Scarlett (31 page)

“I asked you most particularly to allow plenty of time to get there. I should have gone myself, like I planned when I didn’t know you’d be home.”

“Try not to fret, Mama.” Rhett explained again what he had already told his mother. “I hired a hackney to pick me up in ten minutes. Then it’s a five-minute ride to the station. I’ll be fifteen minutes early, the train will be an hour late or more, and Rosemary will arrive home on my arm just in time for supper.”

“May I ride with you, Rhett? I’d love a breath of air.” Scarlett pictured the hour enclosed in the small cab of the hackney. She’d ask Rhett all about his sister, he’d like that. He was crazy about Rosemary. And if he talked enough, then maybe Scarlett would know what to expect. She was terrified that Rosemary wouldn’t like her, that she’d be another Ross. Her brother-in-law’s florid letter of apology had done nothing to make her stop loathing him.

“No, my dear, you may not ride with me. I want you to stay just as you are on that couch with the compresses on your eyes. They’re still swollen from sunburn.”

“Do you want me to come, dear?” Mrs. Butler rolled up her tatting to put it away. “It is going to be a long wait, I’m afraid.”

“I don’t mind waiting at all, Mama. I’ve got some plans to work out in my head about spring planting at the plantation.”

Scarlett settled back against the cushions, wishing that Rhett’s sister wasn’t coming home. She had no clear idea of what Rosemary would be like, and she’d rather not find out. She knew, from bits of gossip that she’d heard, that Rosemary’s birth had caused a lot of hidden smiles. She was a “change” baby, born when Eleanor Butler was over forty years old. She was also an old maid, one of the domestic casualties of the War—too young to marry before it began, too plain and too poor to attract the attention of the few men available when it was over. Rhett’s return to Charleston and his fabulous wealth had set tongues wagging. Rosemary would have a substantial dowry now. But she seemed to be always away, visiting a cousin or a friend in another town. Was she looking for a husband there? Weren’t Charleston men good enough for her? Everyone had been waiting for the announcement of an engagement for more than a year, but there was not even a hint of an attachment, much less a betrothal. “Rich pickings for speculation” was the way Emma Anson described the situation.

Scarlett speculated on her own. She’d be delighted to have Rosemary marry, no matter what it cost Rhett. She didn’t care to have her in the house. No matter if Rosemary was as plain as a mud fence, she was still younger than Scarlett and Rhett’s sister to boot. She’d get too much of his attention. She tensed when she heard the outside door open, a few minutes before suppertime. Rosemary had arrived.

Rhett entered the library, and smiled at his mother.

“Your wandering girl is home at last,” he said. “She’s sound in mind and limb and as fierce as a lion from hunger. As soon as she gets her hands washed, she’ll probably come in here and devour your flesh.”

Scarlett looked at the door with apprehension. The young woman who came through it a moment later had a pleasant smile on her face. There was nothing jungle-like about her. But she was as shocking to Scarlett as if she had worn a mane and roared. She looks just like Rhett! No, it’s not that. She’s got the same black eyes and hair and white teeth, but that’s not what’s the same. It’s more the way she is—she just kind of takes over, like he does. I don’t like it, I don’t like it at all.

Her green eyes narrowed and she studied Rosemary. She’s not really as plain as people said, but she doesn’t do anything with herself. Look at how she’s got her hair all skinned back in that big knot on the nape. And she’s not even wearing earbobs, though her ears are right pretty. Kind of sallow. I guess that’s what Rhett’s skin would be like if he wasn’t always in the sun. But a bright-colored frock would take care of that. She picked the worst possible thing in that dull browny-green. Maybe I could help her out some.

“So this is Scarlett.” Rosemary crossed the room in four strides. Oh, my, I’ll have to teach her to walk, Scarlett thought. Men don’t like women who gallop like that. Scarlett stood before Rosemary reached her, smiling a sisterly smile and tipped her face upward for a social kiss.

Instead of touching cheeks in the approved fashion, Rosemary stared frankly at Scarlett’s face. “Rhett said you were feline,” she said. “I see what he means, with those green eyes. I do hope you’ll purr at me and not spit, Scarlett. I’d like for us to be friends.”

