Hello and thank you all for your patience! This chapter had two versions with different points of view, and I struggled to choose one.
This chapter was brought to you also thanks to the great help of BlancheScarlett and her (incredible) websites. No, really, I found there some lovely books that really helped, with this chapter, and others. Merci!
I hope you will like it (and scream, probably)!
…
...
Clayton County, Christmas Ball
Dear Scarlett,
Mignonne, allons voir si la rose
Qui ce matin avoit desclose...
Well, you know what I mean.
Longing for another meeting with you,
Your dearest friend, Romain de Langeais
.
Her hand gripping the paper as she reread it, Scarlett let out an unladylike groan of annoyance, her vanity pleased, yet not quite enough by it. Supper was passed already, but it made her want to eat again, for she was not satiated.
Which would ruin her attire, unfortunately.
This man was lazy. So lazy that he was content to copy another's words (Ronsard, from all people!) without any justification and expect her to thank her for that! Or maybe did he think her a fool, thinking they were his? She had been harassed enough about French culture by Grand-Pere to know it.
What an impertinence! Why, couldn't she be romanced properly?
Had she been ignorant, she might have thought it must have been his Frenchness showing. Yet, by now, she had known many French people to make her opinion that while there may be an appearance of easy manners and frivolity, there were always many layers to it, a complexity that while she did not aspire to it, had something captivating to see. They were like cats basking easily in luxury for a moment, and wild and deadly the next, with a sense of fatality like ones who had dethroned their gods and lost their beliefs, yet still yearned for it, as one craved for the dreams of childhood. A mixture of feelings that shook the soul and heart of the one who had it.
Somehow, she wondered if Rhett had some French blood about him as well.
She shook her head. She would not think about Rhett. Thinking about Rhett meant thinking about what she lacked, and she could not bear to think that now.
"Scarlett O'Hara, if you're not ready, we'll leave without you!" Pa's deep voice called.
"I'm coming!"
Smoothing her dress of green velvet bordered with white fur, she took a quick look on the mirror, smiled to make herself believe in it, then went to the carriage leading them to the reception.
She met Randa and Melanie with pleasure, leaving Pa's arm like one let go of slippers to put on dancing shoes. Yet, he did not take umbrage and only remarked with a good-humored sigh over the unthoughtfulness of the youth, that forgot all family's ties when it came to dancing and mischiefs with friends.
As she pressed Melanie's hands with hers, Scarlett made a pretty picture of the pressing, frivolous friend trying to tempt the modest one to leisure.
"Please, do go with me to Savannah for the New Year! I swear I will die of boredom with Grand-Père if you don't!"
At this insistent and eager plea, Melanie's face went bright and shy with happiness as she blushed. Yet, her mouth pursed with an upset twitch when thinking of her other loyalties.
"Scarlett, I don't think it would be quite right... After all, Aunt Pitty would not be very happy to spend the New Year with Uncle Henry..."
"Oh, fie with that silly woman!" Scarlett exclaimed savagely.
Melanie's eyes went wide.
"Scarlett!"
She shrugged.
"Why, what kind of parent would prevent a young woman to have a little bit of fun with friends? Why, I feel I would never see you if I didn't push you! And I did say I will die of boredom if you don't, and I shall. So you'll be entirely responsible!"
"Well, what about me?" Another voice cut in.
Scarlett grinned sheepishly and waved her fan.
"Of course, Randa, you're invited. I wouldn't dream of letting you out, I know you'll find a way yourself anyway."
"Oh, no need for your simpering! I would have," The third girl said with some satisfaction. "It is said some chests are quite comfortable, and at least hidden in one, I wouldn't get any sunburn. Ma would whip me after, but that would be worth it."
"Randa, you're priceless!"
She let out a laugh, and Randa took advantage of it to lean over Melanie, a hand awkwardly patting her shoulder in an attempt at a soft gesture.
"Scarlett is right, you know. Live a little. It will not kill your Aunt. How many times have you canceled any enjoyment because she was afraid of staying on her own?"
Melanie could say nothing to that, and Scarlett knew it. A sacrificed lamb, that was what she was, she thought. Always putting the others first, and that was not right at all!
Someone cleared his throat, and suddenly, Melanie blinked, before blushing at her omission.
"Charles, these are my friends, that I talked to you about! Randa Tarleton and Scarlett O'Hara."
"Pleased to meet you," Scarlett smiled saucily as she gave him her hand to kiss when came her turn, and just as always when she wanted to be noticed (and she still wanted to, for she liked the attention and it soothed the wounds caused by the neglect of one she would not name), she was, like a firefly suddenly deciding to glow in the dark. "Why, Melanie, you sneaky thing! I did not know you had such a charming brother! How unfair for my poor country girl's heart!"
And he, moth to the flame, could not resist. Charles blushed, and something alit in his eyes.
"Oh, Miss O'Hara..."
