Pauline relented. “It’s a joy to see how devoted he is to his mother’s happiness, finding all the things that she lost.”

This time Eulalie was the critic. “He could have shown some of that devotion a lot sooner, if you ask me.”

Scarlett didn’t ask. She was busy with her own thoughts, which were concentrated on wondering how soon she could go up to bed. No sleeplessness would plague her tonight, she was sure of it.

And she was right. Now that she’d taken her life in her own hands and was on her way to getting what she wanted, she could sleep like a baby. She woke in the morning with a sense of wellbeing that she hadn’t felt for years. She was welcome at her aunts’, not shunned and lonely like in Atlanta, and she didn’t even have to think yet about what she’d say to Rhett when she saw him. She could relax and be spoiled a little while she waited for him to get back from Philadelphia.

Her aunt Eulalie punctured Scarlett’s bubble before she’d finished her first cup of breakfast coffee. “I know how anxious you must be to see Carreen, honey, but she only has visitors on Tuesdays and Saturdays, so we’ve planned something else for today.”

Carreen! Scarlett’s lips tightened. She didn’t want to see her at all, the traitor. Giving her share of Tara away as if it meant nothing at all . . . But what was she going to say to the aunts? They’d never understand that a sister wouldn’t be just dying to see another sister. Why, they even live together, they’re so close. I’ll have to pretend I want to see Carreen more than anything in the world and get a headache when it’s time to go.

Suddenly she realized what Pauline was saying, and her head did begin to throb painfully at the temples.

“. . . so we sent our maid Susie with a note to Eleanor Butler. We’ll call on her this morning.” She reached for the bowl of butter. “Would you please pass the syrup, Scarlett?”

Scarlett’s hand reached out automatically, but she knocked over the pitcher, spilling the syrup. Rhett’s mother. She wasn’t ready to see Rhett’s mother yet. She’d only met Eleanor Butler once, at Bonnie’s funeral, and she had almost no memory of her, except that Mrs. Butler was very tall and dignified and imposingly silent. I know I’ll have to see her, Scarlett thought, but not now, not yet. I’m not ready. Her heart pounded and she dabbed clumsily with her napkin at the spreading stickiness on the tablecloth.

“Scarlett, dear, don’t rub the stain into the cloth like that.” Pauline put her hand on Scarlett’s wrist. Scarlett jerked her hand away. How could anyone worry about some silly old tablecloth at a time like this?

“I’m sorry, Auntie,” she managed to say.

“That’s all right, dear. It’s just that you’re practically putting a hole through it, and we have so few of our nice things left . . .” Eulalie’s voice faded mournfully.

Scarlett clenched her teeth. She wanted to scream. What did a tablecloth matter when she had to face the mother Rhett practically worshipped? Suppose he’d told her the truth about why he’d left Atlanta, that he had walked out on the marriage? “I’d better go look at my clothes,” Scarlett said through the constriction in her throat. “Pansy’ll have to press the wrinkles out of whatever I’m going to wear.” She had to get away from Pauline and Eulalie, she had to pull herself together.

“I’ll tell Susie to start heating the irons,” Eulalie offered. She rang the silver bell near her plate.

“She’d better wash out this cloth before she starts on anything else,” Pauline said. “Once a stain sets—”

“You might observe, Sister, that I have not yet finished my breakfast. Surely you don’t expect me to let it get cold while Susie clears everything off the table.”

Scarlett fled to her room.


“You won’t need that heavy fur cape, Scarlett,” said Pauline.

“Indeed not,” said Eulalie. “We have a typical Charleston winter day today. Why, I wouldn’t even wear this shawl if I didn’t have a cold.”

Scarlett unhooked the cape and handed it to Pansy. If Eulalie wanted everyone else to have a cold, too, she’d be glad to oblige her. Her aunts must take her for a fool. She knew why they didn’t want her to wear her cape. They were just like the Old Guard in Atlanta. A person had to be shabby like them to be respectable. She noticed Eulalie eyeing the fashionable feather-trimmed hat she was wearing, and her jaw hardened belligerently. If she had to face Rhett’s mother, at least she would do it in style.

“Let’s be off, then,” said Eulalie, capitulating. Susie pulled the big door open, and Scarlett followed her aunts out into the bright day. She gasped when she stepped down from the entrance. It was like May, not November. Sun reflected warmth from the white crushed shell of the path and settled on her shoulders like a weightless blanket. She tilted her chin up to feel it on her face and her eyes closed in sensuous pleasure. “Oh, Aunties, this feels wonderful,” she said. “I hope your carriage has a fold-down top.”

