This chapter was supposed to be short... :)-
Chapter 55. Any leads?
Tuesday, July 13, 1876, Butler residence, 7 East Battery, Charleston
No sooner had the car stopped in front of 7 East Battery than he leaped to the ground like a wildcat, generously paid the driver who had picked him up at the station, and hurried up the steps to the Butler mansion.
Michael, the butler, relieved him of his hat and travel bag. "Welcome home, Captain Butler. We picked up your trunk at the station. I have left it in your room."
Rhett only gave him a vague sign of thanks, for all his attention focused on the sideboard in the entrance hall. And on the tray reserved for receiving mail.
Several envelopes were waiting, all bearing his name. He disdainfully pushed the first ones aside, but the last one had the privilege to be thrown with a clatter onto the waxed floor.
No telegram! He tried to reason: he had just left Atlanta the day before. The deadline was far too short for her to have had time to reply. Perhaps she had not yet returned to Peachtree Street.
A rustle of taffeta preceded Eleonor out of the parlor.
To escape her inquisitive gaze poorly concealed behind her maternal welcome, Rhett opened his briefcase to remove the box of almond powder confectionery: "Merriwether's Pastry shop took great care to reserve the freshest for you."
"How thoughtful of you, Rhett, to think of my guilty inclination for my favorite sweets every time you pass through Atlanta!"
Comfortably settled back in her armchair, ready to enjoy a tasty calisson, she asked in a detached tone, "Is everything going well in Atlanta?"
Rhett took the time to take the umpteenth cigar of the day out of its case and cut off the tip with his silver cigar cutter, before replying with the same falsely indifferent air: "Ella is just fine. Unfortunately, I have not had time to talk to Wade. Scarlett sends her best thoughts."
Both were aware that the lie was futile. But it was enough to end the conversation.
Then Rhett took his leave, and went to calm his nerves at the Gentlemen's Club Haven.
Eleonor Butler heaved a heavy sigh. Her mother's instinct was warning her: even divorced, that Scarlett was still upsetting her son. When would she stop doing this and let him be happy with someone else?
oooOOooo
The next three days were so busy that he did not really have time to wonder about the arrival of a liberating telegram.
He had settled an appointment with Charleston's Director of Arts and Culture.
To Rhett's satisfaction, Rex Harrison had performed his task efficiently. It had been agreed that he would submit a list of candidates for the future position of Director. The applicants were numerous, but the eliminations were drastic: finding an expert in Ancient World who was also a dynamic, competent and honest manager was no easy task. However, the "rare bird" was indeed among the applicants.
He would have to travel to Charleston before Rhett's departure, for a final selection interview on Sunday at 9 a.m. The President of the Bonnie Blue Butler Museum Foundation had long been a master judge of men. If, during their meeting, he "sniffed" that the man might have a tendency towards independence when he was paid to conform, in reality, to his final decisions, he would get rid of him. Even when effectively hired, Rhett Butler would not hesitate to do so at the first "hitch" in behavior.
During his short stay in Atlanta, he had the same conversation with Harry Benett. The choice was even quicker. The two men agreed on priorities, and found the happy new Director of the Bonnie Blue Butler Museum of Atlanta. He, too, would meet Rhett in Charleston on the morning of Sunday the 18th at 11 a.m. Deadlines were tight, but a telegram would be enough to rush both applicants to Charleston in time for his embarkation for France.
Rhett and the City's representative then took another tour of the Museum's various rooms. Inwardly, the Charlestonian congratulated himself on being the sole investor, through his foundation, in the acquisition of the Museum building. Under no circumstances would it be said that the man who had been ostracized from Charleston society had profited from public funds.
Work was nearing completion. Displays were already being installed. Glass cases for collectibles, stone columns for small statues, easels and wall brackets for paintings.
As soon as they passed a section, Rex Harrison indicated on a map the name and number of the works imported from the Louvre, and their next position in the room.
All that remained was the most stressful part: packing and transporting the antiques to the ship. This would be Rhett's preoccupation - when he was in Paris.
He spent part of July 17 discussing the layout of the Butler and Le Moyne Exclusive Masterpieces Gallery of Charleston with the project manager. Securing the building, luminous display of paintings through a set of partitions, marble steles for sculptures... the French Impressionists and artists of the Southerners' Art Club would be pampered in such a space... and customers would love it.
ooooOOoooo
Saturday, July 17, 1876, Charleston
Exhausted but pleased that the infrastructure of the great artistic machinery he had launched was proceeding according to plan, he pushed open the door of the Butler house.
Damn! Nothing! Still nothing! Not a single telegram... In a rage, he crushed his barely-lit cigar in an ashtray.
Concealing his annoyance under a nonchalant mask, he greeted Eleonor with a furtive peck on the cheek. "Did you have a good day? I am exhausted, but the Museum's organization is on track. Um... Your guest did not cancel, did she? Has the cook scheduled the cakes for tomorrow afternoon? My question is purely formal, because, Dear Mother, your title of best hostess in all Charleston cannot be taken away from you!"
Mrs. Butler tried to fathom the dark eyes, whose hidden clouds only she could detect: "This is the first time you take an interest in your sister's guests. I am well aware that you recommended that she meet Madame Matisson, but... would I be too suspicious to ask if, by any chance, you have other aims? It would be a grave mistake on your part, and I would strongly oppose it so as not to jeopardize the respectability of this young person notorious for her qualities as a perfect Southern lady."
His spontaneous laughter rattled the living room windows. "Oh, Mother! What dark designs are you plaguing your son with! I can swear on my miserable existence that my intentions towards Mrs. Matisson are as innocent as the child that has just been born!" Finally convincing her, he brushed his whiskers across the top of her hand, and then dug his dimples in the manner of the teasing child who used to make his mother melt - back when he was very, very, young.
His spirits lifted by Eleonor's extravagant suppositions, he entered the Gentlemen's Club Haven, as he had every evening since his return.
Pierre de Boulogne shook his hand energetically. "We have been looking forward to seeing you, and reserved the best seat for you. The three of us were afraid you would not come tonight and let us take our revenge for the exorbitant winnings you have taken from us in three games. Before you leave us for France, you are going to have to give us a run for our money, mon Ami - or at least give us a chance not to look like the worst poker players in South Carolina!"
The three friends of the owner of the city's most exclusive club were loyal members who, whenever Captain Butler's visit was announced, insisted on being the privileged ones to sit down at the table of the King of Southern U.S. Poker, to try - without really believing - to win the bet.
Unfortunately for them, the game went on, as it had on previous nights, with the implacable hands of poker of the former blockade-breaker. Despite the reinforcement of the most prestigious and expensive strong spirits from the Haven's cellar, and the cigars whose spicy cloud scented the room isolated from the other evening visitors, nothing helped. One after the other, they finally "went all in" and "folded" to face the master of the game.
