Notes: First of all, I would like to thank you for your patience and support. It is because of you that I will complete this novel, which will be my only Gone with the Wind fanfiction.
Each day I spent at least three hours researching and writing. Despite this, this chapter took a long time to write. I anticipated my Fourth of July chapter to be brief, having very little specific information about Atlanta. And then... I got caught up in the historical research.
What a luck having found online a free extract of the newspaper of Atlanta dated on the morning of the 4th of July 1876 ! With the information I was dreaming of : the « verbatim » of Atlanta's journalist about the mood of the Southerner and the Atlanta citizens, on this national celebration.
I even turned a one-line indication of a gun show into... several pages. I understand if you skip a few paragraphs ;-) But you know how much I am attached to historical veracity and to the most realistic reconstruction of the scenes told in each chapter. How could I not try to bring to life such an important day in American history?
oooOOoo
Charleston, July 4, 1876
The last 4th of July without her... Next year, if everything went as planned, Scarlett would be by his side to participate in the festivities.
The city's luminaries, of which he was the most prominent member, had delivered their speeches to an interested crowd, but eager to join in the merriment of the shared barbecue in the parks.
It was a great day! One hundred years after the birth of the United States of America... The Stars & Stripes flag was flying over the city. A sign of reconciliation between the North and the South. Two worlds. An atmosphere of hard-won concord. At least that was the image that the officials wanted to give.
But the Confederate flag was not forgotten, far from it. It could be seen displayed above a stand or on a temporary tent. (*1)
It has been eight years since South Carolina was reincorporated into the States of the Union. July 9, 1868. That date will forever be etched in the hearts of US soldiers and civilians who fought bravely for the Cause.
With a wave of his shoulder, Duncan shook off the bitterness that threatened to spoil the day. It was time to move on.
The agape was over. It was time for many to go for a walk and meet their friends.
Around the table reserved for the Vayton family, carefully wedged in the grass, it was only laughter, hugs and joyful discussions.
Cathleen, surrounded by her best friends, had invited her neighbor Eleonor Butler to join their circle. They took news of each other's health, congratulated each other on the success of their children and grandchildren, and referred to their husbands, living or dead, only with the greatest respect. In short, a pleasant, light and polite conversation, in the image of the great ladies of the South.
It was different for the youth. Melina's many single friends, including Rosemary Butler and Roselyne Tucker, were amused to comment, with admiring exclamations, on the most beautiful attire that the Charleston ladies were displaying today. It was fair to admit that they were taking even more pleasure in criticizing, with falsely sorry faces, the most hideous dresses worn by their acquaintances, fake friends or rivals in love.
When a young man from the Charleston bourgeoisie came to greet the assembly of young women to be married, the latter abandoned their mocking mimics to give themselves over to batting their eyelashes and blushing cheeks. They were then careful to lower their voices and to protect their lips with an elegant hand so that no one could guess the naughty or mocking appreciations they were exchanging under the cloak.
The more the hour advanced, the more the cloud of young seducers of good families swirled around this concentration of enticing silks and lace umbrellas protecting the tender skin of the young girls. As tempting as a honey pot for bumblebees hunting for intoxicating nectar.
Unlike her friends, Roselyne was content with polite smiles and conventional phrases. She was not in the mood to party. That's why, when her suitor from the fashion show ball took the initiative to offer her a cold lemonade, she had to force herself not to dismiss him out of spite.
She missed "her" Rhett. She had found it hard to hide her bitter pout when Rosemary, at her request, gave news of her brother, saying that he was in Atlanta for the moment.
Atlanta, where his former wife resided... Oh, how she hated her!
Beside her, Melina was agitated. Finally, her beau of whom she had not ceased to speak to her in confidence was there. She saw him approach her brother, greet him with respect and ask him a question. After having thrown a glance at his sister, this one nodded. All happy of this agreement, Alexander Dean thanked him and joined with large strides his sweetheart.
Of a conquering gesture, the beautiful young man came to ravish Melina, under the envious eyes of the other girls of the group, to involve her, the arm passed under hers, towards a walk in the sight and the knowledge of all.
From a distance, Duncan noticed that his mother had not missed a second of the exchange. He responded with a knowing smile.
There was no doubt about it: very soon, the wealthy young man born in a well-known family would come to make his official proposal to the Vayton family's Master of the House. Since Melina seemed to be blossoming in his presence, he would be happy to grant him the hand of his dear sister.
Perhaps Mother will have the pleasure of attending both of her children's weddings next year...
How he looked forward to it! I never thought it possible that such a day would come after all this time...
He was about to join John and Rebecca when two little girls with lace petticoats, wearing straw hats with ribbons, came to throw themselves into his arms.
"Tonton Duncan!" Marguerite and Georgette embraced him with great effusions, forgetting that they had done the same the day before.
True to form, their mother tried to curb their enthusiasm for their "uncle".
"Blanche, you are charming with this dress with poppies. Which looks familiar actually... " he added, the air complicit.
Her collaborator allowed herself to unfurl the wide flaps of her pleated skirt a little more. "I am touched that you insisted that I wear one of your Ready-to-Wear models. Especially since, as you know, poppies are my favorite flowers. They remind me of the countryside back home."
This nostalgic recollection was interrupted by the twins, who demanded their mother's attention, pointing to a group of children in the distance.
The most influential member of the Charlestonian community watched over the crowd of residents who were noisily celebrating this momentous day.
He saw a man with a familiar silhouette striding towards him. Recognizable among all by his exotic beret.
"Aimé Tersène!" exclaimed Duncan. What a surprise to see you in Charleston!"
Shaking hands with him, the latter replied, "I promised you that we would meet again soon in your city."
His thick French accent made the young woman, who was standing two meters away, turn around abruptly.
Blanche put her hand to her heart. The blood had left her face. She was pale.
Concerned, Duncan asked, "What's the matter, Blanche ? Aren't you feeling well?"
She seemed not to hear him, frozen by the appearance of the stranger.
He lifted his beret in greeting, then approached the young woman. Pretending not to notice her instinctive withdrawal, he kissed her on the cheek, to Duncan's amazement.
In French, he whispered, "I finally found you!"
The Director of the fashion workshop was taken aback. "What are you doing in America?" Her voice trembled with resentment.
Noticing that this improvised tête-à-tête was making his assistant uncomfortable, her employer decided it was time to take the mystery out of the equation.
"Do you know each other? Ah! I remember now. You told me you were from Lille. Blanche's hometown."
Before he could answer him, Marguerite and Georgette grabbed their mother's legs: "Maman ! There are children jumping with their feet in a bag. You should come and see. It's great fun." They had spoken in English, obeying the demands of the French immigrant.
Instinctively, she tightened them against her, hiding their faces in the silky fabric of her skirt.
It was Aimé Tersène's turn to pale. "Twins?" The man had lost his self-assurance as an artist displayed in Atlanta.
The tailor who had been with the courageous young woman for so many years, in his factories in the North, in Paris and in Charleston, just had a click.
Thus, it is him...
A falsely harmless conversation started between the two French. They gave each other news of their common acquaintances. With a touch of nostalgia in her voice, Blanche asked him what had changed in Lille, whether new stores had opened, whether the Cafés she knew - apart from her family's - were still open, and so many other details which, when one lives far from one's country, are all the more valuable.
Duncan took the opportunity to go back in time.
oooo
October 10 1869. This date had been engraved in his memory for many reasons...
A vision overwhelmed him: The headquarters of La Mode Duncan in the 9 rue de la Paix in Paris. The unfinished sketches piled up on his desk.
A special day.
A birthday he would not celebrate.
Hours and hours of not being able to concentrate on the first lines of the new collection, of covering the drawing boards with unfinished curves, then immediately turning them into balls of paper thrown angrily on the floor.
