Scarlett (15 page)

She danced as she hadn’t danced in years. She was giddy, infected by the thrilling madness of masquerade, intoxicated by the strangeness of it all, by the champagne offered on silver trays held by satin-clad pages, by the delight of being at a party again, by her unquestionable success. She was a success, and she believed she was unknown, invulnerable.

She recognized the Old Guard dowagers. They had on the same costumes they’d worn in the parade. Ashley was masked, but she knew him as soon as she saw him. He wore a mourning band around the sleeve of his black-and-white Harlequin outfit. India must have dragged him here so she’d have an escort, Scarlett thought, how mean of her. Of course she doesn’t care if it’s mean or not, as long as it’s proper, and a man in mourning doesn’t have to give up going out the way a woman does. He can put an armband on his best suit and start courting his next love before his wife’s hardly cold in her grave. But anybody could tell poor Ashley hates being here. Look at the way he’s all droopy in his fancy dress. Well, never you mind, dear. There’ll be plenty more houses like the one Joe Colleton’s building now. Come spring you’ll be so busy delivering lumber that you won’t have time to be sad.

As the evening wore on, the masquerade mood became even more pronounced. Some of Scarlett’s admirers asked her name; one even tried to lift her mask. She deflected them with no trouble. I haven’t forgotten how to handle rambunctious boys, she thought, smiling. And boys is what they are, no matter what age they might be. They’re even sneaking over to the corner for a little something stronger than champagne. Next thing you know, they’ll start giving the Rebel Yell.

“What are you smiling at, my Queen of Mystery?” asked the portly Cavalier who was, it seemed, doing his best to step on her feet while they danced.

“Why, at you, of course,” Scarlett replied, smiling. No, she hadn’t forgotten a thing.

When the Cavalier released her hand to the eager Mandarin who was back for the third time, Scarlett begged prettily for a chair and a glass of champagne. The Cavalier had badly bruised one of her toes.

But when her escort led her towards the sitting-out side of the room, she suddenly declared that the orchestra was playing her favorite song, and she couldn’t bear not to dance.

She had seen Aunt Pittypat and Mrs. Elsing in her path. Could they have recognized her?

A mix of anger and fear dimmed the happy excitement she was feeling. She was painfully aware of her injured foot and the whiskey breath of the Mandarin.

I won’t think about it now, not about Mrs. Elsing and not about my sore toe. I won’t let anything spoil my fun. She tried to push the thoughts aside and gave herself over to enjoyment.

But, against her will, her eyes looked often at the sides of the ballroom and the men and women sitting or standing there.

Her eyes brushed a tall, bearded pirate who was leaning against a doorjamb, and he bowed to her. Scarlett’s breath caught in her throat. She turned her head to look again. There was something… the air of insolence…

The pirate was wearing a white dress shirt and dark evening trousers. Not a costume at all, except for the wide red silk sash tied around his waist, with two pistols tucked into it. And blue bows tied to the ends of his thick beard. His mask was a simple black one over his eyes. He wasn’t anyone she knew, was he? So few men wore thick beards these days. Still, the way he was standing. And the way he seemed to be staring at her, right through the mask.

When Scarlett looked at him for the third time, he smiled, his teeth very white against his dark beard and swarthy skin. Scarlett felt faint. It was Rhett.

It couldn’t be… she must be imagining things… No, she wasn’t; she wouldn’t feel this way if it was anyone else. Wasn’t that just like him? Showing up at a ball that most people couldn’t get invited to… Rhett could do anything!

“Excuse me, I must go. No, really, I mean it.” She pushed away from the Mandarin and ran to her husband.

Rhett bowed again. “Edward Teach at your service, ma’am.”

“Who?” Did he think she hadn’t recognized him?

“Edward Teach, commonly known as Blackbeard, the greatest villain that ever plowed the waters of the Atlantic.” Rhett twirled a ribboned lock of the beard.

Scarlett’s heart leapt. He’s having fun, she thought, making those jokes of his that he knows I hardly ever understand. Just the way he used to before… before things went bad. I mustn’t put my foot wrong now. I mustn’t. What would I have said, before I loved him so much?

