I’ll just bet you all wondered, especially your adder-tongued old sister, she thought. “Come in and sit down,” she said, “I’m dying to hear all the news.”
The maid was hovering to one side. Scarlett said quietly as she passed her, “Bring us a pot of coffee and some cakes.”
She led the way into the sitting room, took one corner of a settee, patted the seat beside her. “Sit here beside me, Ashley, do. I want to look at you.” Thank the Lord, he’s lost that hangdog look he had. Henry Hamilton must have been right when he said that Ashley was doing fine. Scarlett studied him through lowered lashes while she busied herself clearing room on a table for the coffee tray. Ashley Wilkes was still a handsome man. His thin aristocratic features had become more distinguished with age. But he looked older than his years. He can’t be more than forty, Scarlett thought, and his hair’s more silver than gold. He must spend a lot more time in the lumberyard than he used to, he’s got a nice color to his skin, not that office gray look he had before. She looked up with a smile. It was good to see him. Especially looking so fit. Her obligation to Melanie didn’t seem so burdensome now.
“How’s Aunt Pitty? And India? And Beau? He must be practically a grown man!”
Pitty and India were just the same, said Ashley with a quirk of his lips. Pitty got the vapors at every passing shadow and India was very busy with committee work to improve the moral tone of Atlanta. They spoiled him abominably, two spinsters trying to see which one was the best mother hen. They tried to spoil Beau, too, but he’d have none of it. Ashley’s gray eyes lit up with pride. Beau was a real little man. He’d be twelve soon, but you’d take him for almost fifteen. He was president of a sort of club the neighborhood boys had formed. They’d built a tree house in Pitty’s backyard, made from the best lumber the mill turned out, too. Beau had seen to that; he already knew more about the lumber business than his father, said Ashley with a mixture of ruefulness and admiration. And, he added with intensified pride, the boy might have the makings of a scholar. He’d already won a school prize for Latin composition, and he was reading books far above his age level—
“But you must be bored by all this, Scarlett. Proud fathers can be very tedious.”
“Not a bit, Ashley,” Scarlett lied. Books, books, books, that was exactly what was wrong with the Wilkeses. They did all their living out of books, not life. But maybe the boy would be all right. If he knew lumber already, there was hope for him. Now, if Ashley would just not get all stiff-necked, she had one more promise to Melly that she could settle. Scarlett put her hand on Ashley’s sleeve. “I’ve got a big favor to beg,” she said. Her eyes were wide with entreaty.
“Anything, Scarlett, you should know that.” Ashley covered her hand with his.
“I’d like for you to promise that you’ll let me send Beau to University and then with Wade on a Grand Tour. It would mean a lot to me—after all, I think about him as practically my son, too, seeing that I was there when he was born. And I’ve come into really a lot of money lately, so that’s no problem. You can’t be so mean that you’d say no.”
“Scarlett—” Ashley’s smile was gone. He looked very serious.
Oh, bother, he’s going to be difficult. Thank goodness, here’s that slowpoke girl with the coffee. He can’t talk in front of her and I’ll have a chance to jump in again before he has a chance to say no.
“How many spoons of sugar, Ashley? I’ll fix your cup.”
Ashley took the cup from her hand, put it on the table. “Let the coffee wait for a minute, Scarlett.” He took her hand in his. “Look at me, dear.” His eyes were softly luminous. Scarlett’s thoughts were distracted. Why, he looks almost like the old Ashley, Ashley Wilkes of Twelve Oaks.
“I know how you came into that money, Scarlett. Uncle Henry let it slip. I understand how you must feel. But there’s no need. He was never worthy of you, you’re well rid of Rhett, never mind how. You can put it all behind you, as if it never happened.”
Great balls of fire, Ashley’s going to propose!
“You’re free from Rhett. Say you’ll marry me, Scarlett, and I’ll pledge my life to making you happy the way that you deserve to be.”
There was a time when I would have traded my soul for those words, Scarlett thought, it’s not fair that now I hear them and don’t feel anything at all. Oh, why did Ashley have to do that? Before the question was formed in her mind, she knew the answer. It was because of the old gossip, so long ago it seemed to be now. Ashley was determined to redeem her in the eyes of Atlanta society. If that wasn’t just like him! He’ll do the gentlemanly thing even if it means tearing up his whole life.
