without a word, he bent down to kiss her hand. The blue of his eyes had practically disappeared, eaten away by his pupils dilated by the turmoil that had made him shudder with jealousy a few minutes ago, and by the emotion that embraced him, so proud was he to have brilliantly completed his exhibition alongside the dazzling Scarlett O'Hara.
Gently, he put his arm around her, and looked at Ella: "Are you ready, Princess? »
The little girl murmured a small "Yes" as she returned his smile.
Duncan said to Scarlett, glitter in his eyes, "Let's go make thunder sound around us! »
He pulled her a little closer to him and led them both down the aisle.
Ella was beaming, holding her doll to her heart, and clutching her mother with the other hand. She glanced at Wade who was proud as peacock to see them both in the spotlight.
Scarlett was amused by this incongruous situation: What a great comeback for her in this snobbish city!
The ones seated in front, who had the privilege to admire, before the others, the details of the hallucinating toilet of Scarlett, were stunned by the similarity of the outfits of the master of the place and the lady on his side.
Look!" was heard. Duncan Vayton's under-vest is the same emerald color as the young woman's lightning bolts. "Another lady commented, "You are right: Such attention to detail on his lavaliere, the same embroidered lightning bolt. And our famous Charleston green is proudly displayed on them both. "She concluded, "What a wonderfully matched couple! They are young, they are beautiful! »
This praise was amply heard by the members of the head table.
Melina had stars in her eyes. "I am so proud of my brother. Mrs. O'Hara looks like she is out of a fairy tale. She is glowing like crazy! »
Cathleen looked at her and nodded silently. How can she not feel the tension that has fallen upon us?
Eleanor and Rosemary were silent, scandalized by the fact that this woman they hated was being showcased among "their own people" in their beloved city. And they were fully aware of the thunderbolt that had just struck Rhett.
He was trying to control the tremors that had come over him the second he saw her, and which increased in intensity when Duncan grabbed Scarlett's arm. And now Ella was with them. As a family... He had the vulgarity to make their outfits match. Like a couple!
He had only one desire, to leave the table and run away. But he could feel his mother's worried gaze upon him. If he did so, she would see his departure as an affront by the Butlers to the Vaytons. And he would once again be the initiator of a scandal.
Not daring anymore to direct his sight on Scarlett, for fear of cracking of emotion, he threw a black eye on the man who tightened so much her arm around his that their hips were obliged to brush themselves.
Since the first time he had seen Scarlett, Rhett had never been confronted with a formal rivalry with other men. Sure, there was Wilkes, but it was all unspoken. Thanks to Miss Melly, this coward had been forced to hide his obscene impulses in public. The other men, the many admirers who had surrounded Scarlett, before and after their marriage, did not count for her. They had had right only to crumbs of her simpering, for better practice to make her claws on "her Ashley". Even if her airs of coquette secretly put Rhett in a rage, he knew that he had nothing to fear from all these vulgar males.
But, for the first time, Scarlett was openly displayed on the arm of another man.
The worst part is that she had the right to do so. She was divorced...
And what a man! Rosemary had been harping on him with their neighbor. "So handsome, so young, so smart, so talented, so rich, horribly rich, among the ten richest in America, so generous, so respected by all, so..., so..."
Rhett had to restrain himself. Either he would smash everything in front of him, or he would irreparably disfigure that vain blond man with his air of conquest, a cockerel parading as if Scarlett already belonged to him.
The Princess of Atlanta, The Thunder of Georgea and her Prince Charming walked majestically before South Carolina's most worthy representatives.
Duncan caught a few furtive inquisitive looks in Scarlett's direction. No doubt from those who had heard of Mrs. Butler. To hell with them all! Scarlett is superior to them in every way.
In response, he tightened his embrace even more, to the point where it might have been considered indecent if this behavior had not come from the Vayton heir, the most respected and respectable family in the Old South.
Scarlett spotted her aunts, among other old women. They were stunned! Our niece, whose actions have always been questioned with good reason, thought Eulalie, the daughter of that peasant O'Hara, honored by the best of all the gentlemen in Charleston! It was simply incomprehensible.
Ella, in all innocence, was happy to give them a little nod of recognition. This is the best day of my life! she decreed.
Their niece had no trouble reading their minds. She gave them her best hypocritical smile, and Duncan followed suit, knowing from Scarlett's reaction that they were the Robillard ladies. He had to make them his allies.