“I’m surprised that you’d come to a ball in Atlanta when there are such big doings in your precious Charleston,” she said.

There. That was just right. Not exactly mean, but not too loving, either.

Rhett’s eyebrows rose in black crescents above his mask, Scarlett held her breath. He’d always done that when he was amused. She was acting just right.

“How do you come to be so informed about Charleston’s social life, Scarlett?”

“I read the paper. Some silly woman keeps going on and on about some horserace.”

Damn that beard. She thought he was smiling, but she couldn’t really see his lips.

“I read the newspapers, too,” said Rhett. “Even in Charleston it’s news when an upstart country town like Atlanta decides to pretend that it’s New Orleans.”

New Orleans. He had taken her there for their honeymoon. Take me there again, she wanted to say, we’ll start over, and everything will be different. But she mustn’t say that. Not yet. Her mind leapt quickly from one memory to another. Narrow cobbled streets, tall shadowy rooms with great mirrors framed in dull gold, strange and marvellous foods…

“I’ll admit the refreshments aren’t as fancy,” she said grudgingly.

Rhett chuckled. “A powerful understatement.”

I’m making him laugh. I haven’t heard him laugh for ages… too long. He must have seen the men flocking to dance with me.

“How did you know it was me?” she said. “I have a mask on.”

“I only had to look for the most ostentatiously dressed woman, Scarlett. It was bound to be you.”

“Oh, you… you skunk.” She forgot that she was trying to amuse him. “You don’t look exactly handsome, Rhett Butler, with that foolish beard. Might as well stick a bearskin over your face.”

“It was the fullest disguise I could think of. There are a number of people in Atlanta that I’m not anxious to have recognize me too easily.”

“Then why did you come? Not just to insult me, I don’t suppose.”

“I promised you I’d make myself visible often enough to keep down gossip, Scarlett. This was a perfect occasion.”

“What good does a masked ball do? Nobody knows who anybody is.”

“At midnight the masks come off. That’s about four minutes from now. We’ll waltz to visibility, then leave.” Rhett took her in his arms, and Scarlett forgot her anger, forgot the peril of unmasking before her enemies, forgot the world. Nothing was important but that he was here and holding her.

Scarlett lay awake most of the night, struggling to understand what had happened. Everything was fine at the Ball… When twelve o’clock came, Dr. Meade said that everyone should take off their masks, and Rhett was laughing when he yanked off his beard, too. I’d take an oath he was enjoying himself. He kind of saluted the doctor and bowed to Mrs. Meade and then he whisked me out of there as easy as a greased pig. He didn’t even notice the way people turned their backs on me, at least he didn’t let on if he did. He was grinning from ear to ear.

And in the carriage coming home it was too dark to see his face, but his voice sounded fine. I didn’t know what to say, but I hardly even had to think about it. He asked how things were at Tara and if his lawyer was paying my bills on time, and by the time I answered, we were home. That’s when it happened. He was here, right downstairs in the hallway. Then he just said goodnight, he was tired, and went up to his dressing room.

He wasn’t hateful or cold, he just said goodnight and went upstairs. What does that mean? Why did he bother to come all this way? Not just to go to a party when it’s party time in Charleston. Not because it was a masquerade—he could go to Mardi Gras if he wanted to. After all, he has lots of friends in New Orleans.

He said “to keep down gossip.” In a pig’s eye. He started it, if anything, snatching off that silly beard the way he did.

Her mind circled back, went over the evening again and again until her head ached. Her sleep, when it came, was brief and restless. Nevertheless, she woke in good time to go down to breakfast in her most becoming dressing gown. She’d have no tray brought to her room today. Rhett always had his breakfast in the dining room.

“Up so early, my dear?” he said. “How thoughtful of you. I won’t have to write a note of farewell.” He tossed his napkin onto the table. “I’ve packed some things Pork overlooked. I’ll be by for them later, on my way to the train.”

