Hello everyone and thank you for your patience and lovely support!
There were some mistakes in the previous chapter, and I hope I corrected them all.
Here is the promised chapter, with very mixed feelings on all parts, but... Is that a light on the horizon? Are Rhett and Scarlett finally about to be out of the woods?
Good reading to you all, I hope you will like it.
With love,
...
...
The rumors had grown over the span of three days, first spread in the lower classes of the so-called white trash, quacking and whistling endlessly, increasing quickly like a river just before a waterfall.
Scarlett O'Hara Hamilton, a war widow and lady of the South, had been seen trifling with a man under Dr. And Mrs. Meade's roof.
It began like that, and soon enough, instead of one man, it was now two, then three.
What a scandal! What a shame! What kind of jezebel had been sheltered upstairs, watched by lazy darkies who perhaps were just as perverse? What sort of trickery was this?
One would think people had better things to do. But the war was raging, massacring so many men it felt like an injury, no, a betrayal that she should exhibit such promiscuous behavior on her husband's grave, when the poor soldiers died to protect these rare little birds that were the Southern ladies.
Or at least that was what had been said when it was first told.
Mrs. Meade, when asked in a voice where excitement rang truer than the feeling of treason it should bring, seemed mortified, and did not dare leave her house.
She could have blamed Scarlett. Yet, strangely, she did not, but few were interested enough in any explanation anyway. However, as for herself, what prevented her from doing so was the memory of Scarlett's crestfallen, pale face, which had nothing to do with what was expected of a young woman having granted too freely a few kisses to a beau. To only Mrs. Merriwether did she dare utter these thoughts. After all, Mrs. Merriwether could very well listen, as she had her daughter Maybelle caught in a similar state (though, thankfully, with only one man!). A doubt was creeping into her mind, as she tried to think of what could have gone wrong as she, the hostess, should have prevented such a scandal.
As for the woman herself, she discovered it when she went out for a walk with Cheyenne and was loudly called and whistled upon by poor farmers who had been run out of their property and tried to find relief in the city.
It was all so very innocent, people thought, and the wench deserved it, didn't she? It was not as if she was lynched, though that would have been a show.
And if she persevered, well, maybe that meant she liked it, as so many bad women did.
.
.
July 24th, Miss Pittypat's house
Early in the morning, he had come, with his Panama hat and impeccable suit of white linen. He had come, quietly, without the triumphant air she had clearly expected him to have.
There was no triumph to have.
She stayed seated on her chair with Wade on her knees, brushing his hair very carefully, all eyes on that task. She did not even lift these pea-green marvels of hers to him as he slipped into the room. He watched her, and the feeling of craving came tickling his heart as his eyes went to her tenderly leaned body.
He watched, until suddenly it was too much.
"My dear, if you continue this, the boy soon will not have any hair at all."
The hair was already polished enough, the little teeth of the brush running easily through the strands, but she kept going until it crackled and rose like little blades of grass. She frowned, tried to gather them and smooth them again, but her fresh hands were not enough to keep them still.
Her son said nothing, so engrossed was he in his shiny new tin soldier, which he shook and hit eagerly. His pouty mouth pursed with effort, a slight crease growing between his brows. He let out long little growls, filled with spittle that ran down his pointed chin. He roared only once, when his mother pulled a little too hard his hair, and she had to fuss once again over him, embracing and kissing him until he deigned to forgive her and return to his activity.
"You're spoiling him too much." Rhett scoffed. "You won't make him a man that way."
She stopped a moment, a brow arching, like the "oh, a man like you?" she refrained from saying. But he heard it all the same, and it almost made him want to laugh.
She continued, though, the delicate clipped strand falling quietly to its place, and cooed, leaned over Wade who grumbled. Rhett huffed, his irritated glance sweeping around the little living room.
"It does smell fresh, here. I see the change you've brought for yourself was also done for the rest of the house. I dare say it is an improvement."
She said nothing and cooed harder, rubbing Wade the right way with her dainty, caressing hands. The boy growled lightly, his cheeks reddening, and lids half closed, so obviously caught between wanting to lean on the embrace and the righteousness of his dismay. He began to shake himself, melted as if boneless, and slid softly down her skirts, making the fabric cling harder to the shapely legs underneath.
This was the time. Quickly, Rhett assessed the situation and came to a strategy. With a brisk stride, he took the boy under his armpits, for a moment holding him like one unused to cats would try to with the creature, and Wade comically stretched his arms and fingers, his chin digging into his chest as he roared in protest.
"Little cub," He drawled. "You must prowl elsewhere. I need to talk to your mama."
Wade struggled, tried to bite the hand that held him, actually succeeded to his father's dismay after an enraging show of flexibility that amazed Scarlett. However, it was one fight that, unlike David when he faced Goliath, he was bound to lose. Rhett threw him over his shoulders, visibly unbothered, and went to the door.
"MAMAAA!"
"Rhett!" She jumped from her seat, almost tripping over her own skirts to get to them. "Let him go, you brute!"
In two strides, he was already at the door, and she was barely in the middle of the room. Easily, uncaring about the fury of his son, he opened it and put him down, his right hand patting distractedly the hair that had previously been so cared for, and now stood haphazardly on his head like the mane of a lion, while the left one took a little box out of his pocket, that he gave to the boy.
"Go sink your teeth on those, cub, it's all on me."
He winked, and without even a look for her, Wade gave in with wide, bright eyes, toddling off with his new treasure.
The little traitor.
"Chocolates," He specified with a smile to Scarlett as he raised up. "Buying children's loyalty for... well, quite a lot of time, I'd say, and with the good advantage that he has fewer risks to choke on them than actual bonbons if he tries to wolf them all down at once… would you want some, my dear?"
Her jaws tightened, and he examined her curiously.
"You did not think I would just take him, did you?"
She rolled her eyes.
"Of course, I didn't."
"Oh, you had a little doubt. Don't you know I wouldn't have taken him without taking you as well? I have two shoulders, darling, and now that I think of it, it would be quite a fitting picture. Better have the whole package than half of it. That's my way."
She did not laugh at his attempt. On contrary, her eyes flashed angrily. He sighed.