She looked at him over, that slender boy of nearly twenty with soft brown eyes like his sister's and curls that made him look younger, and a bit effeminate. A boy, not a man, for there seemed to be little strength in him, and Scarlett could not bear shyness in a man.
Her attention went swiftly elsewhere as finally, they entered. She was determined to have fun, and fun, she would have!
The room was elegantly arranged, with pine garlands decorated with balls of red, gold, and silver proudly dancing from alcove to alcove like a girl at a ball with lovely bracelets jiggling at each movement, and a richly decorated fir tree at the end of it to which all eyes turned to in wonder, and puzzlement over the mystery of its presence here. This was a suggestion of Ashley (one of his rare ones), in remembrance of his Grand Tour, and all approved, yet it still came as a surprise as that giant and coquettish king planted his roots on the dark mahogany parquet.
She danced two times with Brent, three times with Stuart to tease him, one with Melanie's brother Charles who in his bliss forgot to look at his feet and sometimes stepped on her toes. Then Raif made her laugh with his mischiefs and teased her with another plan of elopement. Ashley came to her once, and she smiled at him shyly, like a good infatuated little girl, yet despised the way his movements were too deeply calculated and rigid. That was no fun at all. Yet, she gave him four dances, to mark her preference, and he accepted it with that same languid gaze that desired yet did nothing.
In the end, the soles of her feet ached, and her shoes had to be changed, but she was happy and blissfully empty of all remarks of the absence she had decided to ignore.
Then, finally came the moment of the gifts, the one she preferred of all, and she ignored the constant humming and looking from each neighbor that wanted to see if their gifts were better than the others in favor of unwrapping each box with her name on the gilded label. Yet, she forced herself to pay attention enough to see the reactions of Melanie and Randa over their own gifts, nodding politely while burning to finish her plundering.
Rhett's gift was willingly in the end, for she knew, absent that he was, that nevertheless, his gifts were the best of all.
She did not wonder if they were the best only because she loved him. She was too excited for that, and it was true that generally he chose rightly and knew what would please her.
Thus why it came as a surprise when she opened his box.
"A book... Why would he offer me a book?" She muttered.
Oh, but the joy of seeing his handwriting, so elegant and direct on the card he had left! At least there was that!
Her heart skipped a beat as she let out a pleased smile.
Yet, the smile did not last.
.
An addition to your lesson in softness. May the reading give you some enlightenment in that domain.
Love,
Rhett
.
She blinked, looked at the book and it seemed to burn.
She stared, tempted to throw it on the floor and stamp on it. Her nails dug on the leatherback, the red of it glaring before her eyes furiously.
She grounded her teeth, then pushed it away.
"There, Melly, you can take it. I care nothing for it!"
"But, Scarlett, it's a gift..." Came the timid answer.
"Oh, he can go to Halifax, him and his lessons! I don't want to see him again!"
It was a lie. A bitter lie that made her want to cry and throw something.
So she went away swiftly with the air of an offended princess, leaving Melanie with the book and a worried frown on her brow. Away from it all, the dance and music, and the eyes of everyone that judged, pitied and punished.
Oh, what a relief to feel the fresh, southern air, with its comforting flagrance of red clay! There, she belonged, and nothing would keep her away, she swore. They were her roots, no matter what Grand-Père said.
Grand-Père... Somehow, she thought that while she could not bear his machinations, she was still very fond of him. She did not want to think about it, but had she done so, she would have to admit it was their kinship, not only in blood but also in character.
She was about to take off her shoes when a shadow loomed over her, giving her a chill.
She cursed inwardly. Why, Melanie's brother could not have chosen a better moment to bother her!
She let him sit at her side, but did not talk.
"I've been willing to meet you, Miss O'Hara... My sister told me so much about you..."
"Oh, really?" She stared away.
Yet, to her utter frustration, she realized that, as it often seemed to happen to her, her behavior was not seen as what it was, but as another thing. One gesture of modesty and shyness she did not pretend she had. Her cheeks reddened at the upsetting thought as she nibbled on her lower lip. In fact, this seemed to give him even more courage as he leaned over her with bright eyes.
"I thank you, Miss O'Hara."
This intrigued her, and she could not help it. She turned her eyes to him.
"What for?"
"My sister Melanie... She has always been incredibly shy. Always so humble. And, being of a similar nature, it is not I that can help her open herself... And yet, I've seen with your help, and that of Miss Tarleton, she's... happier. And for that, I have to thank you."
Her gaze lowered as she smoothened her skirt.
Would he still be thankful if he knew what she had done? What she was doing?
"She admires you, you know. And I do too."
This was pleasing, and pleasure indeed colored her cheeks. Yet, it hit the part of her that knew it was unearned, and she squirmed.
"You have no cause to," She forced herself to say.
"Oh, Miss O'Hara, you are so modest!" He cried.
Another time, Scarlett felt irritated and a little bit shameful that her actions might be so completely misconstructed to fit a picture that did not seem right to her.
His soft brown eyes were bright, too bright, and she felt a moment of repulsion for that.
