Note : eventually here is the last part of the day spent in Tara...
You will discover, shortly a new couple : you probably will laugh, reading their names... Well, I "treated" myself because I used to consider, when I was 15, the real ones as a twentieth century remake of Scarlett and Rhett.. Shame on me, ha ha !
Your reviews, with your different - opposite - points of views are such a pleasure. And, to be honest, I happen to follow some of your smart advises :-) Thank you, especially to the guests to whom I cannot answer. And most of all, thank you to all you, faithful readers.
June 13, 1876, 9 p.m., Tara, Clayton County
Divine surprise! Scarlett couldn't believe it. Her cantankerous sister transformed into a pleasant hostess, taking care of her guests, modulating her voice when she addressed her elder sister to hide her hints of animosity…
As sneaky as she was in front of Mother when she wanted to show herself more enthusiastic than me in praying, just to please her.
The meal was hearty. The food was simple and tasty, and the portions generous. The cook, hired especially for the occasion, had dispensed with the expensive entrees. She served poultry, raised in Tara's large chicken coop, with skin that crisped under the tongue. Maybelline Smith, Suellen's new friend, asked for the recipe for the duck paté and mushroom stuffing in the heart of the chicken. The peas and potatoes did the family garden proud. The only thing left on the plates was the remains of the birds' carcasses, so much so that the guests had enjoyed themselves.
With a touch of temporary nostalgia, Scarlett remembered the happy dinners animated by their father, often ending with Ellen's intervention, when Gerald's thunderous laughter or the bickering between sisters became too loud.
When dessert arrived, the three Benteen girls applauded the custard-laden apple pie.
Scarlett didn't flinch, and demanded a second slice. She intercepted Duncan's delighted expression. He appreciates my hearty appetite, as does Rhett.
But tonight, the gastronomic tasting was subsidiary, at least for Suellen and Maybelline. They were literally devouring with their eyes the sculptural beauty of the blond angel, who was doing them the honor of descending from the Olympus of celebrity, to converse in the most natural way with two provincials in Clayton County.
It was soon time for Suellen's offspring to go to bed. Tea was served to the ladies. Scarlett secretly grumbled at the lack of coffee.
Will proudly offered his sister-in-law's friend a pear schnapps, a white brandy of Germanic origin that the master of the house had learned to distil. They sipped it, so much so that the 40% alcohol concentration burned the esophagus.
Duncan's cheeks, like his host's, began to flush. Two tasty apples you'd want to bite into," Scarlett chuckled inwardly.
She gloated watching her sister simpering, rivaled, with equal ardor, by the Tarleton guest. Lucky for her that Mr. Smith did not accompany her. He would not have been pleased to see his wife wriggling like that before a stranger...
She met Will's bewildered eyes as he witnessed, probably for the first time since their marriage, the insistent efforts of Gerald O'Hara's younger daughter to charm the male gender, in this case, the distinguished guest from Charleston.
Her brother-in-law scrutinized Duncan curiously. Scarlett had no trouble understanding why. This was the first time she'd come to Tara with a man. Of course, it made him wonder about their relationship. I must admit that my initiative for this formal introduction surprises even myself - the introduction of a professional relationship," the owner of The Boutique Robillard hastened to clarify mentally.
The subject of all curiosities willingly answered their questions about the world of fashion. He amused himself by telling anecdotes about the prestigious parties in Paris. Before the astonished eyes of the three ladies present, he described the dreamy outfits that he and his friend and colleague, Charles Worth, the world's greatest couturier, had created for the crowned heads of Old Europe, on the occasion of a memorable celebration at the Château de Versailles in 1869.
"It was our friend, the Empress Eugenie, who took the initiative. An unforgettable memory. Although luxury continues to be displayed since the change of regime in France, I must confess that I have not witnessed such pomp and circumstance anymore."
It's strange. I feel pride, as if I was involved in his life. The distributor of the Vayton Ready-to-Wear models was puzzled.
He looked at Scarlett as he informed them that, in a few months, the City of Atlanta would be hosting an exhibition on Haute Couture as embodied by La Mode Duncan, with a retrospective of the designer's exclusive creations.
