Gone with the Wind (145 page)

“You'd never wake up unless she screamed and then you'd probably slap her,” he said shortly.

Scarlett was annoyed at the weight he attached to Bonnie's night terrors but she thought she could eventually remedy the state of affairs and transfer the child back to the nursery. All children were afraid of the dark and the only cure was firmness. Rhett was just being perverse in the matter, making her appear a poor mother, just to pay her back for banishing him from her room.

He had never put foot in her room or even rattled the door knob since the night she told him she did not want any more children. Thereafter and until he began staying at home on account of Bonnie's fears, he had been absent from the supper table more often than he had been present. Sometimes he had stayed out all night and Scarlett,
lying awake behind her locked door, hearing the clock tick off the early morning hours, wondered where he was. She remembered: “There are other beds, my dear!” Though the thought made her writhe, there was nothing she could do about it. There was nothing she could say that would not precipitate a scene in which he would be sure to remark upon her locked door and the probable connection Ashley had with it. Yes, his foolishness about Bonnie sleeping in a lighted room—in his lighted room—was just a mean way of paying her back.

She did not realize the importance he attached to Bonnie's foolishness nor the completeness of his devotion to the child until one dreadful night. The family never forgot that night.

That day Rhett had met an ex-blockade runner and they had had much to say to each other. Where they had gone to talk and drink, Scarlett did not know but she suspected, of course, Belle Watling's house. He did not come home in the afternoon to take Bonnie walking nor did he come home to supper. Bonnie, who had watched from the window impatiently all afternoon, anxious to display a mangled collection of beetles and roaches to her father, had finally been put to bed by Lou, amid wails and protests.

Either Lou had forgotten to light the lamp or it had burned out. No one ever knew exactly what happened but when Rhett finally came home, somewhat the worse for drink, the house was in an uproar and Bonnie's screams reached him even in the stables. She had waked in darkness and called for him and he had not been there. All the nameless horrors that peopled her small imagination clutched her. All the soothing and bright lights brought by Scarlett and the servants could not
quiet her and Rhett, coming up the stairs three at a jump, looked like a man who has seen Death.

When he finally had her in his arms and from her sobbing gasps had recognized only one word “Dark,” he turned on Scarlett and the negroes in fury.

“Who put out the light? Who left her alone in the dark? Prissy, I'll skin you for this, you—”

“Gawdlmighty, Mist' Rhett! 'Twarn't me! 'Twuz Lou!”

“Fo' Gawd, Mist' Rhett, Ah—”

“Shut up. You know my orders. By God, I'll—get out. Don't come back. Scarlett, give her some money and see that she's gone before I come down stairs. Now, everybody get out, everybody!”

The negroes fled, the luckless Lou wailing into her apron. But Scarlett remained. It was hard to see her favorite child quieting in Rhett's arms when she had screamed so pitifully in her own. It was hard to see the small arm going around his neck and hear the choking voice relate what had frightened her, when she, Scarlett, had gotten nothing coherent out of her.

“So it sat on your chest,” said Rhett softly. “Was it a big one?”

“Oh, yes! Dretfull big. And claws.”

“Ah, claws, too. Well, now. I shall certainly sit up all night and shoot him if he comes back.” Rhett's voice was interested and soothing and Bonnie's sobs died away. Her voice became less choked as she went into detailed description of her monster guest in a language which only he could understand. Irritation stirred in Scarlett as Rhett discussed the matter as if it had been something real.

“For Heaven's sake, Rhett—”

But he made a sign for silence. When Bonnie was at
last asleep, he laid her in her bed and pulled up the sheet.

“I'm going to skin that nigger alive,” he said quietly. “It's your fault too. Why didn't you come up here to see if the light was burning?”

“Don't be a fool, Rhett,” she whispered. “She gets this way because you humor her. Lots of children are afraid of the dark but they get over it. Wade was afraid but I didn't pamper him. If you'd just let her scream for a night or two—”

“Let her scream!” For a moment Scarlett thought he would hit her. “Either you are a fool or the most inhuman woman I've ever seen.”

“I don't want her to grow up nervous and cowardly.”