The two friends requisitioned two large leather armchairs to relax in after hours of feverish concentration on concealing their games.
"Happy to see Paris and the little Parisians again?"
Rhett sketched a jaded pout: "To tell the truth, I would like to be back already. It is the first time I have ever thought of my stay in France as an obligation rather than a distraction."
Pierre straightened up from his seat: "You are surprising me! You, so inclined to enjoy the sweet follies for which the capital has earned such a deserved reputation? Unless... Of course, would I dare hypothesize that good old Atlanta harbors a more captivating treasure in your eyes?"
The latter could not help laughing. "Why cross the oceans when the grass is so green and fresh here? Even so, I still have to be on hand to supervise the closing of exports. But you will see me again very soon, Dear Friend!"
Yes! as quickly as possible, because time is running out! While I am away, Vayton will take the opportunity to tighten his grip on Scarlett. I shall not be able to keep her out of his sight for good if I am thousands of miles away. Time flies quickly. After October 19, she will be officially engaged.
Every night since she had "dismissed" him on the train had been the same, a mixture of exhilaration and dread.
Afraid that her threat would be carried out, and that she had really decided to become someone else's wife.
Damn it! What madness seized her after she left the room? An attack of bad temper from who knows where! Alternatively, did she want to test me?
It could only be a whim. Because no! There was no way she would choose that insignificant Vayton after their wild night of love, when her body had writhed in pleasure under his caresses, when her luscious mouth had offered itself and ventured where he would never dared dream she would, and her hands...
God damned it! This woman is going to be the death of me!
Thank God he wrote the letter! If she had had the slightest doubt about his sincerity, everything would certainly have been shattered when she read it. She have not sent a telegram yet, because, true to the cruelty of the cat that languishes its prey before devouring it, she would wait until he was in Paris. To make sure, by the way, that her positive reply would keep him from any young French temptations.
He sniffed the whisky before savoring it. Henri is a fine oenologist. He knows how to choose the best spirits for his members!
Everything was going to be fine... Yet something was wrong. Why hadn't she thrown whatever it was she was reproaching him for in his face? Her coldness... Her silence... Her lack of reaction...
What if... No! She could not have done that! A fleeting image passed before his eyes: Scarlett approaching the envelope, recognizing the handwriting and, without a moment's hesitation, throwing it into the garbage can...
He tried to come to his senses. She is as curious as a dozen Merriwethers and Meades put together. Even if she was still mad at me - about what? For what? -she could not resist reading the message in which I, the arrogant Captain Butler, the one who had cowardly abandoned her, is apologizing on bended knee for his behavior.
Yet... Doubt brewed even faster than the blood-alcohol level invading his bloodstream. Throwing his letter in his face, or tossing it in a garbage can, was very much in keeping with Scarlett's insensitivity to the thoughts of others. Such was the belle of Clayton County, burning everything in her path to make way.
If she has not read my letter, she will continue to stick to her fixed ideas, like the stubborn mule she has always been! Nevertheless, she will not win in her childish little game! I shall not let her miss out on our happiness! I shall stop this ridiculous marriage, even if I have to set Charleston and Atlanta on fire! If she does not listen to reason for now, I shall attack the weakest point in this ridiculous scheme: Duncan Vayton!
The more he thought about it, the more certain he became that there was something unsettling about the marriage proposal of the spoiled Charleston brat. Not that Scarlett could not inspire sudden mad passions! He was the perfect example of it. Nevertheless, something did not look right...
The night of the dinner at the Paxtons', his poker instincts had detected a flaw in the well-oiled seduction technique of the "Prince of Fashion" - Prince... What a ridiculous title...
The latter had perfectly mastered his attitude and had no qualms about provoking the former husband by caressing Scarlett's hand at every turn. So much so, in fact that the young rooster succeeded in destabilizing him. Me who uses to smash all those who have presumed to stand in my way...
Yes, Duncan Vayton had been master of the game... until he turned livid and twisted his spoon in rage.
All because a thin and innocent voice had uttered a few words... The one belonging to Gladys Matisson!
That's why he had used his powers of persuasion on his sister to get her to invite her... just before his departure for Europe.
He would not leave the United States without extracting from her sparrow-brained mind the substance of what she knew about the untouchable Duncan Vayton!
When he arrived in front of his home in the middle of the night, loud music made him look up. The noise came from the second floor of the Gardenias' Mansion. The overkill of lighting did nothing to hide the twirling silhouettes singing - or rather, shouting themselves hoarse.
He saw blonde hair. A woman. From where he stood, he guessed it was the beautiful Rebecca. And he, in a totally disheveled state, in a shirtsleeve, collar wide open...
Have fun, my Dear Neighbor, behind Scarlett's back. Laugh because I promise you an ocean of tears!
ooooOOoooo
Saturday, July 18, 1876, Atlanta, Peachtree Steet
"Scarlett! How kind of you to invite a poor wife neglected by her husband!" Taisy's hazel eyes sparkled with mischief, belying, had it been necessary, that Mrs. Benett was far from unhappy.
"I am partly to blame, since it is indeed the museum named after my dear little girl that keeps him so absorbed! So much the better, because this way I can take full advantage of your presence! I have so much to tell you..."
After complimenting each other on their pretty dresses and good looks, the two young ladies moved into the dining room.
"Dilcey simmered some tasty, light dishes. I am already salivating!"
Taisy, like Scarlett, had a hearty appetite. The cook was amply satisfied to find that the emptied dishes by the time she cleared away.
If, during the meal washed down with a tasty wine, the two women had made the rounds of all the gossip - known or half concealed - of Atlanta's good society, their conversation became more personal as soon as they found themselves seated in Scarlett's parlor.
"Are you finally going to give me a full account of your expedition to Washington? I cannot wait!"
"To sum up, I have been impressed by the wide avenues of the Mall and the hectic activity of the shopping streets - even if Atlanta and The Boutique Robillard have nothing to be ashamed of compared to the women's clothing models on display at Palais Royal, F Street or Pennsylvania Avenue."
Taisy did not hesitate long between going on with this subject and deviating it into more exciting matters: "Tell me more!"
As if it were an ordinary clarification, Scarlett added carelessly: "The White House salons are elegant. The Secretary of State, Hamilton Fish, was extremely kind to me."
"Invited to the White House? It was the least the City of Washington could do to celebrate the visit of the famous Scarlett O'Hara!" Taisy's eyes shone with a mixture of mockery and admiration for this Georgian who had all the audacity. "But what else?"
"We stayed at the Willard Hotel, in the suite occupied by Abraham Lincoln. It seems he was quite familiar with that flat. I even heard something about slippers, or whatever..."
Taisy breathed a sigh of relief: "At last, we have reached the heart of the matter! I know what you are up to, dear Scarlett. You want to keep me waiting so that I shall beg you for more... juicy details! So, you actually shared a suite."
