"Actually, we do have a cottage on Cape Cod. Just for vacations, though."
Cossette looked anxiously at Melanie and asked, "You wouldn't hold that against me, would you? You don't think that makes me a Yankee?"
"Oh no, dear," Melanie reassured her, patting her hand. "It doesn't make you a Yankee just to visit. Why back before the war, Southern ladies would often visit Saratoga. It doesn't hurt anything to visit. But I'm glad you came to Atlanta instead."
They sat on the vine-shaded porch of the little house on Ivy Street, waiting for Ashley to come home from the lumber mill. It was now late afternoon, and for the first time that day Cossette was experiencing a respite from the whirlwind of activity that had accompanied her arrival in Atlanta.
Only a few minutes had passed, not nearly enough time to adjust to the electrifying realization that she was in the actual presence of Scarlett O'Hara, was actually engaged in idle chit chat with her, before Rhett Butler joined them. Scarlett might be mystified by her sudden arrival, but Rhett was not. His gleaming black eyes seemed to take the full measure of her in one sweeping glance, and that wry smile never once left his lips.
"Two trunks at the station?" he said. "I'll have them sent straight to the house. You're welcome to accompany me, Miss Cossette. You'll probably want to freshen up after your long trip.
"Mammy and Bonnie will be with us." This to Scarlett who had reacted visibly to the thought of Rhett and Cossette going off together. "Of course I'd invite you, too, but I know you'll want to stay here at the store and tend to your customers."
Those customers were starting to filter in, and Scarlett, responding to Rhett's gibe exactly as expected, flushed with exasperation and then recovered with a cheery smile and said, "Yes. You go on. I do have a lot of work here at the store.
"But I'll be home by noon and we can all have a lunch together. Mammy, tell Pansy to fix something special."
Her first sight of the mansion on Peachtree Street was almost painful. She was expecting, her every sense of propriety demanded that Scarlett's and Rhett's house be something beyond merely magnificent. It must be grandly palatial. When the wagon turned the corner and the house came into view, Cossette's eyes opened wide and she just barely restrained herself from blurting out, "Ugh!", and Rhett, sitting beside her, shook with suppressed laughter.
It wasn't so bad on the inside, though. "We'll put you in a room on the second floor," Rhett said smoothly before excusing himself to go supervise the unloading of her trunks. And there she stood alone in the house.
For several minutes she stared silently at the staircase. The broad, broad staircase with the elaborately carved railings. And most of all, the very plush, the incredibly red carpet. She stared and stared until some unknown force took possession and urged her forward. Slowly, almost apologetically, she edged over to the staircase and sank to her knees on the bottom step. She gently stroked the carpet, her hands moving in steady circles, and tried to visualize the experience of being carried up that staircase.
Then she straightened up and whispered in an emotion charged voice. "After all, tomorrow is another day."
And that was where Rhett found her. He did nothing to interrupt her reverie, and when she turned around and saw him watching her, she thought she detected in his eyes a look of wistful sympathy.
But he said nothing. And she said nothing. And Bonnie burst in on them and seized Cossette's hand to lead her off to the rest of the house.
Scarlett came for lunch as promised, presided over the table with chatty aplomb, admired the demure light brown summer dress Cossette had changed into, and then not unexpectedly announced that she must return directly to the store. Propriety demanded a female chaperone for Cossette, she certainly could not remain alone with the servants at Peachtree Street, notwithstanding Bonnie's protests. And so Melanie was quickly pressed into service to take Cossette under her wing.
But Melanie had her own errands to run that afternoon, so it had been Cossette's privilege and pleasure to accompany her in her rounds. Of course they had gone on foot, which gave Cossette an excellent introduction to bustling Atlanta and her people.
Melanie knew everyone. All the quality folk, at least. And it was quickly obvious that being escorted by Melanie was as fine a recommendation as could be had. So they were all cordial, the ladies gushing condolence that the young lady would have to spend her birthday away from family, "back in Canada, you say," but glad to welcome her to Atlanta, "you did say Canada?", and if there was anything they could do.
But they were busy with their own errands, and if Cossette had not already been familiar with so many of their names, they would have passed her by in a blur of faces. Mrs. Merriwether was formidable beyond words as she orchestrated the throbbing activity of her pie shop, and the reserved politeness of her greeting to their guest from the far North, "from Canada, right?", was dissipated in contrast to the commands she alternately hurled at Grandpa Merriwether, until he fled to his pie wagon for relief.