Is it a way of confirming his increasingly intensive presence around me ? Scarlett could not repressing a tiny smile.
Her sister's friend was overjoyed at this announcement. Scarlett was sure that the latter was thinking how lucky she was to be with Suellen Benteen! Through her interlude, she had been able to touch the fairy world of the Prince of Fashion.
Dinner was coming to an end. Will was about to take Maybelline Smith back to the Tarleton estate in his carriage. Before leaving, she made an appointment with the Atlanta shopkeeper to see Duncan Vayton's exclusive dresses.
Even if she has to go into debt for a whole year, I suspect that this future customer will not be able to resist her impulse to buy. The calculation of the net profit of the operation imprinted itself on the analytical hemisphere of Scarlett's brain.
Reluctantly, Suellen realized that it was time to put an end to these revels, which were totally extraordinary in the dull life of Tara's occupant. Her unfriendly eyes towards Scarlett once again reflected the jealousy Suellen had always felt, amplified, with good reason, this evening.
She displayed a radiant smile to her guest to confirm his room had been prepared upstairs. Even if this accommodation was quite modest, she hoped that Tara's invigorating air would give him a good night's sleep.
Duncan thanked Mrs. Benteen profusely for her warm hospitality. Scarlett saw in his eyes that he was looking forward to finally being alone with the oldest sister.
"Let's enjoy the sweetness of the starry night in Tara for a while." Scarlett led Duncan toward the door. They were about to leave when a voice made her stop.
Mammy was watching. Of course, I should have known better. The protector of my virtue is back in action...
"Ma'am Scarlett! You'll catch a cold out there without your shawl!" Without the slightest objection, the faithful nanny covered her shoulders with a silk stole that had been carefully stored in her bedroom dresser.
Duncan exchanged an amused look with her. "Your nanny is right about the discomfort of temperature variations." Then he turned his most charming smile on the old maid - much more frank and expansive than the ones he'd been giving his two admirers all meal long. "Scarlett is fortunate to have you with her, in Tara. She had spoken of you in highly affectionate terms to me. I can see why now. You're a gem, Mammy!"
The latter blushed at the compliment, and thanked him with a shy smile. But she did not refrain from giving her favorite a threatening look, the meaning of which the former rebellious child understood. In order not to suffer Mammy's eternal wrath, she would have to be careful to avoid anything that was not appropriate tonight...
They took a few steps down the ground. Then she bent down and, without fear of getting dirty, picked up a handful of dirt.
Duncan was surprised, but waited patiently for her to speak.
She palmed this symbol of the plantation's soil to communicate with its warmth, and bent down to inhale its powerful scent.
Her voice, full of emotion, rose in Tara's air: ""The land is the only thing in the world worth working for, fighting for, dying for. Because it's the only thing that lasts." That's what my father used to say. He repeated it to me over and over when I pretended to neglect its importance in favor of the glittering lights of the city. I was his eldest daughter. The heir to the Irish's ancestral attachment to their roots."
Duncan was curious, "Do you know where the name Tara comes from?"
"When Gerald O'Hara won, through a lucky poker game, these wild lands, he decided to name his new estate after the legendary hill of Tara, which was, centuries ago, the capital of the High King of the ancient Ireland."
She was amused at his surprised look. "I'll grant you that. It was presumptuous for a poor Irish peasant to consider these barren fields his kingdom in the new America. But I give him credit, because, for me, this place is worth more than all kingdoms in the world."
How easy it is to loose confidences when your auditor is so attentive…
" I left Tara when I remarried after the war. Suellen, her husband and their children have made it their home. They continue to keep it alive with their presence and good care. But this plantation is above all mine. Legally, of course, because I own a share of it. Financially, because my money, and Rhett's, saved it from decay, and I continue to fund it generously. But mostly from the heart."
She couldn't hide her resentment as she continued, "To my younger sister, this place is synonymous with hassle, thankless maintenance, and being trapped in the countryside. Only Will has a love for this land almost as strong as mine. You can tell by the way he enjoys making it work. As for my youngest sister, Careen, she has given up, without hesitation or regret, her share to the Catholic Church and the convent that houses her."
