Note : The plot is going slowly but surely...
Thank you, all faithful readers, followers and reviewers. You push me to go on daily, even though I should work more on my own business ;-)
"Business to be transacted in Atlanta -stop - arrive June 12 - stop - would be infinitely honored if you would accept my invitation Saturday night - stop - my warm thoughts - stop - Duncan - stop."
He waited impatiently for the reply to his telegram. It didn't take long, but it was a little frustrating: "Welcome to Atlanta - stop - Friendships - stop - Scarlett - stop."
Friendships... Duncan longed to read Affection, Tenderness, Love... But he knew that wasn't reasonable. So he would settle for friendship. For the time being.
June 12, 1876, Atlanta
He had booked the same room as last time, at the National Hotel. Just enough time to enjoy a relaxing bath after the fatigue of the trip and to dress freshly, he walked through the doors of the hotel's large restaurant.
As the maitre d' greeted him with reverence, he saw someone waving to him in the room: the one he wouldn't have wanted to meet, for all the gold in the world, in Atlanta.
Propriety prevented him from overriding it. He signalled to the stylish employee that he was going to sit at his friend's table.
Rhett Butler invited him to take a seat opposite him. The two men greeted each other cordially.
His neighbour offered him a cigar. A peace pipe?" he sneered.
His air was affable in any case. "What a pleasure to see you here again. To what do we owe the honor of your visit to my fair city?"
Duncan wondered inwardly what mystery had turned Atlanta back as the city of the Charlestonian in the space of two weeks.
With the same pleasant tone, he announced: "On business. Vayton & Son Limited had, before my father's death, been looking at a real estate renovation program involving the oldest homes in this town. I had abandoned the idea, preferring to concentrate on South Carolina. But I changed my mind. I came to discuss it with my agent here."
There was a brief silence, but it was enough to make Duncan feel that his answer was disconcerting to his interlocutor. Did his presence here upset Rhett Butler, who considered Atlanta his territory?
Scarlett. The reason had to be Scarlett. A hateful image flashed through his mind of Rhett Butler embracing his former wife too passionately while dancing at the fashion ball.
Was he foolish enough to consider that Scarlett O'Hara was still his preserve? Duncan was about to disappoint him.
"This hotel is remarkable. The rooms are quiet and the service is impeccable. This is the second time I've stayed here. An excellent address, don't you think?"
The former Atlanta resident replied nonchalantly, "Indeed. In fact, I've moved there for a while."
Duncan sensed Butler's gaze was steady, seemingly waiting for a reaction from him. I can't let him know that knowing he's in Scarlett's vicinity makes me nervous. That's what he's after. I wouldn't give him that pleasure. Indifference was his best weapon against Butler taunting him.
Unless this temporary official residence at the National Hotel was just a decoy to better hide the sultry Rhett Butler's rapprochement with his current mistress in Atlanta, the madam of the city's most famous brothel. Duncan had burned into his memory the interesting discussion he'd had with Belle Watling in her living rooms in "A Girl of All Seasons.
If Butler had any pretense of getting in the way of his conquest of Scarlett, he would know how to use this secret weapon to good effect.
He thought about it as he watched his neighbor greedily sipping his liquor.
But the two men decided to keep a low profile and converse in all civility during the meal. They enjoyed the chef's cooking. When it was time for Rhett to order a Cognac, Duncan refused, "No liqueur for me, thanks, Rhett. The clock is ticking. I have a meeting with my agent now, and then I plan to admire the charms of Atlanta. I hope you have a nice day."
And he took his leave, leaving no time for Rhett Butler to ask him about "the charms of Atlanta".
The charms of Atlanta that were at that moment concentrated in one place.
He pushed open the door of "The Boutique Robillard". The entrance bell went off, making Scarlett O'Hara's eyes rise. His fluttered a little at the intensity of the irises that stared back at him.
He paid no attention to the other people present, saleswomen and customers. Unimportant shadows. Only the one who was now approaching, arms outstretched, two dimples carved in the corners of her lips of such a brightly pigmented red, mattered. Unique.
"Duncan! How nice to see you again! You do me great honor to come into my humble store." She sparkled with genuine joy.