And mine, too, by the way. He didn’t bother to think of that, I don’t suppose. Scarlett bit her tongue to keep from unleashing her anger on him. Poor Ashley. It wasn’t his fault he was the way he was. Rhett said it: Ashley belonged to that time before the War. He’s got no place in the world today. I can’t be angry or mean. I don’t want to lose anyone who was part of the glory days. All that’s left of that world is the memories and the people who share them.
“Dearest Ashley,” Scarlett said, “I don’t want to marry you. That’s the all of it. I’m not going to play belle games with you and tell lies and keep you panting after me. I’m too old for that, and I care for you too much. You’ve been a big piece of my life all along, and you always will be. Say you’ll let me keep that.”
“Of course, my dear. I’m honored you feel that way. I won’t distress you by referring again to marriage.” He smiled, and he looked so young, so much like the Ashley of Twelve Oaks that Scarlett’s heart turned over. Dearest Ashley. He mustn’t ever guess that she’d clearly heard relief in his voice. Everything was all right. No, better than all right. Now they could truly be friends. The past was neatly finished.
“What are your plans, Scarlett? Are you home for good, as I hope?”
She’d prepared for this question even before she sailed from Galway. She must make sure that no one in Atlanta could know how to find her, it made her too vulnerable to Rhett, to losing Cat. “I’m selling up, Ashley, I don’t want to be tied down at all for a while. After I visited in Savannah, I paid a visit to some of Pa’s family in Ireland, then I went travelling.” She had to be careful what she said. Ashley had been abroad, he’d catch her out in a minute if she claimed she’d been to places she hadn’t been. “Somehow or other I never got around to seeing London. I figure I might settle there for a while. Do help me out, Ashley. Do you think London’s a good idea?” Scarlett knew, from Melanie, that he considered London as perfect as a city could be. He’d talk his head off, and forget to ask any more questions.
“I enjoyed the afternoon so much, Ashley. You’ll come again, won’t you? I’ll be here for a while settling things.”
“As often as I can. It’s a rare pleasure.” Ashley accepted his hat and gloves from the maid. “Goodbye, Scarlett.”
“Goodbye. Oh—Ashley, you will grant my favor I asked, won’t you? I’ll be miserable if you don’t.”
“I don’t think—”
“I swear to you, Ashley Wilkes, if you don’t let me set up a little fund for Beau, I’ll cry like a river over its banks. And you know as well as I do that no gentleman ever deliberately makes a lady cry.”
Ashley bowed over her hand. “I was thinking how much you’d changed, Scarlett, but I was wrong. You can still wrap men around your little finger and make them like it. I’d be a bad father to deny Beau a gift from you.”
“Oh, Ashley, I do love you and I always will. Thank you.”
And run to the kitchen and tell that, Scarlett thought as she watched the maid close the door behind Ashley. Might as well give all the old cats something good to gossip about. Besides, I do love Ashley and always will, in a way they’d never understand.
It took much longer than she’d expected for Scarlett to accomplish her business in Atlanta. She didn’t leave for Tara until June 10.
Almost a month away from Cat already! I can’t bear it. She might forget m
e. I probably missed a new tooth, maybe two. Suppose she was fretful and nobody knew that she’d feel better if she could splash in the water? It’s so hot, too. She might have prickly heat. A little Irish baby doesn’t know anything about hot weather.
During her final week in Atlanta Scarlett was so jumpy with nerves that she could hardly sleep. Why wouldn’t it rain? Red dust covered everything only a half hour after it had been wiped away.
But once on the train to Jonesboro she was able to relax. In spite of the delays she had done everything she’d set out to do, and done it better than both Henry Hamilton and her new lawyer said it could be done.
Naturally enough the saloon had been the easiest. The depression increased its business and its value. She was sad about the store. It was worth more for the land it was on than as a business; the new owners were going to tear it down and put up a building eight stories tall. Five Points, at least, was still Five Points, depression or no depression. She’d realized enough from those two sales to buy another fifty acres and put up another hundred houses on the edge of the city. That would keep Ashley prosperous for a couple of years. Plus the builder had told her that other builders were starting to buy only from Ashley too. They could trust him not to sell green lumber, something that couldn’t be said for the other yards in Atlanta. It really looked as if he was going to be a success in spite of himself.
