Scarlett (43 page)

Scarlett held on to the bedpost to keep from falling. She felt the surging thrill of danger in her veins. What had happened to put him in such a state?

“Don’t play the frightened maiden with me, Scarlett. I know you better than that. I’m not going to kill you, I’m not even going to beat you, although God knows you deserve it.”

Rhett’s mouth twisted. “How fetching you look, my dear. Bosom heaving and eyes wide with innocence. The pity of it is that you probably are innocent by your warped definition. Never mind the pain you’ve caused a harmless woman by casting your net over her witless husband.”

Scarlett’s lips curved in an uncontrollable smile of victory. He was furious about her conquest of Middleton Courtney! She had done it—made him admit that he was jealous. Now he’d have to admit that he loved her, she’d make him say it—

“I don’t give a damn that you made a spectacle of yourself,” Rhett said instead. “In fact it was rather diverting to watch a middle-aged woman convince herself that she was still an irresistible nubile girl. You can’t grow past sixteen, can you, Scarlett? The height of your ambition is to remain eternally the belle of Clayton County.

“Today the joke ceased to be funny,” he shouted. Scarlett recoiled from the sudden noise. He clenched his fists, visibly took command of his fury. “As I left church this morning,” he said quietly, “an old friend, who is also a close cousin, drew me to one side and volunteered to serve as my second when I challenge Middleton Courtney to a duel. He never doubted that that must be my intention. Regardless of the truth of the matter, your good name had to be defended. For the sake of the family.”

Scarlett’s small white teeth bit into her lower lip. “What did you say to him?”

“Exactly what I am about to say to you. ‘A duel will not be necessary. My wife is unaccustomed to society and acted in a way subject to misinterpretation because she didn’t know any better. I’ll instruct her in what is expected of her.’ ”

His arm moved as rapidly as a striking snake, and his hand closed cruelly around her wrist. “Lesson one,” he said. He pulled her to him with a sudden jerk. Scarlett was pinned against his chest with her arm twisted and held high on her back. Rhett’s face was close above her, his eyes boring into hers. “I do not mind if the entire world thinks I’m a cuckold, my dear, devoted little wife, but I will not be forced to fight Middleton Courtney.” Rhett’s breath was warm and salty in her nose and on her lips. “Lesson two,” he said.

“If I kill the jackass, I will have to leave town or be hung by the military, and that would be inconvenient for me. And I certainly have no intention of making myself an easy target for him. He might accidentally shoot straight and wound me, which would be another kind of inconvenience.”

Scarlett struck at him with her free hand, but he trapped it easily in his and twisted it up next to the other. His arms were a cage holding her against him. She could feel the moisture in his shirt seeping through her nightdress to her skin. “Lesson three,” said Rhett. “It would be the irony of the age for me—or even an imbecile like Courtney—to risk death in order to save your dishonest little soul from dishonor. Therefore—lesson four: you will follow my instructions for your behavior at all public appearances until the Season is ended. No head-hanging chagrin, my pet. It’s not your style and it would only add fuel to the fire of gossip. You will hold your curled head high and continue your relentless pursuit of lost youth. But you will distribute your attentions more evenly among the beguiled male population. I will be happy to advise you which gentlemen to favor. In fact I will insist on giving you advice.” His hands released her wrists and closed over her shoulders, thrusting her away.

“Lesson five: you will do exactly what I tell you to do.” Away from the heat of Rhett’s body, the wet silk nightdress felt like ice on Scarlett’s breasts and stomach. She crossed her arms over herself for warmth, but it was useless. Her mind was as icy as her body, and the things he had said rang clearly through it. He didn’t care… he had been laughing at her… he was concerned only with his “convenience.”

How dare he? How dare he laugh at her in public and revile her to his kin and throw her around in her own room like a sack of meal? A “Charleston gentleman” was as much a lie as a “Charleston lady.” Two-faced, lying, double-dealing—

Scarlett lifted her fists to hit him, but he was still gripping her shoulders, and her balled hands fell ineffectually on his chest.