"I admit it wasn't my cleverest idea, but now, we can talk properly," he stared at his injured hand and jested. "Is that a boy or a fury you had? He bit me quite well. "
"You deserved it," She snapped. "You dare come into that house now...!"
He ignored it and continued on his way.
"Why couldn't you have a girl, Scarlett? Girls are easier to handle."
She lift her chin.
"Oh, a girl like me?"
"The girl you were was amusing."
A cry raised from her lips, filled with anger and it burst inside of her in a fury that colored her sight in red. She threw him the nearest thing she could find. Which was the brush she had used for Wade.
He dodged easily, and it fell with a loud thud on the old, thinned carpet. A grin came to his face.
"Oh, I do see she's still there. Why, hello, little delight. Nice to see you again. I've wondered where you've gone."
She tried to find another thing to throw. Her hand searched, grasped, and gripped, her whole body shaking with the excitement of her wrath. As she lift the object, she winced, but held on, trying to aim at his grinning face.
"She went off when you revealed yourself as the greatest of… of.."
"You wouldn't dare throw the Bible, would you, my lovely and irreverent heathen in skirts?"
She stared, dumbfounded, and discovered it was so. Just as the realization settled on her mind, so came the sensation of the heavy weight of it, making her wrist ache. She let it fall.
The red leather-bound cover spread like blood, several pages creaking ominously. Lowering her head, Scarlett felt her shoulders raise to her chin as she clenched her fists. The anger was not boiling anymore. It was simmering, diminished but not vanquished, and the coldness of it almost made her faint. The energy had raised high, and now it all fell down on her, making her tremble.
"You did this. You actually did this."
His smile dropped, all idea of amusement gone as soon as her voice broke on the words. The tension drizzled high, and there seemed nothing left to be done but calm it down.
Yes, he knew. How he knew! He had seen the trap from miles away, tried to lure her out of its way, but still, she had refused to listen to him...
She had thought she could be enough. But she would never be enough in that world they lived in. He hated it for that, that she should be subjected to such a thing, that he should see her hindered in such a way. Thrown in a cage like so many other women were, punished when they tried to break free.
Temporarily, he thought. He would be the one to set her free. She would see…
"Scarlett…" He took a step forward, his hand reaching for her like one would try to appease a fearful mare.
She trembled even more, her vision blurred by the tears sprinkling on her long lashes.
"I couldn't believe you would go to such an extent, but here we are. I thought I know you enough, that you wouldn't try to deprive me of my reputation, of my family's reputation to get what you want. That for all the moments we shared, all the respect you had for…" She hiccupped. "my father at the very least, you wouldn't do such a thing. And I feel… I feel like such a fool while you're here, all triumphant and smug!"
You do know me, he wanted to reply, at least for that. it was quite a surprise that such admission from him was as demanding as it was terrifying. He had delayed any act that normally he wouldn't care about doing for anyone else. And now, looking at her, he wondered if he could have looked into her eyes and watched the pain it would inflict.
In fact, he was feeling very far from triumphant. For once, Rhett Butler had no clue from whom and where the information had circulated and could be distorted in such a way.
She scowled at his lack of reply, and two fat tears fell down the lashes to the cheek as her body left its retreated posture for a more offensive stance.
"You do not even deny it! You skunk, you cad, you…"
"All of that true, except for what you are accusing me."
She froze, confused that he would ever deny it. Her eyes darted to him, examining him. He sighed, his fingers ruffling his hair with frustration.
"My dear, it is not my thing to take credit for something that I did not do. I would have thought only to show you I had the means to. I would have confronted you with the risks you were taking, but not in such a manner. I would have made sure you had to state your choice very publicly, with the prior acknowledgments of the consequences. If you intended on continuing so, that is. I would not want you to go blindly. If you decide on something, you better be prepared for the risk of facing the consequences."
"You're a devil!" She cried. "You know if I refuse you publicly, it would mean the death of me!"
"Don't be overdramatic, darling. As I said, I trust your intelligence. You should trust I'm cunning enough not to spread it in such a vulgar way. I'm a gambler, not a butcher."
She snorted.
"As if that was better! Showing me you have the means to destroy me!"
He stared at her strangely.
"Destroy you? Oh, yes I could try. I could even want it. But would it be in my interest? That is another question entirely. Perhaps it is, for you are the most contrary woman I have ever known," and you make me quite contrary, and I don't like it. But he did not admit it. "and I come to realize you sometimes have to be led to the edge in order to realize you must not jump to your death. And I wouldn't want that, would I?"
She did not know what to say. What could he possibly mean by saying such a terrible thing?
But fallen, hadn't she already?
"I'll marry you, Scarlett. I do believe it's the best option for both of us, and for the boy as well. I would have preferred you to come on your own, but here we are. Induced to do the very thing we should do."
Would he love her less if she was his in name? He wondered. Would the power of her charms and cleverness dull with time and the feeling of granted property?
He certainly hoped so. He was honest enough to admit it. So many husbands looked elsewhere, sometimes after mere months of marriage, and he knew some part of him wished to become like them, free and in a position to choose, unburden by a love bigger than himself.
There were more beautiful women in the world. Ones with more regular features, more generosity in their curves. Ones gentler, with a more sophisticated mind.
Yet the dearest, loveliest face in the world was that of his tormentor, and he loved her, warts and all. He even loved that sharpness that hurt him so. He relished in the quickness of her mind, the slightly twisted mechanisms of it as it fondled over moral issues. Hers was not a curious nature, but enough to grasp at what might be useful and reasonable, a mind for taking opportunities as they went, just like his.
It was that mind that lurked in these already mesmerizing pools of light green water, red lights glinting swiftly, intently. That dear, beloved mind, sister to his, and sharpened by his also, and that should be his as well. All of her in fact. Two minds alike, that were bound to be one, act like one. Two pieces of the same heart, one turned to stone, the other bleeding when kept apart.
He had not known, then, when he met the little girl. For so long, he had been searching, testing the limits with a sense of unrest, without finding anything to satisfy his soul. He had been unaware that he had lived with only half a heart, the heart of a wild one looking for unconditional love in a society that lived on ridiculous conditions. How could he have, having lived his whole life in such a way?