They had stopped on the way, and sat down on a small stone bench with a view of the building's porch.
"Do you understand now why I consider Tara my home? Even though my life in Atlanta takes me away from it, knowing that the plantation exists is the comfort of my life. It motivates my professional action to keep it thriving."
The narrowness of the bench meant that their knees were touching. It was the first time since the library episode that she was finding this promiscuity dangerous.
No human voices disturbed their intimacy. The birds were sleeping too. Only the hooting of an owl and the repetitive crackling of crickets could be heard.
When she turned her face to question him, she could smell his distinctive scent, "What do you think of this immersion in my world?"
From his large blue eyes, Scarlett could only distinguish, a few inches away, an azure halo eaten by the dilated pupil.
Duncan's breath on her skin made her shiver.
His voice was unnaturally hoarse: "Fascinating, just like you. At first, she appeared mysterious to me. Then I saw her tormented, marked by the bruises caused by the war. At the end of our journey, I discovered her resilient, having succeeded in transforming the painful after-effects into even more fertile ground... "
Scarlett found herself holding her breath as Duncan's fiery narrative took over.
He concludes in a whisper, "...rich with the promise of a bright future."
Scarlett identified the same confusion that had gripped her in her former mother's office. Without doubt, it was shared by Duncan who was no longer hiding it.
At last he turned his head away and looked ahead to the porch of the house. Or rather, as Scarlett suspected, he was staring at an unknown and more distant point. No longer able to read his lips, she understood at first only snatches of words.
"Not used to...", "feelings", "I'm confused...", "I wandered...".
Wearily, she moved closer until she was pressed up against him to hear him say, "...from woman to woman, from body to body, I confess. The relationship between a man and a woman was limited to joyful, light, inconsequential exchanges on both sides. No strings attached, that was my principle of life. That's why I was able to devote myself to my art without any complexes. And then, on a sunny winter afternoon, you appeared in the showroom of "La Mode Duncan". Under the effect of the light surely, but also, I believe, by a divine sign, a glittering aura surrounded you, making your silhouette unreal as it was so perfect. The 20th of February. It was a Sunday. I remember it as if it were yesterday. I could describe to you, minute by minute, your gestures until the moment you left for your aunts' house. On that day, the universe had no other meaning than to be limited to your presence next to me on this earth."
Scarlett's heart was beating so fast that she feared it was racing. What was he describing? Was this the love at first sight she'd heard so much about? She'd loved Ashley when she was just a child. For Rhett... it had taken twelve years before she realized she loved him. No! It was far from love at first sight... However, why did the image of a stranger undressing her with his eyes, at the bottom of the grand staircase of Twelve Oaks, constantly replay in her memory, like a dream was doing so every night? No, it had nothing to do with what Duncan told her he'd felt. Captain Butler's bad manners had shocked her. That was all. That was why the precise moment of their meeting was etched in her mind. There was no other interpretation to be made.
What was he saying now? She concentrated. The tone had suddenly become light. "Do you like poetry, Scarlett?"
She was taken aback. Oh no! Not like Ashley! He's not going to spend hours declaiming convoluted texts whose only meaning is to count the syllables and rhyme the verses from stanza to stanza... She decided to be frank to cut short future boring reading sessions.
"No!" A short and final answer.
Duncan burst into a merry laugh, as adolescent as the Tarleton Brothers'. "Ah, Scarlett! You're my sunshine! How I appreciate your unfeminine frankness. Your Mammy must have forbidden you in vain. Don't worry, it's the only thing about you that isn't, feminine" - He smiled - "Allow me to laugh, because I'm glad we have something else in common. Poetry bores me to death!"
Stunned at first, doubting the luck of not having to put up with another inveterate poet like Ashley, she soon joined in with his laughter. The radiant sounds echoed in Tara's starry sky.
After regaining a semblance of seriousness, he said: "In Paris, my professional obligations often obliged me to frequent the social salons where I met the rich husbands of my clients. I had learned to put on a good face, but I was bored to death when one of them decided to pompously display his veneer of keen literary knowledge. So, at one of these events, at the end of 1872, a young man decided to pay tribute to a French writer, Théophile Gautier, who had just died. (*) He began to read some of his works. Of course, as usual, my attention went to sleep. So why did my hearing suddenly catch on to this particular text?"