He remembered drinking more than he should have that night.
Usually, he limited his drinking to solitary occasions outside of workdays, except, of course, for the daily gourmet meals washed down with French wine. He had the intelligence and control to indulge in private drinking at night when he could let go of his perfect image as the successful Master of French Fashion. Then he would get drunk to forget, for a few hours, the sidereal emptiness of his life, and to silence the air of "Lorena" which haunted his foggy brain, signature of his failure.
But this day of creativity had been so mediocre that he decided, disgusted by the paralysis of his inspiration, to sacrifice the best bottle of vintage red wine to drown his melancholy.
The sun had long since set. The best way to end the hours of frustration was to spend the rest of the evening with his mistress in title. He closed the door to his office and walked through the deserted workshops of his staff, making an effort to control his unsteady gait.
He saw her there, through the transparent glass wall separating the rows of worktables of the "little hands" with the room allocated to the best worker in charge of supervising the team.
Blanche had put her elbows on her desk. Her face in her hands, her shoulders shaking with tremors, she was sobbing.
Intrigued, he approached her. She had not even noticed him, so much grief seemed to ravage her.
He gently stroked her shoulder, whispering words of comfort. "Don't cry. Why the sadness?"
Ashamed of having been caught in the act of weakness, she hastily wiped the tears that flooded her cheeks.
"I apologize, Mr. Vayton. I thought there was no one left on the floor. I'm sorry I indulged in such inappropriate sentimentality."
He continued his soothing caresses: "Don't be embarrassed. You can confide in me. I know that your short life has been full of pitfalls. You must admit that fate has been unleashed on you. You were barely married when your husband died tragically, without having known the child you were carrying. Fortunately, your mother stayed with your little boy in Lille. You courageously decided to leave your world of spinning in Roubaix to join La Mode Duncan in Paris. I have been very pleased with this decision since then. With obstinacy, you climbed the ladder in the workshop in order to provide for your family. You know I admire you enormously, Blanche?"
You admire me, Mr. Vayton? I don't deserve it. Whereas you, you are so..." She bit her lips to prevent herself from fully expressing her thoughts.
Duncan grabbed a chair and pressed it against Blanche's. With one hand, he cupped her chin. "Yes, I admire you. I have never had to fight to build my future. I was born into a rich family, raised in comfort, surrounded by love. While you had to struggle, from a very young age, as a basic worker in the factory in Lille, then hired in the company of the good Dax. When I became associated with him, you were the first employee he pointed out to me, praising your adaptability, your demand for perfection and your inexhaustible eagerness to work."
To better convince her of how far she had come, he added: "Do you realize? You have become the first seamstress of the most prestigious fashion house in France, along with our neighbor Charles Worth. You can be proud of your achievements. So, no problem must be serious enough to make you feel so sorry. Unless... it is something other than work that worries you?"
The lower lip of the young Frenchwoman sagged in assent.
In the small space, lit only by a lamp with a metal shade, while the bay windows of the large workshop only let the darkness of the night shine through, boss and employee whispered to preserve this comforting intimacy.
He stroked her wet cheek with the tip of his thumb. "You can tell me anything. Are you crying because of your lover?"
Overwhelmed by his kindness, she opened the dikes of her suffering by whispering: "He was my first love as a child and young girl. He said he loved me, but told me that his family would not allow him to marry a girl from a lower class. I was heartbroken. So I married Victor, and Germain was born. Three months ago, I saw him again by chance during the two days I spent in Lille with my little boy. And we renewed our relationship... "
Duncan's blue eyes mesmerized her. It was an ocean of calm. "He told me he couldn't forget me, that he loved me... I... I believed him. He rents a small artist's room in Paris. We met again, and... . Just last week, everything seemed to be smiling on us. So much so that the next day, I dropped by unexpectedly, eager to join him. I pushed open the door and..."
The sobs threatened again, but Blanche pulled herself together: "He wasn't alone. I surprised them. The next day he was waiting for me outside the Couture House. He showered me with excuses, but I didn't believe his charades. I asked him never to contact me again. It is all over. I still feel sorrow at times. It is temporary. Tonight, thanks to your sympathy, my pain is lighter."
Blanche's breath had calmed. All she had to do was reveal the source of her torment to the handsome American and she felt like she was leaving her cloak of sadness behind. His breath on her skin smelled of good wine. She was traversed of shivers.
Without them realizing it, their faces were now inches apart.
Duncan could smell the young woman's discreet perfume, absorbed with the sweat from hours of intense activity. A warm, vibrant body. Alive. What he desperately needed tonight. To annihilate this emptiness which gnawed him. She moaned from the first caress.
With a nervous wave of his hand, he cleared the table of the files that were cluttering it.
Without any words being exchanged, she laid down on the oak top desk and opened her arms, then her thighs.
Their embrace was intense and desperate. Both of them had found a way, for a few minutes, to forget. Forget...
After he had cum and his partner had vocalized her pleasure, they readjusted their clothes in silence.
He cleared his throat and was about to speak. She interrupted him. Her voice was firm, even if she was not able to calm the tremor.
"I promise you that this moment of misguidance will have no impact on my work and the respect I owe you as my boss."
Duncan interrupted, embarrassed. "I am deeply sorry about what just happened. I have been drinking, I have been sad, you have been sad, but I have no excuse for my inappropriate behavior."
She stared at him intensely. Her cheeks were on fire. "There were two of us, and I wanted what happened as much. I have immense admiration for your work and for the good man you are. I want to keep the relationship of trust that we have built. I hope with all my heart that no awkwardness will arise between us, and that, by tomorrow morning, we will have forgotten this moment. Is this alright ?»
Duncan breathed a sigh of relief. He had no desire to damage his professional relationship with a valuable assistant like Blanche because of a brief intoxication of the senses. His affection for the young woman was further strengthened.
"Not only are you a beautiful, intelligent and talented young woman, but you also have a beautiful soul. It's the best way. We won't talk about this interlude again. Rest assured of my deep respect and affection towards you."
The next day, they resumed their working relationship as if nothing had happened.
Except that... three months later, as his collaborator stood in profile, manipulating a cardboard mannequin to drape a cloth over it, his eyes stopped on the shape of her rounded belly.
At that moment, she turned to him.
He was stunned. Aghast.
The doubts that had assailed him in the aftermath of this sexual relationship with his subordinate came flooding back. He had been so soaked with alcohol that he had forgotten the automatic reflex acquired from his first adolescent romps, that of withdrawing in time to avoid a harmful consequence for his life as a hardened bachelor. He had no desire to sire an offspring, and was responsible enough not to inseminate one of his sexual playmates.
Except during that famous night of drunkenness combined with despair. He comforted himself in the idea that this safe withdrawal was so inherent to his long experience in the matter that he had had to act that way, even unconsciously.
But, before his eyes, Blanche Bonsart was visibly pregnant. With his child?
Checking around them that they could not be heard, she approached, the cloth to be rectified in the hand to make good content. Her tone was firm: "I was going to tell you soon, for your information. Do not be afraid. The father of my child is Aimé Tersène. The night when... - she did not dare to finish her sentence. - I had felt the same symptoms in the morning that I had experienced with my son, nausea. I beg your pardon for revealing these details. In any case, this child is not yours."
She was so affirmative that Duncan accepted this interpretation with relief.
On June 30, 1870, Marguerite and Georgette were born. (*2)
He began to calculate and recalculate in his head the nine months of pregnancy. The babies were so frail, so abnormally small, it seemed to him. Was it possible that they were born a few weeks prematurely? The young mother seemed adamant, however...
He promised himself that he would take care of the twins, no matter who their father was. They would never lack for anything. That's why, from the moment they set foot in America, he made sure they received quality instruction from Gina, their housekeeper. He would continue to do the same for their later private school.