“Cowardly? Hell's afire! There isn't a cowardly bone in her body! But you haven't any imagination and, of course, you can't appreciate the tortures of people who have one—especially a child. If something with claws and horns came and sat on your chest, you'd tell it to get the hell off you, wouldn't you? Like hell you would! Kindly remember, Madam, that I've seen you wake up squalling like a scalded cat simply because you dreamed of running in a fog. And that's not been so long ago either!”

Scarlett was taken aback, for she never liked to think of that dream. Moreover, it embarrassed her to remember that Rhett had comforted her in much the same manner he comforted Bonnie. So she swung rapidly into a different attack.

“You are just humoring her and—”

“And I intend to keep on humoring her. If I do, she'll outgrow it and forget about it.”

“Then,” said Scarlett acidly, “if you intend to play
nursemaid, you might try coming home at nights and sober too, for a change.”

“I shall come home early but drunk as a fiddler's bitch if I please.”

He did come home early thereafter, arriving long before time for Bonnie to be put to bed. He sat beside her, holding her hand until sleep loosened her grasp. Only then did he tiptoe downstairs, leaving the lamp burning brightly and the door ajar so he might hear her should she awake and become frightened. Never again did he intend her to have a recurrence of fear of the dark. The whole household was acutely conscious of the burning light, Scarlett, Mammy, Prissy and Pork, frequently tiptoeing upstairs to make sure that it still burned.

He came home sober too, but that was none of Scarlett's doing. For months he had been drinking heavily, though he was never actually drunk, and one evening the smell of whisky was especially strong upon his breath. He picked up Bonnie, swung her to his shoulder and asked her: “Have you a kiss for your sweetheart?”

She wrinkled her small upturned nose and wriggled to get down from his arms.

“No,” she said frankly. “Nasty.”

“I'm what?”

“Smell nasty. Uncle Ashley don't smell nasty.”

“Well, I'll be damned,” he said ruefully, putting her on the floor. “I never expected to find a temperance advocate in my own home, of all places!”

But, thereafter, he limited his drinking to a glass of wine after supper. Bonnie, who was always permitted to have the last drops in the glass, did not think the smell of wine nasty at all. As the result, the puffiness which had begun to obscure the hard lines of his cheeks slowly disappeared
and the circles beneath his black eyes were not so dark or so harshly cut. Because Bonnie liked to ride on the front of his saddle, he stayed out of doors more and the sunburn began to creep across his dark face, making him swarthier than ever. He looked healthier and laughed more and was again like the dashing young blockader who had excited Atlanta early in the war.

People who had never liked him came to smile as he went by with the small figure perched before him on his saddle. Women who had heretofore believed that no woman was safe with him, began to stop and talk with him on the streets, to admire Bonnie. Even the strictest old ladies felt that a man who could discuss the ailments and problems of childhood as well as he did could not be altogether bad.

I
T WAS
A
SHLEY'S BIRTHDAY
and Melanie was giving him a surprise reception that night. Everyone knew about the reception, except Ashley. Even Wade and little Beau knew and were sworn to a secrecy that puffed them up with pride. Everyone in Atlanta who was nice had been invited and was coming. General Gordon and his family had graciously accepted, Alexander Stephens would be present if his ever-uncertain health permitted and even Bob Toombs, the stormy petrel of the Confederacy, was expected.

All that morning, Scarlett, with Melanie, India and Aunt Pitty, flew about the little house, directing the negroes as they hung freshly laundered curtains, polished silver, waxed the floor and cooked, stirred and tasted the refreshments. Scarlett had never seen Melanie so excited or so happy.

“You see, dear, Ashley hasn't had a birthday party since—since, you remember the barbecue at Twelve Oaks? The day we heard about Mr. Lincoln's call for volunteers? Well, he hasn't had a birthday party since then. And he works so hard and he's so tired when he gets home at night that he really hasn't thought about today being his birthday. And won't he be surprised after supper when everybody troops in!”

“How you goin' to manage them lanterns on the lawn without Mr. Wilkes seein' them when he comes home to supper?” demanded Archie grumpily.