He took hold of her warm hand to kiss it. This contact alone was enough to cause a flow of shivers to the bottom of his loins.
"Scarlett! You radiate beauty!" Cheerfully, mimicking her outstretched arms, he spun her around to better admire her figure.
"How many days will you be in Atlanta?"
"I have to leave again on Monday afternoon. I have an important appointment in New York with a client, Mrs. Cornelius Vanderbilt." (*)
Scarlett exclaimed. "Oh she is often mentioned in my women's magazine, this billionaire famous for her dazzling parties."
Duncan smiled. "Indeed, she did. She has asked me to make sure that the six ladies of her family will be dressed to the nines for the sumptuous masked ball she is hosting. A mission that will translate into several months of creation and intense activity for my workshop."
He perceived with pleasure that the young woman was impressed by the challenge.
The door to the store opened to reveal a group of three people who smiled brightly at the ladieswear store owner. Scarlett excused herself from Duncan to greet the arrivals, who were friends, as far as he could tell from their animated conversation.
Meanwhile, he finally turned his attention to the other people in the store. He noticed a man sitting and drawing. Intrigued, he approached and introduced himself. The other man did the same. Curious, Duncan glanced appreciatively at Aimé Tersène.
"Nice work, you have talent. Even though this is a haberdashery design."
"Thank you," replied Aimé in his strong French accent. "I am just finishing my work on the illustration of a catalogue, for which Madame O'Hara has charged me." He let him leaf through his notebook.
Duncan added appreciatively : "Your sketch of the dress displayed in the window is particularly good. It's a simple line, but it reflects the style of the garment perfectly. I can judge that objectively, as I have a fashion house in Charleston. Listening to you, it is easy to guess that you are French. I lived in this beautiful country for over ten years. Are you from Paris?"
Aimé Tersène, flattered that his small sketches had received the approval of an expert opinion, thanked him: "I worked a little in Paris, and I exhibited in small galleries. But I come from a town in the North, Lille. I doubt you've heard of it."
Duncan laughed quietly, so as not to disturb those around them. "Lille? Not two days go by without the lady Director of my sewing shop mentioning it, for some reason!"
The Frenchman was surprised. "What a happy coincidence! What a small world! But I don't pretend to know all the young women in Lille. Although..." He allowed himself a mischievous wink, "I've been rubbing shoulders with a few of them."
The two seducers exchanged a knowing glance.
Duncan, watching for the moment when Scarlett would finally be available to him, allowed himself a knowing pout, "I'm not surprised then that Blanche claimed loudly that the boys from Lille weren't serious enough for her to want to marry one!"
He noticed that Scarlett was leaving her three interlocutors in the care of her saleswoman. Finally, she walked towards him.
He thought it best to end his exchange with the designer. The latter had just closed his work kit. The moment Scarlett joined them, he apologized to her, telling her that he'd completely forgotten about an appointment at Atlanta City Hall. Before he left, he told Duncan, "Maybe I'll stop by your fashion house soon to greet you. You've made me want to visit South Carolina. It was nice to meet you. My best regards !"
Alone at last! At least, for a face-to-face conversation. Duncan asked the question that had been burning in his mind since he arrived at The Robillard Store.
"I would hate to take up your time. Your clients are asking for you. But, before I leave you to join my business agent, would you allow me to take you to dinner at your favorite restaurant? I'd be honored, Scarlett."
His heart nearly stopped in disappointment when he heard the beginning of her answer, "I've been planning for some time to invite my friends to the restaurant where we dined during your last visit. I'd be delighted to have you join us, Duncan. They're lovely people. He's the Director of Arts and Culture for Atlanta. And his wife, Taisy, is dazzled by the masterpieces of "La Mode Duncan."
Of course, Duncan would have preferred to keep Scarlett to himself. But if this invitation meant he could be with her all evening, he'd put up with intruders disturbing their intimate tête-à-tête.
"I'll be happy to join you and your friends tonight."
Scarlett smiled at him and concluded, "Perfect then. Let's meet, 7pm at the restaurant. Have a good afternoon's work!"
He left her, impatient for his pocket watch to strike seven.
Finally! He had tried to fill the gap by concentrating on his interview with the Vayton & Son agent in Georgia, and the latter's previous assessment of the situation. The information was sketchy because the employee had been surprised by the urgency of the request suddenly demanded by the heir to the financial empire.