The little girls adored him, and considered him an integral part of their family, their "Tonton". However, he still sometimes looked for a physical resemblance to the Vayton branch in their childhood faces. But the older they got, the more they were the spitting image of their mother.
Since the age of twenty, he had convinced himself that he would not have children. When he met Scarlett, everything changed. And then, half-heartedly, he realized that her serious fall down the stairs had caused a miscarriage. It was unthinkable for him to subject her to the slightest physical danger, just for his selfish claim to sire an heir.
On our wedding day, Ella and Wade will become my children, my heirs. As for the twins, I will spoil them as much as if they had been mine.
But the appearance of Aimé Tersène, on this 4th of July, upset his certainties.
An unexpected touch of jealousy made him wince when the painter caressed the heads of the two little girls. Under the distraught eyes of the Director of the workshop of La Mode Duncan.
oooOOooo
July 4, 1876, Atlanta
"Prissy, could you tighten the ribbons in my hair, please? I'm afraid that when I run, my hair will go all over the place and end up shaggy in front of my friends."
Ella had been in a tizzy since waking up. She couldn't wait to break in her new satin dress, which Prissy and her own mirror said made her look at least a year older.
It was a great day. She was going to admire clothes of all colors, listen to the music of the military band and meet her acquaintances.
But what mattered most to the little girl was this incredible event! The four of us will spend the day together, me and Wade, Mother and Uncle Rhett!
A wave of sorrow made her frown: Unfortunately not all five of us like we used to. But I know you're protecting us from Heaven with Aunt Melly, my Bonnie. And you'll be glad that we're a family again.
Wade's annoyed voice made her turn around, "Have you seen my hat? I've been looking for it for ten minutes." Her brother was calling out to her for help.
Sneaky green eyes immediately spotted his big brother's new headgear, which had been hidden by their mother's large straw hat on the hallway coat rack.
He grabbed it and took the walking stick with the silver knob, straight out of the Robillard's store.
Ella laughed, "With that style, you look like a real gentleman."
The young man, delighted by this spontaneous kindness, returned the compliment to his little sister by bowing to her: "You too, pretty lady".
Ella blushed with pleasure. This was going to be a beautiful day. Without a doubt.
oooOOoo
Another broken hairpin... I need to calm down... Scarlett scolded herself. She had been a ball of nerves since dawn. Or rather, since the day before, the minute Rhett had decided, without embarrassment, to impose his presence on them.
The joyful gesticulations of her daughter for the past two hours exceeded her even more. She was tripping at the slightest noise, waiting for the door to slam shut. And his arrival.
What immeasurable nerve this man has! Does he have no memory? He repudiated me in front of all of Atlanta, forgetting, by the way, that he had two stepchildren. Now he pretends to parade by our side, wearing the posture of the Butler family's master. Does he think I am that much of a fool for his schemes? When I think that he took advantage of my daughter's excessive kindness to him to pretend to accompany her to the parade! Poor thing! She is so happy about it that I did not have the heart to send him to the devil, the only place where he is welcome.
Truly, he had told her of his desire to restore their friendship. Scarlett agreed with relief because she missed Rhett. In business, she corrected herself immediately. Their discussions without taboos, the possibility - or rather the impossibility - to hide nothing from him of her tactics to increase her profits, their similar judgments on the society which surrounded them... She recognized that the interlude of last night, both, together, discussing in her office, had not been unpleasant.
But, was it only out of a friendship that he wanted to accompany them today? Or for something else? Certainly not out of love for me, not even out of desire, he doesn't care!
She pursed her lips in frustration.
What was he looking for? She knew his tricks too well not to wonder about the real reason for his insistence on being seen in public with them. Unless... Yes, that was certainly the right explanation: the upcoming opening of the museum in their daughter's name. Maybe he thought he would washing away the stigma of a scandalous divorce in front of the respectable people of the town, by pretending to have the blessing and public forgiveness of his two stepchildren. And of the rejected former wife. Thanks to this subterfuge, he will be able to play his role of patron of the arts with complete peace of mind.
Scarlett felt a twinge of sadness. What else could she have expected? It doesn't matter. Pretty soon he won't be able to brag about using us, because I'll officially be on Duncan's arm.
Duncan... I need to think of Duncan to soothe me. His loving thoughtfulness. His declarations of love. His big blue eyes. His luscious mouth on my skin... The next five days, putting up with Rhett Butler, are just a bad time to spend. Then I can enjoy the love of my fiancé.
She inspected herself one last time in the mirror. She had reviewed her best afternoon outfits. She had been tempted to put on the magnolia flower dress from the Vayton collection, but Rhett had already seen her wearing it. Continuing her inspection, her fingers stopped on a skirt with small checks. But, after examining herself in the mirror, she eliminated it: What a horror! It gives me five more years at least. I shalll give it away. Dilcey will know who to give it to. It ages me so much that I could be mistaken for the mother of that parakeet Roselyne Tucker. Rhett would have something to laugh about!
As she finished going through her impressive wardrobe, her finger stopped on one clothes covering marked "Vayton Ready-to-Wear. This one will be perfect! Duncan's finest piece, along with the camellia one. She had displayed it during three days at the opening, then pulled it right out of the window, believing that Duncan's inventory was too valuable to show all of the pieces to her customers at once.
Then, a short while ago, she had felt the need to buy a new dress. Rhett had just left the store, not without giving her dress an appreciative look. So she remembered that the most beautiful creation was stored in her warehouse, and that she would not let any other woman wear it. She immediately asked her seamstress to make the necessary alterations. And waited for the opportunity to unveil this ornament.
It will be today! She checked the advantageous cut of the bodice, the crossed belt accentuating her slim waist, while the taffeta fabric panels were structured in such a way that they would gracefully accompany the sway of her hips.
Satisfied, she headed for the stairs. She was ready to face Rhett Butler!
oooOOooo
Atlanta was jubilant! Or at least it looked like it. The crowd had followed the military parade through the main streets of the city to the courthouse. The Atlanta Independent Troop, reformed in 1872, had invited the Chatham Artillery from Savannah. (*3) The companies, headed by their general, colonels and all officers, marched with horses and cannons on limber wagons.
The parade was beautiful. But how many of the spectators present were dreaming melancholically of other uniforms, the grey ones? And were crying for their dear soldiers who had not returned.
When Congress passed a resolution encouraging widespread festivity for the fourth of July, the initial reaction of Atlanta residents was mixed. The accumulated resentments and the stigma of destruction, despite the dynamism of entrepreneurs, were still visible. The pain of a world that had fallen apart - their world! - made them reluctant to join in a patriotic communion that had not been theirs.
It was only five years ago, on July 15, 1870, that Georgia had reintegrated the States of the Union.
Just this morning, the Atlanta Constitution newspaper warned : "While the Centennial celebration will be grand in Philadelphia, coinciding with the first day of the impressive Centennial Exposition, and culminating in a fireworks display envied throughout the Continent, "at the south, the celebrations of the 4th are not now much in vogue." (*4) "It is not that we are less true to the principles and memories connected with this day, but because we feel persecuted, that we do not enter heartily into the patriotic observances so dear to us in the past.""
The reporter analyzed the reason for this resentment: "It is quite natural that we should not feel very enthusiastic either over the Fourth of the Centennial, so long as we are politically proscribed, and that a great political party constantly seeks to deny to us the equality of citizenship." The Atlanta Constitution of that July 4 morning promised a more forthright future welcome when "the selection of a national democratic administration by the people assures us of a full and free share in the rights, privileges and glories purchased by common forefathers. When that time comes, the Fourth will be celebrated by us with all the old time southern fervor." (*4)
Whatever the case, the people of Atlanta were enamored with the military parade.