Scarlett’s mouth gaped soundlessly. She was too startled to speak.

“Mama, do say supper’s ready,” Rosemary said. She had already turned away. “I told Rhett he was a thoughtless brute not to bring a hamper to the station.”

Scarlett’s eyes found him, and her temper flared. Rhett was lounging against the frame of the door, his mouth twisted in sardonic amusement. Brute! she thought. You put her up to that. “Feline,” am I? I wish I could show you feline. I’d like to scratch that laughter right out of your eyes. She looked quickly at Rosemary. Was she laughing, too? No, she was embracing Eleanor Butler.

“Supper,” said Rhett. “I see Manigo coming to announce it.”

Scarlett pushed her food around on her plate. Her sunburn was painful and Rosemary’s bumptiousness was giving her a headache. For Rhett’s sister was passionately and loudly opinionated and argumentative. The cousins she’d been visiting in Richmond were hopeless dolts, she declared, and she had hated every minute of the time there. She was absolutely certain that not one of them had ever read a book—at least, not one worth reading.

“Oh, dear,” said Eleanor Butler softly. She looked at Rhett with mute entreaty.

“Cousins are always a trial, Rosemary,” he said with a smile. “Let me tell you the latest on Cousin Townsend Ellinton. I saw him in Philadelphia recently, and the meeting left me with blurred vision for a week. I kept trying to look him in the eye and of course I get vertiginous.”

“I’d rather be dizzy than bored to death!” his sister interrupted. “Can you picture having to sit around after supper and listen to Cousin Miranda read aloud from the Waverley novels? That sentimental claptrap!”

“I always rather enjoyed Scott, dear, and so did you, I thought,” Eleanor said soothingly.

Rosemary was not soothed. “Mama, I didn’t know any better, that was years ago.”

Scarlett thought longingly of the quiet after supper hours she had been sharing with Miss Eleanor. Obviously there’d be no more of those with Rosemary in the house. How could Rhett possibly be so fond of her? Now she seemed bound and determined to pick a fight with him.

“If I were a man, you’d let me go,” Rosemary was shouting at Rhett. “I’ve been reading the articles about Rome that Mr. Henry James is writing, and I feel like I’ll perish of ignorance if I don’t get to see it for myself.”

“But you’re not a man, my dear,” Rhett said calmly. “Where on earth did you get copies of
The Nation?
You could be strung up for reading a liberal rag like that.”

Scarlett’s ears perked up and she broke into the conversation. “Why don’t you let Rosemary go, Rhett? Rome’s not so far. And I’m sure we must know somebody who has kin there. It can’t be any farther than Athens, and the Tarletons have about a million cousins in Athens.”

Rosemary gaped at her. “Who are these Tarletons and what does Athens have to do with Rome?” she said.

Rhett coughed to mask his laughter. Then he cleared his throat. “Athens and Rome are the names of country towns in Georgia, Rosemary,” he drawled. “Would you like to pay them a visit?”

Rosemary put her hands to her head in a dramatic gesture of despair. “I cannot credit what I’m hearing. Who would want to go to Georgia, for pity’s sake? I want to go to Rome, the real Rome, the Eternal City. In Italy!”

Scarlett felt the color rising in her cheeks. I should have known she meant Italy.

But before she could burst out as noisily as Rosemary, the door to the dining room crashed open with a bang that silenced all of them with shock, and Ross stumbled, panting for breath, into the candlelit room.

“Help me,” he gasped, “the Guard is after me. I shot the Yankee who’s been breaking into bedrooms.”

In seconds Rhett was at his brother’s side, holding his arm. “The sloop’s at the dock, and there’s no moon; the two of us can sail her,” he said with calming authority. As he left the room, he turned his head to speak quietly over his shoulder. “Tell them I left as soon as I delivered Rosemary so that I could catch the tide upriver, and you haven’t seen Ross, don’t know anything about anything. I’ll send word.”

Eleanor Butler rose from her chair without haste, as if this were a normal evening and she had finished eating supper. She walked to Scarlett, put an arm around her. Scarlett was shaking. The Yankees were coming. They’d hang Ross for shooting one of them, and they’d hang Rhett for trying to help Ross escape. Why couldn’t he let Ross take care of himself? He had no right to leave his women unprotected and alone when the Yankees were coming.