It was the time to invest, because the venerable local families, ruined by the war and the economic crisis, were looking for any means to sell, even at low prices.
His employee confirmed the exponential growth in demand for houses in perfect condition from wealthy entrepreneurs attracted by Atlanta's dynamism.
So soon a beautiful restored property was put on the market that it was quickly sold to the newly rich moving into the city. He had seen an example of this with Vayton's property Duncan had seen completed during his visit to Atlanta last April.
To tell the truth, there was no need for the powerful group to expand further in Georgia. The real estate portfolio bequeathed by his father was scandalously comfortable at a time when so many companies had gone bankrupt.
Except... that was all the more reason to get close to Scarlett O'Hara. That opportunity alone was enough to embark on an expensive and far-reaching enterprise.
He was the first to arrive at the restaurant lobby. Immediately the maitre d' came and seated him at the table reserved for "Mrs. Butler and her friends".
The mention made him raise his eyebrows. Obviously, old habits were a little too ingrained in this establishment. It was time for the owner to draw a line under this outdated name. She was Scarlett O'Hara. Before she became, if he was lucky, Scarlett Vayton.
This one was not long in coming, accompanied by a couple.
When she entered the room, many eyes turned towards her. He caught the envious, even venomous, eyes of some of the women, and the appreciative, but more discreet, eyes of their husbands.
She seemed not to notice, neither the one nor the other, so used was she to arousing passionate reactions.
Passion. She was the embodiment of this with her deep purple dress whose pure lines sublimated her curves. The plain silk damask played on the contrast between the shine and the background of the woven design in the shape of delicate geranium petals.
The only extravagance on display made Duncan's heart flutter a little more: a braid adorned with black feather down trimmed the generous indentation in her bodice.
Rather than give in to the admiration of the pearly skin, he forced himself to fix his gaze on the black opal earrings, whose mobile pendants made their multicolored reflections sparkle. Not a ring around her slender fingers. Duncan secretly promised himself he'd adorn her left ring finger.
He stood up, bowed gracefully, and Scarlett made the introductions.
The atmosphere soon became warm between them. Food and drink were served promptly, and conversation began. He noticed that Mrs. Bennett was the quiet one. Scarlett was amused, "My dear Duncan, you've managed to intimidate my usually cheerfully talkative friend".
Taisy smiled at her own reserve. "Mr. Vayton..." - He interrupted her, "Please, call me Duncan." She took back his first name with pleasure, "Duncan, I must confess to being one of the most fervent admirers of your Haute Couture creations."
Duncan gave her the charming smile reserved for his best customers. He was used to this female exaltation of his creative talents, and also often, he was aware, of his physical attractions.
He was indifferent to this adoration, and usually responded only with polite thanks. But since Scarlett liked Mrs. Bennett, he decided to charm her even more-so that she would praise his merits to her Lady of Hearts.
"I'm honored, Taisy. It is by being around elegant young women such as yourself and Scarlett that I draw my inspiration as an artist."
His compliment seemed to satisfy her. Now he had to seduce her husband to enter Scarlett's social circle in Atlanta. The young woman's friends had to become his allies, because two prominent men in their milieu were hovering a little too close to her.
"Harry, I am impressed with your duties as Atlanta's Director of the Arts. It is a great responsibility to preside over the cultural future of such a vibrant city!"
His interlocutor seemed sensitive to this flattery. With good grace, he went on to describe the actions he had already taken or planned to take to modernize the existing infrastructure dedicated to culture.
"The theatrical program is certified until Christmas 1878. We have succeeded in attracting quality acting companies. As for the music, in addition to the classical concert artists who will be performing in the coming months, an important place will be devoted, during the next two years, to the opera buffa and the repertoire of Jacques Offenbach, such as "La Belle Hélène" or "La Vie Parisienne".
Scarlett, who had hitherto taken a polite interest in Harry Bennett's explanations, became animated at the mention of Offenbach's merry music. Had she ever attended one of these concerts with Butler? In any case, Duncan promised himself to save any information that might please his "muse" in a corner of his memory.