Yet, when he leaned in, she was almost tempted to let him.
However, the shame was still strong, and in her mind, she saw the sweet face of Melanie looking at her with a shy smile.
No, she couldn't do that to her friend. Play with his brother.
A friend, yes. That was what was Melanie. An incredible friend, the kind that gave strength without even realizing she did. No, not just a friend. She was like a sister. All three of them, Randa, Melanie and she, they had formed a bond she had thought was more opportunistic at first, but now, she realized they had filled a part of her life that she didn't know had to be filled, so disappointed as she was in Suellen and...
Carreen, she had forgotten about Carreen!
Sweet Carreen, a tender shadow she barely took notice of, so absorbed she was in making her way...
They were her folks, her people, for she chose to make them hers and now, she was almost forgetting about them!
Oh, Rhett, she thought, to what path have I let you lead me?
For she had realized the more men she kissed, the less it made sense, for it wasn't Rhett. It wasn't Rhett, and the feeling of another's lips on her only brought a feeling of shame over her heart.
Her eyes widened. What was she doing? Too caught up with complaining about Rhett's lack of attention and maneuverings (and others', she added bitterly), she was getting out off track!
She turned her face, and the warm breath of the young man caressed her cheek.
Blood reddened it and she caught her breath.
"You love another one, don't you?"
Her chest compressed, her heart throbbing painfully.
She turned away.
"I'm sorry, but I cannot see you as anything but a brother."
And this time, these words, that she had learned as a somehow temperate refusal for a proposal of marriage, had never rung so true.
He gulped, then recovered. On his face, the blush of his declaration had mildened, to be replaced by a softness. He was not in love with her, she realized, almost piqued in her vanity. Yet, she found she did not much care after all. And why would she? She had already many beaus.
But not the one she loved. Who was in love with another. For if it wasn't love, what was it? That mistress. The name was said in her mind with spite and wrath, and it made her want to it something.
She sighed and frowned.
He took her hand. He was trembling, the poor boy, and she almost felt pity for him. But pity, she knew had nothing to do with marriage.
"Then, as a brother, allow me to protect you. Who is the man you love? Tell me, is he a gentleman? From your frown, it doesn't seem so."
"I can't say he is," She replied carefully, though color went to her brow and she was almost defiant as she stared at him. But he's good enough for me.
"Yet, you love him," He said gently, too gently. "Seeing that you have no true brother... Oh, Miss O'Hara... Shall I defy him for you, for making you wait so?"
"No!" She cried, suddenly alert, before sighing. Her hand went to his, soothing. Strange how being gentle was easy with him, for he begot it. "Mr. Hamilton! I want to be my own woman. To be free, without the others' eyes coming to judge me for everything I say."
"Then, Miss O'Hara, consider me as an option."
She blinked, dumbstruck. A long stare told her he was serious, and if his first offer has been done out of one instant and silly infatuation bound to a certain idea of herself, this one was suggested by a will to protect her and her desires, and something in her appreciated it deeply.
"So, you wouldn't mind marrying me knowing that I love another?"
"I wouldn't mind marrying my sister's dearest friend, who's helping her out of her shyness." He insisted, and in his eyes, that was a romantic determination that reminded her of Melly. Her heart softened. "I will never ask you to love me. But if I may help you, please know that I am here, and I want to stand as your friend as well."
"Very well," She said, looking at him anew, with a speculative glance that disappeared when he took notice of it, replaced by a sweet smile.
After all, it would not hurt to have other options, indeed. He was not a bad catch, and had properties at Atlanta, with nearness to Tara. Quite pliable also, and willing not to ask too much of her. She would have to be a fool to forget that advantage.
As for Melly... She would think of it later. But then, if the case appeared, wouldn't Melly be glad to have her for a sister? Wouldn't it be easier to watch over her, if Ashley disappointed?
Ah, the things she would do for her people!
...
Savannah, New Year ball, 1860
"That was highly improper. Impertinent."
On the second floor of the house that was hosting the event, two friends were bickering. One visibly here to enjoy himself (and because he was generously paid for it). The other one not quite pleased at having been forced to intend when there was a whole crowd of Southerners in the house and he had been so comfortable at home, with his drawings.
Though his eyes were generally always touched by the beauty of places, here, he did not care, for his suffering was great, and seemed to numb his artistic sense.
"That was bold," Eugenio dismissed. "You just need to get down off your high horse."
"She's a lady," Edward protested once again.
And once again, the question of one particular letter had arisen, as said Edward contemplated the terrible idea that the lady of his thoughts
Eugenio rolled his eyes.
"She's a woman. Women like to hear men say that kind of things, like they are true goddesses."
"She's not that kind of woman."
A grin settled on his friend's lips as he plucked on the strings of his violin.
"That's the spirit. Had I let you, you would have talked on and on about books and the joys of Mother Nature. Ain't no fun in that. Plus, knowing you, you would have cried with wonder and awe for decades about that girl if nothing happened."