He seemed to continue to search for meaning in the episode. "Whatever the reason, I have listened. Will you allow me, exceptionally, with the promise that it will be the last one for eternity, to recite it to you? It is the only poem whose words I can remember by heart. To do so, please let me look into your eyes. You will understand why."
He took her hand in his. His thumb stroked the palm in gentle movements. Then Scarlett saw only two captivating black lights. When he began to speak, she sensed his trembling voice, the same as his burning hand in hers.
"You have a singular and charming look;
Like the moon at the bottom of the lake that reflects it,
Your iris, where a wet glitter shines,
In the corner of your sweet eyes rolls languidly.
They seem to have taken its fires from the diamond;
They are from the more clear water than a perfect pearl,
And your wide moved eyelashes, with their worried wing,
Only half-veil their brightness.
A thousand little loves, to their flame mirror,
Come to look and find themselves more beautiful,
And the desires will rekindle their torches.
They are so transparent that they show your soul,
Like a celestial flower with an ideal chalice
That one would see through a crystal." (*)
"Um... I hope I didn't bore you."
Her throat constricted, Scarlett found herself unable to utter a single sound. She simply answered him with a smile, and a shake of her head in denial.
Reassured, he continued: "The author named the title of his work: 'A deux beaux yeux verts', "To two beautiful green eyes" (*). A predestined name, don't you think? I remember thinking at the end : If one day I came across such eyes, I would abandon all my certainties and have only one goal, to cherish the beautiful soul that would be endowed with them."
The next second, she understood nothing, how had she been suddenly embraced. Her only certainty was the sound of frantic heartbeats mixed with choppy breaths. Her field of vision was limited to the white linen shirt, enclosed under his embroidered silk waistcoat so soft to the touch.
He moved slightly away from her to nestle his blond locks in her neck.
In her excitement, she vaguely heard "Scarlett," "My ardent one," "So tender...your skin is so tender..."
His whiskers were now tickling the base of her throat. He could no longer restrain his moans interspersed with endearing words.
Scarlett's senses were overwhelmed. Her sense of smell, sight, and touch were all drawn to Duncan Vayton's vibrant body.
His mouth dared to venture a little lower, on the lace lining her modest cleavage. When his grip became more possessive, and an arm dared to remain placed in the hollow of her loins, when she guessed the meaning of the praises whispered by lips roaming on the few inches of bare skin, then she felt the painful desire for a more powerful musculature, broader shoulders, gestures more brutal, a mouth claimant placed lower, in the hollow of her breasts, a wild embrace that would mark her skin stigmata to cherish the trace in the morning.
To chase away the violent intrusion of her former husband's image into this moment of passionate embrace, she emboldened herself, in rage, to stroke the beautiful blonde hair whose tips were damp with perspiration.
He responded to her sensual gesture with even more frenzy and kisses. Like an animal uttering a moan, she heard him say, "Scarlett, I..."
"Ma'am Scarlett! Where are you? It's time to go home. You'll catch your death. Can't you see the lightning striking in the sky ? The thunderstorm is going to burst hard. Come home, my lamb."
Scarlett gently moved away from the trembling man, whose hands fell back like a puppet whose strings had been cut.
She heard him whisper, "I beg your pardon, Scarlett. I should not have..."
She gently ran her hand over his and said, "Let's go home, or Mammy will bring thunder down on my head."
Duncan recomposed himself into a calmer attitude. Tenderly, he said, "Thunder of Georgia..."
June 13, 1876, 10 p.m., downtown Atlanta
"What a great evening we had! The show was enchanting. And the actors of such high quality! Your husband deserves to be rewarded a thousand times over for attracting, to our beloved city, the most prestigious theatre company in London."
Taisy thanked, delighted to have made new friends with this couple who were keen on cultural outings. They were friendly and pleasant company for her when she was alone, as she was tonight. They brought with them a host of scholars and artists whose innovative thoughts energized the traditional intellectual spheres of the Old South.
