Gone With the Wind (149 page)

“A—deception?”

“Yes. Really, I’ve come to talk business to you.”

“Oh, dear. Then it’s Mr. Wilkes you’d better see. I’m such a goose about business. I’m not smart like Scarlett.”

“I’m afraid Scarlett is too smart for her own good,” he said, “and that is exactly what I want to talk to you about. You know how—ill she’s been. When she gets back from Tara she will start again hammer and tongs with the store and those mills which I wish devoutly would explode some night. I fear for her health, Miss Melly.”

“Yes, she does far too much. You must make her stop and take care of herself.”

He laughed.

“You know how headstrong she is. I never even try to argue with her. She’s just like a willful child. She won’t let me help her—she won’t let anyone help her. I’ve tried to get her to sell her share in the mills but she won’t. And now, Miss Melly, I come to the business matter. I know Scarlett would sell the remainder of her interest in the mills to Mr. Wilkes but to no one else, and I want Mr. Wilkes to buy her out.”

“Oh, dear me! That would be nice but—” Melanie stopped and bit her lip. She could not mention money matters to an outsider. Somehow, despite what he made from the mill, she and Ashley never seemed to have enough money. It worried her that they saved so little. She did not know where the money went. Ashley gave her enough to run the house on, but when it came to extra expenses they were often pinched. Of course, her doctors bills were so much, and then the books and furniture Ashley ordered from New York did run into money. And they had fed and clothed any number of waifs who slept in their cellar. And Ashley never felt like refusing a loan to any man who’d been in the Confederate Army. And—

“Miss Melly, I want to lend you the money,” said Rhett

“That’s so kind of you, but we might never repay it.”

“I don’t want it repaid. Don’t be angry with me, Miss Melly! Please hear me through. It will repay me enough to know that Scarlett will not be exhausting herself driving miles to the mills every day. The store will be enough to keep her busy and happy. … Don’t you see?”

“Well—yes—” said Melanie uncertainly.

“You want your boy to have a pony don’t you? And want him to go to the university and to Harvard and to Europe on a Grand Tour?”

“Oh, of course,” cried Melanie, her face lighting up, as always, at the mention of Beau. “I want him to have everything but—well, everyone is so poor these days that—”

“Mr. Wilkes could make a pile of money out of the mills some day,” said Rhett. “And I’d like to see Beau have all the advantages he deserves.”

“Oh, Captain Butler, what a crafty wretch you are!” she cried, smiling. “Appealing to a mother’s pride! I can read you like a book.”

“I hope not,” said Rhett, and for the first time there was a gleam in his eye. “Now will you let me lend you the money?”

“But where does the deception come in?”

“We must be conspirators and deceive both Scarlett and Mr. Wilkes.”

“Oh, dear! I couldn’t!”

“If Scarlett knew I had plotted behind her back, even for her own good—well, you know her temper! And I’m afraid Mr. Wilkes would refuse any loan I offered him. So neither of them must know where the money comes from.”

“Oh, but I’m sure Mr. Wilkes wouldn’t refuse, if he understood the matter. He is so fond of Scarlett.”

“Yes, I’m sure he is,” said Rhett smoothly. “But just the same he would refuse. You know how proud all the Wilkes are.”

“Oh, dear!” cried Melanie miserably, “I wish— Really, Captain Butler, I couldn’t deceive my husband.” -

“Not even to help Scarlett?” Rhett looked very hurt. “And she is so fond of you!”

Tears trembled on Melanie’s eyelids.

“You know I’d do anything in the world for her. I can never, never half repay her for what she’s done for me. You know.”

“Yes,” he said shortly, “I know what she’s done for you. Couldn’t you tell Mr. Wilkes that the money was left you in the will of some relative?”

“Oh, Captain Butler, I haven’t a relative with a penny to bless him!”

“Then, if I sent the money through the mail to Mr. Wilkes without his knowing who sent it, would you see that it was used to buy the mills and not—well, given away to destitute ex-Confederates?”

At first she looked hurt at his last words, as though they implied criticism of Ashley, but he smiled so understandingly she smiled back.

“Of course I will.”

“So it’s settled? It’s to be our secret?”

“But I have never kept anything secret from my husband!”

“I’m sure of that, Miss Melly.”