The aunts laughed. “Dear child,” Eulalie said, “there’s not a living soul in Charleston with a carriage any more, except for Sally Brewton. We’ll walk. Everyone does.”

“There are carriages, Sister,” Pauline corrected. “The carpetbaggers have them.”

“You could hardly call the carpetbaggers ‘living souls,’ Sister. Soulless is what they are, else they couldn’t be carpetbaggers.”

“Vultures,” Pauline agreed with a sniff.

“Buzzards,” said Eulalie. The sisters laughed again. Scarlett laughed with them. The beautiful day was making her feel almost giddy with delight. Nothing could possibly go wrong on a day like this. Suddenly she felt a great fondness for her aunts, even for their harmless quarreling. She followed them across the wide empty street in front of the house and up the short stairway on the other side of it. As she reached the top of it, a breeze fluttered the feathers on her hat and touched her lips with a taste of salt.

“Oh my goodness,” she said. On the far side of the elevated promenade, the green-brown waters of Charleston’s harbor stretched before her to the horizon. To her left, flags fluttered on the tall masts of ships along the wharves. To her right the trees of a long low island glowed a bright green. The sunlight glittered on the tips of tiny pointed wavelets, like diamonds scattered across the water. A trio of brilliantly white birds soared in the cloudless blue sky then swooped down to skim the tops of the waves. They looked as if they were playing a game, a weightless, carefree kind of follow-the-leader. The salt-sweet light breeze caressed her neck.

She’d been right to come, she was sure of it now. She turned to her aunts. “It’s a wonderful day,” Scarlett said.

The promenade was so wide, they walked three abreast along it. Twice they met other people, first an elderly gentleman in an oldfashioned frock coat and beaver hat, then a lady accompanied by a thin boy who blushed when he was spoken to. Each time, they stopped, and the aunts introduced Scarlett. “. . . our niece from Atlanta. Her mother was our sister Ellen, and she’s married to Eleanor Butler’s boy, Rhett.” The old gentleman bowed and kissed Scarlett’s hand, the lady introduced her grandson, who gazed at Scarlett as if he had been struck by lightning. For Scarlett the day was getting better with every passing minute. Then she saw that the next walkers approaching them were men in blue uniforms.

Her step faltered, she grabbed Pauline’s arm.

“Auntie,” she whispered, “there are Yankee soldiers coming at us.”

“Keep walking,” said Pauline clearly. “They’ll have to get out of our way.”

Scarlett looked at Pauline with shock. Who would have thought that her skinny old aunt could be so brave? Her own heart was thumping so loud that she was sure the Yankee soldiers would hear it, but she willed her feet to move.

When only three paces separated them, the soldiers drew aside, pressing their bodies against the railings of metal pipe that lined the edge of the walkway along the water. Pauline and Eulalie sailed past them as if they were not there. Scarlett lifted her chin to equal the tilt of her aunts’ and kept pace.

Somewhere ahead of them a band began to play “Oh! Susanna.” The rollicking, merry tune was as bright and sunny as the day. Eulalie and Pauline walked more quickly, keeping time with the music, but Scarlett’s feet felt like lead. Coward! she berated herself. But inside she couldn’t stop trembling.

“Why are there so many damned Yankees in Charleston?” she asked angrily. “I saw some at the depot, too.”

“My goodness, Scarlett,” said Eulalie, “didn’t you know? Charleston is still under military occupation. They’ll likely never leave us alone. They hate us because we threw them out of Fort Sumter and then held it against their whole fleet.”

“And heaven only knows how many regiments,” Pauline added. The sisters’ faces were glowing with pride.

“Mother of God,” Scarlett whispered. What had she done? Walked right into the arms of the enemy. She knew what military government meant: the helplessness and the rage, the constant fear that they’d confiscate your house or put you in jail or shoot you if you broke one of their laws. Military government was all-powerful. She had lived under its capricious rule for five harsh years. How could she have been such a fool as to stumble back into it again?

“They do have a pleasant band,” said Pauline. “Come along, Scarlett, we cross here. The Butler house is the one with the fresh paint.”

“Lucky Eleanor,” said Eulalie, “to have such a devoted son. Rhett positively worships his mother.”

Scarlett stared at the house. Not a house, a mansion. Shining white columns soared a hundred feet to support the roof overhang above the deep porches along the side of the tall, imposing brick house. Scarlett’s knees felt weak. She couldn’t go in, she couldn’t. She’d never seen any place as grand, as impressive. How would she ever find anything to say to the woman who lived in such magnificence? Who could destroy all her hopes with one word to Rhett.