But she belonged in a drawing room, not a kitchen. She was a lady, accustomed to servants and luxury. She drained her cup hurriedly and put it down in its saucer. “You’ve saved my life, Maureen, I thought I’d go crazy if I had to stay with my aunts. But I’ve really got to go back now.”

“What a pity. You haven’t even had your cake. I’m told my cakes are worth eating.”

Helen and Mary Kate edged up to their mother’s chair, empty plates in hand. “Take a piece, then, but not all of it. The little ones will be in soon.”

Scarlett began to pull on her gloves. “I’ve got to go,” she repeated.

“If you must, then you must. I’ll hope you’ll stay longer for the dancing on Saturday, Scarlett? Jamie told me he’s going to teach you the reel. Maybe Colum will be back by then, too.”

“Oh, Maureen! Are you having another party on Saturday?”

“Not to say a party. But there’s always the music and the dancing when the week’s work is done and the men bring home their pay packets. You’ll be here?”

Scarlett shook her head. “I can’t. I’d love to, but I won’t still be in Savannah.” Her aunts expected her to go back to Charleston with them on Saturday morning’s train. She didn’t think she would, she’d never thought so. Surely Rhett would come for her long before then. Maybe he was at her grandfather’s right now. She shouldn’t have left the house.

She jumped to her feet. “I’ve got to run. Thank you, Maureen. I’ll stop by again before I leave.”

Maybe she’d bring Rhett to meet the O’Haras. He’d fit right in, another big dark-haired man with all the big dark-haired O’Haras. But he might slouch against the wall in that infuriating elegant way he had and laugh at all of them. He’d always laughed at her half Irishness, mocked her when she repeated what Pa told her a hundred times. The O’Haras were great and powerful landowners for centuries. Until the Battle of the Boyne.

I don’t know why he found that so funny. Just about everybody we know lost their land to the Yankees, it makes sense that Pa’s folks lost theirs the same way to whoever, the English, I think. I’ll ask Jamie or Maureen about it, if I get a chance. If Rhett doesn’t take me away first.

38

Hamilton’s promised letter was delivered to the Robillard house just as dark was setting in. Scarlett grabbed it like a line thrown to the drowning. She’d been listening to her aunts quarrelling for more than an hour about who was to blame for their father’s reaction to his birthday.

“This is about my Atlanta property,” Scarlett said. “Please excuse me, I’ll take it up to my room.” She didn’t wait for them to agree.

She locked the door to her room. She wanted to savor every word in private.

“What mess have you made this time?” the letter began, without salutation. The old lawyer’s handwriting was so agitated that it was difficult to read. Scarlett made a face and held it closer to the lamp.

What mess have you made this time? On Monday I was visited ly a pompous old fool I generally go out of my way to avoid. He presented me with an astonishing draft drawn on his bank and payable to you. The amount was one half million dollars, and it was paid by Rhett.

Tuesday I was badgered by another old fool, this one a layer, asking me where you were. His client—your husband—wanted to know. I did not tell him you were in Savannah

Scarlett groaned. Who was Uncle Henry calling an old fool when he was such an old fool himself? No wonder Rhett hadn’t come for her. She peered again at Henry’s spidery script.

—because your telegram arrived after he left, and at the time he called on me I didn’t know where you were. I have not told him yet, because I do not know what you’re up to, and I have a pretty good idea that I want no part of it.

This courthouse lawyer had two questions from Rhett. The first was your whereabouts. The second was—do you want a divorce?

Now, Scarlett, I don’t know what you’re holding over Rhett’s head to get that kind of money from him and I don’t want to know. Whatever he might have done to give you grounds to divorce him is none of my business either. I’ve never dirtied my hand with a divorce action, and I’m not going to start now. You would be wasting your time and money, besides. There is no divorce in South Carolina, and that is Rhett’s legal residence now.

If you persist in this tomfoolery, I will give you the name of a lawyer in Atlanta who is almost respectable, even though he has done two divorces that I’ve heard of. But I warn you that you’ll have to give him or someone else all your legal business. I won’t handle anything for you any more. If you’re thinking of divorcing Rhett so you’ll be free to mary Ashley Wilkes, let me say that you’d do well to think again. Ashley is doing much better than anyone expected he would. Miss India and my silly sister keep a comfortable house for him and his boy. If you push yourself into his life, you’ll ruin everything. Leave the poor man alone, Scarlett.