As she looked at him she thought how right she had always been about him and how wrong so many other people were. People had said he was brutal and sneering and bad mannered and even dishonest Though many of the nicest people were now admitting they had been wrong. Well! She had known from the very beginning that he was a fine man. She had never received from him anything but the kindest treatment, thoughtfulness, utter respect and what understanding! And then, how he loved Scarlett! How sweet of him to take this roundabout way of sparing Scarlett one of the loads she carried!

In an impulsive rush of feeling, she said: “Scarlett’s lucky to have a husband who’s so nice to her!”

“You think so? I’m afraid she wouldn’t agree with you, if she could hear you. Besides, I want to be nice to you too, Miss Melly. I’m giving you more than I’m giving Scarlett.”

“Me!” she questioned, puzzled. “Oh, you mean for Beau.”

He picked up his hat and rose. He stood for a moment looking down at the plain, heart-shaped face with its long widow’s peak and serious dark eyes. Such an unworldly face, a face with no defenses against life.

“No, not Beau. I’m trying to give you something more than Beau, if you can imagine that”

“No, I can’t,” she said, bewildered again. “There’s nothing in the world more precious to me than Beau except Ash—except Mr. Wilkes.”

Rhett said nothing and looked down at her, his dark face still.

“You’re mighty nice to want to do things for me, Captain Butler, but really, I’m so lucky. I have everything in the world any woman could want.”

“That’s fine,” said Rhett, suddenly grim. “And I intend to see that you keep them.”

When Scarlett came back from Tara, the unhealthy pallor had gone from her face and her cheeks were rounded and faintly pink. Her green eyes were alert and sparkling again, and she laughed aloud for the first time in weeks when Rhett and Bonnie met her and Wade and Ella at the depot—laughed in annoyance and amusement. Rhett had two straggling turkey feathers in the brim of his hat and Bonnie, dressed in a sadly torn dress that was her Sunday frock, had diagonal lines of indigo blue on her cheeks and a peacock feather half as long as she was in her curls. Evidently a game of Indian had been in progress when the time came to meet the train and it was obvious from the look of quizzical helplessness on Rhett’s face and the lowering indignation of Mammy that Bonnie had refused to have her toilet remedied, even to meet her mother.

Scarlett said: “What a ragamuffin!” as she kissed the child and turned a cheek for Rhett’s lips. There were crowds of people in the depot or she would never have invited this caress. She could not help noticing, for all her embarrassment at Bonnie’s appearance, that everyone in the crowd was smiling at the figure father and daughter cut, smiling not in derision but in genuine amusement and kindness. Everyone knew that Scarlett’s youngest had her father under her thumb and Atlanta was amused and approving. Rhett’s great love for his child had gone far toward reinstating him in public opinion.

On the way home, Scarlett was full of County news. The hot, dry weather was making the cotton grow so fast you could almost hear it but Will said cotton prices were going to be low this fall. Suellen was going to have another baby—she spelled this out so the children would not comprehend—and Ella had shown unwonted spirit in biting Suellen’s oldest girl. Though, observed Scarlett, it was no more than little Susie deserved, she being her mother all over again. But Suellen had become infuriated and they had had an invigorating quarrel that was just like old times. Wade had killed a water moccasin, all by himself. ‘Randa and Camilla Tarleton were teaching school and wasn’t that a joke? Not a one of the Tarletons had ever been able to spell cat! Betsy Tarleton had married a fat one-armed man from Lovejoy and they and Hetty and Jim Tarleton were raising a good cotton crop at Fairhill. Mrs. Tarleton had a brood mare and a colt and was as happy as though she had a million dollars. And there were negroes living in the old Calvert house! Swarms of them and they actually owned it! They’d bought it in at the sheriff’s sale. The place was dilapidated and it made you cry to look at it. No one knew where Cathleen and her no-good husband had gone. And Alex was to marry Sally, his brother’s widow! Imagine that, after them living in the same house for so many years! Everybody said it was a marriage of convenience because people were beginning to gossip about them living there alone, since both Old Miss and Young Miss had died. And it had about broken Dimity Munroe’s heart. But it served her right If she’d had any gumption she’d have caught her another man long ago, instead of waiting for Alex to get money enough to marry her.