He had sat all morning watching the preparations, interested
but unwilling to admit it. He had never been behind the scenes at a large town folks' party and it was a new experience. He made frank remarks about women running around like the house was afire, just because they were having company, but wild horses could not have dragged him from the scene. The colored-paper lanterns which Mrs. Elsing and Fanny had made and painted for the occasion held a special interest for him, as he had never seen “sech contraptions” before. They had been hidden in his room in the cellar and he had examined them minutely.

“Mercy! I hadn't thought of that!” cried Melanie. “Archie, how fortunate that you mentioned it. Dear, dear! What shall I do? They've got to be strung on the bushes and trees and little candles put in them and lighted just at the proper time when the guests are arriving. Scarlett, can you send Pork down to do it while we're eating supper?”

“Miz Wilkes, you got more sense than most women but you gits flurried right easy,” said Archie. “And as for that fool nigger, Pork, he ain't got no bizness with them thar contraptions. He'd set them afire in no time. They are—right pretty,” he conceded. “I'll hang them for you, whilst you and Mr. Wilkes are eatin'.”

“Oh, Archie, how kind of you!” Melanie turned childlike eyes of gratitude and dependence upon him. “I don't know what I should do without you. Do you suppose you could go put the candles in them now, so we'd have that much out of the way?”

“Well, I could, p'raps,” said Archie ungraciously and stumped off toward the cellar stairs.

“There's more ways of killing a cat than choking him to death with butter,” giggled Melanie when the
whiskered old man had thumped down the stairs. “I had intended all along for Archie to put up those lanterns but you know how he is. He won't do a thing if you ask him to. And now we've got him out from underfoot for a while. The darkies are so scared of him they just won't do any work when he's around, breathing down their necks.”

“Melly, I wouldn't have that old desperado in my house,” said Scarlett crossly. She hated Archie as much as he hated her and they barely spoke. Melanie's was the only house in which he would remain if she were present. And even in Melanie's house, he stared at her with suspicion and cold contempt. “He'll cause you trouble, mark my words.”

“Oh, he's harmless if you flatter him and act like you depend on him,” said Melanie. “And he's so devoted to Ashley and Beau that I always feel safe having him around.”

“You mean he's so devoted to you, Melly,” said India, her cold face relaxing into a faintly warm smile as her gaze rested fondly on her sister-in-law. “I believe you're the first person that old ruffian has loved since his wife—er—since his wife. I think he'd really like for somebody to insult you, so he could kill them to show his respect for you.”

“Mercy! How you run on, India!” said Melanie blushing. “He thinks I'm a terrible goose and you know it.”

“Well, I don't see that what that smelly old hill-billy thinks is of any importance,” said Scarlett abruptly. The very thought of how Archie had sat in judgment upon her about the convicts always enraged her. “I have to go now. I've got to go get dinner and then go by the store
and pay off the clerks and go by the lumber yard and pay the drivers and Hugh Elsing.”

“Oh, are you going to the lumber yard?” asked Melanie. “Ashley is coming into the yard in the late afternoon to see Hugh. Can you possibly hold him there till five o'clock? If he comes home earlier he'll be sure to catch us finishing up a cake or something and then he won't be surprised at all.”

Scarlett smiled inwardly, good temper restored.

“Yes, I'll hold him,” she said.

As she spoke, India's pale lashless eyes met hers piercingly. “She always looks at me so oddly when I speak of Ashley,” thought Scarlett.

“Well, hold him there as long as you can after five o'clock,” said Melanie. “And then India will drive down and pick him up…. Scarlett, do come early tonight. I don't want you to miss a minute of the reception.”

As Scarlett rode home she thought sullenly: “She doesn't want me to miss a minute of the reception, eh? Well then, why didn't she invite me to receive with her and India and Aunt Pitty?”

Generally, Scarlett would not have cared whether she received at Melly's piddling parties or not. But this was the largest party Melanie had ever given and Ashley's birthday party too, and Scarlett longed to stand by Ashley's side and receive with him. But she knew why she had not been invited to receive. Even had she not known it, Rhett's comment on the subject had been frank enough.