The gentle early morning sunlight of July flitted through the dozen enormous oak trees that surrounded the great white home on the hill. A soft breeze blew in from the east carrying with it the scents of the vegetation thriving in the fields. There were slave children running about and various darkies working on any given task. But for a moment nineteen year old India Wilkes simply sat in the shade, momentarily putting aside her normal burdens.

The peace would not last long. It never lasted long for the lady of the house. And she was the lady of the house. She had taken up that responsibility when her mother died when India had been only 11. Of course India's mammy had helped the child in knowing what needed done, but quickly India learned to manage on her own. And now the daily tasks had become second nature to her. She had carried the burden with grace and dignity while Ashley had gallivanted about Europe for three years. Honey was of no use to India either.

Her head throbbed, but she pushed through the pain, knowing that soon that everyone would be gathering at the political meeting in Joneboro. And Stuart would be there. The thought of him, made her smile and allowed the frustrations and trials of running a plantation the size of twelve oaks disappear, allowing her to be a Belle once more.

Stuart Tarleton was handsome. His dark auburn hair was as fiery as his temper. He was tall, towering over her, and well muscled, and he could ride a horse with an elegance and ease that amazed her. He was only a year her junior. And it bothered her that he had already been expelled from two schools in the last year. India had loved school.

They were nothing alike. Truth be told, they were as near to polar opposites that could exist. She was sedate and he was lively. She was refined and he was brash. He made her very existence more thrilling. But there was something about him that she simply could not understand. His mind did not work in the same way that hers did. Her mind was occupied with Greek history and Shakespeare, and he would rather eat a book than read it. Or even more likely, he would use the book as target practice or as a means to prop something else up. But the thought that they might not be compatible did not cross India's mind. He was her beau, and nothing else mattered.

India preened in the mirror, checking her hair, and smoothing an untidy strand. She wanted to look perfect for Stuart. She wanted to keep his undivided attention on her, and that was not an easy task. Stuart's twin, Brent, did not approve of her. She tried to make Brent like her, but it was to no avail. Brent found her uninteresting and dull. She knew that she was plain and much too tame for his liking. He didn't love, nor did he feel that he could fall in love with her. And the twins were rarely apart for long.

But it didn't matter, Stu was her her Beau, and Brent would simply have to get over it. And to add to her interest in him, she knew that the Tarleton's were the wealthiest family in the county. The fact was not lost on her, that life with one of them meant security and the ability to continue life the way it always had.

India sat quietly beside Stuart on a bench, allowing him to hold her gloved hand as they listened to the discussion at the front. Stuart didn't stay in his seat for long Frequently he jumped up to shout something to those at the front of the meeting, but India calmly sat, enjoying the time that they were spending together.

Then she noticed her. Little Scarlett O'Hara was staring intently at Stuart with an expression of malicious jealousy. What was that child up to? Stuart was her beau, and Scarlett could not steal him away. But she saw out of the corner of her eye, as Scarlett began flirting shamelessly with Brent, who seemed to be lapping it up like a dog.

What was that girl playing at? Well surely, Brent would be enough to satisfy her. And India pushed the thought away, trying to ignore the way that Brent was staring at her with rapt fascination, she is she were Helen of Troy or some Greek siren.

India barely noticed as Stuart's eyes followed Brent and Scarlett, but India clutched his arm tighter, trying to keep his attention. But soon Stuart wasn't leaping from the bench. He was watching Scarlett, who batted her eyes and smiled demurely at Brent. And soon Stuart slipped away from her side, attracted to the place where his brother worshiped at Scarlett's feet.

Why hadn't India noticed before that Scarlet was no longer a child? Why hadn't she seen that this child had become an attractive Belle, drawing a crowd of suitors in a swarm around. India fought against the hot tears that stung her eyes, but she knew that she would never saw anything. She was too much of a lady to reveal the pain that his defection cost her.

But in that moment she hated Scarlett with such strong hate that she saw red.

Scarlett O'Hara could go to hell as far she was concerned.

She didn't blame Stuart; men were unable to resist the sirens call.

And it was his death that would be the result.