"I would not have cried."
Eugenio stared at him disbelievingly.
He snapped.
"Well, it doesn't matter, for now she shall hate me forever!"
His friend rolled his eyes.
"She may be a little put off now, but she'll come around. You did not tell me she had pride. But at least, you made your impression."
"Great, a bad one."
"Better than nothing." He shrugged. "Well, it's my turn to shine. Just watch and learn."
Eugenio went with a wink downstairs and finally began to play.
But Edward stayed upstairs with the men that were playing poker and smoking cigars, content in staying away from the agitation while enjoying the view of the ballroom below.
Young, unmarried girls were all draped in white to emulate swans, a mask hiding their face from forehead to cheeks, its velvet, immaculate shape laying gracefully against the fine bones like wings from each side of the nose. Some had had the coquetry to lay some pieces of strass on it, and the light reflected on them and drew the eyes on a rather sober immaculate tenue. It was to separate them from the married ladies, that were allowed the costumes they wanted, and the few widows, who had to keep the black, but with the fantasy of appearing like black swans, as if somehow their mourning allowed them to have a second virginity, a pitiful one that was to mark their sorrow.
The flock fluttered as the first notes were heard, then went calm.
"Your friend plays well,' Said the imposing man at his left. "If a bit unsophisticated. At least, the girls seem to like it. Or him, I should say."
Edward startled, then nodded warily.
Rhett Butler. He had heard of the man, that adventurer that did not seem to truly fit anywhere, and perhaps for that seemed to make his home everywhere. A ruthless man, he heard, and with the cunning of the devils. A man of leisure too, if what was said was true.
Yet, just as suddenly as his attention had been bestowed, the man seemed to have detected another prey from his promontory.
One had detached herself from the flock, and it was better maybe for the harmony of the group, for she was tall despite a little tendency to crouch. Yet, it did not seem to be such thing that made her reconsider going, but maybe more like the company of father and brother, who kept watch over her.
The Butler clan, Edward realized.
He stared at the man in front of him, but he was decidedly avoiding that part of the ballroom. His jaw was gritted though, and his eyes dark and vicious, as if to defy him to make a remark on it.
And then, suddenly, he saw her. Miss Hamilton. Oh, how lovely she was, in that gown of white! How delicate! She was here, still like a statue, and her head tenderly tilted, like the Virgin Mary of many paintings, with the same imperturbable serenity.
"Ah..." Rhett Butler said with one cynical smile. "Young love. And one most certainly likely to go awry."
The young man stiffened.
"I don't like your words, sir."
The rich natural red lips stretched a little more, the dark eyes glinting with mocking malice. "Few like the truth, when it's not pleasant enough. A bit of advice, then."
A smooth expression replaced for a moment the rictus as he seemed to ponder his words (or maybe was he measuring the impact of them with the eager anticipation of suggesting a mischief.
"If you do nothing, you will regret it bitterly."
Edward's shoulders fell as he settled at his side.
"And what if that love is impossible?" He could not help but say. "What if the price is too heavy?"
"I'd say absinth can be a really good friend to keep you company," The blackguard jested. "Absinth and lot of women."
"As substitutes?" Edward cried, taken aback. "As if love can be so easily replaced!"
Rhett Butler narrowed his eyes, his thick black brow raising on his high forehead. Suddenly, there seemed to be a dark cloud coming, thunderous and heavy, taking all breathable air for a moment.
"Replace, you say?" He hissed. "I've never said replaced. How could it? Has that Cracker stain you're trying to hide addled your brain, boy?"
Edward had never been one to truly react when one said something offensive about him. He had come to a point when such words against him had no sting (or so he thought) And there was something in this Butler that prevented one with sense and modesty to take umbrage. So, hurt as he was (not), he kept still and listened.
If only to prove he was the better man.
"No," He continued in a softer tone. "Once you're bound, there's no getting back. Not that you would want any. But one day, it may come to a point when you're caught between two evils, forced to fight your inner nature even, and then all you can truly seek is a way to continue to live and prosper. So yes, diversion can make your life more bearable. Trust me, sometimes, having a mistress is safer. You can leave a mistress whenever you want. It is all a deal, and once it's done, you're free to go."
"So you did? Find a mistress?" Edward said with curiosity.
And did it work? Was the question he did not dare to ask.
There was something so intriguing about him, and instead of feeling the pity for one that seemed unfortunate in his loves, Edward found him even more fascinating. That such a man, strong and imposing, dangerous and bold, with the grace and instinct of a predator, could also bear the sufferings of humankind made him much more complex.
A smirk came to the man's lips as he took a cigar, cut the tip of it and lit it.
Suddenly, Edward felt the need to draw. Take the instant, the jeering smile that mocked the world, but also himself, and these eyes, like coals on the way to burn bright on a face that betrayed as much an aristocratic background as adventures in the wildness.