Harry exclaimed, "How fortunate the people of Charleston have been to witness your exclusive fashion show in tribute to the Old South! It would be a dream if you would agree to honor our city with such a performance!"
Duncan thought it reasonable to temper the expectations of the ambitious artistic director. "Unfortunately, my order book doesn't allow me to prepare such festivities in the next two years. But... I think an exhibition with the most beautiful 'historical' models of 'La Mode Duncan' is feasible."
He ignored the stunned look on Benett's face at such unexpected news. He asked for the reaction of the only person who mattered to him: "What do you think, Scarlett? Would you be interested in such a retrospective?"
He was reassured by her enthusiastic response, backed by a flash of pleasure in her eyes.
He addressed the Cultural Director again: "If I ever find the time to list the models to be sent temporarily to Atlanta, you would, of course, need to have the proper infrastructure to secure the closed display cases and the area around the building. I don't need to tell you, my dear Harry, how outrageously valuable each unique model is. Not to mention, most importantly, my sentimental attachment to these memorabilia."
Harry held out his hand to symbolically seal their agreement. "It would be a great honour for our Capital and all of Georgia. As for the protection of such a precious loan, I can guarantee it with my hand on my heart. In a few months, the construction of the most innovative and secure building in the Southern States will be completed. A bright space with a succession of exhibition rooms. The masterpieces of America's greatest fashion designer will be safely nested there, rest assured."
Duncan was pleased with the announcement. Before he had time to congratulate him on having conceived such an ambitious architectural project, Harry went on:
"Charleston must be very proud to count, among its most distinguished natives, two immense contributors to the Arts."
The young dressmaker did not stop at Mr. Bennett's emphatic tone, but pointed out a detail: "Two? You surprise me, Harry! In the past, certainly, but, today, even with humility, I don't see who-"
Harry laughed. "Duncan, you must know him. Besides, being Scarlett's friend..." He paused, heavy with innuendo.
She looked at him in surprise. "Harry, I confess I do not understand your allusion. I am connected with very few people in Charleston, and certainly not with another 'contributor to the Arts'!"
Duncan, like Scarlett, was confused by the direction this conversation was taking.
He felt Harry hesitate, and then jump in, "But, Scarlett, Rhett..."
She glared at him, obviously annoyed that he dared mention the name of her former husband. "Rhett? He's the most selfish, materialistic man on earth! Contributor him? Profiteer, yes!"
How pleased he was with her contemptuous reaction to his neighbour in the Battery!
She had stubbornly abandoned the smile that had not left her lips all evening.
To his surprise, he realized that Harry was backing away, visibly embarrassed. "Oh sorry, Scarlett, I thought ..." Then, in a voice meant to be light, "Let's forget about it, shall we? Duncan, I'm at your disposal, at your convenience, to discuss the details of the exhibition. This one, you can be sure, will have a national impact. It will draw not only the people of Georgia, but no doubt those of the surrounding states. We will do our utmost to ensure that the organization of this unique event is worthy of the tribute that Atlanta will pay to you.
Taisy, who up to now had been less than forthcoming, spoke up, "Would it be indiscreet to ask if, as a result of your visit today, one of our Atlanta Ladies will be so fortunate as to have you agree to design a dress for her?"
Duncan sought Scarlett's eyes. "The only Lady from Atlanta who will ever inspire me to create is right here at this table." He realized with excitement that Scarlett had blushed. Very slightly, because he knew she was too inundated with male compliments to be impressed. This blush was even more valuable to him.
He replied to her friend, "No. In fact, my business meeting today has nothing to do with Haute Couture, but with the real estate arm of the Vayton Group Limited and its subsidiary in Atlanta."
Sensing that he had Scarlett's full attention, he explained, "I'm impressed with how much energy your city has. According to my realtor, Atlanta's population has tripled between 1860 and today."
He then allowed himself to place his fingers on Scarlett's hand which was resting on the table. She did not withdraw it. "I will not teach you, the brilliant businesswoman who has run two successful sawmills and a housing development, about the growing need for housing for the newly arrived wealthy families. Many industrialists are eager to show off their power by buying prestigious homes. Provided that they are in perfect condition."
