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For today's update, a new viewpoint, and one major event that will change quite a lot of things.

Good reading to you !

..

1856, Hilton Head Island

Like every day since learning of the death of her beloved Philippe and making the decision to leave her childhood home, Ellen O'Hara faced the dullness of her life with quiet dignity, but not until now did she realize the emptiness of the play she was the major actress of. Not until now was she confronted with forces that opposed her own in so different a manner, and the loosening of her grip on the lives of those she cared for more. A despair, that she had not felt since her fifteen years, came to her with the strength of a premonition.

She should have stayed at Tara. There, her routine was deeply rooted, with very few moments to breathe and think, and souls that were in her keeping, a relieving focus that prevented her from returning to her own sorrows.

Yet, how could she have stayed, knowing that man was accompanying her husband and daughters? What had been a simple visit of Mr. O'Hara to the Sea Islands to see if the cotton here was as great as his new companion told him it was had become a family outing when Scarlett heard of it and pleaded on her going.

Of course, Mr. O'Hara could have said no, but he had always had a weakness for the girl that, after the death of their boys, had become a substitute for them, Ellen gathered. Yet he did not, and Suellen had cried over such an injustice, sure (and rightfully so) that Scarlett would be spoiled to an intolerable extent if she were left alone with them.

Some time ago, Ellen could have prevented it, without even raising her voice. Yet, when Rhett Butler added his own opinion on the matter, saying it did not bother him, the matter was closed.

Ellen's world, well-ordered and gentle and necessarily thought-consuming, was shattering under her feet, and she did not know how to stop it.

At first, she had tried to dismiss it. Someone like that renegade would eventually get bored, his visits would come less and less often, until finally no words could come from him.

Yet, he continued to her utter disappointment. And even if he did not come more than four times a year, these times were enough to provoke a deep change in her environment.

Even Pork, her husband's valet, whose voice was more and more heard, had to suffer from it!

The poor man would have waited years before marrying his wench, Dilcey, and John Wilkes would have given her to Mr. O'Hara after a little work of persuasion. But there, with Rhett Butler's arrival and dissipation, Pork had taken advantage of the loosening of his knot to get his way, and their neighbor, appalled by their frequent guest's reputation, made it a duty to show his disapproval. Thus, the dismissals, and she was sure now that that infuriating man had caught on it and took enjoyment in pushing a true gentleman to the ridicule of stubbornness.

Anger was a new, and terrible thing for Ellen O'Hara, who could only remember the emotion crushing her with sadness when she was still a Robillard. But now it burdened her even more when she realized it signed the end of the quiet, and peaceful days.

Lost in her thoughts, Ellen sighed softly, and bit her lip. It was a great summer day though, and they had all settled around a picnic. Platers of fried chicken and fuming bowls of mashed yams had been put on a thick sheet of cotton for the comfort of everyone as each served themselves with their plates. Carreen was tucked closely to her mother's side, like a contented kitten having found a warm place to rest.

And Scarlett… Scarlett was the center of the attention of her father and that man, joyfully having intervened during their talks over the families of the county of Charleston despite Ellen's discreet attempt to stop her, and Mammy's not so subtle one, to no avail. The girl did not always talk, petted as she was by both men, and soon enough, she was almost forgotten, and to her mother's mortification, they began to talk about the events of last May, when Preston Brooks of South Carolina hit with a cane Charles Sumner, and the violence that continued between pro-slavery and antis. Gerald was praising, as every Southerner should, Mr. Brooks. Yet, Rhett Butler, as always, seemed to have a different view on the matter, and Scarlett seemed to think she could also have her own.

"God's nightgown, they acted all like children!" Scarlett swore suddenly, before blushing to her roots. Mr. O'Hara let out a sharp roar of laughter and pinched his daughter's cheek under the fond gaze of Butler, to Ellen's deep mortification. "Why, had Suellen and I acted like this, both of us would have been punished and forced to reconcile, and none would have been hailed like that!"

Ellen paled at this, Suellen reddened at being included like this in the discussion, and Carreen continued sleeping as if nothing had happened.

Rhett Butler laughed, his eyes dancing. "For sure, child. But these are gentlemen, and they made it a matter of honor. These matters have to end with the fire of a gun and a little blood, for good measure."

Scarlett raised her deep green eyes, so strange, so foreign to Ellen, with an artlessness that made Mr. O'Hara softened despite her declaration.