His heart had liked the girl with all the warmth it could have, the mind prevailing with the priorities of the man. He had turned away, taken his distance, and looked through a tainted glass to reassure himself. Until she had forced him to look again. In one blink of an eye, the girl had become a woman, and the image of her had been so pure he had not dared to touch it. Not yet. Not ever if he wanted to keep his freedom.
She made him look again. And somehow, he hated her for that. He hated himself for that.
He should have known the meaning of his own poor attempts to attach her to others. He had tried to push it away, but she called his heart to her, she and her wild heart, and pleased his mind until a connection was made, and he realized he had only been but half living, unknowingly waiting for his missing pieces that had been slowly maturing in and out of his sight. The realization had come gradually, before blossoming surprisingly in a volute of smoke and skirts twirling to the sound of an Irish song.
There had been no turning back to what once was.
She made him feel he had something to yearn for, when he had thought he was fine on his own, making his own life.
How could she unsettle him so carelessly if she did not intend to take him all? She had fed him, but just enough to make him realize he was starved.
She, and her father… they had made him want to belong, when he had thought he was better off without, freer, grander.
It had all been a trap. He had been lured in by the tenderness, the deceptive harmlessness of innocence, only to be caught so completely, hooked at the core of his own heart.
She shouldn't have added a fulfilling desire to the lot. He could have lived with loving her. He could have been satisfied with the distance, which would have allowed him his freedom. Could have lessened on his own the pull, for he was no man to live by imagination alone. But both times, she had come to him, claimed him, demanded him, and just the extraordinary fact that she came to him, was enough to stir him.
And now, her heart and mind refused him? And for what? No reason at all ! She would refuse to feed a starving man, would refuse to satisfy the thirst he had been dying of when she had the power to do so? She would make him watch as she would feed others?
Damn her for awakening his in the first place!
Oh, if he could only go back to the Rhett he had been, unaware of all of it ! If only he could find again that version of him that laughed at such chains, and refused to be caught in them !
In chaining her instead, perhaps he could be free of it. It sounded almost logical when he came to this realization. Yes, he would circle her with the chains of his love until she lost all power over him.
It was certainly not fair for her, but at that point, he considered it her fair due for all of her tricks driving him to madness.
No, on second thought, he would not free her. She had not freed him…
All's fair in love and war, he shrugged to himself, grimly amused of himself for his admitted unoriginality.
Perhaps then, she would be to his mind what she was again, a brave and rambunctious little girl he was fond of, and who could never shake his world. Perhaps then the lack would not be felt, and he would go on again, in a way of his own making.
The humor came back to him as soon as the misunderstanding was unfolded.
"I don't like this as much as you do. But I must admit that if it is an incentive enough for you, I do not object. Now that makes it quite plain, and I'd be a fool not to take advantage of such an opportunity. La fin justifie les moyens, as your self-proclaimed illustrious grandfather would probably say. Or perhaps was it Machiavelli?
His head tilted slightly, one corner of his lip up. Unaware of his train of thought, it made her angry, so angry she wanted to stomp her foot like a child.
"No one of quality would ever credit this! And me marrying you, it comes from nowhere at all! What a ludicrous idea !"
His brows were pulled up together at such a statement, and he could not help the amusement from dripping into his usual drawling voice.
His petulant Scarlett!
How could she manage to turn him from insanity to himself again, before pushing him back into it?
"What do you mean, it comes from nowhere at all? To everyone, it pretty much looks like I've been courting you for quite a long time…"
Her eyes went swiftly to his infuriating face.
"Courting ? When have you been courting me?"
"No lady should interrupt a gentleman, darling," He scoffed slightly, his scold belied by the lightness of his tone and the gleam of his eye. "Singing at your windows, giving you gifts, spending time with you and Wade… well, that does seem like proper behaviors for courting, don't you think?" He had the gall to wink. "For some, we have already been courting for months. I dare think they would not be surprised by such a thing. Whereas you went on flirting with other men…"
She threw hands.
"La, that's funny! One man, Rhett, and it never was more than just one silly little kiss..."
"It is good to know. That you know kissing him, even a little, was silly."
"You hypocrite! As if you weren't consorting with that… Watling woman!"
His eyes lit of a curious, flickering little light.
"Oh, you do think about it, don't you?
"Everyone thinks about it!" She struggled, feeling blood rush on her face. "Everyone knows it!"
He let out a short laugh.
"Whores don't count, darling. To most people, they don't count when it comes to judging a gentleman's life. Especially if the woman they have chosen for themselves proves… quite resistant on the matter."
"They should! Whores are women, and you consort with them. You use them. Am I supposed not to care about that?
"Oh, so you care ?" He drawled. "Do tell me, darling."
She crossed her arms and retreated. He was leading her back to where he wanted her to be. She knew it, and yet she was drawn to it.
"You ask me to marry you. Any woman would care if their future husband do such vile things."
"I ask for your true view on this, and you give me others'," Would it scratch her tongue so to admit she had an ounce of jealousy? To admit she cared because like him, she wanted more? How he longed for even that crumb to be true! "A pity. But here is what others won't tell you" He leaned toward her ear, his hot breath blowing softly on her hair. His voice went caressing, soft as a purr. "a lot wouldn't care, my dear. Isn't it a secret belief between women that once the man is tied up, he shall ever be on his knees for his wife's every wish, and the rest is just superflu ?"
"You make marriage sound so vile."
He was even surprised by the sneering quality of his own voice as he straightened.
"Oh, but it is. It is all but a transaction, just like slavery is, " He said bitterly and she gasped. What could hide behind these clear green eyes? They kept their door closed to him, but he could feel the deep working inside. If only he could see the mechanisms, influence their functioning until they run as smoothly as his! How could he make her see? How could he make her understand? "However it's also what one must do if propriety should be observed. One must bend the knee. Either the man or the woman. The White or the Black. Well, it won't be me. I won't abase myself on my knee for you. I believe I've been made a fool quite a ludicrous amount of time already."
She crossed her arms, opposing him, fire against fire.
"Great balls of fire! Slavery, indeed! I'm beginning to see that the Yankees have the right notion about it, if someone like you see it that way!"
"I see it for what it is."
She took a step back, horrified.
"What about Tara's people? Mammy, Pork, Dilcey and her child… would you consider them transactions?"