Scarlett was surprised at how closely Wade listened to his former stepfather detail the specifics of the weapons on display, elaborating on the technical advances obtained since the end of the war.
With a hint of resentment, she heard her son ask him about "his" war, the regiment he had belonged to and the feats of arms he had participated in. All she could think of was the fateful moment when he told her he was leaving them on the road... The world that was crumbling around her. And Rhett's passionate kiss that had made her lose, for a moment, all notion of war and fear. Only to leave her in the night...
Imitating the other children next to her, Ella clapped her hands to the sound of the Atlanta military band, with the soldiers passing by quick-march to the beat of drums and trumpets.
Eventually, there was silence as the pastor opened the ceremony with a prayer. Then came the patriotic speeches by the highest officials of the state and Atlanta, including Georgia Governor James Milton Smith, in honor of that famous day, July 4, 1796. The Declaration of Independence was read and the importance of the Constitution was extolled.
Scarlett was beginning to feel the time was passing slowly. She wanted to share her impatience with Rhett, but he did not let her see his annoyance. Maybe he is really interested? I do not know him anymore. I do not know what he likes anymore. One more proof that he was drifting away a little more...
Noon. Everything stopped so that the artillery could fire, in twelve minutes precisely, one hundred rounds as a salute to the Nation's birthday. (*3)
Slightly annoyed, Scarlett realized that Wade was still drinking in the words of her former husband, who this time had launched into a study comparing the firing range of the guns on display with those used during the war. He is inexhaustible, proud to be able to display his knowledge in front of a conquered audience. My son, in this case...
Then another truth jumped out at her: This is one of the last times the two of them will be able to have a "man-to-man" conversation, as stepson and stepfather. Wade is not aware of it, but next year, surely, he will have the same discussion with his new stepfather, Duncan Vayton. Rhett does know it. Maybe that explains why he is so talkative, eager to put his stamp on Wade's mind so that he will not forget him...
Finally, it was time to celebrate. The crowd headed to the city's largest park where the traditional barbecue would be held.
Rhett put his arm under hers with authority. With his other hand, he held Ella's. Wade walked beside her. The image of a united family. A family. Only an image... Scarlett added mentally.
To welcome the Atlanta community, long tables and benches were set up on the grass. But many participants were already sitting on the ground to make themselves comfortable. From the booths came the tantalizing smells of grilled pork and mutton.
Scarlett sighed with contentment. It had been a tough job, but the party would be successful.
With the resilient qualities of Atlanta's citizens and their willingness to move forward, they organized themselves into "Committees of Arrangements" to plan events that would enter their city in History, so that other state capitals would blush with envy. (*5)
Scarlett was obviously on one of those committees with the Old Guard of Atlanta. These ladies had made sure to solicit the generosity of wealthy entrepreneurs to fund the meals offered in abundance to the participants.
The owner of The Boutique Robillard had made a contribution. That dug into her budget, but she reassured herself that her contribution would be noticed and reported. Therefore, it would help reinforce her restored image as a respectable member of the community.
Rhett monopolized a part of the table, a little away from the others, so that the four of them could settle down, and then, accompanied by the two children, he went in search of food and drink.
The young woman took the opportunity to rest her feet. The day was far from over. As for the days to come... She needed to gain strength.
And that was going to be concretized by a well furnished plate. Which was immediately placed ceremoniously in front of her by a Rhett whose eyes sparkled with mischief at the greedy expression of the gourmet. "Consider this modest portion as an appetizer. I'm willing to go without my share so that we can agree to serve you again."
She barely had time to answer him with a disdainful pout before she was already attacking the appetizing barbecue with gusto. Full, she was pleased to see that her children had also enjoyed the grilled meats and cornbread.
Rhett's plate, on the other hand, had only been pecked at. "Why didn't you eat?"
In contrast to his familiar taunting tone, he simply said, "I'd rather eat you with my eyes..." His own eyes had darkened. He stared at her lips, moistening his own.
Scarlett blushed, lowered her eyelids, then decided it was best to create a diversion. "Children, before you go to play, come with me to the little stand where bowls and towels are prepared for us to wash our hands."
As soon as they were done, brother and sister headed for the games section where they had arranged to meet Beau.
oooOOooo
They found themselves alone. The two of them. In the middle of the whole Atlanta society.
She accepted without flinching to walk arm in arm along the paths through the park.
The lawns were crowded, draped with large colorful tablecloths and plaids on which families lounged, enjoying the torpor of the siesta under the shade of the trees.
An opportunistic merchant had taken the happy initiative of setting up a small temporary blanket rental shop. His business, at the end of the day, would turn into hard cash, as the ladies of Atlanta were eager to enjoy the relaxed country atmosphere while keeping their outfits neat.
Scarlett bowed her head elegantly to greet the many acquaintances who passed her with her kindest smile. Many men, of course, Rhett noted without surprise, but also many young women. Probably customers of her store.
It was great that she was so well received by so many new people! With her courageous obstinacy, she managed to forge a new positive image. Without my help, he thought with shame, I who had scratched hers so much.
He lifted his hat as a greeting to the many relations common to the former couple. He was amused by the surprise that they were trying, as best they could, to hide. He guessed their persiflage: "So the most famous divorced couple of Georgia walks serenely together, as if nothing had happened!"
It didn't matter to him what all these people thought. He had always disregarded other people's opinions and the image he gave them. Except when it came to fighting for Bonnie. But today, the only reason to appear in this park in public was next to him.
He tightened his embrace more than he should have.
Proud as a peacock to accompany her to the face of Atlanta... he had the honesty to admit. Because he was proud of her, not only for her unparalleled beauty, but for her heart, her personality, her laughter, her intelligence, and so many other assets she mastered to perfection.
And because he savored his luck that she had agreed to walk beside him, at least for a few hours.
Like every time he planned to meet Scarlett, he had particularly taken care of his outfit. But what about that of the pretty woman who accompanied him? She was a sensation in her wake, combining the latest Parisian fashion, the distinction of the Old South, and the sensuality that was her personal trademark.
When he saw her coming down the stairs this morning, it took his breath away.
How is it possible that she is even more beautiful every time I see her? The same twinge in my heart, the same acceleration of my pulse, a stupefaction that, for fifteen years, has frozen everything that is not her, for a second. Fortunately, I have mastered the poker player's talent for concealment so that I only show a nonchalant air. Otherwise, she would be exultant to see that her charm still works on me...
Of the eye of the expert in feminine artifices, he detailed the skirt in taffeta, color ivory, which followed the fall of her hips.
The tulle overskirt, whose ivory weave was so finely woven that it was transparent, was pierced with delicate laces in the colors of jade. They had been delicately embroidered on dark green silk strips in the form of narrow trapezoids falling to mid-calf, whose tapered point stopped at ten centimeters from the waist.
Thanks to a clever work of gathers, the whole looked like an airy corolla with their suspended embroidery, their ultimate goal being to direct all eyes to the thin waist belt with the same lace. The pattern was repeated on the bodice. This was even more disturbing, consisting of two ribbons following the bulge of the breast, to fade them also before the waist. In the shape of daggers intended to transpierce me the heart, concluded Rhett.
He was amused by this feature: it was as if this dress had been designed for the sole purpose of sublimating the wasp waist of the former Clayton County Belle.
The effect was successful, no doubt. How many times since this morning had Rhett's eyes been magnetized by that part of her anatomy that he was dying to wrap both hands around? He tried to tear himself away from this vision. It was for better being riveted to the trapezoidal cleavage too. Certainly, the indentation, embellished with a delicate green ribbon, was gathered so that the revealed skin was modest enough to be in conformity with an adornment of Lady at tea time. Well, almost, worn by a woman of common morphology like India Wilkes, certainly. But, by Scarlett O'Hara whose every curve was an invitation to a male fantasy, (and especially his), it was another matter.