She twisted and broke free. Rhett raised his palms to ward off her blows, and laughter rumbled low in his brown throat.

Scarlett lifted her hands—only to push her wild hair back from her face. “You can save your breath, Rhett Butler. I’ll need to advice from you because I won’t be here to ignore it. I hate your precious Charleston, and I despise everybody in it, especially you. I’m leaving tomorrow.” She faced him head-on, her hands on her hips, her head high, her chin out. Her body was visibly trembling in the clinging silk.

Rhett looked away. “No, Scarlett,” he said. His tone was leaden. “You will not leave. Flight would only serve to confirm guilt, and I’d still have to kill Courtney. You blackmailed me into allowing you to stay for the Season, Scarlett, and stay you will.

“And you will do what I tell you to do, and you will appear to like it. Or I swear before God that I will break every bone in your body, one after another.”

He walked to the door. With his hand on the latch, he looked back at her and smiled mockingly. “And don’t try to do anything clever, my pet. I will be watching every move you make.”

“I hate you!” Scarlett shouted at the closing door. When she heard a key turning in the lock, she threw the mantel clock, then the fireplace poker, at it.

Too late she thought of the piazza and the other bedrooms. When she ran to their doors they, too, were locked on the outside. She returned to her own room and paced its length and width until she was exhausted.

At last she slumped into a chair and pounded weakly on its armrests until her hands were sore. “I am going to leave,” she announced aloud, “and there’s no way he can stop me.” The tall, thick, locked door silently gave her the lie.

There was no point in fighting Rhett, she’d have to outwit him somehow. There had to be a way, and she’d find it. No need to burden herself with luggage, she could go with only the clothes on her back. That’s what she’d do. She’d go to a tea or a whist party or something and just walk away in the middle, straight to the horsecar and on to the depot. She had plenty of money for a ticket to—where?

As always when Scarlett was heartsore, she thought of Tara. There was peace there, and new strength…

… and Suellen. If only Tara was hers, all hers. She saw again the daydreams she’d invented when she visited Julia Ashley’s plantation. How could Carreen have thrown away her share the way she had?

Scarlett’s head snapped up like a woods animal scenting water. What good was a share in Tara to the convent in Charleston? They couldn’t sell it, even if there was a buyer, because Will would never agree, nor would she. Maybe they got a third share of any profit from the cotton crop, but how much could that possibly be? At best thirty or forty dollars a year. Why, they would jump at a chance to sell to her.

Rhett wanted her to stay, did he? Fine! She’d stay, but only if he helped her get Carreen’s third of Tara. Then, with two-thirds in her hand, she’d offer to buy out Will and Suellen. If Will refused to sell, she’d throw them out.

A stab of conscience halted her thoughts, but Scarlett pushed it away. What did it matter how much Will loved Tara? She loved it more. And she needed it. It was the only place she cared about, the only place where anyone had ever cared about her. Will would understand; he’d see that Tara was her only hope.

She ran to the bellpull and yanked on it. Pansy came to the door, tried it, turned the key and opened it.

“Tell Mr. Butler I want to see him, here in my room,” Scarlett said. “And bring up a supper tray. I’m hungry after all.”

She changed into a dry nightdress and a warm velvet dressing gown, then brushed her hair smooth and tied it back with a velvet ribbon. Her bleak eyes met themselves in the reflection of the looking glass.

She had lost. She wasn’t going to get Rhett back.

It wasn’t supposed to be like this.

Too much—too fast—her whole world had turned upside down in only a few hours. She was still reeling from the shock of what Sally Brewton told her. She couldn’t stand staying in Charleston after what she’d learned. It would be like trying to build a house on shifting sands.

Scarlett pressed her hands to her forehead as if to contain the maelstrom of confused thoughts. She couldn’t make sense of so many things spinning through her brain at one time. There had to be one thing she could concentrate on. All her life she’d been successful if she put all her attention on one goal.

Tara…

Tara it would be. When she finished gaining control of Tara, then she would think about all the rest…

“Here’s your supper, Miss Scarlett.”