He could feel the exhilaration come over him as the warmth of Scarlett's skin radiated through his own hand, which was aching. But he resolved to break this seemingly equivocal proximity.
Scarlett was perfectly involved in the discussion. She was on familiar ground, comfortable with a subject she knew much better than he did.
"The demand for these antebellum mansions is high. This is where we come in. The Vayton & Son Company specializes in the restoration of these historic buildings. Our reputation, throughout the southern states, surpasses that of any other competitor, because it is based on beautifying these mansions in an authentic manner."
Harry commented, "It's a noble cause to want to preserve the architectural history of a city. How do you go about it, because more often than not, it's more tempting and more economical to tear everything down and rebuild."
"You're right, Harry. But when my father diversified his business into property acquisition and restoration, he wanted to combine two requirements: to be financially successful for Vayton & Son, of course, but to help restore the beauty of a world that had been so badly shaken by war. This is why he demanded that the elegant lines of the Southern houses be respected. Above all, there was to be no lack of taste, for my father would have been revolted by it. As would I. The smallest architectural details, the beams, the parquet floor, the ceiling mouldings, the marble fireplaces, all these period elements are stripped, reassembled, sanded, waxed, painted or varnished according to the rules of art. To do this, our subcontractors are rigorously selected and only the best craftsmen, in each trade, masons, carpenters, cabinetmakers, or wrought ironworkers are selected. We even collaborate with painters in charge of restoring the recessed trumeaux or the wall paintings, trying to be as faithful as possible to the original pigments. In short, the Vayton & Son Company reconciles, for its wealthy clients, the alliance of history with modernity, by equipping its creations with the most innovative techniques in ventilation, heating and lighting."
Scarlett had remained silent during his long statement, but he was glad to be able to share with her, alongside fashion, another common interest that brought them even closer.
Taisy looked at him with a small smile, "The finest craftsmen, the most talented artists, the most innovative techniques, not to mention, of course, the finest couture creations... May I ask you a question, Duncan? Is there any field in which you'd be content to be like the rest of us dead mortals with reasonable ambitions?"
She had hit the nail on the head. At the very core of his personality. When he answered her, it was by staring intently at Scarlett, while lightly stroking the knuckles of her hand with his thumb, "None. I only aspire to the best. In everything. I aspire only to perfection. I seem to have achieved it in Haute Couture. As for real estate restoration, Vayton & Son comes close thanks to its serious infrastructure. And most importantly, I have finally found it, in the embodiment of beauty."
His voice had broken on the last sentence, so moved was he to proclaim aloud what he had been thinking for three months. He felt Scarlett's pulse suddenly quicken under his fingers. Did that mean she shared his confusion? He breathed in deeply to absorb this mad hope, and regretfully left the soft warmth.
The Atlanta Arts Director brought him back to reality. "Your ambition, in the matter of restoration, is all the more admirable because the situation is so overwhelming. So many fine colonial properties were burned to the ground after the Yankee breakthrough! The buildings that managed to remain standing require major restoration work. The war damage and the financial crisis that the country is currently going through do not allow the penniless owners to maintain them anymore. It is a heartbreak for them to have to give up their ancestral property."
Taisy's husband addressed Scarlett directly, "This is one of the many reasons I have such admiration for you, Scarlett! When you invited us over last Sunday, Ashley Wilkes told us how hard you had to fight alone to save your beloved Tara. He was so admiring of the work you did to save your property. I must confess to seeing those misty eyes, so moved was he by your courage."
Duncan frantically clasped his hands over his thighs, trying to hide the jealousy that made him suddenly want to knock over everything on the table. Out of rage. This Wilkes, invited by Scarlett last Sunday? Of course, he had every opportunity to annoy her with his advances, while he, Duncan, was stuck in Charleston. He had to find an idea to get closer to her. He dared:
"Scarlett, I would be very interested in visiting your family plantation. I'd love to hear about what was destroyed during the war, how you managed to save it. There are so few authentic estates left in the area. I'm sure that would inspire me to restore the ones that Vayton & Son will acquire."
She showed her surprise. "You really want to see Tara? It's more likely a farm now. You're like a fish in water in New York, immersed in a hectic artistic universe, I doubt this country atmosphere is to your taste. It has nothing to do with that imposing Soft South of yours you told me about. I'm afraid it seems sadly modest to you."