When he flattered her for the new garment, she replied, "Duncan designed it." And she grabbed her parasol, smiling with satisfaction. For she had hit her target again.
Duncan Vayton. Always him," Rhett grumbled. I used to buy her dresses. Now the other guy makes them for her.
Another point where he could not compete with his rival.
The warmth of her forearm, whose skin was visible through the interlacing embroidery, ran over his, invaded his veins to warm his loins.
He was not fooled by the concupiscent look of many men who greeted her despite the company of their wives. In the past, this had not bothered him. On the contrary, his male vanity had derived some satisfaction from it, for he said to himself: You may admire her shamelessly, she is Mrs. Butler. She is mine.
But, everything had changed since he had divorced.
Until he had seen her again last February, his jealousy towards the other men was latent, diffuse. Except against her "great love", Ashley Wilkes, whose only evocation at her side made him grind his teeth.
And then Duncan Vayton turned both of their lives upside down.
The "Prince of Fashion", the nickname with which he had been ridiculously saddled, had managed to impress the young divorcee, seducing her to the point of taking her hand.
And, to him, Rhett Butler, the newcomer had sucked away to annihilate any hope he had not dared to formulate during the years of separation, but which allowed him to survive, hoping for an "after".
In how many months, how many weeks, will she become Mrs. Scarlett Vayton? He forced himself to put on a good face, to enjoy the smallest seconds spent in her presence. All the while knowing that the ax would fall. Taking away the reason for his existence. Any reason to live without her.
Unless... Unless I can get her away from him. That she realizes that we are destined for each other for eternity. That no other man can love her with such devotion. That I will make her happy. Finally... Three days! I have three days to get closer to her on this trip. And two nights...
oooOOoo
She almost jumped of surprise so much his arm passed under hers had suddenly transformed itself into a vice. The forearm of Rhett was now stuck against her sides, her chest... Their heats were mixed, the beating of their pulses was panicking.
She was ready to demand that he release her in order to calm the dizziness that invaded her.
He had a tense jaw. Which suddenly relaxed and turned into a wide smile.
Furious, she quickly understood to whom this happy face was intended: in front of them, two meters away, were the two sharpest tongues of the Old Guard. The two old magpies... Scarlett snorted. Dolly Merriwether and Mrs. Esling in person. Flanked by Maybelle Merriwether and Fanny Esling.
Without consulting each other, the four women returned to the reconstituted couple with exorbitant eyes.
She took it upon herself not to sharply castigate the provocative man who was leading her straight into the lion's den.
Lifting his hat, he graced the ladies with the most charming - and hypocritical - of obsequious bows. He was rewarded by the pursed lips of the two matrons, who were obliged to utter a "Good morning Mr. Butler".
Scarlett had difficulty not to shoot of her emerald spangles the two credulous Maybelle and Fanny, blushing in front of the eternal seducer.
It was then an exchange of courtesies. Scarlett checking in on the Merriwether grandson, Mrs. Esling congratulating the shopkeeper on the attractiveness of her store's inventory, and Rhett seemingly enthralled by the conversation.
"I am dead jealous, Scarlett! Your dress is so original! The style, the embroidery, what a beauty!" Fanny's compliment was sincere.
In response, Scarlett twirled on herself gracefully. "I thank you. It is a one-of-a-kind creation by the great designer Duncan Vayton. In fact, you have already seen some of Vayton's Ready-to-Wear designs in my store. He is so talented!"
She had the secret satisfaction of feeling Rhett's arm let go of her abruptly. So he's jealous of his neighbor's notoriety... She accentuated her dimples, relishing the idea of having annoyed him, if only for a moment.
Maybelle continued, "I love this ivory sleeve umbrella. It matches your outfit, by the way. Perhaps your saleswoman told you that I was ecstatic for more than half an hour in front of your parasol display? In fact, I think I'll go ahead and buy one with a mother-of-pearl handle. If I'm lucky enough to have it still available. Fanny and I had fun earlier detailing the accessories on display in this park. I won't surprise you by concluding that the most beautiful ones come straight from The Boutique Robillard!"
Scarlett was elated. First, because this was being done by someone in her circle in which she had struggled to shine over the past few years. But also because the proof of the success of her business was being reported in front of Rhett.
The comments about the celebration were interrupted by Ella's cheerful tone, followed closely by Wade and Beau.
"Mother, Uncle Rhett! Look what we won, a rag doll."
Scarlett calmed her daughter's exuberance, "Before anything else, I shall ask you to greet the ladies here."
The little girl bit the inside of her cheek, realizing that she had broken the strict rules of politeness. She apologized and bowed to the four women. Then she resumed her story, encouraged by Rhett who had turned to her:
"There are many games that are held there for young and old. Bridget, Karen and I competed on the women's team for best ball jugglers. And we were among the first. We will take turns enjoying the doll."
Her mother's doubtful expression about the poor toy was not lost on her, so Ella justified herself: "Of course, all three of us have beautiful porcelain dolls. But this one has a special flavor, because we won it."
Rhett agreed, handling the mismatched fabric assemblage with interest, like a work of art. This delighted Ella.
Noting that their former stepfather was sincerely listening to them, Wade added, addressing him, "You missed an interesting exhibition, Uncle Rhett. The members of the Atlanta Independent Troup held a riding contest. (*6) What a great performance! The challenge was to win two cakes. They then shared them with us, the spectators. The difficulty of the exercises and the perfect control of their mounts made Beau and me want to improve in this skill, even though our school provides for this teaching."
Rhett agreed, "You're right. That's a great idea. A gentleman should be in tune with his horse. When I get back on Sunday morning, before our puppet session with you and your sister, we'll go galloping out of town. I'll buy another horse, if you join us, Beau."
The two boys thanked enthusiastically.
The two illustrious members of the Old Guard could not hide their amazement. They don't understand why my two children seem so familiar with their former stepfather when he divorced their mother," Scarlett perceived, bitterly.
She felt like rebelling. But what is he playing at? He knows very well that, soon, he will no longer have a place with Wade and Ella. Yet... they sincerely seem to have renewed a very strong bond.
She bit her lip. There was no other way, though, but to marry Duncan, a new husband for her, and a new stepfather for them.
Accompanied by Beau, they finally left the four women.
By this afternoon, the slanderers will be spreading the word that the former Butler family is back together. This scandalous news will keep their monotonous conversations going for a while... until the announcement of my engagement to Duncan is made official.
What could she have done to avoid this misleading interpretation? Especially since Rhett was taking malicious pleasure in accentuating the effect of perfect understanding between them. To what end? It was a mystery...
It is a good thing Duncan is far away and not watching this charade.
Then she remembered that her aunts in Charleston were always magically informed of her whereabouts. She would have to have a talk with her fiancé, before they too would not participate in spreading a false reality.
Because the Butler family is a thing of the past. Definitely.
But she did not refuse the accentuated pressure of her former husband's arm against her waist. The last time we appear together before my engagement...
oooOOooo
When they arrived in front of the Irish Literary Association building, located at the intersection of Whitehall and Peters Streets, they were absorbed by a crowd, scrambling to get inside the large room where the official party was taking place. (*7)
Fortunately, for Scarlett and Rhett, the city's important personalities were given special treatment, so they were able to get inside smoothly. One of the doormen told Rhett that several hundred people had to be turned away because there was no room.
Ella, Wade, and Beau all exclaimed with wonder. From walls to ceilings, extravagant decorations in the colors of the "Stars and Stripes" immersed the visitor in a patriotic atmosphere. To reinforce the desire for national unity, a large portrait of George Washington was raised. (7)
A buzzing of kind words, cheers and laughter were coming in waves. They were momentarily absorbed by the melodious sounds of the mandolin and the violin, combined to the rhythm of the popular songs played by the orchestra perched on a platform. At the slightest softening of the music, the noisy wave would start again, mutating into a din of generalized good humor.