Immediately, Scarlett straightened up from her seat, "It was a huge apartment with living rooms, bedrooms... Spacious enough, fortunately, that we hardly crossed paths."
Taisy gave her a sidelong glance: "Only crossing paths? Really?"
The memory of Rhett's body against her, when he had helped her undress, made her shiver. She bent down to reach her cup of coffee - and hide the hot flashes that invaded her.
Of course, the redness of her throat and cheeks did not escape the perceptive Taisy. "How interesting this is... So, you went to your business appointments during the day. However, in the evening... Scarlett, please! Stop your secrecy that puts me in a trance!"
Her friend's frank curiosity overcame her resolve to annihilate the good times spent in the federal capital. "The evening... Oh! Taisy! I have been thinking about you! Do you know what we went to see? The Black Crook!"
The wife of Atlanta's Director of the Arts looked on in astonishment, and Scarlett told her in detail everything that had amazed her.
"You were absolutely right when you recommended it! It was magical! The cavern lighting up, the elves twirling... They allowed me to go backstage and saw the propeller-mill that thrust them through the air. And all those costumes, or rather the lack of them... They were naked from toe to... It was... scandalous!" Without realizing it, she put her hand in front of her mouth to mark, in keeping with the decorum of well-born Southern ladies, that this unethical spectacle had shocked her. But a second later, her limpid green irises darkened with pleasure: "You warned me. It was an exhibition... deliciously depraved - so much so that I dreamed the old magpies of Atlanta would see it and choke on it!"
They laughed heartily.
"My dear, you are a music teacher of the highest order! Thanks to your lessons, I was able to accompany in cadence the singer's rendition of "Oh you naughty, naughty men!" So much so that even Rhett was impressed..."
"Hallelujah!"
Scarlett raised a puzzled eyebrow. During her absence, had Taisy converted to religious demonstrations? It made her speechless, which made Mrs. Bennett laugh:
"I was wondering, after that long tirade, when you would finally dare to say Mr. Butler's first name - your former husband in that case. It took - she glanced at the clock on the mantelpiece - two and a half hours! I was beginning to despair."
She laughs even harder at the scowl on the Atlanta belle's face. "So the steadfast Rhett Butler was "impressed" by the song. Hm... Wouldn't it have been his one-night performer who enchanted him?"
Certainly not! I found proof that Rhett was more "enchanted" by one of the Amazons...
Her dejected expression surprised her friend. "Scarlett, why this veil of sadness in your beautiful jade eyes?"
She shook her head. "Just a sign of fatigue. It has been an exhausting trip. To close the Black Crook chapter and make you even more envious - she teased her by digging into her dimples - we were invited to the artists' lodge, and I got to meet the impressive Devil, who I have to admit, looked his best in his skin-tight suit."
The detail, which left little to the imagination, sent the two women into a frenzy of hilarity, so much so that the entire household must have heard them.
"How lucky you were! We were not reward with such an honor!"
"The theater manager is a friend of Rhett's. One of his poker partners. A long-time one, since he has intimate ties with his family and is comfortable in the hotel next door…"
The moment of amusement had suddenly evaporated. She did not even try to hide her sourness.
Her confidante turned serious: "Scarlett, my Dear, what is wrong? What has happened? I feel you are hiding something from me..."
Scarlett straightened up and squared her shoulders, "Nothing special. To conclude, we went to an Irish ball, and I initiated myself into La Habanera."
"Really? Rhett taught you this exciting dance? I once had the opportunity to watch two professional dancers perform it. Needless to say, Harry would never have been able to mimic the first step. In fact, he would not have dared. It struck me as so… deliciously scandalous and languorous... I understand that dancing it in Rhett's arms was..."
Scarlett cut her off abruptly. "It was a purely academic demonstration. Thus ends the summary of my trip. I am very happy to be back in Atlanta."
Taisy, sensing that Scarlett was withholding information, dared another attempt: "A short stay for a very long journey! I understand you are still tired. The sleeping-bed accommodations in the Pullman carriages, while improving year by year, must have been grueling!"
Reluctantly, the traveler revealed the additional small detail: "Rhett had rented a varnish."
The beautiful redhead's lips formed an "o" of curious excitement.
Her hostess cut short any speculation as to what had really happened in this private compartment: "The carriage was so spacious that we hardly passed each other during the journey. And besides..."
Taisy held her breath. Had the Rhett-Scarlett couple finally gotten back together?
"Besides, we will not be running into each other again."
"Scarlett! What a whimsical idea! I am convinced, on the contrary, that you will be seeing more and more of each other. You make a wonderful couple!"
Scarlett stood up abruptly: "Do not misunderstand me. The meeting in Washington was strictly business, focused on the financing of the museum that bears my daughter's name. With those formalities out of the way, there is no reason for us to meet again, with the sole exception of the two-day museum opening, of course."
Taisy joined her and gently took her face in her hand to force her to look into her eyes. "Scarlett! You are not making any sense! You just narrated to me how much fun you had together. Was there anything else? If so, it can only be trifles that will evaporate when you exchange glances again. Have I ever told you how much you both radiate as soon as you are within a few yards of each other?"
Her resolve to display her indifference began to waver, and her voice trembled: "I would like us not to mention Rhett Butler to each other from now on. Of course, he was my husband and the father of my daughter. However, he has decided to divorce me and my little angel is in heaven. That man spreads nothing but unhappiness around him."
Taisy felt it was time to reveal a side of Rhett she had discovered: "I do not know why he earned your wrath after that joyous expedition to Washington. What I can assure you is that Rhett only wants your happiness. I have proof of this through an intimate conversation I had with your former husband."
Two creases deepened between the former Mrs. Butler's close-set eyebrows.
"He made me promise never to reveal it to you. But it will clear up any misunderstanding. It was shortly after your lavish invitation where your friend Ashley Wilkes was also present. We met in front of the City Theater late in the evening. He seemed puzzled, so I suggested he wait with me for Harry in the inner lounge of the Artists Café. You may find this hard to believe, but the man standing before me was not the impetuous Captain Butler, sure of himself and his charm, but a man devastated... and tortured by jealousy."
Scarlett chuckled bitterly. "Devastated, him? Only my little girl has been able to move him. Apart from her, he is a stone-hearted egotist. As for his jealousy, I would rather rectify it with his wounded vanity."
"Why are you so relentless with him? If you had seen him... He was upset, so much so that I was embarrassed to see such a powerful man break down. To give you some context, he had just learned that you had left for Tara. By a twist of fate, your daughter Ella added that you were there that very night with Duncan Vayton."
"Ah!" That was her only reaction.
"Admit it it is understandable that his temper got the better of him after imagining you in the arms of the handsome Duncan..."