And she was going to make a fortune. Henry Hamilton was right about that. Her little houses sold as fast as they were finished.
They had made a profit. A lot of profit. She was downright shocked when she saw how much money had accumulated in her bank account. Enough to cover all the expenses she’d been worried about at Ballyhara all these months with everything going out and so little coming in. Now she was even. The harvest would be all income, free and clear, plus provide seed for next year. And the rent rolls from the town were bound to keep growing. Before she left, a cooper was asking about one of the empty cottages, and Colum said he had a tailor in mind for another.
She would have done the same thing even if she hadn’t made so much money, but it was much easier to do since she had. The builder was instructed to send all the future profits to Stephen O’Hara in Savannah. He’d have all the money he needed to carry out Colum’s instructions.
It was funny about the Peachtree Street house, Scarlett thought. You’d think it would hurt to part with it. After all, it was where I lived with Rhett, the place where Bonnie was born and spent her terribly brief life. But the only thing I felt was relief. When that girls’ school made an offer I could have kissed the old prune-faced headmistress. It felt like lifting chains off me. I’m free now. No more obligations in Atlanta. Nothing binding me in.
Scarlett smiled to herself. Just like her corsets. She had never been laced up again after Colum and Kathleen cut her free in Galway. Her waist was a few inches bigger, but she was still slimmer than most of the women she saw on the street who were laced until they could hardly breathe. And she was comfortable—at any rate as comfortable as a person could be in this heat. She could dress herself, too, not be dependent on a maid. And the thick chignon she wore was no trouble to do on her own. It was wonderful to be self-sufficient. It was wonderful not to care about what other people did or did not do or what they approved or disapproved. It was most wonderful of all to be going home to one Tara and then taking her children home to another one. Soon she’d be with her precious Cat. Soon after that back again in the fresh, sweet, rain-washed cool of Ireland. Scarlett’s hand stroked the soft leather pouch in her lap. She’d take the earth from Ballyhara to her father’s grave first thing.
Can you see from where you are, Pa? Do you know? You’d be so proud of your Katie Scarlett, Pa. I’m The O’Hara.
69
Will Benteen was waiting for her at the Jonesboro depot. Scarlett looked at his weather-worn face and deceptively slack-looking body and grinned from ear to ear. Will must be the only man God ever made who could look like he was lounging on a peg leg. She hugged him ferociously.
“Landsake, Scarlett, you ought to warn a man. Nearly knocked me off my pin. It’s good to see you.”
“It’s good to see you, Will. I expect I’m gladder to see you than anybody else this whole trip.” It was true. Will was more dear to her than even the Savannah O’Haras. Maybe because he’d been through the bad times with her, maybe because he loved Tara as much as she did. Maybe simply because he was such an honest good man.
“Where’s your maid, Scarlett?”
“Oh, I don’t fool with a maid any more, Will. I don’t fool with a lot of things I used to fool with.”
Will shifted the straw in his mouth. “I noticed,” he said laconically. Scarlett laughed. She’d never thought before of what it must feel like to a man when he hugged a girl without stays.
“No more cages for me, Will, not ever, not any kind,” she said. She wished she could tell him why she was so happy, tell him about Cat, about Ballyhara. If it was only Will, she’d tell him in a second, she trusted him. But he was Suellen’s husband, and she wouldn’t trust her sister as far as she could throw her—with an anvil tied on besides. And Will might feel duty bound to tell his wife everything. Scarlett had to hold her tongue. She climbed up onto the seat of the wagon. She’d never known Will to use their buggy. He could combine buying stores in Jonesboro with meeting the train. The wagon was loaded with sacks and boxes.
“Tell me the news, Will,” Scarlett said when they were on the road. “I haven’t heard anything for such a long time.”
“Well, let me see. I reckon you want to hear about the kids first. Ella and our Susie are thick as thieves. Susie being a mite younger kind of gives Ella the upper hand, and that’s done her a world of good. You ain’t hardly going to know Wade when you see him. He started shooting up about the day he hit fourteen last January, and it don’t look like he’s ever going to stop. For all the weedy look, though, he’s strong as a mule. Works like one, too. Thanks to him there’s twenty fresh acres under crops this year.”