"My, my... What a curiosity! And without even the decency to get me drunk to know all my dirty little secrets," Rhett teased, his teeth glinting, white and dangerous as they bit lightly on the cigar. "Sometimes it's a matter of keeping one sane and independent of mind. So, yes, boy, I did. Most recently, but better late than never."
His eyes went to a point in the crowd of swans, and his features smoothened considerably. A glint, dangerous and hungry, came lighting the black coals, like embers burning in a pit. "Swans... it is said they mate for life, you know? Silly, when you think of it, for what if they're wrong in their choice of partner? Is there a way to make them change their way? Would it be better if they did?"
Which swan was he talking about?
But it didn't seem like that Southern adventurer was expecting a reply. He seemed entirely absorbed by the scene in front of him, the flock of swans fluttering on the marble.
Curious as he was, Edward could not help but lean to try to hear better.
"No, I won't show myself," He whispered intently, with such a quick tone it was almost difficult to catch the words, especially with the music still going on. "You have to look for me, my little heathen in petticoats. After all, you're the last person I have to look for, or so it seems. I see you're looking around. Run for me. Like you did when you were a little girl, and I was visiting. Green eyes, what could there be for me? You care, don't you? As much as a cat could grow to care for a master who gives it pets, with maybe a tender souvenir for one you claimed to love as a girl. So young... Why do you have to be so young? How much could you grow to? And if you do, what then? What would I lose in having you? And you?"
His fist clenched, and went to his pockets, hard and frustrated, in a gesture that spoke both of hopefulness and powerlessness. Yet, his tone was almost tender as he continued on his monologue. "What did that French say, again? 'Ta bouche seule en parlant m'espouvante, bouche prophète, et qui vraye me chante tout le rebours de tes yeux amoureux.'... In love. Damn that love. Damn me."
"Better not to do anything then. Better not. Why break it when I might have it at its purest?"
Edward felt ill-at-ease, seeing such a big man standing still like a statue, but with a painfully restrained seething halo.
"What did you say, sir?"
Rhett Butler blinked, seeming to remember him. A corner of his mouth went down as he smoothed his plastron, as if its perfect fit on his body had altered in a sudden. His eyes, piercing and deep, met him in good humor, though a good humor that wasn't without a bit of irony in it.
A slow, cheery whistle left his lips as the music ended, sounding suspiciously like the first note of an Irish tune one generally heard on a pub, not in such a setting. A fatalistic smirk drew on his face, yet the threat glared in his eyes, as the malicious insult.
"Nothing. A musing. I did say absinth can be a really good friend? Well, it can make you talk foolishness too, as only some silly people can make others with sense do."
He turned away quickly, almost furiously, and Edward stood, appalled and perplexed as the crowd seemed to swallow him down. But then, his attention was called away by the noise of glass breaking down there, and girls' cries of surprises.
The raven-haired girl had let hers fall from her hand. The wine had spilled on her dress like blood on the snow, yet she said nothing, her hand slightly shaking. Miss Hamilton fussed around her, while a girl with wild auburn hair that spilled from a loosened chignon was failing to stifle a snicker.
Without even a thought he followed, and almost lost them with some men hindering his way, going downstairs to the direction of the vestibule, and pausing before being seen. He heard her lovely voice telling the others that she would wait on a chair, with a book for company, and a timid attempt at teasing directed at the other girl, saying she had to watch for her friend's beaux that were sure to worry.
What was he doing? He cursed. It was highly improper to follow a lady like that! And what should she think of him? He had already scared her off with that letter, and now...
Oh, but he had to apologize for it!
A long time passed very quickly as he was conflicted over these two ideas, between shame on himself and willingness to justify himself, and see her. In fact, he only realized it when suddenly, he heard her, and was forced to turn to see what had befallen her.
Was she being abducted? He thought for a moment, before wincing on the follies of his romantic mind.
If love made people fools, he was certainly the example of it!
"Oh! Poor Mr. Butler!" She cried, the poor creature, her delicate hands on the book, and he suddenly wanted to protect her, to put his arms around her and shield her from what had done her harm. "Oh, but what can I do? Scarlett... Could she love him too? No, she loves Ashley... But... Oh! What a mayhem!"
He cleared his throat, ill-at-ease at having eavesdropped on her vulnerable moment (a moment he found pleasure on, for suddenly she seemed more reachable), and she started, so surprised that the book almost fell from her knees.
She barely looked at him as she said nervously:
"If you're looking for Miss O'Hara, she's changing. Mrs. Joyce had the generosity to give her a change, and Miss Butler offered to help her," She stopped, before letting out a tiny smile. "Though, poor Scarlett, I doubt she liked to have to take a widow's change..."
"It's not Miss O'Hara I'm looking for."
She started and raised; a doe caught by the hunter without any hope of escape, and he suddenly felt the same under the worried eyes meeting his. The book fell with a loud thud, a thud like the beat of his heart as he looked at her.
"You!"
Oh, the wrong idea he had, on coming here to see her! Oh, the insolence of it! He blushed and was tempted to head back and hide, despite the knowledge that his friend would laugh at him.