Scarlett did not reply, for a furtive embrace came back to her memory.
"He was so shaken by it that he confided in me his distress: his love for you since the first look, his fear of revealing it to you, his jealousy of Ashley Wilkes, his contrition at having behaved badly with you during your marriage, his eternal regret at having divorced you... In addition, there was a new threat in the form of the Prince of Fashion. It broke my heart for him. I had promised him discretion on this moment of outpouring, which he probably regretted from the minute we said good-bye. But since you have made the decision - a foolish one, in my humble opinion - to cut off all relations with this remarkable man who adores you, you need to be aware of the depth of his feelings for you."
Scarlett's heart began to beat frantically. These revelations were inconceivable! How could she imagine Rhett confiding so intimately in a friend he barely knew, and, what's more, telling her about his "eternal" love for her? The words whispered during their night of love in the varnish tried to get into his brain. Was it true? Did he really love her? How she longed to believe those fiery declarations! But she pushed them right out. For some reason, Rhett had decided to use Taisy Bennett's generosity to turn her against the "cruel", heartless Scarlett. What credibility did these so-called confidences have when, on the very night he had hugged her, he went to join that amazon prostitute?
Regaining her certainty, she poured two glasses of brandy, handed one to Taisy before dipping her lips into the comforting alcohol - as if to drown out any risk of flinching. "You are endowed with the finest and sharpest feminine mind I know. Despite this, he managed to soften you up. Which means that Rhett Butler's manipulative power over the most right-minded beings surpasses virtuosity! I was his prime target, and I must humbly confess, dear friend, that I fell into his trap once again on this disastrous trip."
Taisy was wondering what fly had bitten Scarlett's charming head. With her characteristic spontaneity, she told her: "I must confess to being at a loss to understand why you should be resentful of a man who is as handsome as he is madly in love with you, when two minutes before you were sparkling with happiness as you recalled the few days you spent in his company. Are you going to get angry if I dare say this does not make sense?"
The latter was taken aback for a moment by the logic of the young woman used to undulating lucidly in an elitist society where simulacra are draped in every virtue. It is better to tell her the truth, so she stops feeling sorry for "Poor Captain Butler"...
Trying to control her voice so that the emotion and trembling did not reveal too much of her fragility, she abruptly announced, "The night Rhett almost succeeded in... getting what he wanted from me, after he left me he hurried off to the room of one of his mistresses - an Amazon of the Black Crook. Isn't that ironic?" The bombshell "dropped", she swallowed her brandy glass in one gulp.
In shock, Taisy put her hand in front of her mouth to hide a small cry of surprise. Scarlett took the opportunity to deliver the final blow to the stunned beautiful redhead's by providing proof that Rhett had lied to her about his "true love" for his former wife. "The morning we returned to the varnish, I found a letter - or rather, scribbles - in which this... this... asked him to come and join her in their 'usual' bedroom as soon as he would get rid of me... I still feel like throwing up... How dare he? Do you understand now why I do not want to hear his name again?"
What an incredible revelation! Nevertheless, Taisy was remembering the devastated look on the dashing Rhett Butler's face at the Artists' Café, to the mad passion he had kept quiet for years lest she breaks his heart, and to his despair. No! He had not lied. It was unthinkable!
She took a measured tone to try to put some sanity back into this damning tale: "What did he say to you when you showed him this letter?"
Scarlett raised her chin defiantly: "I hided it from him. I told him that from now on we were cutting off all contact between us."
"But... perhaps there was another explanation? How did he react?"
"He smashed the liquor cabinet, bottles included. I went down to Atlanta. He continued his journey to New Orleans to meet with other 'relations' he had. When I returned from Tara, I found that he had stopped off on the way back and left a letter at my place. For the record, he had the nerve to break into my office in my absence and use my personal stationery and envelopes! As if the house still belonged to him!"
"A letter? Would you mind if I asked what it consisted of? He had to provide some justification for it."
The former Mrs. Butler shrugged, "We will never know. I threw the envelope in the stove."
"Oh! Why? I am sure this letter would make all your fears vanish... But... You told me he wrote it in your office... I have an idea... Would you allow me to check something in your presence?"
The deluded former wife looked at her, disillusioned: "I do not understand what you have in mind, but please do."
Taisy inspected the desk. "I presume he sat in your chair to write it. Would you mind sitting down, and grabbing your pad of stationery?"
"Have you decided to embark on directing a play by turning me into a comedy actress?"
At the green-eyed beauty's half-amused, half-annoyed look, Taisy took on a conspiratorial tone: "Do not tell me you never played this little game as a child. And even later, you curious little thing! The one that consisted in trying to detect the trace of a message on a blotter or a sheet of paper."
She immediately grabbed a pencil and began to lightly glide the lead across the first sheet of the notebook.
"Pfff! You will not have a chance to find anything! Rhett Butler has a habit of always being outside the lane. This is also true when he is writing a letter. I have noticed it more than once. He detaches the sheet from the pad and places it on the leather blotter, as he pleases. Always this need to stand out, even in the smallest details..."
"I had not thought of that. Let us try it anyway."
After a few attempts, having covered three quarters of the sheet with gray lead, she had to admit that Captain Butler was definitely not like ordinary people.
She was about to acknowledge defeat when, at the top of the pad of paper, lighter shadows emerged from the greyness. He had probably started writing normally, then detached the sheet from the whole to continue his missive.
"Scarlett! We can make out a few words!"
The two women leaned over. The shadows of certain characters had pierced the delicate paper.
"My Darling!"
"What a sweet word! Here is proof that he really did write you a love letter."
A flush of warmth invaded he body. An irrepressible hope wanted to take possession of her. But, after deciphering the other hieroglyphs, she angrily pushed the paper aside: "See! A word later, he was already regretting it: "Or maybe I should start my letter with 'Scarlett...'" - the rest of the sentence is illegible, but... oh, how well I recognize it there: ":.... your cruel tirade made before our separation on the train. I do not… "
Taisy marked her disappointment: "The rest is unreadable."
"I do! See here! That is his usual vocabulary: "..I do not accept it." - Emerald eyes had blazed in a myriad of golden flashes, as hot as her anger - Here summarized in two lines Rhett Butler's infernal behavior toward me. First, he blows hot air to win me over. Then his authoritarianism and contempt take over, enriched by the vocabulary he has always showered me with. Eloquent, isn't it? Taisy, I advise you to put away your illusions about this character. As for me, I know what I have to do."
ooooOOoooo
Sunday, July 18, 1876, Butler residence, 7 East Battery, Charleston
Like a wild stallion heeling to the ground in impatience, Rhett Butler was fulminating.
For God's sake! Waiting! Always waiting! In the six days since he had left Atlanta, he had spent his days - and nights - waiting!