"They're the products of it, Scarlett, it is high time you understand it and stop fooling yourself. It is unworthy of a mind like yours to keep turning around it without getting into it. But this is not what I came to talk with you…"
She shook her head.
"I can't… I can't think that way… I can't! Because then, it means… it means…"
She trembled, and all he wanted to do was to take her in his arms and tell her it would be alright, that she had nothing to worry about.
But perhaps that particular matter could be the one to weaken her resolve. He had to weaken the ties that kept her rooted. It was better for all of them.
His tone was definite, clear but soft.
"It means you've been living a lie. Your father, brave and cunning as he is, had been living a lie. The mere story about the plantation where darkies are happily submitting to gentlemen and ladies is a lie, a lie to hide the fact that it is all a big transaction, kept up from generation to generation," Remembrances had always the scent of rust and blood and sweat about them. He almost winced as the sound of the whip strung in his mind, followed by a cry of agony. He shook his head, trying to dismiss it. "And the sad thing is when those in chains come to believe they are meant to be in chains. Or to think there is no chain at all. Knowing that, why would you care? It can go on without you. Or in fact, it may very well be able to be destroyed without you. These people can go on without you, and once the chains are gone, who's to say if they won't turn against the very ones they had to care for decades ? I'd do the same if I were them. The wind is turning. You know it, I see you do," He urged her, taking her hands in his. "It came to your mind at least once. Give it up, Scarlett. Come with me."
Her brow wrinkled as she thought, and as she did, he could see she was clearing herself out of her emotions. The floor was crumbling beneath her feet, and she was trying to hold on to something. Her hands pressed his back, yet she was not well aware of this. There. She was thinking about the practicalities. Just as he wanted her to do. She was about to give in…
One last show of resistance, she lift her little pointed chin.
"You said you wouldn't abase yourself… but I should abase myself to accept your demand ? Should I accept that you insult me one moment and put my life in your hands the next ? God's nightgown, should I have no dignity and respect for myself with you ? !"
She rolled her eyes, took her hands back balling it into fists that rested on her hips in a self-righteous pose. Her nose wrinkled slightly when she was upset and trying to show disgust, and he wanted to kiss the tip of it until it smoothened.
"Now, you're all about dignity and respect when I have you cornered! Drop the moonlight and the magnolias, Scarlett. You're just angry because you feel tricked, you feel I've won and you haven't, and though I can understand it, I do hope we can go past it. Have you considered, darling, beyond your pert little nose, that I might feel the same way about it ? After all, I do lose my freedom, and not in my own terms," He attempted to jest, but his eyes were mirthless. His smile dropped at her listlessness. "Scarlett, did you even hear what I just said ?"
She dismissed it. Yes, he had won, and from what he said (though she had reasons to doubt him), it had been with no action on his part at all. She watched him closely. She couldn't deny he looked frustrated, even irritated by this.
Screaming at him would perhaps be very satisfying at first, but it wouldn't change a thing, and she knew that now that he was confident she would marry him, he would manage to turn her anger and words against her.
But she knew his tricks. He had made sure she knew, and it was high time she tried !
She took a coquettish smile and a step closer. He tilted his head to the side, intrigued.
"Why, Rhett, how silly. You're not telling me the right reason. I believe you are too old to be on your knees…"
"You little vixen !" He cursed softly under his breath.
Swiftly, he crouched, his arms snaking around her knees as he raised again, making her skirts bubble around her in a flutter as she was forced to sit on them. Her feet dangled in thin air. With a gasp of surprise, the fear of falling awakening every instinct with thick cold blood rushing, she caught his collar, ripping his green silk cravat in the process.
"Too old, am I ?" His voice was hoarse, rich with something deep and dangerous, she could only name as desire. "By God, no woman ever infuriated me as you do. I'll show you how old I am…"
His kiss was searing, a lit match thrown on oil, and it burned her quite thoroughly. His arms raised, and she felt the burn of his big hand on the blade of her shoulder and her tender backside. Her feet found with heartfelt relief the floor, yet buckled under her as she was deafened by the sound of her own pulse. He pressed her and pressed her, until she was out of breath, out of will.
"Is it an old man that makes you tremble so, Scarlett ?" He caressed her cheek, willing her to open her eyes. But she did not. "Is it?"
He was about to take more of that tantalizing cherry mouth, more of its tenderness and taste, when her head fell slightly to the side, and for a moment, he was completely paralyzed by the lack of fight on her face, the lack of life. His heart skipped a bit, shuddered. An image came to him suddenly, memory of a dream he had tried to dismiss long ago. Asleep, pale. Deadly. His other hand almost tremble as it went from her hip to her cheek and taped lightly on it. At it, she opened her eyes, and relief shook his body to the core as he saw the green light again.
"So this is how you want it to be ?" She hissed, their lips barely à few hair away. "You forcing me and I bending to your will? Is this how you intend to have me, Master Butler ? Are you willing to face the consequences of your choice ?"
He looked as if he had been stabbed, but he let go of her as if she had burned him. His hands plunged in his pockets, weighted on his pants.
"You're not one to bend. But you'll soften. That, I know."
"I won't. And you're a fool, Rhett Butler, if you ever believe it !"
"I have my ways. You'll see."
She turned away, color raising once again to her cheeks, her shoulders shaking in outrage. Quietly, she took back her seat and smoothed vigorously her skirt.
"If your ways are the ones that lead you to… infamous places, I'm not interested."
He was prevented from answering that sting when the door opened with a loud creak, revealing the impatient face of Uncle Peter, and on his arms, a very serious Wade, who looked like he wanted to cross his arms, but did not have the dexterity, nor the true motivation to do so, as it would have led him to open his little fists and drop the sweets he was still clinging to.
"Mister, ain't fitting stayin' dere," Uncle Peter chided, as he carefully put the boy down.
"No worry, venerable guardian of the virtue, Rhett bowed ironically. "I am here to announce to you the happy news that your charge will soon be diminished."
"Me charge, gempmum?" Uncle Peter repeated, befuddled, but from this point, he had lost his attention.
"The little rascal," Rhett quipped, his eyes this time narrowing in suspicion at his son, then at Scarlett, before letting out a smile of begrudging amusement. "He is quick, for his age. Don't want to share your mother, or for that matter, any woman in that house, do you, cub?"