"It's very kind of you to drive me home. Harry warned me that he would be conversing for at least two hours with the prominent personalities who had come to see the performance. I shall wisely go home. The storm must have thundered strongly while we were inside. The pavements are soaked."
The three friends were waiting for the carriage drawn by two horses, which had had to park a little further on, for lack of space on the avenue, so crowded had the entertainment been.
She was taking a few steps away, to better appreciate the play poster hanging on a post, when she saw a well-built man, the familiar figure of Rhett Butler, coming towards her.
His hesitant step surprised her. He passed by her, head down, without seeing her. She had the reflex to stop his wandering by grabbing his sleeve: "Rhett! What a pleasure to run into you!"
When he looked up at her, Taisy was shocked. Two black, expressionless eye sockets faced her.
He seemed to rouse himself with difficulty from his reverie and recognized her. "Taisy! I am confused. I was so deep in thought... How else could I fail to notice a lady as lovely as you? I would have blamed myself for all eternity..." To make amends, he kissed her hand elegantly.
Harry Bennett's wife's piercing mind was not fooled by the gallant tirade, uttered reflexively by an unrepentant seducer. His smile were not reaching his eyes. He seemed detached, elsewhere. Beads of sweat covered his forehead.
As for his dress code, something looked peculiar. When she had first met him, he had been dressed to the nines. Tonight, however, his suit seemed tight. It was dry while his shoes were stained with mud.
This was all very unusual. She boldly asked him, "Rhett, are you sick? You're sweating. I feel like you're wobbling."
His trembling hands contradicted his forced smile, "I am touched by your concern. All is well, I assure you, Dear Taisy."
His veiled eyes say otherwise... "No, you're not in your right mind. Something is bothering you. You can tell me the truth. We're friends now."
He turned his head slightly. Lest I read him... A memory flashed through Taisy's mind. Rhett's casual nonchalance, then his desperate look - similar to tonight - at the sight of Scarlett acting and simpering with Ashley Wilkes.
Abruptly, she says, "Is it Scarlett? Is there something wrong with Scarlett?" It was more of a statement than a question.
For all answer, he clenched his fists. A dejected man, lowering his shoulders in defeat.
Impulsed, she ordered him, "Stay here a moment, please. I'll be right back."
The Burtons' carriage had arrived. Elizabeth was already inside, and Richard Burton was waiting for their friend to help her settle in.
Taisy approached the couple and looked contrite, "I am so sorry to have kept you waiting. I just met a friend of ours who has an appointment with my husband. Since Harry is in the middle of an interview, I will keep him waiting in the lounges of the Festival Hall. Thank you very much for a lovely evening. And see you next Sunday, as we agreed!"
After the last friendly farewell, they parted.
She breathed a sigh of relief. Rhett hadn't moved.
Without a doubt, he needs help! The efficient Taisy was going to take matters into her own hands.
She put her arm affectionately under his, and spoke gently, "Come inside with me. Harry is busy at the moment. He will join us later. As for you, I think some refreshment or fine liquor will do you the world of good." And she drew him along, without his making the least objection.
The double whiskey he had ordered brought some light back to his eyes.
With his head buried in the upholstered back of one of the comfortable armchairs in the "Artists Lounge", he sipped it like a thirsty man lost in the desert clutching the last drops of his gourd.
Taisy took out of her ball purse a small notebook. She scribbled with the miniature pencil a few words, in which she warned her husband that she was at the lounge, and that she was waiting for him in company with Rhett Butler.
She called out to the waiter who rushed over, looking for the slightest request from the wife of the Director of Cultural Activities at the Town Hall. He was ordered to take the envelope to her husband who was in the anphitheater.
With that done, she could finally turn her attention to the exciting Rhett Butler.
Her voice became soothing, "Rhett, we have only met once, but I think it's safe to say that a bond was formed immediately. You and I are non-conformist enough to believe that a real friendship between a man and a woman is possible, even if this notion is not usual in our circle of well-born people. Above all, we have something in common. You know what that is, don't you?"
Rhett looked at her, seeming hesitant to put it into words.