It was not Mrs. Matisson's scheduled arrival in a few minutes that had him on pins and needles. Although he was dying to "grill" her and squeeze every last shred of usable information out of her memory.
No! What irritated him most was his own pathetic behavior: ridiculous! It is ridiculous to expect a letter to get through in such a short time. But a telegram... It would be just like her to give me a laconic reply... "Yes - Stop - Scarlett - Stop" That would be enough to make me happy!
The entrance bell snapped him out of his trance.
Let the show begin! Like a conjurer, Rhett put on his mask of South Carolina's most amiable gentleman.
He watched for the voices - those of his sister and Gladys Matisson - moving from the entrance hall into the living room, had the decency to wait a few minutes to let the women settle in, and then finally made his appearance. Which he really was, because it was as if he had entered the stage to play a theatrical role.
To announce himself, he knocked against the doorway for form's sake: "Ladies! Will you allow a poor idler to join you?"
"Come in, Rhett! We are pleased to welcome Mrs. Matisson."
He moved with feline elegance around the room and pretended to discover her, "Gladys, what a pleasure to see you again!"
The young woman blushed at the attention the famous Captain Butler was showing her.
The butler rolled up the brass side table on which were piled tea, coffee, cold drinks and two large trays of cakes.
Rosemary served tea. Rhett alone took a cup of coffee and crossed his long legs, comfortably seated in an armchair.
Delighted to make the acquaintance of a Charlestonian whose friends had spoken so highly of her, Eleonor encouraged her to sample the pastries prepared by the cook.
The Butlers' guest was beginning to feel at ease, accepted by one of South Carolina's oldest families.
Rosemary got to the heart of the matter: "My brother was impressed by your knowledge of our city's architecture. That is why I have been dying to speak with you. The South Carolina Circle of Erudite Ladies - of which I am the humble founder - has the ambition of facilitating the transmission of scientific, artistic and cultural knowledge to the cultured ladies of South Carolina. Membership of our Club is exclusively by recommendation, as we are keen to preserve its elitist character. In fact, I was just about to send you a letter to encourage you to join us, as two of our members spoke highly of you. Rhett's initiative crossed mine. So, if you so desire, the South Carolina Circle of Erudite Ladies extends its arms to you!"
Gladys blushed with emotion. She had heard about this new cultural association and dreamed of being part of it. Thanks to Captain Butler, her wish had come true!
"In the eight months of its existence, the association has twenty-two members belonging to our state's most refined families. We meet twice a month to discuss press articles or cultural exhibitions. I can affirm that the South Carolina Circle of Erudite Ladies is a great success, as scholars, professors and experts rush to present their work at our monthly conferences."
This women's club was something of a revolution, since it was not devoted to charity work, liturgical readings or traditional women's activities such as embroidery or sewing. Despite the fact that it was only a few months old, intellectuals were already flocking there to be included in the list of speakers. And with good reason! At first sight, this altruistic action was the best way to gain access to the refined society of the Old South... and to possible funding from the ladies' wealthy husbands.
"Luckily, in the coming year, there are still two dates available. Choose, Dear Gladys, the one that suits you best."
The three women exchanged words such as Palladian portico, Adamesque motifs and neo-classical friezes.
Rhett could not stand still. He nodded, smiled, briefly showed approval, but he was wondering when he would be able to pull out his trump card... so as to isolate himself with young Gladys Matisson, for it was out of the question to attempt anything in the presence of the Butler women.
Eleonor was delighted with this exchange. Even if she did not regularly attend the conferences, as a member of the association, she sometimes kept abreast of the city's cultural activities.
"Dear Gladys, it is a delight to have you with us. Your knowledge - and kindness - will be invaluable and highly appreciated by all these fine ladies. Which reminds me that, for the first time, our neighbor, the distinguished Mrs. Vayton, will be attending next week's meeting with her daughter Melina. I am already looking forward to it. Their conversation is most fascinating."
At the name of the Vaytons, Gladys' face came to life: "Oh, what good news! I spent my entire childhood next to their plantation, and their son is one of my best friends."
Mrs. Butler said to herself that this little Matisson had a lot going for her, and excellent connections. "It is an honor to have our country's most glorified fashion designer in our community. What's more, Duncan Vayton is the most charming young man in our town."
Eleonor caught Rhett's sudden stiffening in his seat: "Apart from you, my son, of course. Though it is hard, despite my maternal indulgence, to call you a 'young man' anymore.
His mother's ironic jab had the effect of giving the signal for "offensives". He accentuated the local drawl a little more to charm the ears of the blushing Gladys: "Since you mention the Vayton plantation, I have a project to announce in which I would like to involve you - if you do not mind."
As the three women questioned him with their eyes, Rhett began his strategy: "To celebrate the opening of the Museum in Charleston, I thought it would be a good idea to involve our community in the celebration of this event by introducing local references to the history of our city, through architectural evolution over time. A small room at the entrance to the Museum will be dedicated to this. The retrospective is intended to be temporary. However, depending on feedback from local residents, the exhibition could be extended. The exhibition will be directed by Rex Harrison, the city's Director of Arts and Culture. He will be displaying old engravings and plans that bear witness to the growth of our fierce city through the years. But he feels, as I do, that bringing a direct testimony from the inhabitant will bolster the close-knit atmosphere and the attachment of Charlestonians to their new museum."
Realizing that Petyr Matisson's wife was drinking in his words, he offered, not taking his eyes off her: "Gladys, would you agree to help us in this venture? During our evening with the Paxtons, I was impressed by your knowledge of the history of their house. It is out of the question to spread out and do a retrospective of every building in town. However, I think it would be a good idea to select three or four and trace their architectural evolution through the influence of the different immigrants who founded this city. What do you think?"
Gladys had stars in her eyes. "It is a wonderful project, Rhett. But I do not know if my modest knowledge can be of any help to you."
Rosemary intervened: "On the contrary! That would be fantastic! I am so glad my brother thought of you. Our Erudites are going to be impressed with this great idea!"
"Very well. My dear sister, would you allow me to discuss the broad outlines of the project with Gladys in my office? I would like to show her the maps for the showroom."
Eleonor had wrinkled her forehead. Rhett held back a laugh. What vile schemes does she think her old son capable of? But he moderated his mocking tone: "My office is just across the hall. The door will remain wide open. That way, the two of you can enjoy our conversation, should the mood take you."
Her mother puckered her lips. Which meant, "You have won again..."
ooooOOoooo
Settled in an armchair in front of Rhett's desk, Gladys was already imagining how the display cases and antique engravings of antebellum houses might be arranged according to the map laid out before her.
