Gone With the Wind (130 page)

Scarlett had borne with Pitty’s swooning at the news and had steeled herself to see Ashley look suddenly old and avoid her eyes as he wished her happiness. She had been amused and irritated at the letters from Aunt Pauline and Aunt Eulalie in Charleston, horror struck at the news, forbidding the marriage, telling her it would not only ruin her social position but endanger theirs. She had even laughed when Melanie with a worried pucker in her brows said loyally: “Of course, Captain Butler is much nicer than most people realize and he was so kind and clever, the way he saved Ashley. And after all, he did fight for the Confederacy. But, Scarlett, don’t you think you’d better not decide so hastily?”

No, she didn’t mind what anybody said, except Mammy. Mammy’s words were the ones that made her most angry and brought the greatest hurt

“Ah has seed you do a heap of things dat would hu’t Miss Ellen, did she know. An’ it has done sorrered me a plen’y. But disyere is de wust yit. Mahyin’ trash! Yas’m, Ah said trash! Doan go tellin’ me he come frum fine folkses. Dat doan mek no diffunce. Trash come outer de high places, same as de low, and he trash! Yas’m, Miss Scarlett, Ah’s seed you tek Mist’ Charles ‘way frum Miss Honey w’en you din’ keer nuthin’ ‘bout him. An’ Ah’s seed you rob yo own sister of Mist’ Frank. An’ Ah’s heshed mah mouf ‘bout a heap of things you is done, lak sellin’ po’ lumber fer good, an’ lyin’ ‘bout de other lumber gempmums, an’ ridin’ roun’ by yo’seff, exposin’ yo’seff ter free issue niggers an’ gettin’ Mist’ Frank shot, an’ not feedin’ dem po’ convicts nuff ter keep dey souls in dey bodies. Ah’s done heshed mah mouf, even ef Miss Ellen in de Promise Lan’ wuz sayin’ ‘Mammy, Mammy! You ain’ look affer mah chile right!’ Yas’m. Ah’s stood fer all dat but Ah ain’ gwine stand fer dis, Miss Scarlett. You kain mahy wid trash. Not w’ile Ah got breaf in mah body.”

“I shall marry whom I please,” said Scarlett coldly. “I think you are forgetting your place, Mammy.”

“An’ high time, too! Ef Ah doan say dese wuds ter you, who gwine ter do it?”

“I’ve been thinking the matter over, Mammy, and I’ve decided that the best thing for you to do is to go back to Tara. I’ll give you some money and—”

Mammy drew herself up with all her dignity.

“Ah is free, Miss Scarlett. You kain sen’ me nowhar Ah doan wanter go. An’ w’en Ah goes back ter Tara, it’s gwine be w’en you goes wid me. Ah ain’ gwine leave Miss Ellen’s chile, an’ dar ain’ no way in de worl’ ter mek me go. An’ Ah ain’ gwine leave Miss Ellen’s gran’chillun fer no trashy step-pa ter bring up, needer. Hyah Ah is and hyah Ah stays!”

“I will not have you staying in my house and being rude to Captain Butler. I am going to marry him and there’s no more to be said.”

“Dar is plen’y mo’ ter be said,” retorted Mammy slowly and into her blurred old eyes there came the light of battle.

“But Ah ain’ never thought ter say it ter none of Miss Ellen’s blood. But, Miss Scarlett, lissen ter me. You ain’ nuthin’ but a mule in hawse harness. You kin polish a mule’s feet an’ shine his hide an’ put brass all over his harness an’ hitch him ter a fine cah’ige. But he a mule jes’ de same. He doan fool nobody. An’ you is jes’ de same. You got silk dresses an’ de mills an’ de sto’ an’ de money, an’ you give yo’seff airs lak a fine hawse, but you a mule jes’ de same. An’ you ain’ foolin’ nobody, needer. An’ dat Butler man, he come of good stock and he all slicked up lak a race hawse, but he a mule in hawse harness, jes’ lak you.”

Mammy bent a piercing look on her mistress. Scarlett was speechless and quivering with insult.

“Ef you say you gwine mahy him, you gwine do it, ‘cause you is bullhaided lak yo’ pa. But ‘member dis, Miss Scarlett, Ah ain’ leavin’ you. Ah gwine stay right hyah an’ see dis ting thoo.”

Without waiting for a reply, Mammy turned and left Scarlett and if she had said: “Thou shalt see me at Philippi!” her tones would not have been more ominous.

While they were honeymooning in New Orleans Scarlett told Rhett of Mammy’s words. To her surprise and indignation he laughed at Mammy’s statement about mules in horse harness.

