Scarlett (96 page)

Scarlett laughed aloud. “Frail spinster,” indeed! Miss Julia must have scared the pants off him! The other passengers looked at her curiously, but Scarlett was unaware of their scrutiny. The Landing would be next…

Yes, there was the phosphate mine. So much bigger! There were five barges being loaded. She searched under the wide-brimmed hat of the man on the dock. It was that white-trash soldier—she couldn’t remember his name, something like Hawkins—no matter, around that bend, past that big live oak…

The angle of the sunlight sculpted the great grass terraces of Dunmore Landing into green velvet giant steps and scattered sequins on the butterfly lakes beside the river. Scarlett’s involuntary cry was lost in the exclamations of the Yankees crowded around her along the rail. At the top of the terraces the scorched chimneys were tall sentinels against the painfully bright blue sky; an alligator was sunning itself on the grass between the lakes. Dunmore Landing was like its owner: cultivated, damaged, dangerous. And unreachable. The shutters were closed on the wing that remained, the place that Rhett used for his office and his home.

Her eyes darted avidly from spot to spot, comparing her memory to what she saw. Much more of the garden was cleared and everything looked as if it was thriving. Some building was going up behind the house; she could smell raw lumber, see the top of a roof. The shutters of the house were fixed, or maybe new. They didn’t sag at all, and they glistened with green paint. He’d done a lot of work over the fall and winter.

Or they had. Scarlett tried to look away. She didn’t want to see the newly cleared gardens. Anne loves those flowers as much as Rhett does. And the fixed-up shutters must mean a fixed-up house where the two of them live together. Does Rhett fix breakfast for Anne?

“Are you all right, miss?” Scarlett pushed past the concerned stranger.

“The heat—” she said. “I’ll go over there, deeper in the shade.” For the remainder of the excursion she looked only at the unevenly painted deck. The day seemed to last forever.

F
ive o’clock was striking when Scarlett ran pell-mell down the ramp from the
Abraham Lincoln
. Damn fool boat. She stopped to catch her breath on the dock. She could see that the gangplank of
The Golden Fleece
was still in place. No harm done. But still, the master of the excursion boat should be horsewhipped. She’d been half out of her mind ever since four o’clock.

“Thank you for waiting for me,” she said to the ship’s officer at the head of the gangplank.

“Oh, there are more to come,” he said, and Scarlett transferred her anger to the captain of the
Fleece
. If he said five o’clock, he should sail at five o’clock. The sooner she got away from Charleston, the happier she would be. This must be the hottest place on the face of the earth. She shaded her eyes with her hand to look at the sky. Not a cloud in sight. No rain, no wind. Just heat. She started along deck towards her rooms. Poor baby Cat must be practically cooked. As soon as they got out of the harbor she’d bring her up on deck for whatever breeze the ship’s movement might cause.

Clattering hoofbeats and feminine laughter caught her attention. Maybe this was who they were waiting for. She glanced down at an open victoria. With three fabulous hats on the women in it. They weren’t like any hats she’d ever seen, and even from a distance she could tell they were very expensive. Wide brimmed, decorated with clusters of feathers or plumes held by sparkling jewels and swirled with airy tulle netting, from Scarlett’s perspective the hats were like wonderful parasols or fantastic confections of pastry on big trays.

I’d look simply wonderful in a hat like that. She leaned slightly over the rail to look at the women. They were elegant, even in the heat, wearing pale organdy or voile trimmed with—it looked like wide silk ribbon or was it ruching?—on cuirass fronts and—Scarlett blinked—no bustle at all, not even a hint of one, and no train either. She hadn’t seen anything like that in Savannah or Atlanta. Who were these people? Her eyes devoured the pale kid gloves and folded parasols, lace, she thought, but she couldn’t be sure. Whoever they were, they certainly were having a good time laughing their heads off and not hurrying to get on the ship they were holding up either.

The Panama-hatted man with them stepped down into the street. With his left hand he took off his hat. His right hand reached upward to hand the first woman down.