Like a cat stalking its prey, he suggested: "So as not to spread your search too thin, why not choose three Charleston houses, and one surrounding plantation? First, the one at 60 Montagu Street. Alongside its architectural interest, you will be able to evoke the passage through this home of General Robert Lee." (*1)
"It is an excellent choice. There are so many interesting architectural details to showcase. And the history of the former owners is so fascinating! We could gather together documents from the ball given in his honor on April 27, 1870. I am sure there must be an illustration of our Great General, in the company of his host, Washington Bennett, the owner at the time, standing before an enthusiastic crowd on the portico of the house. Incidentally, as you recalls, John showed us the copy of the General's speech, which he treasures. No doubt he will be happy - well, with Rebecca's permission - to lend this historic document to the museum." The prospect of further face-to-face conversation with her childhood friend was already delighting her...
"As for the other constructions, there would have to be a homogenization in their choice." He pretended to think as he stared at the wall in front of him, then tapped the top of his desk lightly to signify that he had just found the solution: "Why didn't I think of this sooner? It is so logical, since there is a link between these exceptional mansions, the history of the city's enrichment, and the destiny of Charleston's most famous family! What do 26 South Battery and 5 East Battery remind you of?"
It took Gladys only a few seconds to reply: "The Vayton family. The headquarters of the fashion house, and the Magnolias' Mansion. These are the two most prestigious mansions in the Battery - quite a symbol - rich in cultural influences from different migrations. And owned by the family that made South Carolina famous! Rhett, you are a genius!"
He looked modest. "The selection is a natural one, so symbolic ! If we include their plantation, we will be presenting, in three properties, a striking panorama of some of South Carolina's architecture, and above all the remarkable rise of a Stono River plantation family into an industrial and commercial empire, which has become the jewel of the South and of America. Not forgetting, of course, the man who heads it today, with his innovative Maison Haute Couture. The City will be able to provide the plans and architectural studies. On the subject of Soft South, since you used to play there as a child, it would be original if you could recount your childhood experiences of daily life on the Stono River plantations - including those of your parents, of course. I am sure the Vayton family will be proud that the role of the founding father is highlighted in the museum, and admired by the thousands of visitors from all over the continent. Of course, we will need their agreement. Besides, who better to ask their opinion than you, since you are an intimate friend of the family?"
"Intimate friend"... This qualification conjured up another, in the young woman's memory: "...our unbreakable friendship"... Temples buzzing, she heard, as if present, Duncan's warning: "... his interest is to fight me to get closer to Scarlett. He will try to get to me through you, scheming to get your information that could possibly harm my deep friendship with his former wife."
And her promise: I thank you for your advice of caution, which I will follow to the letter."
Could it be that Captain Butler was trying to lure her into a trap? If so, she was about to walk right into it! Droplets of sweat beaded along her forehead. She was about to faint...
Rhett, who had not taken his eyes off her since the start of the conversation, noticed her crimson complexion and damp forehead... He acted quickly: "Gladys, relax! Cushion your back against the backrest. I am going to get you something to drink."
He burst into the living room, grabbing the tray lined with a carafe of fresh water, the teapot, and adding a cup. So that his mother would not have the bad idea of following him and interfering with the strategic moment of the conversation, he simply told her that Gladys needed to quench her thirst.
He gently soaked his spotless handkerchief with cool water, and dabbed her forehead with it. "Breathe slowly. Take it easy. It is probably due to the heat... There is such humidity in the air this afternoon!" He half-filled the teacup: "Drink slowly. It is all my fault! I should have thought to serve you something to drink. In this heatwave, you need to stay hydrated."
Gradually, Gladys' heartbeat calmed and her vision cleared.
The imposing stature was bent over in front of her, watching for signs of improvement in her condition. Captain Butler's dark eyes showed signs of concern. Real concern. Honest...
He again dabbed her forehead and some hair roots with the damp linen.
She felt ashamed to have had a fit of weakness in the presence of a man. Especially this man. But above all, she was ashamed to have doubted such a thoughtful man. Duncan must have been mistaken. It had been a superficial misunderstanding between two strong personalities, but his warning of caution was unnecessary.
As soon as she felt the heat drain from her skin and her pulses return to normal, she reassured him: "I am feeling better. I am sorry I worried you, and I thank you for your concern which deeply touches me."
This had an immediate effect on her interlocutor, whose whiskers quivered with satisfaction.
However, to finally convince herself that she had not been mistaken about his qualities as an honest gentleman, she dared to expose her uncertainty, and this in contradiction with the discretion imposed by her status: "I am sorry to ask you this question, and I hope with all my heart not to offend you, but..."
Rhett raised an eyebrow in curiosity. What was going on in that little skull? Offending him... Hell! The term was ridiculously anachronistic when applied to Captain Butler...
"Please, Gladys. If you have any questions about our project, please do not hesitate to ask me."
"So be it. With this exhibition, you will be shining an even brighter spotlight on Duncan's family. I am doubly delighted because Charlestonians will be passionate about learning more about the world of our city's most respected and admired people. Moreover, Mrs. Vayton, her daughter and Duncan are dear to my heart. As you so rightly pointed out, I consider them my closest friends. That is why, although it is not appropriate to express my surprise, I would like to understand... During our dinner at Rebecca and John's, it seemed to me... I had the impression... I thought I discerned a certain tension between you and Duncan." Gladys felt the flush of shame come over her. In front of her, Rhett Butler showed genuine surprise. Then, bravely, she continued: "In sharing with you my memories of this magnificent plantation before the war, I may find myself a little at odds should there ever be some dissension between you..."
Rhett played the frankly flabbergasted interlocutor: "Dissension? What are you talking about? Duncan Vayton is a brilliant, talented man who wins everyone over. What's more, our two families enjoy excellent neighborly relations. Why, dear God, should there be any shadow of misunderstanding?"
Gladys pressed her lips together before replying laconically, "Scarlett."
"Scarlett?" Rhett furrowed his brow and spread his hands to testify that he was swimming in incomprehension.
Gladys felt she was making a fool of herself sentence by sentence. So much the better to be frank: "Is it conceivable - in theory - that the friendly relationship Duncan has developed with your former wife might bother you a little, since you live next door to each other?"
Rhett needed only a quarter of a second to analyze the situation: the tortuous Vayton had taken the lead. Gladys had probably warned him the day before that she was coming to the Butlers'. That's why he had wanted to make sure she kept quiet about the little secrets that had made him "white as a sheet". Well done, Vayton. But your cunning is still no match for mine...
Rhett breathed such a sigh of relief that the two Butler women seated in the boudoir were able to hear him. "So that's what has been tormenting you? That is a relief! I was beginning to think that something dramatic was threatening you! Scarlett?" Rhett took her fingertips lightly, "Dear Gladys, it is not my habit to talk about my personal life. But the deep respect and sincere friendship I have for you prompt me to do so: Scarlett and I were once married, we had a little girl, Bonnie. But she left to join the angels like her. It was a shock that, I regret to say, hastened the end of our relationship. Admittedly, we did not have much in common. With the obvious difference of the affinity between your friend and Scarlett. And besides..." He fixed his gaze on the ceiling, as if pondering, then the black pupils again captured their prey so that it could no longer escape his metallic grip: "Your greatness of soul, dear Gladys, prompts me to confide in you. If I insisted on creating the second museum in Charleston, it is first and foremost because my hometown is dear to my heart. But it is also because I intend to settle here permanently and finally start a family again."