One heard ecstatic remarks on the masterpiece of the great couturier. One was amazed by the richness of the embroidery. One tried to pierce the mystery of manufacture which had transformed this attractive lady into a diamond, so much it glittered from the head to the feet.
John hailed his friend without further ado. "Fantastique! "he shouted in French, exaggerating his accent, to force the line of the great Parisian couturier. "Congratulations! You are definitely the best.»
His remark was immediately approved by their other childhood friends beside him. Duncan gave him a little sign, the meaning of which only John knew, a language they had developed at school when they wanted to communicate without the other students knowing.
Rebecca, too, had deciphered their codes. But she no longer had the heart to play. How dare this stranger girl strut on the arm of his lover? He is mine. Whoever you are, you will have no chance of him falling into your clutches!
The trio returned, satisfied with this harvest of praise that was still pouring in.
"Oh look at the Princess of Atlanta. With her twin doll and the rain of stars on her dress, she looks like an angel! "
Ella did not understand where this incredible compliment was coming from, but she turned red with delight. She looked at her mother, who simply nodded her head in agreement. Mother is proud of me! This was so unexpected that she hugged the golden dress a little tighter.
They distinctly heard a young female voice: "They look like a couple out of a fairy tale. How beautiful they are! »
Duncan's white teeth glistened under his mustache as he asked Scarlett, "What do you think? They are right, aren't they? »
Scarlett took advantage of the opportunity. She lowered her voice as much as possible to make sure no one could guess her words. "You are a sweet dreamer, my dear Duncan. So dreamy that you failed to reveal one or two pieces of information to me."
Her tone was light. But the hint was clear enough to make Duncan pale.
A panic attack, the fear that everything would fall apart when he lied to her, that she would end their story that had not even begun... Duncan felt trapped in a vise. He took a deep breath and looked her straight in the eye: „In a minute, if you allow me. »
"One minute? In front of all these people?»
She did not have time to laugh at his answer. The trio had returned to their starting point at the bottom of the stairs.
Duncan picked up the horn and spoke to the audience.
"My dear friends, my family and I thank you warmly for having honored us with your attendance. As you have already understood, this evening is a vibrant tribute to our Old South, which we all love so much! You have gotten a great glimpse of it through the collection I created specifically for Charleston and South Carolina. »
"I am very touched that you have enjoyed this fashion show personified by the elegant young women here. " With a wave of his hand, he pointed to the models gathered behind him on the balconies. "I would like to take this opportunity to pay tribute to the employer of these talented models, Mr. Alexander Turney Stewart, owner of the famous Iron Palace in New York, my friend, who passed away on April 10.( *8) " His employees gave a symbolic clap of thanks.
Duncan said more lightly, "In the next few minutes, you will be treated to more surprises. Do not worry. It will be a short interlude, so you can finally enjoy our appetizing hot and cold buffets." This last sentence was greeted, especially by the gentlemen present. The Southern Ladies continued by tradition, as before the war, to reveal only a small appetite.
Duncan still had not let go of Scarlett's hand. He continued, "Once you have restored yourselves, I know you will be delighted to dance to the music we all love!»
New applause interrupted him for a moment. Then he continued:
"Before the festivities resume, let me thank, from the bottom of my heart, the one without whom I would never have found the inspiration to create "The Thunder of Georgia", the one who embodies beauty and prestige tonight, the one who has become the muse of "La Mode Duncan"!"
Looking Scarlett in the eye, he announced: "Mrs. Scarlett O'Hara! »
A chorus of hand clapping and admiring onomatopoeia from all corners of the garden replaced the music, which had stopped, as expected, as soon as Duncan Vayton joined the podium.
The master of the evening added, this time speaking directly to Scarlett: "I cannot begin to express my gratitude to you for agreeing to represent the Mode Duncan brand, along with your lovely daughter, Ella, and your son, Wade. It is a tremendous honor.»
Scarlett was moved. Truly moved. When was the last time she received such recognition? Since... never actually. Rhett has never put me in the spotlight. Duncan just shook up his reputation by forcing me into his protected circle.
He was staring at her intensely, with a look on his face that looked like... Scarlett barely dared to formulate her thoughts in her head. Like what? Not a simple infatuation. No! His eyes are too fixed, too dark. Passion?
She had no more time to think. Duncan finished his tribute, "Scarlett, would you do me the honor of sharing this dance with me?»
He had dropped the metal cone and bent over to kiss her hand. A single blink of the eyelids was enough for Scarlett to give her consent.