Wade smiled with mischief, dropping a chocolate in his mouth. Scarlett raised her eye to the ceiling, but could not help but smile back.
"How foolish! Hearing you, he did everything on purpose! He makes his mama proud. Come, Wade. My darling, my love, come to mama."
She took him back on her knees and was surprised by the sudden affection and docility she received, as the little boy tightly put his arms around her and rested his head on her bosom.
"Oh, the boy knows what he is doing," Rhett quietly remarked, before tucking his vest back in place. "Do prepare. I'm sure you will want to be pretty for tonight's little feast before the Goldins finally tie the knot. I believe I shall have my own announcement to make."
She turned her head away. Her heart fluttered quickly, a traitor she tried to dismiss.
"As you wish, Master Butler."
"I believe you should stay in the house, until then," He added softly. "Believe it or not, but I want you safe."
She did not answer him.
Wade put his hand on her face and moved it toward his person. Between his brows, there was a little crease of vexation, and he called her attention once more with a demanding 'mama!'. She smiled widely, amused by his mischief, her eyes sparkling back, and kissed his nose.
Rhett cursed lightly and turned on his heels, finally taking his leave.
"Don't ye dare come back or Ah'l whip ye!" Came the all-too-late cry of Uncle Peter.
"He ain't bein' so bolde again naxt taime he be comin' after dat," he grinned. "Ah done fritten un."
Scarlett looked at this old man, with his shining black skin, and crooked, yet bright white teeth and hair. His eyes creaked at the corner, the brown sparkling expectantly. She smiled.
"Of course, Uncle, of course."
…
…
...
The noise on the street in the forenoon was hot and thick. It buzzed on the ears and filled the mind with its heavy nothingness. The talk of the busy town rumbled all around, the wheels trampled the moist dirt with a squishy sound, a squishy sound that emphasized the shrill end of some laughter, giving them an eerie air.
Scarlett, Melly, and Suellen were making their way to the hospital, escorted by Uncle Peter, just like they always did at least three times a week, each time by round, generally the group growing up little by little as other girls and women came to take their shift.
That day, no other joined, strangely, some took another way, briefly saluting with a nod, while joining others in the whispers. But Scarlett did not really notice anything strange at the moment, so filled she was with noise and confusion and the sweet and sour vigilance of avoiding anything resembling Rhett Butler, nor Melanie, who was chatting happily, her head tilted toward her friend. As for Suellen, if she noticed anything, she did not say. One could only remark on her subtly getting closer to her sister, looking curiously at her every expression.
Scarlett sighed. She was the one forcing herself to go. No one had forced her to go. Even Rhett had told her not to leave the house.
But she had to. Even if only for herself. She could not hide. She would not!
Hiding would mean she was guilty.
Yet, it did not make it any easier.
Perhaps, nothing was bound to happen today.
Alas, such a thought, once uttered, was often bound to fail, and this time, it did.
They came to another street, less busy and crowded. However, they were swiftly to realize that an unfocused crowd was better than a focused one.
On this particular street, four men with shirts of rough cotton over loose pants were gathered on their yet-to-be-sober glory, and were talking gaily, a gaiety that was a forced hide of their own loss, lands away.
First, one flicked a look over the ladies, stared a moment at Scarlett's black gown with irony, before whispering something that made them laugh. She lowered her head and continued with the rest of the group.
Oh, if only the street was shorter! She thought. If only they had taken any other street…
"Howdy, me lovely," One whistled in her direction. She turned her head away, and Melanie embraced her arm tighter, almost hiding her little face on her shoulder. "Don't ye tak that fierce look, Missish! Ain't so savage, that's what they say. Why don't ye give us a lil smile?"
"Or a lil' kiss?" called out one another, and the snicker rang back.
Color rose to Scarlett's cheeks as mortification filled her chest. She bit the insides of her mouth, her eyes tingling with the angry tears she would not allow to fall. Not now, with these men lurking at her in such a way. She could not afford to appear weak.
"Don't ye go and call me misses lak dat!"
Uncle Peter raised his cane angrily toward the group, his stance showing he was ready to take action if necessary. Some looked at him dubiously, but he kept still, his upper lip lifted to his nose, revealing sharp teeth. The leader raised his hands, presenting him with a wide, sheepish grin.
"Alright, lazy boy, tis all in good fun!"
"Lahzy? Who dis lahzy?"
"Yea, don't ye get yer brain in a knot," Said another cheekily.
"Does he has any?"
Now came back the snickers, emboldening the men as they stared down at the old Black man and the ladies he was guarding. First, it had been just a little mockery in their minds. But as the heady air announced the calls of fight, old grudges and a sense of superiority blurred the lines, and Scarlett watched as their eyes darkened, their mouths twisting up at the sides.
Oh, if only someone else was here to defend us, came the thought as the feeling of danger rushed through her veins. If only...
Her mouth opened.
The lip trembled.
The name never came, for as it came to her mind, she stood frozen, her walls crumbling around her.
Uncle Peter went closer, the threat clearly about to become truth.
Suddenly, a shrill whistle was heard, followed by a swift movement at the sides.
The local guards. Young men, and the recovering ones, staying behind for the maintenance of the peace.
They had been made fun of, and Scarlett had too, but now she realized she had never been happier to see them.
Among them, Captain Ashburn gave his orders, before turning to the ladies to offer some comfort.
"You shouldn't leave the main streets," He advised. "These accidents are very few, but they happen."
As he led them to safer ways, Melanie thanked him warmly, including Scarlett in it, her arms wrapped protectively around her.
"Please believe," She assured him. "That we are very grateful for your protection. We were so frightened!"
He stared at Scarlett for a moment, conflicted, and she watched the regular features go slack, his eyes clouded with the mixture of guilt and uneasiness.
He must think it is his fault, she thought. His fault, and mine, for leading him into this.
Now, what would he do? Would he turn away?
She was almost hoping he would.
Her hands gathered in front of her bodice, nails of thumbs clutching together as bitterness left its taste in her mouth.
"I... I am glad nothing happened. I shall have the pleasure to see you soon."
She nodded and kept her head low. Suellen watched her curiously. However, whatever were her thoughts, she kept quiet.