Wade, Ella, and Beau asked permission to join their classmates.
The couple made their way through the ceremony, many of whose faces they recognized. Many of them had heard about the "scandal" and could not help but look back as "Mr. and Mrs. Butler" passed. Or what should they call them now?
Rhett was amused by this, especially since Scarlett had not seemed to take offense at their public proximity.
She was "harpooned" by one of her clients, happy to find her outside the commercial setting. Rhett was courteous, in the background.
Taisy Benett rushed towards them. The two women embraced with pleasure. Rhett settled for a hand kiss and a knowing nod with the one to whom he had opened his heart the night of the storm.
"I am so happy to see you both! I've been so bored. But at last you're here. I don't know how many times Harry has requested your presence, Rhett."
This one did not have time to answer that already the Director of Arts and Culture of Atlanta joined them. The two alternated manly handshakes and friendly shoulder pats.
Taisy's husband turned to his friend, "Dear Scarlett, your appearance in this place surpasses in beauty, without a doubt, all the pyrotechnic shows we are going to witness tonight."
She had good game to thank with modesty the flatterer, more especially as the eyes of ember of her former husband caressed her in sign of assent.
Then the Chief Centennial Officer directed them to the small group of distinguished officials. This was Harry's opportunity to praise the successful initiative of Bonnie Blue Butler's parents, which would revolutionize the world of the arts in America. The Governor, the Mayor, the General and the highest ranking officials of Atlanta and its surroundings declared eager to attend the opening of the Museum combining eternity and modernism.
Across the two bays of the huge exhibition space, six long sideboards, displaying mignardises and drinks, were overpacked. Members of the catering committee were trying not to be overwhelmed by the crowd attracted by the sweet and spicy fragrances, mimicking the rush of a swarm of bees towards a honey loaf. A real temptation to indulge in the sin of greed.
The catering had to keep simple, in large quantities, displayed in small portions and at low cost. So the choice was made for cookies baked by volunteer cooks. There was a sampling of recipes representative of the successive British, Scottish, Dutch, German and French migrations. Butter, cereal and oatmeal cookies competed with coconut, orange pulp and rose petal cookies.
Improvised sommeliers served strong spirits, brandy and beer, not to mention lemonades and iced tea.
Two waiters brought the alcoholic refreshments to the privileged group of dignitaries on a tray.
With an imperative movement, Harry signaled the orchestra to be silent, and drew the attention of the assembly with the clinking of a spoon on crystal. He announced:
"Dear Friends, dear members of the Atlanta and County Community, it is time to call for cheers in honor of Independence Day."
His remark was applauded loudly. Then, turning to the Governor, he invited him to open the traditional round of greetings.
Rhett whispered quietly to Scarlett, so that no one else could hear him: "If you don't want to get tipsy in the next hour, I suggest you limit yourself to dipping your pretty lips in your brandy cup at each of the regular thirteen toasts. Because they will be followed by the thirty or forty volunteer calls to toast, for more or less far-fetched reasons, except the one in honor of the American women of which you are the most interesting specimen in my eyes. (*8). Or else, I will be obliged to bring you home, tipped over my shoulder. Which would give me the greatest pleasure, I confess."
Scarlett had great difficulty not to giggle at the prospect of this scandalously naughty image. The former spouses exchanged a complicit glance, repressing the hilarity which gained them.
At the end of this sequence where the frenetic applause was combined with, if not a diffuse inebriation, at least a general euphoria, they left the group of officials.
They were immediately caught up by Wade, followed by Ella and Beau. "Mother, we've been waiting for you to visit the weapons exhibit. (*7) It has been set up on the second floor." Then, turning to his former stepfather, "How fortunate that you are with us, Uncle Rhett! You'll be our best guide!"
Rhett was moved by this sincere sentence. Little by little, adding up these little remarks, the hours spent by their side, playing with them and taking an interest in their daily lives, he felt that the unspeakable bond he had forged with Wade and Ella since their early childhood was being relinked. Their trust in him, which he had shamefully betrayed, was being rebuilt, stone by stone. He, who did not give a damn for God, could have thanked him for the generous heart of the two children.
Scarlett would have liked to escape this boring retrospective. Her son sensed this: "Mother, you know how important this is to me." The young man's voice had regained, for a moment, the fragility of the fatherless child.
She nodded, and the five of them headed up the stairs.
oooOOooo
The wild exuberance of the ground floor seemed strangely replaced by a calmer, almost meditative atmosphere. However, it was not for lack of the public that had invaded the two rooms reserved for this purpose. But those present had tacitly agreed to speak in low voices so as not to disturb the past that these weapons evoked.
Glass cases placed on tables allowed everyone to study each item, which was accompanied by an informative label, while protecting these precious witnesses of history from possible manipulation.
In the middle of the first room stood an impressive cannon. Ella was surprised that its barrel was so shiny. "It looks like gold!"
Rhett commented, "Almost. It is bronze. It's the twelve-pounder field cannon, used on both sides. It had been nicknamed 'Napoleon' because it is similar to the one used by the French Emperor Louis-Napoleon."
He showed the two boys an oblong object with a spatula at one end. "Let me introduce to the Ketchum grenade, which turned to be a source of disappointments. It was thrown in the same way as a dart. Its brilliant designer had fitted it with a pressure detonator that only went off if landed on the nose. Well, during the siege of Port Hudson, in Louisiana, in 1863, our Confederates figured out that all they had to do was lay down blankets in the trenches so it would not explode!" (*9)
The two cousins enjoyed the anecdotes of the famous blockade breaker, and rejoiced at the ingenious idea that "theirs" had had.
To symbolize the newfound harmony of the country, the initiators of the exhibition had insisted that both armies be represented. For the Director of Arts and Culture in Atlanta, there was no question of limiting the exhibition to a catalog of objects that were referenced but without soul. Those had been the cause of so many lives destroyed, so many victories and defeats! Therefore Harry Benett asked the families of the witnesses of these battlefields to lend their precious trophies for the duration of the exhibition.
That is why, in the section devoted to the weapons favored by the Union Army, families from the Northern States newly settled in Atlanta had been touched and eager to bring their souvenirs, indicating the names of their beloved who had not returned from the fighting.
Many of the County's citizens would have been thrilled to have their precious possessions selected for inclusion in the Centennial Exhibition catalog. But, the offer being gigantic, choices had to be made, according to the specificity of a given weapon, its presence in a given battle, the name of its owner belonging to an old Atlanta family, or simply the history and emotion surrounding these items of iron and wood.
Names, surnames and ranks of Yankees and Confederates... With a location, the place of battle or the one where life had been taken. These short words, transcribed in neat handwriting on small white cards, testified of the woundedness of the bodies and the souls. Finding them mixed together, on the second floor of the Irish Literary Association, was the testimony of the reunification of the nation gathered.
Rhett was focusing on the Union Army's rifle musket, the Springfield 1861. "The Confederacy made clones of it, getting hold of the machine tools used to produce them at Harper's Ferry Arsenal. They used Minié bullets, which had devastating effects." He did not go into detail. It was better not to talk about the shredded bodies, the shattered organs, the bones blown to bits by this simple little Minié bullet...
In front of his small conquered audience, with his Charlestonian drawl marked by an ounce of emotion, he warned :
"Don't think that all the soldiers were equipped with the latest models, as powerful as the Spencer repeating rifle which was one of the main weapons of the Northern Cavalry, or the Sharp 1859 rifle, the weapon of choice of the elite snipers. In the last months of the conflict, due to lack of supply, we were even led to use simple flintlock shotguns or the retractable pike you see here." He almost chuckled as he thought of the pitiful equipment with which he had joined the Southern army.