"But what if we freed all the slaves? Then, there would be no cause for dispute."

"What did you say, chit?" Mr. O'Hara chided. "Don't you remember our duty to these people? Yankees don't understand these things, and I won't have you talking like them!"

She giggled. "Oh, but Pa! You talk of duty when Pork is trying to prevent you from staining your fine shirt…"

And indeed, since that little outburst, Pork had jumped on his feet with a scowl and a napkin, trying to catch the wandering spoon full of yams that Gerald waved to mark his sentences. The Irish planter's eyes widened, and he let out a sheepish smile. As for Butler, he seemed to find it so very funny, for a wide grin came to his dark face and he patted the girl's hair in a manner that felt too tender and familiar to her mother. Ellen raised a brow. How dare he presume to act as if he were from their family?

"No, Scarlett," he said. "Even if you take the reason of the dispute, the quarrels still would have happened. They would have found another reason."

"I don't really like when you talk like that, me lass," Gerald said one last time, once he recovered and put down his spoon.

He said that, but there was a certain pleasure in his clear blue eyes at the waywardness of his child.

Ellen sighed once again, this time with irritation.

There was a change in Scarlett, and if Ellen had welcomed it at first, with the guilty relief of having one burden less that would challenge her already precarious peace of mind, now it disturbed her. Because what she had first thought was a fullness of life in the child had become in a matter of years something more, a restlessness that was worrisome.

Now, to her surprise, Ellen thought with fondness about the day Scarlett, aged eight, once poured one of her perfumes on her, stole her lemon-verbena sachet and slept with it. Her room had smelled of it for days, and the girl only grinned in bliss when one would mention it. Strange that now it would have such an effect when as it happened, she had only shrugged it off as any other mischief of this girl that was too full of life for her.

Ellen had sworn she would love her children, with the little hint of heart she was left, that she would care for everyone in the land, if only to spite those who led her love away. She thought that heart had been buried, long gone to New Orleans with Philippe. But now, she realized she had been in a long sleep, living her life through the thick veil of dreams, and was on the break of awakening, and that was utterly terrifying. She tried to close her eyes again, but each word, each effect of that man on her family, on her word, was like the shriek of bells forcing her to wake up.

But she would not. No, she could not let herself feel, for it would lead to her destruction. It would lead to her fall, to the utter grief of loss.

In her will to avoid the trouble on the usually placid water of her soul, she found herself hating Rhett Butler, a hatred so deeply rooted and strong that she did not realize it was such, for hatred was not in her nature. All she could truly think was that this man was a renown wolf in her well-kept herd, and she had to find a way to protect everything she had built. And she felt justified in it, with her long-standing suspicion he had something to do with Philippe's death.

But now the solution was clear: it was time for Scarlett to go to school. Too many governesses had been dismissed already, and with Scarlett gone, Suellen and Carreen would be easier to manage, and that man may not be so inclined to come.

She had talked to Mr. O'Hara of the Fayetteville Female Academy, but he had been surprisingly dragging out the question, until finally he saw reason, when his wife pointed out that such behaviors she demonstrated, though amusing as she was a child, would not be so much when the day would come, she would have to find a man to marry.

Normally, she would have suggested it later, for Scarlett was still so very young. But with that man lurking in the corners, it was better she was away.

Mr. O'Hara said he would abord the subject on the outing, but since then, nothing had come. So once Rhett Butler announced he would retire for a moment to smoke one of his cigars, and Mr. O'Hara seemed practically close to taking an impromptu nap, she raised softly the subject, and encouraged her husband to take the matter into his own hands.

Yet, once Scarlett understood what it was all about, she protested, especially urged by Suellen's obvious delight on the news.

"No, no, I won't go!" The girl cried with a despair that seemed disproportionate for the caprices she was used to. "Pa, you won't let me go, will you? Mother… Please, I'll be good, I'll be quiet, I'll…"

There, Mr. O'Hara faltered.

"Mrs. O'Hara, maybe…"

"Rhett will never agree with it!"

"Mr. Butler is not from your family," Ellen snapped, and her husband's eyes widened at such a tone, that was so different from the soft and meek voice of Mrs. O'Hara. She dusted lightly her skirt, and her voice was honeyed and quieter. "He does not have a say in this."

Scarlett stared back, with the deep outrage of a child whose affections were questioned.