Yet, more than that came the resolution he had taken, to apologize for the insolence he had inflicted unwillingly.
He stumbled through his words, helpless against the prospect of saying the wrong thing, yet knowing he would eventually. And already, she was attempting to leave, and he felt his heart jump up to his throat and squeeze.
"I wanted to say... Please hear me out! I am sorry. These words you've received..."
She turned her face in modest outrage, her blood flaring through her usually pale cheeks.
"I don't want to talk about it."
He shook his head, lowered it, but it wouldn't come down. It just kept beating and beating, until he felt numb.
"It was improper, and I am ashamed, and..."
"So you don't think them?" She said softly.
It cut him. Suddenly, he was here, heart down to earth, as if laid bare in front of her, with his mind telling him to say something, anything, if only to dissipate the fog between them.
"I... They weren't mine," He said pitifully.
She opened her lips and they quivered for a moment, until her eyes lowered to the ground.
"Oh."
He tried to reach out, prevented himself. His hand clenched on the attempt, and he took it back.
"No, you misunderstand me!" He struggled. "I... I am no ladies' man. Nor a poet. I am not one at ease with words. Never found them adequate to describe what I'm trying to say. My friend is... But..." He gulped down. "... I really admire you, you know... No, no!" He cried, seeing as she turned away again. "I admire you because you're good, and it just... shines on your face."
She fidgeted a moment, still avoiding his gaze. Yet, her body half turned towards him, almost reachable.
"You don't know me. So how can you admire me? Not that there's anything to ad..."
"But I want to," He cut nervously, before flustering at his lack of breeding. "Be your friend. Know what you like, what you dislike. You seem... an interesting person. Really... Well, not interesting as... As if I'm thinking improper things... But interesting as in... you seem to know a lot of things! Yes, that, and..."
She let out a sudden chuckle, irresistible and airy, and it pealed right from her as if she had tried to conceal it. Her eyes were bright, oh dear God, so bright! Bright as joy and hope!
"I'm sorry..."
"You're sorry a lot."
And she was much more at ease, though that remark brought another blush on her face, and her eyes went down, to the green carpet. Her fingers were intertwined together in front of her, indexes rubbing with a flustered nervosity as her laughter (unfortunately!) stopped.
"I... I like having friends."
"Fortunate, then," HIs hands joined in earnest, and he felt almost timid pursuing his request. His eyes raised, hopeful to meet hers. "So... May I? Be your friend? I promise I'll never ask for more, that these words that have offended you so will never leave my mouth and..."
"Oh," Her eyes widened, her mouth trembling a little as if she were about to cry. Why so, he wondered? Had he offended her again? "Well, then... I'm happy."
His chest fell down, delivered of a burden. What a relief!
"So am I."
Friend! What a lovely word!
He smiled genuinely, and she answered in kind. Slowly, she took a step forward, and he watched her, until the warmth tempered the unease, and understanding called to friendship. He felt his throat tense at the thought, afraid of breaking it by clumsiness. He cleared it, heat blowing on his cheeks.
"So... What were you reading?"
Her lids fluttered a little like butterfly's wings in a true gesture of shyness that went to his heart.
"Emma, from Jane Austen."
"And this what made you so upset?"
Why, you silly goose, he wanted to say tenderly. Is it that love story that is upsetting you so?
She frowned, a frown that never should happen on that young brow that was made for calm and happiness.
"It's... It's just that it made me realize something and now... I don't know what to do without it seems that I'm interfering..."
She lowered her gaze, raised it, then lowered it again on the carpet.
"You are a man, aren't you?"
"Errr..."
Edward was not vexed. He was not one to be vexed easily, or so he thought. But it was her nervosity that unnerved him, making him doubt his own self. Was he so lacking?
She blushed. "Sorry. I forgot myself. I didn't mean... Well, there's nothing unmanly about you and..." She flustered. Her head turned up, her eyes with a strong will that took his breath away. "But as a man, certainly, you ought to have some kind of... understanding of one man's nature?"
"All men aren't the same, but..." He fidgeted a little, but decided he owed her the truth, for all the respect he had for her. "M-… Miss Hamilton, I can try to give you an answer. But I fear all answers aren't good to hear, especially... when one has such a sweet disposition as you."
"Oh."
"But that doesn't mean you can't ask," He cried. "No matter what, I'll always try to be honest to you."
She raised her luminous eyes to him, hopeful. "I so want to know. Everyone tries to protect me, but none would be entirely truthful. And yet... That's what I want."
And that gave him more courage than the rest. That made him want to tell her everything she wanted to know.
She blinked, as if troubled, nibbled on her lower lip for a moment, before continuing with her hesitating voice.
"Imagine... There's a man in love with a girl, promised to another... He reads poems to her, looks at her often, keeps her company often, but when the other gives him his freedom... he keeps doing such things, but does nothing to declare himself? And then acts as if what the other said had never been said?"