Scarlett chattered on cheerfully but there were many things about the County which she suppressed, things that hurt to think about. She had driven over the County with Will, trying not to remember when these thousands of fertile acres had stood green with cotton. Now, plantation after plantation was going back to the forest and dismal fields of broomsedge, scrub oak and runty pines had grown stealthily about silent ruins and over old cotton fields. Only one acre was being farmed now where once a hundred had been under the plow. It was like moving through a dead land.

“This section won’t come back for fifty years—if it ever comes back,” Will had said. Tara’s the best farm in the County, thanks to you and me, Scarlett, but it’s a farm, a two-mule farm, not a plantation. And the Fontaine place, it comes next to Tare and then the Tarletons. They ain’t makin’ much money but they’re getting’ along and they got gumption. But most of the rest of the folks, the rest of the farms—”

No, Scarlett did not like to remember the way the deserted County looked. It seemed even sadder, in retrospect beside the bustle and prosperity of Atlanta.

“Has anything happened here?” she asked when they were finally home and were seated on the front porch. She had talked rapidly and continuously all the way home, fearing that a silence would fall. She had not had a word alone with Rhett since that day when she fell down the steps and she was none too anxious to be alone with him now. She did not know how he felt toward her. He had been kindness itself during her miserable convalescence, but it was the kindness of an impersonal stranger. He had anticipated her wants, kept the children from bothering her and supervised the store and the mills. But he had never said: “I’m sorry.” Well, perhaps he wasn’t sorry. Perhaps he still thought that child that was never born was not his child. How could she tell what went on in the mind behind the bland dark face? But he had showed a disposition to be courteous, for the first time in their married life, and a desire to let life go on as though there had never been anything unpleasant between them—as though, thought Scarlett cheerlessly, as though there had never been anything at all between them. Well, if that was what he wanted, she could act her part too.

“Is everything all right?” she repeated. “Did you get the new shingles for the store? Did you swap the mules? For Heaven’s sake, Rhett, take those feathers out of your hat. You look a fool and you’ll be likely to wear them downtown without remembering to take them out.”

“No,” said Bonnie, picking up her father’s hat defensively.

“Everything has gone very well here,” replied Rhett. “Bonnie and I have had a nice time and I don’t believe her hair has been combed since you left. Don’t suck the feathers, darling, they may be nasty. Yes, the shingles are fixed and I got a good trade on the mules. No, there’s really no news. Everything has been quite dull.”

Then, as an afterthought he added: “The honorable Ashley was over here last night. He wanted to know if I thought you would sell him your mill and the part interest you have in his.”

Scarlett who had been rocking and fanning herself with a turkey tail fan, stopped abruptly.

“Sell? Where on earth did Ashley get the money? You know they never have a cent. Melanie spends it as fast as he makes it.”

Rhett shrugged. “I always thought her a frugal little person, but then I’m not as well informed about the intimate details of the Wilkes family as you seem to be.”

That jab seemed in something of Rhett’s old style and Scarlett grew annoyed.

“Run away, dear,” she said to Bonnie. “Mother wants to talk to Father.”

“No,” said Bonnie positively and climbed upon Rhett’s lap.

Scarlett frowned at her child and Bonnie scowled back in so complete a resemblance to Gerald O’Hara that Scarlett almost laughed.

“Let her stay,” said Rhett comfortably. “As to where he got the money, it seems it was sent him by someone he nursed through a case of smallpox at Rock Island. It renews my faith in human nature to know that gratitude still exists.”

“Who was it? Anyone we know?”

“The letter was unsigned and came from Washington. Ashley was at a loss to know who could have sent it. But then, one of Ashley’s unselfish temperament goes about the world doing so many good deeds that you can’t expect him to remember all of them.”

Had she not been so surprised at Ashley’s windfall, Scarlett would have taken up this gauntlet, although while at Tara she had decided that never again would she permit herself to be involved in any quarrel with Rhett about Ashley. The ground on which she stood in this matter was entirely too uncertain and, until she knew exactly where she stood with both men, she did not care to be drawn out.

“He wants to buy me out?”

“Yes. But Of course, I told him you wouldn’t sell.”

“I wish you’d let me mind my own business.”

“Well, you know you wouldn’t part with the mills. I told him that he knew as well as I did that you couldn’t bear not to have your finger in everybody’s pie, and if you sold out to him, then you wouldn’t be able to tell him how to mind his own business.”