She took the lead, "Scarlett. Our dear Scarlett. I have enormous admiration for this brave woman, so innovative, sharp and running her business as well as a man. As for you..." - She paused, for she felt him tense-"Would I be overstepping the bounds of modesty of feeling, if I formulated the idea that you still have a deep affection for your former wife?"
She had expected a denial, more or less formal from such a proud man who had exhibited his marked indifference before their hostess of Peachtree Street.
He tilted his head back even more and closed his eyes, then inhaled deeply.
Then he persisted bitterly. "I have been concealing my 'deep affection' for her for sixteen years. And you, in the space of a few hours, have seen it. Bravo! You have my admiration!" To support his statement, he pretended to remove an imaginary hat – the one he had left at Belle's.
Taisy didn't understand. "Conceal? Even from Scarlett?"
"Especially with her. With modesty, I must say that I had succeeded perfectly. She had seen nothing but fire. Until a very great lady, Miss Melly, Mrs. Melanie Wilkes, revealed it to her before she died."
"Ashley's wife?"
"Yes. She adored Scarlett. Blindly. So she gave her two final gifts before she closed her eyes: she offered her, on a platter, the man my wife had always illicitly coveted behind the wife's back. She asked her to watch over her husband!" His sneer grew stronger, "Ironic, isn't it?"
He was fidgeting now, bending forward, nervously ruffling his damp locks of hair.
"You speak of two gifts. What was the other one?"
This time, a loud laugh rang out in the silence of the deserted living room. "Me! In her great modesty, she used her last strength to think of others, of me, a renegade not worthy of her affection. Before she left this world, she said something like this to her, "Think of Captain Butler, he loves you so!"
A sob caught in his throat. "She was a great lady!"
"I don't understand, Rhett. Why did you hide your love from your wife?"
This time he looked her in the face, his eyes dilated, "But because she would have used it against me by twirling it about my head like a whip! Rest assured, Taisy, she would have made me pay for my weakness for her..."
Harry Bennett's understanding wife was a little confused by this revelation. And dubious as to what Scarlett's reaction would have been.
He seemed to regret having said too much, and modulated his tone. "My dear Taisy, you impress me. Your ability to make even the most reluctant confide in you is astonishing. To speak frankly, I am not in the habit of confiding. It's easier to stay inside my shell. Melly... She had guessed my love for Scarlett, years before I admitted it to her, at a very painful time for us, for Scarlett, for me, for the baby she had just lost because of me... "
Taisy feared that he would finally manage to pull a lock of hair out of his head, so furious was he pulling on it.
He pulled himself together, and looked at her defiantly. "Only one person has been my confidant. A woman. Would I shock you if I made it clear that she is not a Lady?"
She sensed that he was purposely trying to scandalize her, but she placidly accepted the challenge.
"Since our arrival in Atlanta, my husband and I have been generously informed of unmentionable things done by some, which others intended to use, to gain the good graces of my husband over their competitors. You are aware, I am sure, that men are more disposed to gossip than their wives when they are in a position of comfort among themselves. So I will avoid using any circumlocution of your thought for fear of scandalizing me. I have heard, through my husband, of the hints of charitable souls wishing to injure the Butler couple."
Taisy made sure she had his full attention. "So, yes, I have been told about the lady who is not a 'Lady'. And I am not offended that I am your second confidant. On the contrary, Rhett, I shall regard it as a mark of trust dear to my heart."
She was thanked for her frankness by a gleam of respect in the eyes of this captivating man. Then he burst out laughing. The first genuinely joyful reaction since she had intercepted him in the street. "Harry is damn lucky to be your husband! You are a rare person, Taisy. A jewel of shrewdness, intelligence and charm. No man, even your humble servant, can resist confessing his sins for the pleasure of your attentive ear."
She responded with good humor to this compliment that she felt as sincere and totally extraordinary, in the mouth of this dominant male and undoubtedly misogynistic.
"There's something I don't understand. You loved her. She knew it. So why..."
His face darkened again, "That famous night when Melly passed away, after comforting her beloved Ashley, my wife ran to tell me that finally, after more than five years of marriage, she had had a divine revelation of her love for me."