He looked at her for a moment longer, then went his way.
"Dem waht trash," Uncle Peter grumbled. "No good, no good at all."
His shoulders were raised, his chin almost buried in his collarbone as he seemed to recollect the scene and try to amend it in his memory. There again, the outrage was felt, and so was the need to express it.
"Doan ye bow yer head lak dat!" he barked in Scarlett's direction. "Dis ye Am defendin'. Sheen up."
"Yes, Uncle Peter," She replied, not feeling any fight left in her. Her voice was weak and she hated it. "You were fierce defending me. Thank you."
His eyes softened.
"No need. You iz un of Miz Pittypat's. Ah take kar of you all."
Scarlett clenched her powerless fists, trembling and dumb with the revelation of the name she had been about to call.
A name that shouldn't mean security for her, and yet... It was still a surprise to realize that it still was.
"It shall all pass, I promise," said Melanie with her soft voice. "We are all with you, darling, and we know you are innocent."
She darted a defeated gaze to her innocent face, struggling with the need to shake her.
"Melanie…"
"And anyway," Melanie scoffed. "What is a little kiss compared to what is happening in this cruel war? Don't they have any other thing to do?"
Her fist opened, letting her fingers intermingle with Melly's. Her wrath appeased, the trembling calming as she leaned on Melanie, only was left the feeling of gratitude she had never liked to express, and for a second time.
Nothing had happened. Nothing will happen, she thought.
"Melanie, you're a fool," she said with a soft, tender voice. "A loyal fool. And I do not deserve you."
Melanie flushed.
"Darling, you should stop saying nice things to me. That overwhelms me."
The whispers followed them back to the hospital as Uncle Peter took his leave, saying he would see them back home as soon as they had finished, with eyes staring either with curiosity, or with suspicion. Only Mrs. Meade's eyes avoided them, and that fact added to Scarlett's feeling of shame, which wouldn't have been the case if there had been open contempt. It made her want to justify herself, when she felt she shouldn't have to.
At one moment, when they gathered to boil the water, Mrs. Meade seemed about to say something. But whatever she had to say stayed stuck in her throat, and she kept silent, bowing her head to her task.
Still, they continued their works, and she found herself clinging to Melanie's soothing presence, helping with the bandages carefully. But even that presence soon left her, as his fiancé, noticing her paleness, came to take her for a walk. When she returned, Melanie's cheeks were pink with pleasure, and her voice was cheerful again. However, Scarlett did not feel equal to that, feeling the envy fill her heart with poison. Subtly, she then took her distance, and worked even harder.
It was all hot with fever and gangrene, but strangely quiet. She found a little comfort in the simple tasks that were demanded, in the physical effort that prevented her from thinking at all about everything that could have gone wrong, but did not. Her mind was deliciously empty, and she welcomed it like a breath of fresh air on a hot day. There, her hands had a purpose, an effect, and she could see it, even if in the process, the men she was tending to seemed little more than dolls smiling at her as she helped raise them, gave them food and water, and changed their bandages.
When their shift ended, they made their way back, Uncle Peter waiting at the end of the stairs, but had the unfortunate surprise to meet at the entrance of the hospital India Wilkes' group coming to take their own.
It could all have gone smoothly, with both groups silent with contempt for the other, one feeling more righteous than the other. Yet, Honey's voice came out, loud with a malice that wasn't so much malice as it was boredom, and a will to trigger something interesting.
"What is this stench, I wonder?" She asked with a shrill tone. "Oh, I see. Trash. But what could we expect, coming from Irish mud as it is?."
At her side, India was flushing, visibly disagreeing with the means of facing an enemy in such a public way, but clearly in agreement with the idea. Her eyes, lashless, gleamed with the viciousness her sister lacked.
"Of course, it stinks. No perfume could ever hide the rancid smell of your breath, Honey. It is filled with gossip and filth. That's why you don't have any beau."
"Suellen… !' Scarlett exclaimed in wonder.
Suellen ?! India called, shocked. "That you should behave in such a way…"
Honey was speechless.
"That you should," Suellen gave a pointed look. "I am a O'Hara girl, after all, and I know that Irish soil is still greener and fresher than your own. Look at the state o' you all ! A lovely group of holy joes. Eff off, will ya ? Off, off!"
Still shocked, India's group hurried toward the hospital, and Suellen watched them with satisfaction on her face as she was stared at bewilderedly by Melanie and Scarlett, until Melanie let out a cheerful peal of laughter.
"Suellen, that was amazing !" Melanie exclaimed enthusiastically, clapping her little hands. A sheepish smile settled on her face as suddenly the impropriety of this kind of quarrel in the streets came to her. "Though a little improper I suppose."
Scarlett watched her sister for a moment, until Suellen's composure fell, only to be left with uneasy defiance.
"Why, Suellen ?" She enquired quietly.
Suellen pressed her lips, and took a handful of the fabric of her skirt, her fingers scratching it nervously.
"Perhaps… perhaps because I would like to have a sister by my side defending me if I ever… err… "
She flustered.
"I mean, not that I would ever… it is just in theory."
Scarlett blinked for a moment.
The petty thing to do would be to recall her numerous moments of tale-telling.
Allies were few and precious, she learned, and Suellen was her family. She couldn't deny that bond and frankly did not want to.
She took Suellen's hands in hers.
"Thank you," She whispered.
"Never you mind," replied Suellen, turning away with reddened cheeks, but a pleased look on her face. "But don't expect it again. You're still irritating. And I hope not to see you so low this time. That doesn't look good on you."
Scarlett grinned. Now, she was more at ease with that!
"You should have added something, dear sister, for the impression to be perfect."
Said sister cocked a brow, befuddled, as her elder leaned in in conspiracy, her green eyes sparkling.
"Go n-ithe an cat thú is go n-ithe an diabhal an cat !" She whispered mischievously.
May the cat eat you, and may the devil eat the cat.
This drew a similar grin on Suellen's face as they joined Uncle Peter.
.
.
.
.
As they came back home, so came back the realization of it all, and Melanie, pale and weary, took her leave in her room while Suellen, after staying a moment with Scarlett, went up to take a look at Carreen, still a little feverish.