Mrs. Elsing was shorter than expected, Mrs. Whiting taller, and Mrs. Meade was pleasant and matronly. She liked Dr. Meade, immediately recognizing that behind his pompous demeanor resided an unquenchable zest for life, and she wondered why he and Rhett could not be friends.
She didn't like Archie, though, nor was there any need to. For although that strange gnome-like man clearly doted on Melanie, he left no doubt that offers of friendship from the remainder of the female race would neither be welcomed nor reciprocated. Cossette could not recall ever before being so uncomfortable in another person's presence. The man radiated menace, not because he threatened violence. He didn't. The truly frightening thing about Archie was his fierce, fanatical and unshakable conviction of always being right.
Fortunately Melanie dispatched him to the lumber mill to inform Ashley about Cossette and to advise him that they were invited to Scarlett's and Rhett's house for dinner that evening. Cossette was heartily glad to see his departing back.
Aunt Pittipat was uproariously delightful, and Cossette nearly dissolved in a torrent of giggles when the old lady threatened to take to her bed in distress at hearing that the poor young thing was all alone in Atlanta, and her only fourteen. India Wilkes by contrast was coldly correct and formal. Canada was an irrelevancy with her. Cossette was not from the first families of Virginia or South Carolina or Georgia, and nothing else mattered.
They visited the bank and Rhett himself, smiling and gracious, rose from his desk to assist them. They stopped briefly at the store, but Scarlett was gone, out on her rounds. They paid a call on Uncle Henry, who looked Cossette up and down, sniffed twice and then gruffly welcomed her to Atlanta. And Cossette smiled pleasantly as she thanked him and made a mental note that he would probably be the most charming of men if only some good woman would "draw him out".
And once as they walked alongside the street, a well-balanced carriage passed by. The single occupant was a gaudily dressed, cheaply perfumed woman with bright red hair, and Cossette knew at once that she was looking at Belle Watling.
Melanie said nothing, and Belle appeared to take no notice of them, but she was certainly watching, and her head snapped back in surprise when Cossette lifted a hand and surreptitiously waved. Melanie was equally astonished.
"Did you. . . Did you just wave?"
"Yes, I did." And then with a sudden twinge of apprehension, "Oh but I didn't mean any harm. I just. . . I. . . Oh, I can't explain why I did it. But I didn't mean any harm. You don't think she took it the wrong way do you?"
"Oh no, dear," Melanie replied, still puzzled. "I'm sure she didn't."
"Mrs. Wilkes, you don't think I'm bad because I waved at her, do you?"
Something about the question, some memory that it stirred, made Melanie smile.
"Heavens no. I don't think you're bad. But we'd best not tell Uncle Peter."
Of course she met the children. Wade was serious and painfully shy around strangers. Cossette wished she could be a friend to him, but decided the best course of action at present was to let him be. Ella, preoccupied with her dolls, was not easily distracted by the comings and goings of strangers in the house. Beau was a handsome little lad who showed every sign of having inherited the, what was it, the "Wilkes family looks".
But it was Bonnie, bubbling and effervescent, who laid claim to Cossette at first sight.
". . .and Mr. Butler is my pony."
It took all of Mammy's implacable will to make Bonnie accept that she simply could not go with Melanie and Cossette, and even then the little girl pouted.
"Don't fret, sweetheart," Cossette comforted her. "I'll be back tonight and we'll spend all day tomorrow together."
And now they sat on the porch, waiting for Ashley.
"Mrs. Wilkes, may I. . . Oh please, may I call you 'Melly'. And it would mean so much to me if you would call me 'Cossy'."
"Oh yes. Please do." Melanie looked her surprise. And then her heart went out to this young woman, alone in a strange city, so far from home.
"Oh my dear, I should have said something to you long ago. Please forgive me."
Cossette started to reply, when Melanie sudden said, "Oh look. There's Ashley, Cossy. My husband, Ashley."
She would have recognized Ashley anywhere. The tall, lanky, all too gaunt figure. The faded, blonde headed glory. The genteel shabbiness so embarrassingy accentuated by the rundown mule he rode. The weariness that could not be explained by the mere fact that he was just now returning home from a day at the mill.
And she studied his face intensely, stared openly in fact, as if she were trying to peer behind an external facade thrown up by everything she had ever heard about him, and find somewhere beyond, the true Ashley. Ashley could not help but notice her scrutiny and a quizzical and uncomfortable expression came to his eyes.
But the grace and elegance of old had by no means departed. "Charmed to make your acquaintance," he said, kindly, when Melanie introduced them. "If there is anything we can do to make your stay in Georgia more enjoyable, please let us know."
And he meant it.
***