“Put the tray on that table, Pansy, and leave me alone. I’ll ring when I’m done with it.”

“Yes’m. Mr. Rhett he say he’ll be along after he eats.”

“Leave me alone.”

Rhett’s expression was unreadable except for the wariness in his eyes. “You wanted to see me, Scarlett?”

“Yes, I do. Don’t worry, I’m not looking for a fight. I want to offer you a trade.”

His expression did not change. He said nothing.

Scarlett kept her voice cool and businesslike when she continued. “You and I both know that you can force me to stay in Charleston and go to the balls and receptions. And we both know that once you get me to one, there’s not a single thing you can do about what I might say or do. I’m offering to stay and to act however you want me to act, if you’ll help me get something I want that has nothing to do with you or Charleston.”

Rhett sat down, took out a thin cheroot, clipped and lit it. “I’m listening,” he said.

She explained her plan, growing more intense with each word she spoke. She waited eagerly for Rhett’s opinion when she finished.

“I have to admire your nerve, Scarlett,” said Rhett. “I never questioned whether you could hold your own against General Sherman and his army, but trying to outwit the Roman Catholic Church might be biting off more than you can chew.”

He was laughing at her, but it was a friendly laugh, even admiring. As if he, too, were back in the early days when they were friends.

“I’m not trying to outwit anybody, Rhett, just make an honest deal, that’s all.”

Rhett grinned. “You? Make an honest deal? You disappoint me, Scarlett. Are you losing your touch?”

“Honestly! I don’t know why you have to talk so ugly. You know very well I wouldn’t take advantage of the Church.” Scarlett’s prim outrage made Rhett laugh even more.

“I don’t know anything of the kind,” he said. “Tell me the truth, is this why you’ve been trotting off to Mass every Sunday rattling your beads? Have you been planning this all along?”

“No I haven’t. I can’t imagine why it took me so long to think of it.” Scarlett covered her mouth with her hand. How did Rhett do it? He always could surprise her into telling more than she meant to. She lowered her hand and scowled at him. “Well? Are you going to help me or not?”

“I’m willing to help, but I don’t see how I can. What if the Mother Superior turns you down? Will you still stay through the Season?”

“I said I would, didn’t I? Besides, there’s no reason for her to turn me down. I’m going to offer much more than Will can possibly send her. You can use your influence. You know everybody in the world, you can always get things done.”

Rhett smiled. “What touching faith you have in me, Scarlett. I know every rascal and crooked politician and dishonest businessman within a thousand miles, but I have no influence at all with the good people in this world. The best I can do for you is give you a little advice. Don’t try to pull the wool over the lady’s eyes. Tell her the truth if you can, and agree to anything she asks. Don’t bargain.”

“What a ninny you are, Rhett Butler! Nobody pays asking price except a fool. The convent doesn’t really need money anyhow. They’ve got that big house and all the sisters work for no wages and there are gold candlesticks and a big gold cross on the alter in the chapel.”

“ ‘Though I speak with the tongues of men and of angels…’ ” Rhett murmured with a chuckle.

“What on earth are you talking about?”

“Just quoting.”

He forced his face into a serious expression, but his dark eyes were gleeful. “I wish you all the luck in the world, Scarlett,” he said. “Consider it my benediction.” He left her room with his composure intact, then he laughed with genuine delight. Scarlett would keep her promise, she always did. With her help, he’d smooth over the scandal; then, in only two weeks the Season would end and Scarlett would be gone. He’d be free of the tension she had brought to the life he was trying to build in Charleston, and he’d be free to get back to the Landing. There was so much that he wanted to do on the plantation. Scarlett’s bullheaded assault on the Mother Superior of Carreen’s convent should be a good entertainment to divert him until his life was his own again.

I’d bet on the Roman Catholic Church, Rhett said to himself. It thinks of time in aeons, not in weeks. But I wouldn’t want to bet much. When Scarlett takes the bit between her teeth she’s a formidable force to reckon with. He laughed quietly for a long time.