Captain Ashburn came by the end of the afternoon, as promised, and with a little bouquet of daffodils as Scarlett had settled on the couch with Wade, trying to interest him in a picture book. But as the young man went in, having secured a moment alone, however without thinking about the little boy's presence, the toddler escaped his mother's arms, looked at him curiously, before finally deciding he was no one of consequence. He wandered around, and Scarlett made a little pout, before raising to greet her guest. She offered him a little smile, and he smiled back, as uneasily, until a loud creak broke their connection, making Scarlett wince.
"Wade, do stop with the drawers !" She turned to Carey Ashburn with an apology in her eyes. "I had just persuaded not to, but as soon as you came... Oh, Wade, don't!"
Her begs were in vain, for he seemed to have quite a delight in pulling and pushing, pulling and pushing the drawers of the cabinet, until finally it fell down, scattering the things it contained. Scarlett scowled, but Cheyenne was quicker. She went to the boy and crouched to him, whispering him soft things with a smile. And it worked, quickly, smoothly.
She wished she could do it so easily. Ever since Rhett's departure, after a slight appearance of docility, he had been so wild! She despaired to get him calm again.
"He… is quite a joyful boy," Captain Ashburn attempted with a weak smile.
She smiled absently and nodded.
"I do hope you had a good day," She tried, but her mind was elsewhere.
"I... Lovely, thank you," He flustered, remembering as she did, cleared his throat and took a seat when she offered it, crossing his nervous legs as he attempted to straighten his composure. "I came to tell you that… I know what you are going through. All the humiliation, the mortification, all of your delightful spirit being humbled in such a way, and it is my own fault…"
Scarlett darted her eyes back to him. He gulped down and went on his knees, taking her by the hand.
"I will make the right decision by you, I promise. Marry me."
You took your time coming, she thought. He should have come much earlier.
She had made up her mind. She was tired of running from Rhett. She was tired of running from herself.
Captain Ashburn perhaps had been the leader of the guards that had prevented the situation from getting worse. But it hadn't been his name she had almost cried on the street. It hadn't been Captain Ashburn she wanted.
Rhett had actually gone all this way to propose marriage to her. No, he had not proposed. He had demanded. Demanded!
She should have been vexed. She should have been upset. Only, she was not. Instead, there was a strange feeling of quietness, white and deaf. It was not an unpleasant feeling. But it was strange all the same, as if she was on the edge of a cliff, looking over a raging sea underneath.
It was a cliff she knew about already, having put a foot many a time on it, telling herself she would not look down. If she looked down, she would fall.
Now that she looked down, she realized she did not want another Charles to fall into that with her. For she was bound to fall, she knew that. It was a matter of fact. She was no woman to deny her own desires and needs.
But was he like Charles?
She looked at him and compared the differences between the men who had proposed to her. The three men had replied to the occasion.
The main thing that separated them was exactly what decided her. Rhett was not one to embarrass himself with the appearances, though it had irritated him. He wanted her, and he wasn't sorry about getting her. Charles had accepted, knowing the consequences, accepting the conditions. He wanted nothing, but to keep her safe.
But this man here, who had professed to love her, looked like a little boy who had been caught doing something wrong. The guilty air marred obviously the enthusiasm of his passion, and was slowly turning it into something tepid, begrudging.
It was all so very exciting when it was all discreet, light-as-feather touches and kiss. But the way people looked and judged was all too much for him.
"I… I have a headache. I'm sorry, I can't…"
"Of course. This troubles you so. I shall wait for your reply when you're … uh!"
The cup of coffee that Scarlett had left on the table was splattered on his plain brown pants as a ball hit it, and Captain Ashburn raised up with a very outraged air, glaring at the child who looked at him innocently.
"You…"
A raw violence lurked suddenly in the usually clear, soft eyes, and it startled Scarlett. As she looked again, he came back to her, faltered, and it disappeared like a mist.
But Scarlett had seen it. Scarlett had judged it.
He would resent her for laughing too much, dancing too freely. And he might resent Wade for not being his, she thought. Yes, more concerning was the way he stared at Wade, as if the little boy was an anomaly that disconcerted him, irritated him even.
"You … delightful little creature," he patted Wade's head. Lovely, really.
She kept her eyes on him.
"I'm sorry for your clothes."
"It is nothing, " it so visibly cut him to say that she almost remarked on it. "No, really. It is not like it is my most handsome one, it's just…"
She let out a silly giggle. "Oh, you're funny, Captain !"
"Am I ? Well, yes," he smiled with uncertainty.
She put her hand on his, her voice caressing, expressing a regret that was supposed to make the rejection easier, but she did not feel.
"I'm afraid for your sake, I have to decline. You deserve for more than a little country woman and her willful boy, sir, and be sure I have the deepest respect for you, but…"
He took a step toward her.
"Oh, but, I want…"
He was stopped in his sentence as he felt a little hand gripping the fabric of his trousers. The horror took him as he realized that little hand was full of melted chocolate, and that the boy was beginning to pat on and on the cloth with visible glee. Scarlett's eyes widened.
"Wade !" She cried in dismay. "I'm sorry I really don't know what is coming over him."
Captain Ashburn shook his head, red with mortification.
"It's alright, it's… I had better get going."
And gone, he was soon, and she felt no regret watching his back.
…
…
…
The rest of the day came swiftly, and without her taking real notice of it, Scarlett was in her dark green evening gown, with bobs jingling on her ears, seated between Melanie and Suellen for the first's evening of celebration before her wedding that took place, with the help of Dr. Meade and Rhett, in the banquet hall of the National Hotel.
As well-wishers rose to express their early congratulations, to the flustering pleasure of Melanie and her fiancé, Scarlett was reflecting on her current situation.
Trapped with the man she loved, but who would never be able to love her as she wanted.
If he was ever able to love anyone in such a way.
Seducing him into loving her? Ha, that was a lovely idea, but that would never work with him. He would run and laugh at every attempt. She was afraid he would even give her some thorough advice on how to do it with any man.
He was trying to make a point. To do so just because he could, and she defied him. Once owned, she would have no more value to him than these cigars he threw away once consumed.
Was she willing to take the risk?
She inwardly shook her head and raised it. The moment for praise was gone.
No. The risk had been taken long ago.