"Of course, he is, and he loves me! More than…"

The girl did not finish, tears coming to her eyes with that betraying beginning. She jumped back to her feet, and fled, leaving the silence ending her phrase.

"Scarlett!" Shouted Mr. O'Hara, a deep red having raised to his cheeks. "Now, lass, you went too far… Get back there!" The man, unused to oppose a will as strong and loud as his own seemed at loss about what to do, especially when he sympathized with his girl's distress. But more than that was the break of a tacit rule between father and daughter, that was not to disturb Mrs. O'Hara's peace of mind, for she was the pillar of their family, their compass, a gift that he felt one ought to pray for everyday, and Gerald O'Hara felt it like a sharp betrayal. He turned to his wife, fearing he might see her faltering, but to his relief, she seemed as calm as if nothing had happened. Thus, the betrayal felt less, and he allowed himself some lenience, for Scarlett's tears were still on his mind. "Mrs. O'Hara…"

She dismissed it, her eyes following the girl in deep thought. A frown creased her brow, and he winced. Yet, after shaking her head at Mammy who was about to run after her daughter, she turned to him a quiet smile and engaged him on a less perilous subject, which he obliged gladly. It took only a few seconds for him to forget it, and a few minutes more before he fell asleep in the middle of a phrase, and Ellen decided to leave him be. She draped her shawl around her, lay down Carreen quietly on the sheet, caressing softly her fair hair, and kissed her second daughter absent-mindedly, softly whispering her to rest as well under Mammy's watch.

"Mother…" Suellen said, shyly. "You do too much for Scarlett. She doesn't deserve it…"

Another day, Ellen would have softly reprimanded Suellen, saying such a declaration was not very charitable. Yet, she contented with a simple "sleep well, my sweet", and raised.

She needed to talk with Scarlett, and this time, she felt she had to do so without Mammy. The girl would only feel trapped, and then nothing would be gained from her unruliness. Scarlett usually listened to her, respected her. She had to find a way to get her to obey.

She followed the direction of her daughter's flight and frowned in dismay.

Of course, Scarlett would go to the darkest place, with trees so she could climb. She had left the clear valley, to come to a forest of pines, just like she did in Tara.

Ellen felt fortunate at having brought one of her simplest dresses for the picnic, fearing she might damage them. Though needlework was her pleasure, she was too sensible to be so careless about her clothes.

There, as she walked in, echoes of voices came to her.

"You just don't know where you aren't wanted, do you?" She heard a wrathful whisper. "You know how the Myrtles are connected to the family and yet here you are and…"

Two drawling voices, deep and masculine. Rhett Butler. And one, familiar to her ears for she remembered having heard him long ago, during her younger days, when the most important families of Savannah and Charleston could meet during the numerous outings and events of the season.

Langston Butler, head of the Butler family. A tall, dark man, with a distinguished bearing and dark eyes as opaque as an empty well.

She froze, and instinctively crouched to hide herself. From her memories, he was a gentleman, and he had been kind to young Ellen Robillard. There was a pride in him though, and she remembered Father used to tell her he placed honor and propriety above all else.

Not that Father's opinion mattered anymore, since the day she left their elegant home on Savannah, swearing she would be the lady of this new, wild country, her last act of opposition to the one who plotted with others to ruin her life.

Both men seemed in a deep quarrel, and the eldest appeared to be losing patience at another one of his son's impertinences as he gripped his shirt threateningly.

From the corner of her eyes, she saw Scarlett, that had stood still, visibly as surprised by the scene as her mother.

If she could just get her without being noticed by any of these men...

Yet, as soon as she thought of it, her daughter left her bush and threw at the gentleman something that looked suspiciously like the rest of bones of the fried chicken they had brought for their picnic.

"Let go of Rhett, you evil man!"

Gasping lightly, Ellen saw her daughter come to Butler junior's side and take his hand, raising her head to him. She could not see his face, but there was something dangerous in that tall, strong silhouette that stood firm and unmoving in the darkness.

"Rhett? Are you alright? Your hand is trembling."

"Scarlett, get back to your father."

"But, Rhett…"

"I said, do it!"

Scarlett gathered herself with the air of a beaten dog, her eyes glinting in a pained supplication. Her fist closed as she took it back to her chest. Her lower lip trembled, and she bit on it, before finally running away.

That being done, Ellen should have followed her discreetly. Yet, she realized her dress was caught on a branch, and there was no way to turn back without attracting attention.