“I have never heard a profound truth expressed so succinctly,” he said. “Mammy’s a smart old soul and one of the few people I know whose respect and good will I’d like to have. But, being a mule, I suppose I’ll never get either from her. She even refused the ten-dollar gold piece which I, in my groomlike fervor, wished to present her after the wedding. I’ve seen so few people who did not melt at the sight of cash. But she looked me in the eye and thanked me and said she wasn’t a free issue nigger and didn’t need my money.”

“Why should she take on so? Why should everybody gabble about me like a bunch of guinea hens? It’s my own affair whom I marry and how often I marry. I’ve always minded my own business. Why don’t other people mind theirs?”

“My pet, the world can forgive practically anything except people who mind their own business. But why should you squall like a scalded cat? You’ve said often enough that you didn’t mind what people said about you. Why not prove it? You know you’ve laid yourself open to criticism so often in small matters, you can’t expect to escape gossip in this large matter. You knew there’d be talk if you married a villain like me. If I were a low-bred poverty-stricken villain, people wouldn’t be so mad. But a rich, flourishing villain—of course, that’s unforgivable.”

“I wish you’d, be serious sometimes!”

“I am serious. It’s always annoying to the godly when the ungodly flourish like the green bay tree. Cheer up, Scarlett, didn’t you tell me once that the main reason you wanted a lot of money was so you could tell everybody to go to hell? Now’s your chance.”

“But you were the main one I wanted to tell to go to hell,” said Scarlett, and laughed.

“Do you still want to tell me to go to hell?”

“Well, not as often as I used to.”

“Do it whenever you like, if it makes you happy.”

“It doesn’t make me especially happy,” said Scarlett and, bending, she kissed him carelessly. His dark eyes flickered quickly over her face, hunting for something in her eyes which he did not find, and he laughed shortly.

“Forget about Atlanta. Forget about the old cats. I brought you to New Orleans to have fun and I intend that you shall have it.”

Part Five

CHAPTER XLVIII

SHE DID HAVE FUN, more fun than she had had since the spring before the war. New Orleans was such a strange, glamorous place and Scarlett enjoyed it with the headlong pleasure of a pardoned life prisoner. The Carpetbaggers were looting the town, many honest folk were driven from their homes and did not know where to look for their next meal, and a negro sat in the lieutenant governor’s chair. But the New Orleans Rhett showed her was the gayest place she had ever seen. The people she met seemed to have all the money they wanted and no cares at all. Rhett introduced her to dozens of women, pretty women in bright gowns, women who had soft hands that showed no signs of hard work, women who laughed at everything and never talked of stupid serious things or hard times. And the men she met—how thrilling they were! And how different from Atlanta men—and how they fought to dance with her, and paid her the most extravagant compliments as though she were a young belle.

These men had the same hard reckless look Rhett wore. Their eyes were always alert, like men who have lived too long with danger to be ever quite careless. They seemed to have no pasts or futures, and they politely discouraged Scarlett when, to make conversation, she asked what or where they were before they came to New Orleans. That, in itself, was strange, for in Atlanta every respectable newcomer hastened to present his credentials, to tell proudly of his home and family, to trace the tortuous mazes of relationship that stretched over the entire South.

But these men were a taciturn lot, picking their words carefully. Sometimes when Rhett was alone with them and Scarlett in the next room, she heard laughter and caught fragments of conversation that meant nothing to her, scraps of words, puzzling names—Cuba and Nassau in the blockade days, the gold rush and claim jumping, gun running and filibustering, Nicaragua and William Walker and how he died against a wall at Truxillo. Once her sudden entrance abruptly terminated a conversation about what had happened to the members of Quantrill’s band of guerillas, and she caught the names of Frank and Jesse James.

But they were all well mannered, beautifully tailored, and they evidently admired her, so it mattered little to Scarlett that they chose to live utterly in the present. What really mattered was that they were Rhett’s friends and had large houses and fine carriages, and they took her and Rhett driving, invited them to suppers, gave parties in their honor. And Scarlett liked them very well. Rhett was amused when she told him so.

“I thought you would,” he said and laughed.

“Why not?” her suspicions aroused as always by his laughter.

“They’re all second-raters, black sheep, rascals. They’re all adventurers or Carpetbag aristocrats. They all made their money speculating in food like your loving husband or out of dubious government contracts or in shady ways that won’t bear investigation.”