Scarlett did not hide her boredom. So, when he saw her suddenly leaning against a glass cabinet, he was surprised. She put her hand to her heart.
In a bantering tone, he asked her, "Are you looking for the best weapon that can make your suitors succumb? In that case, this harmless object comes from England, the Enfield 1853 rifle."
She raised her face to him, not bothering to respond to his ironic tirade. Pale, she murmured, "Stuart. It belonged to Stuart Tarleton. Died at Gettysburg with Brent."
He softened his intonation and placed his warm hand lightly on her arm, "I remember. One of your beaux. I am sorry, Scarlett."
She shook her head to chase away the ghost of that happy afternoon on the porch at Tara, flirting with the twins. Then she moved to another window.
Wade and Beau remained glued to Captain Butler, captivated by his encyclopedic knowledge worthy of the best gunsmiths.
"This is the Colt Army 1860 revolver: the weapon of choice for officers, and the one that served me well when I was forcing my way into Yankee shores."
A nonchalant voice made the four of them jump and turn around.
"It was mine too."
Wilkes. Always in his footsteps...
"Father, really, is this the weapon you were using? That's exciting!" exclaimed Beau.
Wade hugged his uncle while Ella kissed him affectionately.
Once again on the lookout, Rhett thought he heard an imperceptible softness in Scarlett's voice as she said: "Ashley! Beau and I were wondering when we would run into you today, so overwhelming is the crowd."
Ignoring the presence of her former husband, he stammered a "Scarlett!" and took her by the shoulders to kiss her on the cheek.
Rhett had difficulty not to externalize his annoyance, more especially as she had not had any movement of retreat in front of these effusions.
"Finally, there you are! I was wondering where all four of you had gone!" Henry Hamilton's apostrophe was loud enough to make a few people around them turn around. He had not mentioned Rhett Butler, which did not surprise this one. The dislike of the old man for the "war profiteer" had grown even worse after the solicitor had to deal with the formalities of the divorce himself.
His two nephews and Ella expressed their joy at seeing their great-uncle. He was flanked by Dr. Meade, his wife and India. The latter looked at the Charlestonian with the same pursed lips that she reserved for Scarlett.
The Meades did not express their surprise at seeing the old Butler couple side by side. But tomorrow, the doctor's wife was definitely going to spread the news to her dear friends at the Sewing Association.
The group shared their impressions of these painful remnants of the past in hushed tones. Through the protective glass, the objects lined up hid the blood and tears that had crucified the United States for many years.
Mrs. Meade cleared her throat: "The exhibit organizer insisted that we allow displaying the weapon with which my Phil defended Atlanta. It was just a poor shotgun, but Mr. Bennett said it was as historically interesting as the most sophisticated weapons, because it showed the bravery of our soldiers. Have you seen it, Scarlett?"
The latter nodded her head.
The eternally grieving mother continued, while Dr. Meade was bowing his head. "Unfortunately, I couldn't offer him Darcy's gun. Gettysburg..." Her voice broke.
Thirteen years had passed since the defeat at Gettysburg, eleven since the war ended. The wounds were slowly being healed, but all it took was a display of artifacts to blow the embers out.
Forgetting temporarily the stack of disputes that opposed them, Scarlett put her hand on the woman's with compassion and they were silent for a moment.
In a flash, Rhett was reliving that fateful day when the first lists of the dead at Gettysburg were transcribed in Atlanta ; the crowd waiting ; Melanie's relief - and Scarlett's - at not finding Ashley Wilkes' name...
This one had remained silent. Pretending to study a glass case. But from the way he was turned, it was obvious that he was actually observing the slightest movements of his sister-in-law.
"Mother, we've been waiting for you to..." While the adolescent had been outgoing since morning, he had become hesitant.
Unsurprised, she nodded, and took her leave of the Meades and India Wilkes.
She followed him into the other showroom accompanied by Ella and Beau, while Ashley Wilkes and the notary behind, under Rhett's curious eye.
oooo
The historical re-enactment was even more successful in this section, as trophies from the Revolutionary War were prominently displayed. Uniforms, remnants of tattered but highly symbolic flags, and antique weapons, all of which were a hundred years old, immersed the visitor in the roots of the American nation.
The Civil War, so close in their minds, also resurfaced in this piece, the most aesthetic part concerning the prestigious cavalry.
In fact, the cavalrymen had favored the musket, this rifle shortened to allow its handling on horseback. But, thanks to the research of the curator of this temporary museum, one found here an alignment of the most beautiful swords and sabres having belonged, for the most part, to famous officers, as the engravings of the handles attested.
They too bore witness to the harshness of the fighting. The edges of the blades were scratched, the point sometimes broken. The scabbards were non-existent. Rust stains were mixed with other more suspicious traces. But these were hardly noticeable, so lovingly had the swords and sabers been brushed so that the steel, iron and bronze glistened in the light.
Wade was the first to stand still before it. Holding his little sister's hand, his mother at his side, he read with pride, "Charles Hamilton, born 1841, died June 1861." My Father's sword!"
A wave of emotion ran through the family of Scarlett's first husband. She stroked her son's hair. It was an unusual gesture of affection, but it was appropriate to the emotion of Melanie's nephew.
Knowing that the brave young woman had stood up to the Yankee army and its officer so that they would not take Wade's sword when they left Tara, Harry Bennett asked her permission to display this emotional trophy prominently.
Wade had been transfigured by the happiness of seeing his father honored this way.
Seven heads bent over the sword, each – except Ella - recalling a passage from Charles Hamilton's life.
Images assailed Rhett: the fall of Atlanta; Scarlett, distraught with her little boy; he, carrying Melanie who stammered, "Charles...", so that the souvenir of her brother would not be left in the hands of Sherman's army.
He patted his stepson on the shoulder, who, full of pride, said, "I began to study passionately the war we fought with Mexico, because our ancestor Hamilton was fighting the battle of Buena Vista with this sword. You knew that, didn't you?"
"Yes. It has only belonged to heroes!"
Wade smiles at him.
On each side of the room, gray and blue uniforms on boiled cardboard mannequins coexisted, whether they belonged to the cavalry, the artillery or the infantry. A sampling of officers' braids and slouch hats completed the inventory of military garments whose owners were identified by a label. Generals, colonels or simple soldiers, whatever their rank or the color of the fabric, grey or blue, all were united by the same characteristic: the poor condition of the costumes. They had been carefully cleaned, the mud scraped off, the powder spatters brushed off, and the bloodstains rubbed off to soften the crudity of their origin, but there were no gleaming decorations or golden buttons. The fabric was worn to the bone, with holes in many places. Crude seams, hastily made during brief respites in the trenches, had tried in vain to patch up the tears with simple powder bags so that rain or snow would not seep further under the skin.
Henry Hamilton left them.
Ella hovered around the mannequins, wondering if her father had donned a similar one.
Rhett had resumed his exercise of guiding the two boys.
But he kept a cautious eye on Wilkes.
Ashley was trying to get Scarlett interested in the articles show. So far without success.
They arrived at a display case devoted to the accessories worn by Lee's army. There were black belts with cracked leather, to which simple little metal boxes acting as cartridge belts had been attached. The belt buckles catching the light on the shelves were large oval plates, made of bronze. Those from Atlanta, whose soldier families had lovingly shined the reddened plates with high copper content, bore the Georgia state bucket. (*10)
Emerging from the monotony of gray and blue cloths washed so many times that their hues faded, the long sideboard was a sunny island with golden reflections.