Don’t leave me, Scarlett’s heart begged. She looked away lest he see the pleading in her eyes. “For heaven’s sake finish your coffee, Rhett,” she said. “I’m not going to make a scene.” She went to the sideboard and poured herself some coffee, watching him in the mirror. She must be calm. Maybe then he’d stay.

He was standing, his watch open in his hand. “No time,” he said. “There are some people I have to see while I’m here. I’m going to be very busy until summer, so I’ll drop the word that I’m going to South America on business. No one will gossip about my absence for so long. Most people in Atlanta don’t even know where South America is. You see, my dear, I’m keeping my promise to preserve the purity of your reputation.” Rhett grinned malevolently, closed the watch and tucked it in its pocket. “Goodbye, Scarlett.”

“Why don’t you go on to South America and get lost there forever!”

When the door closed behind him, Scarlett’s hand reached for the decanter of brandy. Why had she carried on like that? That wasn’t how she felt at all. He’d always done that to her, goaded her into saying things she didn’t mean. She should have known better than to fly off the handle that way. But he shouldn’t have taunted me about my reputation. How could he have found out that I’m outcast?

She’d never been so unhappy in her whole life.

L
ater Scarlett was ashamed of herself. Drinking in the morning! Only low-life drunks did such a thing. Things weren’t so bad, really, she told herself. At least she knew now when Rhett would be coming back. It was much too far in the future, but it was definite. Now she wouldn’t waste time wondering if today might be the day… or tomorrow… or the day after that.

February opened with a surprising warm spell that called forth premature leaves on trees and filled the air with the scent of waking earth. “Open all the windows,” Scarlett told the servants, “and let the mustiness out.” The breeze lifting the loose tendrils of hair at her temples was delicious. Suddenly she was gripped by a terrible longing for Tara. She’d be able to sleep there with the spring-laden wind, bringing the smell of the warming earth into her bedroom.

But I can’t go. Colleton will be able to start at least three more houses once this weather gets the frost out of the ground, but he’ll never do it unless I nag him into it. I’ve never known such a picky man in all my life. Everything has to be just so. He’ll wait till the ground’s warm enough to dig to China and find no frost.

Suppose she went for just a few days? A few days wouldn’t make that much difference, would it? Scarlett remembered Ashley’s pallor and dejected slump at the Carnival Ball, and she made a small sound of disappointment.

She wouldn’t be able to relax at Tara if she did go.

She sent Pansy with a message to Elias to bring the carriage around. She had to go find Joe Colleton.

That evening, as if to reward her for doing her duty, the doorbell sounded just after darkness fell. “Scarlett, honey,” Tony Fontaine called out when the butler let him in, “an old friend needs a room for the night, will you be merciful?”

“Tony!” Scarlett ran from the sitting room to embrace him.

He dropped his luggage, caught her in his arms for a hug. “Great God Almighty, Scarlett, you’ve done real well for yourself,” he said. “I thought some fool had given me directions to a hotel when I saw this big place.” He looked at the ornate chandelier, flocked velvet wallpaper, and massive gilt mirrors in the entrance hall, then grinned at her. “No wonder you married that Charlestonian instead of waiting for me. Where is Rhett? I’d like to meet the man who got my girl.”

Cold fingers of fear traced Scarlett’s spine. Had Suellen told the Fontaines anything? “Rhett’s in South America,” she said brightly, “can you imagine such a thing? Gracious peace, I thought missionaries were the only people who ever went to such an outlandish place!”

Tony laughed. “Me, too. I’m sorry to miss seeing him, but it’s good luck for me. I’ll have you all to myself. How about a drink for a thirsty man?”

He didn’t know Rhett had left, she was sure of it. “I think a visit from you calls for champagne.”

Tony said he’d welcome champagne later, but for now he wanted a good old bourbon whiskey and a bath. He could still smell cow manure on himself, he was sure.

Scarlett fixed his drink herself, then sent him upstairs with the butler as his guide to one of the extra bedrooms for guests. Thank heaven the servants lived in the house; there’d be no scandal about Tony staying as long as he liked. And she’d have a friend to talk to.