“I don’t believe it You’re teasing. They’re the nicest people …”

“The nicest people in town are starving,” said Rhett. “And living politely in hovels, and I doubt if I’d be received in those hovels. You see, my dear, I was engaged in some of my nefarious schemes here during the war and these people have devilish long memories! Scarlett, you are a constant joy to me. You unerringly manage to pick the wrong people and the wrong things.”

“But they are your friends!”

“Oh, but I like rascals. My early youth was spent as a gambler on a river boat and I can understand people like that. But I’m not blind to what they are. Whereas you”— he laughed again—“you have no instinct about people, no discrimination between the cheap and the great. Sometimes, I think that the only great ladies you’ve ever associated with were your mother and Miss Melly and neither seems to have made any impression on you.”

“Melly! Why she’s as plain as an old shoe and her clothes always look tacky and she never has two words to say for herself!”

“Spare me your jealousy, Madam. Beauty doesn’t make a lady, nor clothes a great lady!”

“Oh, don’t they! Just you wait, Rhett Butler, and I’ll show you. Now that I’ve—we’ve got money, I’m going to be the greatest lady you ever saw!”

“I shall wait with interest,” he said.

More exciting than the people she met were the frocks Rhett bought her, superintending the choice of colors, materials and designs himself. Hoops were out now, and the new styles were charming with the skirts pulled back from the front and draped over bustles, and on the bustles were wreaths of Sowers and bows and cascades of lace. She thought of the modest hoops of the war years and she felt a little embarrassed at these new skirts which undeniably outlined her abdomen. And the darling little bonnets that were not really bonnets at all, but flat little affairs worn over one eye and laden with fruits and flowers, dancing plumes and fluttering ribbons! (If only Rhett had not been so silly and burned the false curls she bought to augment her knot of Indian-straight hair that peeked from the rear of these little hats!) And the delicate convent-made underwear! How lovely it was and how many sets she had! Chemises and nightgowns and petticoats of the finest linen trimmed with dainty embroidery and infinitesimal tucks. And the satin slippers Rhett bought her! They had heels three inches high and huge glittering paste buckles on them. And silk stockings, a dozen pairs and not a one had cotton tops! What riches!

She recklessly bought gifts for the family. A furry St. Bernard puppy for Wade, who had always longed for one, a Persian kitten for Beau, a coral bracelet for little Ella, a heavy necklace with moonstone pendants for Aunt Pitty, a complete set of Shakespeare for Melanie and Ashley, an elaborate livery for Uncle Peter, including a high silk coachman’s hat with a brush upon it, dress lengths for Dilcey and Cookie, expensive gifts for everyone at Tara.

“But what have you bought for Mammy?” questioned Rhett, looking over the pile of gifts spread out on the bed in their hotel room, and removing the puppy and kitten to the dressing room.

“Not a thing. She was hateful. Why should I bring her a present when she called us mules?”

“Why should you so resent hearing the truth, my pet? You must bring Mammy a present It would break her heart if you didn’t—and hearts like hers are too valuable to be broken.”

“I won’t take her a thing. She doesn’t deserve it.”

Then I’ll buy her one. I remember my mammy always said that when she went to Heaven she wanted a taffeta petticoat so stiff that it would stand by itself and so rustly that the Lord God would think it was made of angels’ wings. I’ll buy Mammy some red taffeta and have an elegant petticoat made.”

“She won’t take it from you. She’d die rather than wear it.”

“I don’t doubt it But I’ll make the gesture just the same.”

The shops of New Orleans were so rich and exciting and shopping with Rhett was an adventure. Dining with him was an adventure too, and one more thrilling than shopping, for he knew what to order and how it should be cooked. The wines and liqueurs and champagnes of New Orleans were new and exhilarating to her, acquainted with only homemade blackberry and scuppernong vintages and Aunt Pitty’s “swoon” brandy; but oh, the food Rhett ordered! Best of all things in New Orleans was the food. Remembering the bitter hungry days at Tara and her more recent penury, Scarlett felt that she could never eat enough of these rich dishes. Gumboes and shrimp Creole, doves in wine and oysters in crumbly patties full of creamy sauce, mushrooms and sweetbreads and turkey livers, fish baked cunningly in oiled paper and limes. Her appetite never dulled, for whenever she remembered the everlasting goobers and dried peas and sweet potatoes at Tara, she felt an urge to gorge herself anew of Creole dishes.

“You eat as though each meal were your last,” said Rhett. “Don’t scrape the plate, Scarlett. I’m sure there’s more in the kitchen. You have only to ask the waiter. If you don’t stop being such a glutton, you’ll be as fat as the Cuban ladies and then I shall divorce you.”