The documentarist of this ephemeral museum had chosen to highlight the most beautiful specimens of the yellow cloths with which the Confederate officers encircled their waist to proudly display them under the belt.
Rhett became aware of the maneuver of his rival of always. This one was only a few centimeters away from the so coveted prey, so much so that Rhett contracted his knuckles to refrain himself for separating the couple violently.
Wilkes was obviously watching for Scarlett's reactions.
She raised her eyebrows in surprise as she leaned more squarely against the glass panel.
What did she see? Receptive to the slightest fluctuation in her mood, Rhett understood that she was troubled. And that it pleased that twisted Wilkes.
He could not stand it any longer, so he approached. A yellow scarf. Yellow silk.
What the hell! Will their little game continue until eternity?
Hate, powerlessness, discouragement, fury, these feelings were mixed in him. Doubled by a total incomprehension : She has just been engaged to her prince charming, and despite that, despite that...
She fluttered her eyelashes, a soft pucker of her lips, until she dipped her eyes into those of her former suitor.
The silence between them was obscene. As decadent as if he had caught them in each other's arms.
Exasperated, disgusted! For a second, he was tempted to throw in the towel. To leave them both to their cooing, to go to Europe to turn the page and kill his obsession. That weak-blooded Wilkes could freely stir up his libidinous lust, this time behind Duncan Vayton's back.
As the silence became heavy, the "grieving" widower was forced to explain: "Harry Benett wanted the oldest families in the County to be represented, including mine. He came back to the charge, no matter how many times I told him that I had been stripped of everything in the Yankee prisons. Except this scarf. A precious relic in such disrepair... Benett finally managed to win it, convincing me that it was a symbol of the sweet beauty of the Old South torn to shreds by the war." His faded gray eyes blurred, "Did I ever tell you that I wore it under my shirt? It warmed my heart and my loins...
That's enough! In two strides, he placed himself between them. His fury hidden under his mask of nonchalance, he pretended not to have interrupted the unhealthy monologue.
"Scarlett, the reenactment plays are about to begin. I promised the children we would attend."
She showed interloqued, but said nothing.
"Shall we go, my Dear?" As he spoke to her, he had taken hold of her left hand and lifted it elegantly, pretending to want to drag her along, taking great care to keep it in the air a little longer than the amiable gesture called for. A few centimeters of the eyes of Ashley Wilkes.
Under the effect of the light of the chandelier illuminating their spot, the jade had taken on a golden sheen.
Rhett stared squarely at his old enemy.
The pale complexion of the fallen heir of Twelve Oaks turned white. His polite impassivity of the Southern gentleman was just belied by the wrinkles on his forehead and frown, the only outlet for his dismay.
Meanwhile, Rhett had naturally let go of the ringed hand. It didn't longer matter. Because he had just completed his trick.
Instead of seeking an explanation from the young woman with the jewel, Ashley's gray eyes caught the former husband's.
This one was exulting. Behind the sardonic crease of his lips, his white teeth could have made believe in a joyful affable expression, but a cruel flame showed through in the depth of his black eyes.
With the satisfaction of the hunter before the killing of his prey.
His ploy had succeeded. Wilkes had just figured out that his enamored belle of Tara was wearing a new engagement ring. He had every reason to be convinced that before him stood Scarlett O'Hara's future fourth husband, Rhett Butler.
Rhett caught his glance. He had just accepted his defeat.
The tall stature sagged under the bent back and flailing arms. He stammered an excuse to slip away, and left the showroom in a hurry.
"What's wrong with him running like that? He looks like he's seen a ghost!" said Scarlett, between surprise and mockery.
Not a spectrum. Simply proof that you are destined for someone else. Definitely. At least this blissful quid pro quo will finally rid me of him...
Freed from a weight that had oppressed him since ages, he savored breathing deeply.
oooOOooo
The party was far from over. Would they wait until the fireworks?
Scarlett regretted having chosen to wear this new pair of shoes that were graceful but turned into a Chinese torture at the end of the walk.
"It's high time you clarified the agenda for the extravagant trip you outrageously forced me to accept in public."
He was amused by her criticism: "Your capacity of energy never ceases to impress me. Our little walk has probably exhausted you. Just look at the way you are easing your feet by lifting them slightly. Despite this little inconvenience, you are ready to go back into battle!"
She lifted her chin in disdain, "Fiddle-dee-dee! Your old legs are already sagging while I am ready to survey every garden in Atlanta!"
Satisfied with her remark, to which he replied with a loud laugh, she sought a way to evade her promise: "After careful consideration, I regret to say that this escapade in Washington will not be made."
Rhett tried to keep his cool and to be convincing while not expressing the apprehension of her refusal: "Your presence has been announced to the federal authorities. We have to make sure that everything goes according to plan in order to secure their financial contribution. It will only be three days, Scarlett. Two, actually, since we will be traveling overnight. I doubt the Robillard's Boutique will go out of business for such a short absence."
But she had decided not to make it easy for him: "I have spent too many years, too much energy and concessions to restore the reputation - which you had helped to undermine, by the way - to trash it again by traveling alone with a man."
Rhett thought, "Finally, here we are!"
He was silent.
"What would the travelers on the train, the hotel concierge, or the waiters in the restaurant think of a single lady traveling with a man?"
Enervated by his lack of reaction, she concluded: "It is out of the question! The scandal makes you come. Me, it horrifies me now."
He calmly cupped her hand in his and, in a bantering tone, offered, "There are two solutions. The first is to urgently repatriate Mammy from Tara, so that she can serve as your chaperone."
As he expected, she was not thrilled with the prospect of returning to the care of her nanny.
"Or..." He inhaled sharply, anticipating that he would unleash a thunder of recriminations, "Or we will travel as husband and wife. I have booked the train and hotel tickets in Mr. and Mrs. Butler's name."
She remained silent, her mouth open.
A mouth so tempting...
"With two separate bedrooms and two train compartments, that goes without saying!"
ooooOOOOOoooo
Notes on Chapter 40:
(*1) Confederate flag: I have not found any information about the presence of the Confederate flag, mixed with the Union flag, on this Jubilee day. I simply assume that, even on this nation's day, it was proudly displayed in the South.
(*2) June 30, 1870: the choice of this date is my personal treat : my mother Marguerite and her twin sister Georgette were indeed born on June 30... 1921, of Blanche Bonsart!
(*3) Atlanta military parade : unfortunately, I could not find any information online about the military parade in Atlanta. I based my information on the report of the festivities in Liberty County, Georgia. Those of Atlanta must have been much more impressive than those of Liberty, but I preferred to "stick" my story to a city of Georgia, (participation of the artillery of Savannah for example), rather than to another state to be in the realism of the story. /history/timelines/reconstruction-1865-1877/centennial-celebration-1876
(*4) Atlanta Journal Constition of July 4, 1876: the verbatim mood of the citizens of Atlanta, that morning of the 4th of July 1876 : a treasure ! - newspage/26829311/
(*5) The 4th of July 1876 celebrations in Atlanta: In the Atlanta Constitution newspaper, the journalist reports on the success of this day. .edu/episodes/view/4275
(*6) Troop riding competition at the Centennial: actually featured in the report on the festivities at Liberty - /history/timelines/reconstruction-1865-1877/centennial-celebration-1876
(*7) Party in the Irish Literary Association building: reported in the Atlanta Constitution newspaper of July 6, 1876. .edu/episodes/view/4275
(*8) : toasts of the 4th of July : the report is from 1820. I don't know if there were still 13 traditional toasts and 40 "voluntary" toasts in 1876. Fourth of July Barbecues, the story of an enduring American tradition : features/Fourth-of-July-Barbecues
(*9) Weapons used during the Civil War:
https: table-of-contents/almanac and
(*10) Lee's army belts and buckles: https: .uk/archives-military-equipment