"Well... Maybe he wasn't serious after all. And maybe he was a bit vexed by the other's dismissal."
She stared at him, dumbstruck.
He reddened. The last part, Eugenio would have delighted in saying that kind of things. But why did he?
"Ashley is always serious!"
Something very unpleasant growled in his guts, and he refrained from showing it.
Yet, his feet walked back a little, creating a safe distance between them.
Of course, he had been right. There was a suitor, someone waiting for her.
And one visibly that did not deserve her.
"As... Perdon me, Madam, I didn't know..."
As if anybody could, he thought almost angrily. A fit of strange anger, not only at himself, but somehow also at her, and he was shocked to find he indeed had some for her. It felt like hitting a wall she had forged against him, and the world, while she stayed fearful on her pedestal!
He blinked. Was it his irrational jealousy and saying so? Oh, what a miserable one he was! He stood back, prepared even to apologize for such a thought.
"Oh, Ashley is not my suitor," She shook her head, almost with amusement, it seemed. "He's my cousin, and we were... Well..."
He stared.
"So you're the one that let him go? ANd he let you?"
What a fool. And what an admirable woman.
"How could I stand in the way of happiness of my friend and my kin?"
He gazed at her in awe.
"Are you real?" He blurted.
"What do you mean?"
The more I know you, the more I feel amazed by you, he wanted to say.
And the more he knew her, the more he was eager to discover if she had flaws. For he had many, and couldn't reconcile himself with the idea of being friends and admire someone without it. The picture seemed incomplete under his eyes, and it intrigued him even more.
He was tempted to touch her hand, that was little but with a large palm, to see the tangibleness of her presence at his side.
Yet he knew she would be ill-at-ease by these words.
"I don't think many people would think this way," He said cautiously.
"Is that a bad thing?"
"Oh, no! No, don't ever think so!"
"Oh."
She looked down again, lovely and fidgeting. Fidgeting almost like him.
"And what would you think of a man buying a book to a woman, about two characters that are similar to them in some ways, and that end up marrying one another for love?"
He smiled.
"I'd say the meaning is quite obvious, and you already guessed it."
Yet, she reacted by a frown.
"But... What would you think of a man that is buying that book to a woman, knowing she doesn't like it?"
"Well..." He hesitated. "I'd say perhaps he's unsure of the woman's feelings, and he wants to try and see if she cares enough to grow out of a dislike for something to look for his... hints."
'preparing a hook to catch the fish', that was what Eugenio would say.
"Oh, what a foolishness! What a silly mess it can bring!"
Indeed, but maybe it was why. The man had an easy way out, Edward thought.
She blushed at her indignant retort, and he realized it was not of her habit to have such outbursts. Her temper was more used to softness. She was like the water of a lake, soft and clear, and not used to be troubled.
"But what can I do?"
"You are a great friend, Miss Hamilton, worrying about her like that," He said softly. "But sometimes... I believe we have to let people make their own ways and mistakes, or else they'll end up resenting you."
On the other side of the door, there was a sound that made them jump, a loud clack that felt almost like thunder. Miss Hamilton raised her eyes in alarm, before opening the door in hurry.
"She's gone." He said uselessly after a moment of stoned silence.
And didn't Miss Hamilton said she was with another girl?
Yet, he was distracted from his musing by her cry. Hands on her cheeks, her mouth opened in one upset 'o' as she looked at the inside of the room, with its window clearly opened.
"Oh, poor Scarlett! She must have been quite upset! And I who did not dare to follow and comfort her!" She cried.
He stared at her, amazed and very worried by her capacity to turn the fault on herself, when one would have cursed after the girl.
And she did not seem to be surprised by that escape either.
Yet, he saw quickly any contradiction would not be hearable, and be taken as an affront. So he kept silent.
"I have to give a shawl to her!" She suddenly decided. "She is going to get cold!"
"I will do it," he said swiftly. "If you do, it is you that will get cold."
But she did not seem to mind that. So he had to find another thing.
"Besides, someone needs to reassure the others, and make sure no one finds out. Or else she might have problems."
Her eyes went bright in realization at this.
"Of course! Thank you for your thoughtfulness, Mr. Goldin!"
"It's nothing," He mumbled, as embarrassed as proud as she looked at him with these loving brown eyes...
He cleared his throat. "I shall be going."
And he did. Very reluctantly, taking time to take the shawl she finally handed him, but as he thought on the trust in her eyes, wings seemed to grow on his back and he smiled.
He had a mission, and he was not to fail it!
So look for the raven-haired girl, he did. Very carefully. He looked in the crowd, in the bushes, in the air, but nothing. He was tempted to look under the earth, for certain, she must be one of the devils, until finally, he saw her silhouette, clad in a long black cape with the hint of a black-feathered mask coming from the hood.
No need for a shawl, then.
She had escaped the crowd and seemed to look for something, until suddenly, she froze, and then, there was no stopping her as she caught sight of what she wanted. She went in the direction of the little parc, with the heavy willow tree hanging over a small, glinting pond.