Scarlett smiled. What a help he’d be at Ballyhara, and how he’d love it. A born farmer, she’d never have thought it. Must take after Pa. The leather pouch was warm in her lap.
“Our Martha’s seven now, and Jane, the baby, was two last September. Suellen lost a baby last year, another little girl it was.”
“Oh, Will, I’m so sorry.”
“We decided not to try again,” Will said. “It was real hard on Suellen, the doctor advised it. We’ve got three healthy girls and that’s more than most people get to bring them happiness. ’Course I’d have liked a boy, any man would, but I’m not complaining. Besides, Wade’s been all the son any man could hope for. He’s a fine boy, Scarlett.”
She was happy to hear it. And surprised. Will was right, she wasn’t going to know Wade. Not if he was anything close to the boy Will made him out to be. She remembered a cowardly, frightened, pale little boy.
“I’m that fond of Wade, I agreed to talk to you for him, though I don’t generally cotton to sticking my nose into other folks’ business. He’s always been kind of scared of you, Scarlett, you know that. Any road, what he wants me to tell you is he don’t want no more schooling. He’s done with the school ’round here this month, and the law won’t make him do no more.”
Scarlett shook her head. “No, Will. You can tell him or I’ll do it. His daddy went to University and so will Wade. No offense, Will, but a man can’t go very far without an education.”
“No offense taken. And none given, but I figure you’re wrong. Wade can read and write and do all the calculations a farmer’s ever going to need. And that’s what he wants. Farming. Farming Tara, to put a finger on it. He says his grandpa built Tara with no more schooling than he’s got and he don’t see why he should have to be any different. The boy’s not like me, Scarlett. Hell, I can’t hardly do more than write my name. He had four years at the fancy school you had him at in Atlanta and three more here in the schoolhouse and on the land. He knows all a
country boy needs to know. That’s what he is, Scarlett, a country boy, and he’s happy at it. I’d hate to see you mess him up.”
Scarlett bristled. Who did Will Benteen think he was talking to? She was Wade’s mother, she knew what was best for him.
“Long as you’ve got your dander up, I might as well finish what I’ve got to say,” Will continued in his slow Cracker drawl. He looked directly ahead at the dusty red road. “They showed me the new papers about Tara over to the County Court House. Seems like you done got hold of Carreen’s share. I don’t know what your thinking is, Scarlett, and I ain’t asking. But I’m telling you this. If anybody comes up the road flapping something legal at me ’bout taking Tara, I plan to meet ’em at the end of the drive with a shotgun in my hand.”
“Will, I swear on a stack of Bibles, I’m not planning to do anything to Tara.” Scarlett was grateful it was the truth. Will’s soft-spoken nasal drawl was more frightening than the loudest shout could ever be.
“I’m glad to hear it. My figuring is it should be Wade’s. He’s your pa’s only grandson, and land should stay in the family. I’m hoping you’ll leave him where he is, Scarlett, to be my right hand and like a son to me, just the way he is now. You’ll do what you want to do. You always did. I gave Wade my word I’d talk to you, and now I have. We’ll leave it there, if you don’t mind. I said all I got to say.”
“I’ll think about it,” Scarlett promised. The wagon creaked along the familiar road and she saw that the land she’d known as cultivated fields was now all gone back to scrub trees and rough weed grasses. She felt like crying. Will saw the slope of her shoulders and the droop of her mouth.
“Where you been this last couple of years, Scarlett? If it wasn’t for Carreen we wouldn’t have known where you’d gone to at all, but then she lost track, too.”
Scarlett forced herself to smile. “I’ve been having adventures, Will, travelling all over the place. I visited my O’Hara kinfolks, too. A bunch of them are in Savannah, the nicest people you’d ever want to meet. I stayed with them ever so long. And then I went to Ireland to meet some more. You can’t imagine how many O’Haras there are.” Her throat clogged with tears. She held the leather pouch to her breast.
Scarlett: The Sequel to Margaret Mitchell's Gone With the Wind Page 71