Langston Butler let out a dignified huff.

"I just have to look at your influence on that girl to see that everything you touch is corrupted. I will not let my daughter be tainted by the likes of you. She shall have a good match, as it suits the honor of the Butler family."

"Oh, so you think my influence hinders the girl's future, don't you?"

"This is just a game for you, isn't it?" Said Langston Butler, his Charlestonian drawl somber and cold, accentuated by his furor. "How much do you want for you to cease this intolerable harassment?"

"Rosemary is my sister, and I won't give up on her," Rhett retorted. "But you have insulted me, sir, and I won't let that unanswered. Your money means nothing to me."

Mr. Butler Sr. looked at the renegade that had been his son with disdain, then with a close, searching look, as if he was considering the options he had in hands. His glare measured up, sized, and gripped, and the son bore it with the same eyes. They were like one man looking through a mirror, and not bearing the image he had in front of him. Though one part had the manners and the cool forehead of a gentleman, and the other the bearing of the devil, mocking and hateful.

The eldest's upper lip raised in disgust as the youngest drew a cigar that he clipped quietly, lit, and put to his mouth. A light grey smoke danced between them, and it was like the mirror shattered, and Mr. Butler Sr. scowled.

"Then, as I see you shall not see reason, I'll answer with something a gambler like you might understand. I will present you with a deal. Make a success out of that crude, ignorant girl that was artless enough to defend you. Make her a great and well-learned lady, well-married and respected and I might reconsider."

Rhett's eyes glinted.

"She shall have a match grander than what your miserable honor could get for your own daughter. When that succeeds, you will have to let me see Rosemary. I will be her guardian and you will not attempt to separate us ever again."

"And when it fails, you will relinquish every claim to the name Butler, for it seems crossing your name on the family Bible was not enough."

"The roots are too deeply sowed, Father," He drawled maliciously. "It seems your pen has not the divine power to erase them completely."

"We shall see."

There, Langston Butler left, and Ellen found herself alone, with the man she despised most in the world.

At first, it seemed he had not noticed her. His back was on her, his head turned in the direction his father had taken. Then, his strong and deep bass echoed in the woods, and Ellen shuddered.

"You've overheard everything, haven't you, Mrs. O'Hara?"

She was tempted to walk away, flustered as she was. It was already quite hurting her dignity to have stayed to overhear such a quarrel. But to be caught! Oh, to what extent had she been thus corrupted?

Yet, as she was about to slip away without an answer, he turned fully to her and talked to her quietly.

"I believe, Mrs. O'Hara, we can come to an agreement. You do not like me, and I don't like you. But we both like Scarlett, and care for her future. It is in both our interests she marries well and be secure."

"And what do you suggest?" She finally said, raising with all the dignity she could muster.

He let out a smile, and took another puff of cigar.

"We shall make a success of the girl, you and I, a polished diamond when it is now quite in the rust."

She shook her head in disbelief.

"How should you do so, you who are dismissed from every proper house? I shall not want my daughter to marry one of your rogues, mister."

His grin had a wicked twitch.

"Not every. And even the most honorable of gentlemen can contract debts. Given the proper incentive."

"You are despicable."

"So am I. So, you agree?"

She pondered it, yet she felt it was not enough for the trouble of her mind. She crossed her arms, and examined her options with a clear mind. With her quiet voice, she finally replied.

"On what? I fail to see the advantage of your suggestion, mister."

He blinked, visibly surprised by that answer. "Surely, the thought of your daughter well-matched and…"

"I've never worried about Scarlett's prospects. It is expected that she should find her match in the County. It is new, raw and crude like her. Oh, she may be tamed in time, her manners softened. But she is too much of her father to be completely sophisticated. Such a thing you suggest is contrary to her nature and abilities. Either way, what you propose has no appeal."

No, it was not her that suggested it, it couldn't be. Ellen O'Hara couldn't ever think of such a thing, it was more the likes of a vulgar tradesman. She recited a little prayer in her mind, hoping God might forgive her for the unchristian thoughts that came to her.

Had she looked, she may have seen though that the same thought had come to him, and there had been a faint hesitation. But it was her saying so that strengthened his resolve.

One of his thick black eyebrows raised in mocking wonder, as his whistle insulted her. A deep outrage raised in her, reddening the high cheekbones, yet that failed to bring any light to the abandoned cave of her eyes.