Taisy understood less and less. "How sweet it must have been to hear! So, why this divorce?"
Rhett swept an imaginary insect with his hand. "It was too late. I'd just lost my little girl. The love of my life. Our daughter. Nothing mattered anymore. I was dead inside. I was the one who made the decision to divorce. As for Scarlett and her sudden passion for me..." His shoulders shook with the effect of his sad laughter.
Mrs. Bennett thought to herself that the Butler couple was really complicated. But, realizing that her friend was closing in on his melancholy again, she decided to take the confidence to the next level.
"Rhett, you look devastated tonight. Scarlett is fine, right?"
He accentuated his Charleston drawl on purpose, to emphasize the implausible news: "Oh yes! She is perfectly fine. So well, in fact, that she left this morning with her lover to spend the night in her beloved Tara."
She pretended to be surprised by Scarlett's departure, scheduled the day before with Duncan Vayton. But why was he talking about her lover? From what she'd witnessed at dinner, they didn't seem to be at such an intimate point - even if the handsome Duncan was dreaming about it. Her lover... Was he talking about Ashley Wilkes? It was all very confusing.
"You misunderstand, my dear Rhett. From what I could see at Scarlett's reception, it seems doubtful that Ashley Wilkes..." She dared not finish her sentence, for, in fact, the widower's languid attitude toward his sister-in-law was questionable. As was the episode with the spoon...
With a gesture, Rhett signaled to the bar employee to serve him again. He took the opportunity to mentally work out the right answer. Already, a new double whiskey was on the table. Without hesitation, he emptied half his glass in one go.
Jokingly he said, "Not that lover! After the theatrical session between the two of them that you attended, I thought... I was afraid... I was horrified at the idea, after all those years when they had all the trouble in the world to hide it in public, that they were on the verge of concretizing their ethereal but repressed impulses, a feeling so noble, so pure, so sublime, incomprehensible to the common man, and in particular to me, her so rude husband, as she once shamelessly assented to me »
Rhett had grabbed a deck of cards that decorated each table. He set about twisting the whole thing with one hand, only to ruin it in ribbons.
"Que nenni! Now that that cowardly Wilkes is free and openly at her feet, it seems that the stakes are no longer high for my ambitious Scarlett. No, just as I am making a fool of myself in front of you, mourning what's lost forever, she is showing off her fresh prey to Tara's family. And what a prestigious capture, for it is the famous Duncan Vayton himself!"
To better hammer home this information, the glass half full was drunk in an instant.
"Wow!" Taisy put her hand in front of her mouth, confused at such a lack of elegance on her part in uttering such vulgar onomatopoeia, but satisfied with her acting skills. This way, she could hide what ended up looking like guilty complicity on her part. If Rhett learned that she had witnessed the designer's strategy to be invited to Tara...
Despite his desperation, Rhett laughed at this refreshing honesty. "Isn't that so? I could have said that too when my dear Ella, my innocent and gentle stepdaughter, incidentally told me that her mother would be able to order a winter dress for her, from Duncan Vayton, this very evening in Tara. Instead of finding it funny, I have been wandering around like a lost soul for hours - though it's been a very long time since I sold it to the devil. It's pitiful, isn't it?"
Taisy was tempted to take his hand to comfort him. But it was better not to give matter to any misinterpretation of a gesture deemed inappropriate by her husband's employees. "Rhett, you are certainly mistaken. Just because they are visiting Tara together doesn't mean..."
He cut her off , "Tara means everything to Scarlett. To save her plantation, she had..." He stopped in time. "It's her home. Her child. She cares for it more than her flesh children, without a doubt. So if she went with him this morning to Clayton County, the meaning is bright. Well, rather dark to me."
He was bent forward, both hands buried in his face. His body was shaking. Was he crying? Taisy was heartbroken to witness such distress in this symbol of virility and physical power.
"You must think I'm pathetic, don't you? And you're right. How lamentable! What a pathetic behavior! I swore to myself I would change, to stop belittling her to cover up my pain. You know, Taisy, if we haven't been happy together, it's mostly because of me. I was cruel to her because I was afraid... Please! Forget what I said about Scarlett. You're her friend, and I can guarantee you that she's the most admirable woman in existence, so brave, intelligent, and generous to those she loves. And I've seen that she really likes you."