Gladys had no reflex to hide her incomprehension.
Rhett took the opportunity to consolidate the smokescreen with which he was surrounding the poor girl: "Over the last few months, I have developed a tender friendship for a young woman of great quality, and much appreciated by my mother. May I name her discreetly? It is Miss Roselyne Tucker."
This name triggered something in Gladys's memory. She had heard rumors about young Tucker's inclination towards the elder Butler. At the time, she had dismissed them as ridiculous gossip. So it was true...
Realizing that the lady from Charleston was not too surprised by this revelation, he took advantage: "Oh! I know there is a big age difference between us. That is why I hesitate to make my request. I have the weakness to hope that this charming Charlestonian has some feelings for me. So, perhaps in the next few months, I shall confess my intentions to her. Our engagement will then become official, if she agrees to unite with me, of course."
Phew! I have nailed my speech. All that is left is to conclude, and poor Gladys will not know the difference:
"If I have entrusted you with my secret ambition, it is because it will be scrupulously kept quiet by you, so much do you personify the discretion of the great Southern lady! It is also to give you proof that Scarlett - whose wonderful qualities I recognize - is part of my past. She too seems to have moved on, in this case to Duncan Vayton, who is a gentleman and will make her happy. So you can safely assume that I would welcome the prospect of a rapprochement between these two people. If I have any interest in the history of the Vayton estates, it is because I see them as representing the glory of the Old South, before the war and for the future. This local panorama will be the finishing touch to the originality of my museum."
"Oh! Rhett! If you only knew how reassured I am! So I am going to be true to my unfailing friendship with my childhood friend and accept the one you so kindly offer me!"
Now that she is convinced that I do not want to threaten the happiness of her delicate Duncan, all I have to do is pull the thread that leads to the dirty little secrets of the untouchable heir to the Vayton empire...
Happy to have reached the first stage of his original poker game, he poured her another cup of tea. He settled for a glass of cool water because he needed to keep a clear head...
"What if we started by tracing the framework of what made the Old South rich, its cotton plantations, and its magnificent antebellum mansions of which, I am told, the Vayton family is the symbol? Visitors from the North will love this retrospective. Rex Harrison will outline the history of the cotton, rice and indigo plantations. Your role is to add an intimate touch, through the eyes of a child who witnessed the good life before the war. Native South Carolinians, for example, will find themselves in your most intense memories of your life on the banks of the Stono River. Let us be clear: this is not about revealing intimate details of family life. We are both talking in the strictest confidence in this office. But from our conversation we can draw the broad outlines that will help you write your story. For example, what were you most impressed by during your visits to Soft South?"
Reassured that Rhett only wanted what was best for her and the Duncan family, she agreed to delve back into the images of the past with delight: "The splendor of the gigantic Corinthian columns that could be guessed from miles away... Yes, similar to many Southern plantations, even if their size magnified the architecture. But, if I must be honest, what I am most nostalgic for is the conservatory where we, Duncan, Rebecca, John and I spent all our summers. It was a paradise."
Rhett had managed to steer her towards his goal: to find out about the place whose mention had put Soft South's "golden boy" ill at ease. He nodded: "Hmm... Interesting. Perhaps you could describe this winter garden and what made it so magical. I seem to remember Scarlett was impressed by it when she visited, regarding it as a small museum."
"Oh, actually, it looks like the inside of the dome has changed a lot since the time we used to go there. I shall be able to see for myself as Duncan will be inviting us in shortly. But there were no art work back then. Duncan imported them on his return from France. Scarlett mentioned a camellia fountain and the stained glass motif. This is amusing. It looks like he wanted to concretize the tribute to a flower that has been the symbol of our last three summers at Soft South."
"What do you mean?"
Still reeling from the joyous tales told the day before, the woman who had promised herself to be as silent as a grave in front of the dangerous Rhett Butler, becomes voluble. "The camellia was an integral part of two theatrical performances that Duncan directed and in which we were actors in the conservatory, The Lady of the Camellias and even an opera - modestly truncated - La Traviata".
Circumspect, Rhett frowned: "Only the four of you, with John and Rebecca? Weren't there any other children from neighboring plantations? With such a small cast, I do not understand how you were able to perform Verdi's opera, even limiting yourselves to a few excerpts."
"In fact, for the last four summers up to 1858, there were seven of us, since our neighbors' daughter, Lorraine, was accompanied during the school vacations by her cousin and a friend, both from France. By the way, it is funny that Lorraine's name came back to me last night, because it was similar to Lorena, the song we used to sing in chorus in the greenhouse."
Rhett wondered if he had not gone the wrong way by pinning his hopes on Mrs. Matisson's possible revelations. Plays performed by children... It was all a bunch of hogwash...
But... Lorena... The vision of a glittering goddess emerging from the illuminated Duncan Fashion headquarters, and advancing towards the fashion show guests, her hips swaying to the rhythm of the music played by the orchestra... Lorena's song... Pfff! How can this immature man presume to tie his life to Scarlett, she sparkling with life and fire, while he wallows in syrupy adolescent ritornellos?
Rhett Butler was too obsessed with his contempt for his enemy to notice lucidly that he was doing the same as soon as it came to holding Scarlett in his arms.
Gladys's brain was in turmoil. Thinking back to Scarlett's words at dinner at John's, she saw herself scrutinizing her because her green eyes reminded her of...
"I remember!"
Her host was at a loss for words.
"I doubt you will remember, but I told Scarlett she reminded me of someone else. I was not quite sure. But last night at Duncan's, the four of us, along with John and Rebecca, had fun awakening our memories of those carefree summers in the conservatory and the faces from our past. Now I understand why Scarlett's beauty intrigued me so much. Because she reminded me of Lorraine's French cousin Lydwine. She was only twelve when we first met her in 1855, when we were 16. She was already so pretty, with her ebony hair and green eyes! Emerald eyes like Scarlett!"
"Oh!" Rhett was so taken aback that he was not careful to mask his disappointment.
What's this? This mysterious woman who looks like Scarlett, that's all it is? Ridiculous! Ridiculous that an almost forty-year-old could lose his nerve at the mere mention of a child!
He held back a growl of frustration, and was tempted to abandon this masked interrogation that was going nowhere.