Scarlett’s hands clutched the railing. Dear God, it’s Rhett. I’ve got to run inside. No. No. If he’s on this ship I’ve got to get Cat off, find a place to hide, find another ship. But I can’t do that. I’ve got two trunks in the hold with frilly dresses and Colum’s rifles in them. What in the name of God am I going to do? Her mind raced from one impossible idea to another while she stared blindly at the group below her.

Slowly her brain registered what she was seeing: Rhett was bowing, kissing one gracefully extended hand after another. Her ears opened to the repeated “goodbye and thank you” of the women. Cat was safe.

But Scarlett was not. Her protective rage had disappeared, and her heart was exposed.

He doesn’t see me. I can look at him all I want. Please, please don’t put your hat back on, Rhett.

How well he looked. His skin was brown, his smile as white as his linen suit. He was the only man in the world who didn’t wrinkle linen. Ah, that lock of hair that annoyed him so was falling down on his forehead again. Rhett flicked it back with two fingers in a gesture that Scarlett knew so well she felt weak-kneed with possessive memory. What was he saying? Something outrageously charming, she was sure, but he was using that low intimate voice he saved for women. Curse him. And curse those women. She wanted that voice murmuring to her, only her.

The ship’s captain walked down the gangplank, adjusting the set of his gold epauletted jacket. Don’t make them hurry, Scarlett wanted to shout. Stay, stay just a little longer. It’s my last chance. I’ll never see him again. Let me store up the sight of him.

He must have just had his hair cut, there’s the tiniest pale line above his ears. Is that more gray at the temples? It looks so elegant, the silver streaking his crow-black hair. I remember how it felt under my fingers, crisp and shockingly soft at the same time. And the muscles in his shoulders and his arms, sliding so smoothly under the skin, stretching the skin when they hardened. I want—

The ship’s whistle shrieked loudly. Scarlett jumped. She could hear rapid footsteps, the rumble of the gangplank, but she kept her eyes fixed on Rhett. He was smiling, looking over there to her right, looking up. She could see his dark eyes and slashing brows and impeccably groomed mustache. His entire strong, masculine, unforgettable pirate’s face. “My beloved,” she whispered, “my love.”

Rhett bowed once again. The ship was moving away from the dock. He put his hat on and turned away. His thumb tilted the hat to the back of his head.

Don’t go, cried Scarlett’s heart.

Rhett glanced over his shoulder as if there had been a sound. His eyes met hers, and surprise stiffened his lithe body. For a long, immeasurable moment the two of them looked at each other while the space between them widened. Then blandness smoothed Rhett’s face as he touched two fingers to his hat brim in salute. Scarlett lifted her hand.

He was still standing there on the dock when the ship turned into the channel to the sea. When Scarlett could see him no longer, she sank numbly into a deck chair.

“Don’t be silly, Bridie, the steward will sit right outside the door. He’ll come get us if Cat so much as turns over. There’s no reason for you not to come to the dining saloon. You can’t have your dinner in here every night.”

“There’s reason enough for me, Scarlett. I don’t feel easy among fancy gentlemen and ladies, pretending to be one of them.”

“You’re just as good as they are, I told you that.”

“And I heard you say it, Scarlett, but you don’t hear me. I prefer to have me meal in here with all the silver hats on the dishes and my manners my own business. ’Tis soon enough I’ll have to go where the lady I’m maiding tells me to go and do what I’m told to do. It’s certain that having a grand meal in private comfort won’t be one of my instructions. I’ll take it now while I can.”

Scarlett had to agree with Bridie. But she couldn’t possibly have dinner in the suite herself. Not tonight. She had to find out who those women were and why they were with Rhett, or she’d go mad.

They were English, she learned as soon as she entered the dining saloon. The distinctive accent was dominating the captain’s table.

Scarlett told the steward that she would like to change her seating to the small table near the wall. The table near the wall was also near the captain’s table.