He dragged her towards the dance floor under the cheers. Then silence fell.
The orchestra emitted the first notes of "Lorena", this time driven by the velvety voice of the singer.
Rhett gritted his teeth so hard that Roselyne was almost frightened by the hardness of his features.
The joints of his closed fists were white, so much the intensity of his rage was big. He forced himself to immobilize them on his thighs.
Ready to fight!
ooooOOoooo
End notes:
You can "view" the sixteen models, as I imagined them and brought them to life in graphic mode with a photo-processing program (not Photoshop, unfortunately for me and the long working days - weeks...) on my blog at
. If the address is truncated on this website, type (without spaces between words) : alarecherchedutempsperdu. over-blog. Com , and click above on Gone with the Wind fantic The Boutique Robillard (English). That specific chapter is on page 3. –
The raw form of the dresses is that of the "centerpiece", called "Electric Light" by Charles Frederick Worth. For more detailed images and information on the Charles Frederick Worth dress, see chapter 24 of my blog, The Fifteenth Model.
Only the sixteenth model, worn by Scarlett in the novel, corresponds to the real "Electric Light" dress, with the same fabric color and drapery. However, I have adapted the details of the bustier and embroidery, as they were not accurate in the archive photographs. If I told you that I reconstructed, pixel by pixel, each sequin in three shades: white pearls, emerald and jade! Even if they are hard to notice without a magnifying glass, I know they are there ;-)
The face common to all fourteen models is that of Scarlett arriving at Ashley's birthday party. On this occasion, she wears a red dress and her hands are wrapped in a shawl, hence the attitude of the fourteen drawings. The hair is Scarlett's as she sits in her bedroom. For Ella, I borrowed the face from a painting by Etienne Adolphe Piot (1850-1910).
(*1) The illuminated home of "La Mode Duncan" headquarters: I was inspired by an Italian-style house at 26 South Battery, on Charleston's waterfront (identical to the address of La Mode Duncan headquarters). I used the available photos as faithfully as possible to describe the exterior and interior of Duncan Vayton's Maison de Couture, the façade, the outbuildings (the couture workshops and Blanche's house), and also to "see" the mannequins circling the illuminated loggias. However, I did make one important modification, creating a door on both floors, giving direct access to the garden side. This historic house is called Colonel John Algernon Sydney Ashe House. Visit "La Mode Duncan" headquarters at 26 South Battery.
Take a look at the photos on : Loc's Public domain archive - media/colonel-john-algernon-sydney-ashe-house-26-south-battery-charleston-charleston-4
Charleston homes-for-sale (actually sold) homes-for-sale/26-South-Battery-Charleston-SC-29401-237534486
Or estately com - listings - 26 S South Battery listings/info/26-s-south-battery
(*2)Pieces of music played by the orchestra: the instruments shown in the novel do not correspond exactly to those in the youtube extracts. But these videos will allow you to "live" the evening at Duncan Vayton's house.
"Carolina" - music by Armand Edward Blackmar, music publisher - Written shortly after the end of the Civil War, this sad song tells how not only the States of the Union, but also the Configured States, chose to blame South Carolina for opening hostilities at Fort Sumter - Youtube, Carolina, Tom Roush watch?v=bbwjARzTqAA&list=LL&index=18
(*3) The symbolic flowers and birds were officially selected by each American state at the beginning of the 20th century. This implies that they had a particular meaning in the 19th century, and existed in profusion in these southern states.
(*4) Set with emeralds and diamonds worn by Scarlett: the earrings and necklace belong to Elizabeth Taylor.
(*5) Aura Lea, 1861, music by George – Popular among Southern and Northern soldiers. The song that inspired Elvis Presley's "Love Me Tender" –
Instrumental version, Youtube, instrumental piano version: Youtube, Aura Lee, John Falloon - watch?v=t5rMURQTvas
I(*6) Aura Lea 1861, finest instrumental version with violin, and images of Civil War soldiers: You Tube James Ledrick watch?v=QJVSlskPgaY&list=LL&index=2
(*7) Lorena, 1857 - music by Joseph Philbrick Webster - instrumental version on violin (and piano) - You Tube Lorena - Appalachian Mountain Fiddler, Blaine Sprouse, watch?v=CBBBP0Z_g7M
(*8) Alexander Turney Stewart, owner of the Iron Palace, New York. October 12, 1803 - April 10, 1876. See Chapter 14, Lightning at First Sight, for more details on this famous New York store.