Duncan's heart was racing. "You're wrong, Scarlett. On the contrary, I need to see these Georgian properties, which are different from those in South Carolina, in order to complete my project. I have to leave on Monday afternoon, but perhaps you could show it to me tomorrow? Provided, of course, that your schedule allows it? This may seem like an impromptu visit, but unfortunately my time in Atlanta is limited. How far is it from Atlanta?"
"About twenty miles. We take the train to the Jonesboro station, then travel the rest of the way by wagon. Actually, I haven't been there in a long time, and I miss Mammy, my old nanny. On the other hand, you have spoiled me with a tour of your spinning mill, Duncan's Fashion Workshop and your lavish Magnolias' Mansion. It is tempting to show you, in turn, a property that is so dear to my heart. I had nothing special planned for tomorrow. Except for the traditional Sunday lunch with Ashley, but he won't mind if I cancel that. I'll ask Prissy to pass along a ticket."
A smile broke out on Duncan's face. He hoped he didn't look too conquering. And yet, it was a first battle he'd won...
The rest of the meal ended happily, with anecdotes about the "La Mode Duncan" workshop in Paris and the demands of some of the artists performing in the Atlanta theater.
Scarlett arranged to meet him at the station at 9:45 a.m., and the four friends separated.
On the way back to their house, Taisy remained silent. She was replaying in her head the skits she had witnessed in the restaurant.
The first act had been the entrance, astonishing as it was dazzling, of the prince of American fashion, a personality adored by high society, and unaffordable to middle-class ladies such as Taisy. Suddenly in front of her, and conversing most naturally.
The most disturbing thing, Taisy had to admit, was to be confronted with two eyes of such intense blue that for a moment she felt like drowning in those deep waters. The light from the chandelier hanging over their table reverberated off his golden hair.
Breathtakingly beautiful, she had thought at that moment. ... Until she intercepted his gaze, as if hallucinated by the vision of her friend who had entered the restaurant at the same time as her.
Taisy thought to herself: he's hungry for her... And her first impression was confirmed throughout the meal. He was swallowing her with his eyes. Even when he was addressing her or her husband, his body language tended towards Scarlett O'Hara. His hands could not help but touch her when he spoke to her. His fingers wandered, lingered, hesitated, retracted and then seemed to return irresistibly to her.
As for his thinly veiled statements... Scarlett had barely reacted. But what young woman on the East Coast would not have shuddered if America's most famous fashion designer had said that she was "the epitome of beauty" or that she was the "only one who inspired him to create a work"?
How was it possible that one of the most sought-after bachelors by young girls to be married, very rich, very brilliant, and above all very handsome, should turn into a passionate lover in front of a woman - still young, of course, but three times married, twice widowed and above all divorced?
In any case, he was hot-blooded, Taisy hadn't had trouble guessing that. Ready to bite when Scarlett had mentioned lunch with her brother-in-law. Well! The phlegmatic Wilkes was also a hothead, or rather, a strong dislike, to say the least. Perhaps Duncan had heard the rumors about Scarlett's romantic past?
As for Rhett Butler, he came close to assaulting Ashley Wilkes at Ella's birthday party. Rhett Butler... a pebble in Duncan's shoe? Ashley's? Not at first glance, since he was divorced. And yet, she'd had time to observe him in close proximity to his former wife: troubled, moved, angry... Under a glaze of nonchalance.
The other night, I thought I was watching a love triangle. In fact, there are three men who revolve around the beautiful Scarlett O'Hara! Who will she choose? Taisy would have liked to know the end of the story.
Duncan seemed to have won a round by having his beauty invited to Tara. All that talk about renovating the old plantations... Taisy wondered if the great couturier wasn't a little more manipulative than the average man!
Note on Chapter 31 :
(*)Mrs. Cornelius Vanderbilt: it was for her and her costume ball held in March 1883 that the great couturier Frederick Worth created the "Electric Light" dress, worn by Scarlett at Duncan's show under the name "Thunder of Georgia".
Disclaimers : I do not own the story and the characters of Gone with the Wind which belong to Margaret Mitchell. I created the "world" of Duncan Vayton and Blanche Bonsart.