"I believe I underestimated you. Such an unladylike thing to say, and quite unfeeling for a child that loves you so…"

She tilted her chin upward and straightened herself.

"I won't let my dignity be questioned by someone like you, mister, nor my love for my children. You have no right to judge me."

"No, of course. What do you want?"

What did she want? That question, no one had ever asked it for a long time, and she had never dared to. The black eyes stared on the distance for a time, a time when her heart was beating and jumping, a time when a beloved voice would whisper her name like the most delicate of caresses. A faint glow came in the darkness as she remembered all the promises and oaths, sealed with a kiss, that now seemed like the kiss of death.

She shivered violently, the present choking her back to life.

"I want you gone," She blurted, her voice for a time quitting the soft tunes she was used to. "I want you gone from our life, forever, and if you're worthy to call yourself a man, you shall not try to disturb our peace in so ill-mannered a way."

She felt very much ashamed over such these outbursts that happened more and more often, and were unlike the comfortable, honorable mask she had taken and that now was slipping from her face. She tried to get a grip on it, but the more she did, the less she could hold on to the pieces that were shattering. She felt faint and ill, and so very tired, yet she hid it, knowing such a devil would only use it against her.

His features slowly became bland and uninterested, but it was too late. She had seen a crack in his armor.

He seemed to hesitate, that scoundrel, and she felt almost surprised by it, that such a man could feel. Then he bowed lightly, and a wicked pleasure came to her, at making him bend to her will. She blamed herself for it, but then he had been the one to make her go to such extent.

"Then when it's done, I shall get out of your life permanently."

She blinked and narrowed her eyes through her thick black lashes.

"Is there a trick?"

"No trick. If you can't believe me swearing on my immortal soul, you can trust that I will do everything to get what I want. And I have every interest to keep that end of the deal."

"So, we shall see."

She composed herself. A sense of calm came to her as she realized she had gotten what she wanted, though belated it may be. "It is a cruel thing, mister, to lead such a girl in a story she has nothing to do with. But what is done is done, and if your word means anything, you will not involve yourself more than necessary in her life when you intend to leave in the end. Surely, you cannot be so cruel as to not let her down easy…"

There, she knew she had hit her mark. She walked away with her head high, feeling like the David that had defeated Goliath.

When they finally made their way home, Scarlett was sulking, and would not talk to any of them, and Rhett Butler was surprisingly silent. There was something in his gaze that seemed to evaluate the persons in front of him, and that made even Mr. O'Hara uneasy with him.

But when it was sure he would not go back with them, and was taking a different train, Scarlett ran to him and cried, attracting, to Mrs. O'Hara's horror, the attention of the bystanders.

"Oh, please, Rhett!" She cried." You have to say something to Mother! I can't go, I don't want to go!"

He froze for a time, a tall, imposing statue unmoving to her attempt to pull on his sleeve for him to face her. But when he did, and stooped to get to her level, his expression was set in a disinterested air that made Scarlett blink in surprise.

"Dear little miss O'Hara. It is time for you to take your place in the world. Your mother is right."

"Miss O'Hara? What? But, Rhett… I will not see you for a long time!"

"It's the way of life. People come; people go. But the most important is that people learn," He said with emphasis. His eyes stared at her with an insistence that left her breathless, as if she were given a mission of deep importance. "I have great expectations on you, little one… Tell me, Scarlett, you like me, don't you?"

She nodded eagerly.

"Oh, I do!"

"Then you will not disappoint me in this. Make me and your parents proud."

"I will!"

"These are no light words," He replied with a fake solemnity that seemed to convince the girl in front of him. "I shall make you remember it if you don't."

He smiled, patted her cheek, then turned away. Scarlett's eyes widened as she tried to catch his sleeve.

"You're still going? Rhett!"

He turned back for the last time and tipped his hat at her.

"I shall return when you become a proper and well-learned lady of the South. But I will watch your advancements with great interest."

He said it with great bravado, but there was a heaviness on these shoulders as he finally left them that was not there before, and as Scarlett cried for him, it seemed to amplify. But it was not on him that Ellen found her attention focusing.

The heart of her little girl was breaking right in front of her eyes, and Ellen found her own startle like a rude awakening, before going back to sleep once more, hoping for relief.

There, her victory seemed less so.

A headache came to her, and Ellen retired, her light hand on her forehead as she tried to ease it. But it would not leave her.

No, she would not think about that. She had done the right thing. Time would prove she had.