This was clearly not the case for the romantic Gladys. For, having become aware of the disturbing similarity between her childhood friend and the muse of La Mode Duncan, something so obvious jumped out at her that she had to express it aloud, using the presence of the man sitting in front of her as a witness to her reflection. "I was too naive at the time to analyze what was unfolding before us, amplifying year by year until it reached its climax during the last vacation in '58. Otherwise, I would have gently teased Duncan last night, for it was not a play he staged during those four years. No! It was his tender inclination for Lydwine."
Rhett's doubtful pout prompted her to explain: right from the start, he had chosen her as his main heroine: Isolde, The Lady of the Camellias, the one from La Traviata... Everything revolved around her. Together with this romantic attention to offering her the most beautiful camellia - which, it must be said, annoyed us so much that his searches in the greenhouse turned into an obsession... "
Rhett was beginning to lose patience. "What you are so kind as to narrate to me is an illustration of the gentle Southern way of life, and the healthy recreational activities of plantation children. The platonic fling of a very young man with a very young girl is a charming tableau worthy of the fairy tales you - and my sister Rosemary - loved. But the pages are closed for good once you are out of your teens. Do not be sorry you did not mention this to Duncan yesterday. Alas! With age, he - like me - has forgotten those inconsequential childish friendships..."
"You are right. Yet..." Now that she had opened Pandora's box, something was bothering her more and more: "Yet, from what Rebecca remembered yesterday, it seems there may have been tragic consequences in the late summer of '58."
The hunter lurking in the shadows sensed "something". Raising his eyebrow, taking great care to appear as nonchalant as possible, he repeated: "Tragic consequences?"
Her head was lowered, her eyes riveted on an elaborate pattern on the carpet as if, by being able to accurately name the style of the woven arabesque, she would manage to define in words the strange impression John's sister had aroused: "I was not with them then. In fact, during the last summer, we spent together before Duncan left for France, I was rarely invited because they wanted to preserve me..."
"Why? During dinner, I rather got the impression that your two friends were smoldering over you like a little sister."
"That is why they chose to leave me out, because Duncan decided to direct the controversial book Dangerous Liaisons."
"Ah! The closing of his repertoire turned out to be less innocent after all! They showed you a delicate display of affection. I presume the youngest among you was not part of the cast, was she?"
"Oh, but she was. - she felt the blood rush to her face, - Lydwine was once again the heroine."
Greedy lips puckered with pleasure: "I have a small idea of the character she played. And of Rebecca's..."
Gladys made no comment.
"But you mentioned a drama. What happened?"
"I do not know much more, except what was reported to me last night. John and Duncan got angry – they had mentioned it at dinner, in fact. Do you remember?"
He nodded, eager for her to finally get to the heart of this story - which could be totally futile and useless to use against his rival.
"Last night there was a minute of tension between Duncan and John because the latter had a rather indelicate word for Lydwine. And it seems that their long argument in '58 had the same cause. But it did not really matter, as they soon became best friends again. On the other hand, if I am honest in my analysis of our group of friends, there was always a simmering tension between Duncan and Bert, Lorraine and Lydwine's family friend. And Rebecca's story still sends a chill down my spine..."
She looked at Rhett: "I do not know if I can tell you. Duncan warned me..." The poor girl blushed and grew increasingly uncomfortable.
It was a case of going for broke: "Dear Gladys! I understand your friend's apprehension since he thought I still had some feelings for my former wife. But, now that you alone share my secret - my tender inclination for Miss Roselyne Tucker, - you may rest assured that far be it from me to interfere, even one step, in the life of your respectable friend. Nevertheless, your statement certainly intrigues me. What incident could have occurred in this enchanting environment of Soft South?"
The young woman sighed: "I trust you, Rhett. And I must confess that I need to talk about it because I have had a weight on my heart since last night that I need to get off my chest. It happened on the last day of vacation. John and Rebecca were waiting for the two cousins and the two boys under the dome, but only Duncan showed up. Terribly wounded and bleeding... I wonder if..." she pursed her lips as the thought distressed her, "if he had had a fight with Bert..."
To Rhett, there was nothing extraordinary about this story. A fight between young men. If he had had to count the number of slugfests in his youth... He was beginning to lose patience. He had get nothing out of the gullible Gladys because there was nothing to exploit against Vayton.
"A little quarrel is no drama, Dear Gladys. As for blood, all it takes is a blow delivered a little rough for a wound to be impressive."
"I would be reasonably inclined to put the bloody scene Rebecca described into perspective. Except that a mystery was grafted onto this violent incident: neither John, Rebecca nor myself ever saw the three Frenchmen again. According to rumors, Lorraine's parents sold their plantation shortly afterward. But as for Lydwine and Bert... Rhett! They disappeared! At the time, we could not ask Duncan. Simply because we did not see him again before he left for France. Now that I think about it... it seems he wanted to cut all ties, even with his friends."
Rhett's unhealthy curiosity had finally awakened. "Are you claiming that the French have disappeared?"
"Yes. In fact, during his long years in France before and after the war, Duncan told us he never crossed paths with them."
"Hmm... What a mystery... Still, if he had wanted to, it should not have been too complicated to find them once in France. Do you remember their surnames?"
"For Bert's, no. But I remembered Lydwine's when Scarlett mentioned a statue she admired in the conservatory. Signed Paul De Fleurette, she said. Now Paul de Fleurette was the one who kindly escorted us to the theater to see La Traviata. He was Lydwine's father."
Rhett's brain was racing. Could I be on to something? But what's the point of tracking down a twenty-year-old Vayton crush, even one with black hair and green eyes? Unless her mysterious disappearance is linked to a bloody fight... So be it! Anyway, unfortunately, I have gotten nothing else to sink my teeth into to break Scarlett's image of the ideal man. We are running out of time. But how can I do it? With only one surname as a lead, it is like looking for a needle in a haystack...
To control his impatience, he poured his guest another cup of tea. He opened a bottle of his finest red wine, and savored a sip with relish.
"Would you mind, dear Gladys, if I sampled a drop of this excellent wine? In moderation, of course!"
She thought that Captain Butler was a perfect gentleman, so careful not to upset the ladies!
"Please, Rhett! Duncan and John are also great lovers of fine wines. In fact, last night our host served the penultimate bottle of his favorite vintage. He even insisted that I dip my lips in it!"
She smiled indulgently at her childhood friend. "It was the four of us's way of celebrating the memory of the summer of '58. If John is to be believed, they tended to abuse that brand slightly back then, the one from Monsieur de Fleurette's vineyard!"
ooooOOoooo
Notes on chapter 55.
After reading some of the information in this chapter, and in the two preceding chapters 53 and 54 from the summer of 1858, it will be interesting to re-read chapter 37. His dancing girl, retracing Scarlett's visit to Soft South, under the Winter Garden dome.
(*1 ) General Robert Lee at 60 Montagu Street: Source: archive/075FA4D0-0D41-407C-9B6F-428945669615
And Charlestonraconteur .