There were fourteen at his table: a dozen English passengers, the captain, and his first officer. Scarlett had a keen ear and could tell almost at once that the passengers’ accents were different from the ship’s officers, although to her they were all English and therefore to be despised by anyone with a drop of Irish blood.

They were talking about Charleston. Scarlett gathered that they didn’t think much of it. “My dears,” one of the women trumpeted, “I’ve never seen anything as dreary in my life. How my darling Mama could have told me that it was the only civilized place in America! It simply makes me worry that she’s gone dotty without our noticing.”

“Now, Sarah,” said the man to her left, “you do have to take that war of theirs into consideration. I found the men to be very decent. Down to their last shilling, I’m sure, but never a mention, and the liquor was first rate. Single malt at the club bar.”

“Geoffrey, my love, you’d think the Sahara was civilized if there was a club with drinkable whiskey. Heaven only knows it couldn’t be any hotter. Beastly climate.”

There was a chorus of agreement.

“On the other hand,” said a youthful female voice, “that terribly attractive Butler man said the winters are quite delightful. He invited us back.”

“I’m sure he invited you back, Felicity,” said an older woman. “You behaved disgracefully.”

“Frances, I did no such thing,” protested Felicity. “I was only having some fun for the first time on this dreary trip. I cannot credit why Papa sent me to America. It’s a wretched place.”

A man laughed. “He sent you, sister dear, to get you out of the clutches of that fortune hunter.”

“But he was so attractive. I don’t see any point in having a fortune if you have to fend off every attractive man in England simply because he’s not rich.”

“At least you’re supposed to fend them off, Felicity,” said a girl. “That’s easy enough to do. Think of our poor brother. Roger’s supposed to draw American heiresses like flies, and marry a fortune to refill the family coffers.” Roger groaned and everyone laughed.

Talk about Rhett, Scarlett implored silently.

“There’s simply no market for Honourables,” Roger said. “I can’t get it through Papa’s head. Heiresses want tiaras.”

The older woman they called Frances said that she thought they were all disgraceful and that she couldn’t understand young people today. “When I was a gel—” she began.

Felicity giggled. “Frances, dear, when you were a ‘gel’ there were no young people. Your generation were born forty years old and disapproving of everything.”

“Your impertinence is intolerable, Felicity. I shall speak to your father.”

A brief silence fell. Why on earth doesn’t that Felicity person say something more about Rhett? Scarlett thought.

It was Roger who brought up the name. Butler, he said, offered some good shooting if he came back in the autumn. Seems he had rice fields gone to grass and the ducks practically landed on the barrel of your gun.

Scarlett tore a roll into fragments. Who gave two cents about ducks? The other Englishmen did, it seemed. They talked about shooting throughout the main course of dinner. She was thinking she’d have done better to stay with Bridie when her ears picked up a low-toned private conversation between Felicity and her sister, whose name turned out to be Marjorie. Both of them thought Rhett one of the most intriguing men they’d ever met. Scarlett listened with mixed feelings of curiosity and pride.

“A shame he’s so devoted to his wife,” Marjorie said and Scarlett’s heart sank.

“Such a colorless little thing, too,” Felicity said. Scarlett felt a little bit better.

“Out and out rebound, I heard. Didn’t anyone tell you? He was married before, to an absolute tearing beauty. She ran off with another man and left Rhett Butler flat. He’s never gotten over it.”

“Gracious, Marjorie, can you imagine what the other man must be like if she’d leave the Butler man for him?”

Scarlett smiled to herself. She was enormously gratified to know that gossip had her leaving Rhett and not the other way around.

She felt much better than when she’d sat down. She might even have some dessert.

The following day the English discovered Scarlett. The three young people agreed that she was a superbly romantic figure, a mysterious young widow. “Damned nice looking, too,” Roger added. His sisters told him he must be going blind. With her pale skin and dark hair and those green eyes, she was fantastically beautiful. The only thing she needed was some decent clothes and she’d turn heads wherever she went. They decided they’d “take her up.” Marjorie made the approach by admiring Cat when Scarlett had her on deck for an airing.