His speed of speech had become more rapid. As if to chase away more quickly the nastiness he has just uttered against his wife, Taisy reflected. The man is desperate. And passionately in love.
"As usual, I got carried away by my jealousy. But I'm sure you know this: Scarlett is a straightforward young woman, with very strict principles that she has always upheld. She would never agree to... With a man... Outside of marriage... I know this in my heart, and I regret having uttered such horrible assumptions in front of you. She was never unfaithful. Ashley- it was only a teenage infatuation, and I have spent half Scarlett's life to understand it. Whereas my unfaithfulness was strongly real, indeed... She is a thousand times more respectable than all those ladies of Atlanta's good society who had turned away from her, for some time - mostly because of my behavior, by the way. I had even encouraged them to denigrate her, the better to ensure my image as a perfect father to my Bonnie. Taisy, I hurt her so much..."
Harry's wife was upset by this destroyed man. She wondered what she could say to him to give him hope.
He continued, "But I am terrified that she will finally agree to marry him. Not for his money, I know that wouldn't be the reason. But because she surely loves him. I understand her. He's got everything going for him. And above all, he has never hurt her, unlike me. I'm so scarred having lost her forever... I've been wandering around for hours looking for an unlikely salvation. As ridiculous as a locked moth looking for a way out, bumping into walls and windows before accepting defeat. I've been seeking comfort from my little Bonnie since late afternoon, until the storm turned my clothes into dripping rags."
He looked at her and then pointed to his suit: "You, such an elegant woman, must be horrified to see me wearing such a tight-fitting outfit for my bulky body! Since we are in the hour of unrestrained confidences, I will try to scandalize you again, my dear friend. Coming back from the cemetery, my steps took me to the place where I used to end my nights, shamefully, when Scarlett had the title of Mrs. Butler. You can guess where, can't you? Have I shocked you?"
He looked at her mockingly, but Taisy did not take offense. She said calmly, "No, nothing shocks me. I am just trying to understand you, that's all."
He simply nodded, finally accepting that someone, Scarlett's friend, was showing genuine empathy for him.
"I was so wet that I made her feel sorry for me. Isn't that laughable? She had kept my things. That's how I got those clothes back, to make myself a little more presentable. My shoes, however..." Both of them looked at the dried mud that was damaging the leather, "Imagine Scarlett making the comparison between my finery tonight and that of her elegant Prince of Fashion."
They both laughed. At last the atmosphere was easing!
"Perhaps it is not too late? You told me you've known her for over sixteen years. You must have shared so much together!"
Rhett looked to the back of the room, as if to conjure up ghosts. "Before I managed to marry her, I was her only friend. We'd spent hours talking. I made her laugh. She confided in me her worries, her business successes, her jabs at shrews. I told her about my adventures, we laughed together about my little illicit ways... I miss our friendship. I miss her appetite for life, even her legendary anger. I need my family, my children. And my wife. He's stealing my life! Do you understand, Taisy? For sixteen years, I've breathed nothing but Scarlett. She's my oxygen, my obsession... I've tried to live without her, but I can't. And I'm dying of it..." His voice broke.
"Before tonight, I had hopes, I had plans to-, but it's too late. He's going to ask her to marry him, if he hasn't already, and she'll accept."
She cut him off. "Rhett, forget about that day in Tara. Scarlett is not a giddy girl, and will not be so quickly seduced by a man, even if he is the handsome Duncan Vayton. Will you please tell me what your plan is, to renew this wonderful bond you once had?"
When Harry was finally able to get away from his work obligations and join his wife and business partner Rhett Butler, he found them deep in discussion.
Notes on Chapter 34:
(*) Théophile Gautier, born in Tarbes on 30 August 1811 and died in Neuilly-sur-Seine on 23 October 1872. French poet, novelist and art critic. Poem entitled : A deux beaux yeux verts ", from his book " La Comédie de la mort ", 1838.
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.