So he followed and frowned.
"Ye shouldn't go near him, young leddie," He heard one manservant crossing her path. "He's a dangerous man while sober, but now..."
She kept going.
"Suit yourself," Muttered the manservant.
And as the man, Edward was tempted to curse, yet could not call for fear of attracting attention.
Oh, the hell it would be if they were thought to be compromised with one another! His brow reddened at the thought of Miss Hamilton's look if such a terrifying thing happened. And how she would hate him, for putting her friend into this situation (when really, it was not his fault at all!)
Then, he froze, dumbstruck.
Of all people... The girl was coming to that man!
"Aren't you a darling green little fairy?" Rhett Butler's Charlestonian drawl rolled in the air like a purr as he mused, and his thumb grazed for a moment the length of his mustache. "Appearing only in my most... well, almost... vulnerable moments to steal another kiss from me, didn't you? Come, you don't need to steal. I am but very willing at the moment."
He beckoned her closer, opening his arms, and she seemed to think better of it. Her body trembled with indignation, her fists clenching, and Edward, from his spot, thought she would stamp her foot and slap him for good measure, before leaving him.
Still, she said nothing, squared her shoulders, then nodded. She just went to him, slowly, until she crouched to his side, between his long legs, her hand shakily reaching out to his cheek as she put her lips on his. Slowly, so slowly, they kissed, and in the darkness, their forms seemed to become one, a tender shape that swayed lightly against all winds.
Fireworks exploded and startled the two lovers as their rays of light drew golden flowers and shooting stars on the sky. A name was called, most certainly that of the girl as her friends looked for her. The man looked up, as if looking for something, and she took advantage of it, and left him quickly, the black of her dress a camouflage in the darkness of the night.
No doubt had she been scared the light might make the man recognize her, he gathered from her behavior, for she was as skittish as a cat, yet with a defiance in her stance. Had she stayed, the compromise would have been complete, and he realized compromise was not what she wanted. She was one of the kinds that would do anything to get what she wanted, Edward thought, remembering that day in the pub. But she would not let herself be caught if she had a mean to escape it.
When Rhett Butler turned back, she wasn't there, and he cursed. His hand gripped the handle of a green bottle beside him, a green clarity that shined like silver with the moon's light, and threw it. It landed on the hard bark of a nearby tree, and exploded brightly, like the fireworks in the sky.
Nearby, the girl turned, indecisive, and her hand came slowly to her lips. Yet, another call, and she was gone.
And Edward followed gingerly, determined to accomplish his duty.
Yet, for modesty's sake, waiting until it was sure there'd be no interruption for one Rhett Butler coming to seek for the "mysterious" lady that kissed him in the dark.
One never knew what could happen.
"Miss O'Hara," She startled, then turned to him like a scaredy cat, all fur erected. Almost fearful she might fall on him and scratch him, he justified himself. "I've come to give you back your shawl. Miss Hamilton is looking for you."
"Well, give it to me!" She snapped.
She took it from his hands fiercely, almost tearing the pricey fabric. Her nervous hands almost did not manage to drape it over her shoulders as she seemed to have forgotten in her panic she had a cape that had loosened with her race, and he was not tempted to help her, still wary.
She finally gave up and flustered with a stubborn glare.
She looked at him askance, then shrugged with dismay.
"Oh. So you're the Yankee from before."
It was dismissive and hardly polite, but he did not care enough to retort.
"So it seems."
She sized him from head to toe, a pout on her lips.
"Are you going to tell on me?"
"I'm not one to tell."
She looked at him closely, then sighed.
"You should leave me there. If you continue with me, people will talk."
"Miss Hamilton told me to find you."
"Melanie..." Her eyes widened, and he realized she had incredible green eyes, like a cat. And like a cat, she most certainly would be able to scratch and bite, he added mentally. Yet, when he evoked Miss Hamilton, the girl's face softened.
Was she really an angel, to have such effect on people?
And that angel was his friend. He smiled.
"You like Melanie, don't you?" She finally said. "No, don't answer. It's written on your face."
Her tone was sharp, yet there was something like pity in her eyes now.
"You know it's impossible, don't you?"
How could he forget?
"Of course, I do."
"Good," She nodded slowly, and suddenly there was a vicious glint in the green, almost like a snake about to bite. Yet, there was some possessiveness in it. It was her friend they were talking about. "If you ever distress her in any way, I shall destroy you."
And somehow, he believed her. He even wanted to scram.
"I'll never do anything to hurt her."
"Good," She said.
"But if you hurt her," He could not help but say in return. "woman or not, it is I who will seek your destruction."
She stopped and stared, dumbfounded. Then, she let out a wild peal of laughter.
Her body relaxed, and she continued walking, yet her step was lighter, like one of a kitten prowling.
Well, no matter what, he thought, Scarlett O'Hara seemed to shine the brightest when there was a competition.