Eleanor spoke, and there was steel in her voice even though it was as soft and slow as ever. “I’m going to take Rhett’s dishes and silver into the kitchen. The servants must be told what to say and there must be no indication that he was here. Will you and Rosemary please rearrange the table for three settings?”

“What are we going to do, Miss Eleanor? The Yankees are coming.” Scarlett knew she should stay calm; she despised herself for being so frightened. But she couldn’t control her fear. She had come to think that the Yankees were toothless, only laughable and in the way. It was shattering to be reminded that the occupying Army could do anything it wanted, and call it law.

“We’re going to finish our supper,” said Mrs. Butler. Her eyes began to laugh. “Then I think I shall read aloud from
Ivanhoe
.”

“Don’t you have anything better to do with your time than bully a household of women?” Rosemary glared at the Union captain, her fisted hands on her hips.

“Sit down and be quiet, Rosemary,” said Mrs. Butler. “I apologize for my daughter’s rudeness, Captain.”

The officer was not won over by Eleanor’s conciliatory politeness. “Go ahead and search the house,” he ordered his men.

Scarlett lay supine on the couch with chamomile compresses on her sunburned face and swollen eyes. She was grateful for their protection; she didn’t have to look at the Yankees. What a cool head Miss Eleanor had, to think of arranging a sickroom scene in the library. Still, curiosity was nearly killing her. She couldn’t tell what was going on with only sound to guide her. She could hear footsteps, and doors closing, and then silence. Was the captain gone? Were Miss Eleanor and Rosemary gone, too? She couldn’t stand it. She moved one hand slowly up to her eyes and lifted a corner of the damp cloth that covered them.

Rosemary was sitting in the chair near the desk, calmly reading a book.

“Ssst,” Scarlett whispered.

Rosemary quickly closed the book and covered the title with her hand. “What is it?” she said, also whispering. “Did you hear something?”

“No, I don’t hear a thing. What are they doing? Where’s Miss Eleanor? Did they arrest her?”

“For heaven’s sake, Scarlett, what are you whispering for?” Rosemary’s normal voice sounded terribly loud. “The soldiers are searching the house for weapons; they’re confiscating all the guns in Charleston. Mama’s following them around to make sure they don’t confiscate anything else.”

Was that all? Scarlett relaxed. There were no guns in the house; she knew because she’d looked for one herself. She closed her eyes and drifted near sleep. It had been a long day. She remembered the excitement of the water foaming alongside the swift-moving sloop, and for a moment she envied Rhett sailing under the stars. If only she could have been with him instead of Ross. She wasn’t worried that the Yankees would catch him; she never worried about Rhett. He was invincible.

When Eleanor Butler returned to the library after seeing the Union soldiers out, she tucked her cashmere shawl around Scarlett, who had fallen into a deep sleep. “No need to disturb her,” she said quietly, “she’ll be comfortable here. Let’s go to bed, Rosemary. You’ve had a long trip, and I’m tired, and tomorrow’s bound to be very active.” She smiled to herself when she saw the bookmark placed well along in the pages of
Ivanhoe
. Rosemary was a fast reader. And not nearly as modern as she liked to think she was.

The Market was abuzz with indignation and ill-conceived plans the next morning. Scarlett listened to the agitated conversations around her with scorn. What did they expect, the Charlestonians? That the Yankees would let people go around shooting them and do nothing? All they were going to do was make things worse if they tried to argue or protest. What difference did it make after all this time that General Lee had talked Grant into allowing Confederate officers to keep their sidearms after the surrender at Appomattox? It was still the end of the South, and what good did a revolver do you if you were too poor to buy bullets for it? As for duelling pistols! Who on earth would care about saving them? They weren’t good for anything except men showing off how brave they were and getting their fool heads blown off.

She kept her mouth shut and concentrated on the shopping. Otherwise it would never get done. Even Miss Eleanor was running around like a chicken with its head cut off, talking to everybody in a barely audible, urgent tone.

“They say the men all want to finish what Ross started,” she told Scarlett when they were walking home. “It’s more than they can bear to have their homes ransacked by the troops. We women are going to have to manage things; the men are too hot under the collar.”