Leave Ashley alone, indeed! I’d like to know how comfortable and prosperous he’d be if I had left him alone. Uncle Henry, of all people, should have better sense than to fuss at me like a prissy old maid and jump to all kinds of nasty conclusions. He knows all about building the houses on the edge of town. Scarlett’s feelings were deeply wounded. Uncle Henry Hamilton was the closest thing she had to a father—or a friend in Atlanta—and his accusations cut deep. She scanned the few remaining lines quickly then scrawled a response for Pansy to take to the telegraph office.

SAVANNAH ADDRESS NO SECRET STOP DIVORCE NOT WANTED STOP MONEY IN GOLD QUESTION MARK

If Uncle Henry hadn’t sounded so much like an old clucking hen, she would have trusted him to have bought gold and put it in her safe box. But anyone who didn’t have sense enough to give Rhett her address might not have sense about other things, too. Scarlett chewed on the knuckle of her left thumb, worried about her money. Maybe she should go to Atlanta and talk to Henry and her bankers and Joe Colleton. Maybe she should buy some more land out there on the edge of town, put up some more houses. Things would never be cheaper than they were now, with the aftereffects of the Panic still depressing business.

No! She had to put first things first. Rhett was trying to find her. She smiled to herself, and the fingers of her right hand smoothed the reddened skin over her thumb knuckle. He doesn’t fool me with that divorce talk. Or by transferring the money as if our deal was being carried out. What counts—the only thing that counts—is that he wants to know where I am. He won’t stay away long once Uncle Henry tells him.


“Don’t be ridiculous, Scarlett,” said Pauline in a cold tone, “of course you’ll be going home tomorrow. We always go back to Charleston on Saturday.”

“That doesn’t mean I have to. I told you, I’ve decided to stay in Savannah for a while.” Scarlett wouldn’t let Pauline bother her, nothing could bother her now that she knew Rhett was looking for her. She’d receive him right here, in this elegant pink and gold room, and she’d make him beg her to come back. After he’d been adequately humbled, she’d agree, and then he’d take her in his arms and kiss her . . .

“Scarlett! Will you have the kindness to answer me when I address a question to you?”

“What is it, Aunt Pauline?”

“What do you propose to do with yourself? Where are you going to stay?”

“Why, here, of course.” It had not entered Scarlett’s head that she might not be welcome to stay as long as she liked at her grandfather’s house. The tradition of hospitality was still fiercely cherished in the South, and it was unheard of for a guest to be asked to leave until he or she decided it was time.

“Père doesn’t like surprises,” Eulalie offered sadly.

“I believe that I can instruct Scarlett in the habits of this household without your help, Sister.”

“Of course you can, Sister, I’m sure I never suggested otherwise.”

“I’ll just go ask Grandfather,” Scarlett said, standing up. “Do you want to come along?”

Twittering, she thought, that’s what they’re doing. Terrified that visiting him without an express invitation might make Grandfather mad. Great balls of fire! What meanness can he do them that he hasn’t already done? She strode along the hallway, followed by her whispering, anxious aunts, and knocked on the old man’s door.

“Entrez, Jerome.”

“It’s not Jerome, Grandfather, it’s me, Scarlett. May I come in?”

There was a moment’s silence. Then Pierre Robillard’s deep strong voice called “Come in.” Scarlett tossed her head and smiled triumphantly at her aunts before she opened the door.

Her boldness flagged a bit when she looked at the stern hawklike face of the old man. But she couldn’t stop now. She advanced halfway across the thick carpet with a confident air. “I just wanted to tell you, Grandfather, that I’m going to stay for a while after Aunt Eulalie and Aunt Pauline leave.”

“Why?”

Scarlett was nonplussed. She wasn’t about to explain her reasons. She didn’t see why she should have to. “Because I want to,” she said.

“Why?” the old man asked again.

Scarlett’s determined green eyes met his suspicious faded blue ones. “I have my reasons,” she said. “Do you object?”

“What if I do?”

This was intolerable. She could not, would not go back to Charleston. It would be equivalent to surrender. She had to stay in Savannah.