She had to make the best of it. Whatever happened now, it had to be her choice. She had to make it hers. Yes, he had gotten what he said he wanted. However, that did not mean he won. She had to be true to herself, true to the resolutions she had taken. No matter what, she had to make the best of it for herself, and for Wade.
He raised, and there was no turning back. In fact, the choice was obviously clear.
He cleared his throat, used a little spoon on his glass to gather the attention of all on him.
"An instant, if you please. In this moment of hope and happy unions, I would like to make my own announcement…"
She swiftly rose, the chair creaking on the floor as she went up and came to his side.
She had made up her mind.
He looked at her with widened, but pleased eyes. His fist lift, and she put her hand on it, and just as she did, a great surge of life came back to her body, sparkling like electricity. She raised up her head, her whole body straightening with renewed energy.
I love you, Rhett, she thought. It seems there's no escape from that. We're inevitable. But it will not be at the expense of despising myself for you. You will not make me.
She couldn't resist fate. It was folly to try. She had always known she would be his, somehow, even if he went away for any of his adventures, and in her child's mind, she had thought him hers.
He had never been.
And anyway, the more she ran from him, the more he pursued her. She couldn't fight fate, indeed. But she was not to be whipped out.
After all, wasn't love a war somehow, if it was said all was fair in love and war ?
Not that he loved her. He wanted her, for sure and she was honest enough with herself to know she wanted him to keep wanting her, but she could never be sure of him.
Perhaps the only way for her to keep him wanting her was to make him unsure. Unsure of what was coming, unsure of her…
Well, she thought. He is making me unsure. He wants me unsure. That's fair in that game.
After all, hadn't she a right to it?
He smiled hesitantly at her, and she replied with her own little smirk. His smile faltered a little as he saw it, associated with mischief in her eyes. He stared at her, intrigued, before stifling a joyful laugh.
The vixen was not tamed, it seemed.
Fine, he preferred her that way. His grip tightened as his lips stretched.
"I say, in this moment of hope and happy unions… I have to admit myself to have been caught in the oldest trap of the universe, caught so tightly I couldn't resist, and had to beg for mercy," He winked at her. "I'm very happy to announce I've proposed to the delightful Mrs. Hamilton, and she accepted."
The public was stunned silent for a moment. The matriarchs stared in horror while their husbands did not seem to know how to react. Mrs. Whiting hiccuped. Mrs. Elsing gasped. Feeling the tension, Melanie was about to applaud eagerly, as was Edward, in an attempt to shift it.
But Scarlett was faster than them.
"And it is our dearest wish, as a blessing for our union, that one million dollars should be donated to support our dear men and boys, still fighting valiantly for the Confederacy."
There, the main matriarchs' eyes lit in understanding, except Mrs. Meade who kept frowning, and Scarlett could see that even if they disapproved the means, they certainly approved of the end, and such objective could excuse, at least a little, that terrible impropriety of not only announcing it on such occasion, but also considering it at all.
Only Mrs. Bonnell seemed to find it so very romantic.
Rhett's eyes twinkled in amusement.
"I said that? Well indeed. And one million more for our great ladies of Atlanta, who with their gracious hands and generous hearts are the pillars of our nation. "
Scarlett kept smiling, though her nails clawed his hands viciously as they cheered all around for this unsuspected generosity.
"I am… glad that you stand by my side," he whispered quietly to her ear as the hands kept clapping, his hot breath caressing the side of the jaw like a kiss.
Her pulse somersaulted, from her chest to the tip of her fingers.
Don't, she thought. Not yet. No now.
She pressed her lips to prevent them from trembling, and looked away, to the crowd around them.
"Isn't this all a transaction, after all?"
The pressure on his jaw tightened.
"You do like to use my words," he quipped.
"I do and say as you say. Do you not want me to listen to you, o my lord and master?"
His lip went down.
"Alright, my little shrew. But I quite like the idea that listening to me made you raise so readily from your seat to put your dainty little hand on mine."
"I was not to let you drag me by the hair."
He looked at the brilliant black hair, and just like that, his eyes became soft again, almost tender.
"Now, that would have made for quite a sight. But no, I would not want to rip any of that beautiful hair in the process. It is soon to be as much mine as yours, isn't it?"
She lowered her gaze, trying to keep a clear mind. But even then, the warm drawl of his voice kept taunting her with its deep rich tone. He had a smile tugging at his lips, the rascal, and she could feel it even without seeing it.
"You are a cad."
She thought of throwing him the vase, the porcelains and the silver spoons. She thought of throwing him the books that were presents for Edward and Melanie, one by one until they hit that thick, devilish, handsome head of his.
And now he chuckled!
"Yours, I'm afraid."
He winked with a conspiratorial smile, a smile telling him he knew exactly what she was thinking of, and that he was up for the challenge of dodging everything she would send him.
She looked at him askance, astounded, him so handsome and proud, and with that playful and harmless mischief she had not seen for a long time, and a sudden surge of genuine joy warmed her. Hers, he had said, and how her heart skipped as she heard it ! A strange sense of peace, as if the world was suddenly right again, when she had thought it couldn't be. And yet... quickly, abruptly, it was taking over her, from his warm hand to her heart.
Her eyes told what her lips wouldn't be allowed to. Not now. Not yet. Perhaps never. Perhaps one day. Who knew? At the time, she was not quite sure. At this time, she was doubting even her own doubts, so blinded by the brightness of his smile, and the twinkle in his eye.
Her smile faltered as she saw the dejected face of Captain Ashburn.
There was a gentleman, a man who, like any other whose interest did not include her child, but that had wanted to do right by her, and had loved her – at least the idea of her -, and she wanted him not. She could not regret not wanting him, for then she would have needed to be another person entirely, and she was too grown up to want him for the flattery of his affection.
But even though she felt almost sad for him, that sadness was rendered less by the fact she had never promised him anything, nor wanted to.
...
...
...
Here's a little teaser for the next chapter (I think I will make it a new habit :) ):
.
"See, I'm not that cruel of a man."
Scarlett chortled.
"No. You're worse."
He grinned back, tucking a strand back behind her ear.
"But not the worst, certainly. "
"The absolute worst," she said, and she was shocked to realize the wave of tenderness that was overflowing behind these words.
