A/N
So, as many of you have, I've always wondered what it would be like to be Scarlett. My temptation got the best of me, and I have began writing this. A few things to start:
Writer's block is a bitch, so do not be heartbroken if you find this story abandoned.
I am dirty, and this story will have its dirty moments.
I will make it my goal to have at least 3,000 words in each chapter, but if that doesn't happen, I'm sorry.
If this story has been abandoned, check out my other one: Burning House
This story is going to be mostly non canon. Hence FAN fiction. Slightly AU, definitely OOC
Lots of love, Red
"Fiddle-dee-dee! War, war, war! Why, all this war talk is ruining all the fun at every party! Besides, there isn't going to be a war." Vivien Leigh's voice was filling up my room, as I watched "Gone with the Wind" for the hundredth time. I know the lines of the movie, and I can recite most of the book's first chapter. I love the movie, and I relate to Scarlett O'Hara more and more as I grow up. She was ahead of her time; marrying men out of need rather than out of love, and she was a shrewd business woman with a head for math. I knew if she were alive, real, and around my age, we'd be good friends.
I had read Margaret Mitchell's monstrous novel as a child, falling in love with the idea of being so beautiful that men fell over themselves. And a seventeen inch waist! It was only later that I discovered the movie, and fell in love with Clark Gable. At the age of nineteen, I read and reread the novel, and watched and rewatched the movie. The idea of corsets and hoop skirts and being a southern belle charmed me. I had offhandedly mentioned to my grandma that I was jealous of the era, and she laughed at the idea of it. "You, a simpering southern belle? Honey, you have way too much spirit." She patted my knee, smiling. "And I'm glad you have so much spirit." I laughed, too, but I still wondered about being a southern belle. Even though I still consider myself a feminist and fight for equal rights for women, some small part of me still looks back on the era of when women didn't have to do a damn thing besides raise children and take care of the plantations thinks, "Sign. Me. Up."
I bought a corset, a hoop skirt that I haven't worn, and a parasol. Coming from a primarily Scottish bloodline, "tan" is not not something that comes easily to me. After reading GWTW, I accepted that pale could be beautiful. I took lemon juice to my freckles, started wearing long pants and skirts in the summer, unironically used my parasol and wide brimmed hat, and I laced myself into my corset whenever I could. Although I dreamed of being as tiny as Scarlett, I knew that would never happen. My waist stayed firmly at thirty-five inches, no matter how tight my corset was. Seventeen inches! I wish.
Back in the present, the scene at the bazaar was playing on my screen, and I thought of how grand it would be to dance the night away. The closest I came was going to a club and hoping someone would hit on me. I sighed, closing my eyes. The thought of Rhett Butler kiss me, calling me his, made my heart skip a beat. I snuggled into my bed, listening to the movie's music, wishing Rhett would come to me in my dreams.
When I woke, something was off. My bed was not this hard, and my blanket was not this scratchy. I sat straight up, examining my surroundings. I was in a large bed with wooden posters-elegantly carved and dark. The sunlight was pouring in the window, and instantly, I had a good idea of where I was.
I stood and found a robe to wrap around me. The robe was made out of fine silk, and was pure white. The bedroom was large and decorated sparsely. I found a vanity and inspected my reflection. My eyes that had been blue since the day I was born, were green. My hair, which had been blonde and colored a dark red, was black as a raven. It was long and almost curly, unlike my straight hair my ancestors had. The realization hit me like lightning.
I was Katie Scarlett O'Hara, southern belle.
I was shaken, and my mind raced. 'How on earth did this happen? How will I get back to my time? How am I going to not get caught?' I couldn't help but smile, though. I loved the idea of being a belle, and now I had my chance.
A large, black woman came through the door. She wore a plain, grey dress with a white apron, and a white scarf on her head. "Good morning, Miss Scarlett. What has you in such a good mood?" I knew this woman was Scarlett's Mammy-well, my Mammy now. She had a tray full of food.
"I'm just excited for the barbecue, Mammy," I sighed. Yes, being flocked to by men, dancing the night away, and being absorbed into this culture excited me. After all those years of longing, I finally had Scarlett's beauty, and I was excited.
"What's my lamb going to wear?"
I looked around, feeling a flood of memories that weren't my own. These memories belonged to the green eyed girl, not to me. As if I were a marionette, controlled by Scarlett's memories, I walked to the closet and peeked in. My mind reeled at the sheer amount of dresses that I -we- owned. White ones, blue ones, green ones. They ranged from elegant ball gowns to simple frocks. There were ones with plain designs, and ones with stripes, and dots. I reached out to touch one-fine silk, like the robe. There were also velvet and chiffon. "I don't know, Mammy." I said, quite honestly. There was simply too much to choose from! "You know what looks good on me. You pick a dress out," I smiled at her, knowing that without her help I might wind up making a fool of myself and maybe risk exposing my secret.
Mammy grumbled, but I knew she would appreciate that I would be dressed respectfully. She picked out a dress she deemed "fittin'", and set it on a chair.
"Come on, Miss Scarlett, let's lace you."
This part I dreaded. I knew that steel boned corsets hurt, and I couldn't imagine what whale boning or ivory boning felt like.
"Mammy, I'm not feeling very well." I lied, hoping to conceal my nervousness. "Can you lace me to eighteen or nineteen inches?"
Mammy looked at me like I was crazy. "Miss Scarlett, you must not be feeling well. Usually you're begging to be laced tighter. Are you sure you want to go at all?"
I nodded. I wanted to "meet" these people I had memories of: Brent and Stuart, the many beaux, and Ashley. I wanted to know why Scarlett was so in love with him. I knew what it was like to have crushes, but as a twenty-one year old woman, I knew love was hard to come by. Besides, in this era, woman discovered love after they were married. I was also anxious to meet Rhett Butler. I'd read about him, and I'd seen Clark Gable's portrayal. He is the kind of man I could see myself with, I thought with a smile.
Mammy laced me to nineteen inches, and Lord have mercy, it hurt. My ribs felt like they were going to puncture my lungs and I swear my soul was going to leave my body. I now knew why women carried smelling salts with them -I felt faint just standing there! She pulled the dress over my head, giving me little time to worry about the pain of my chest. It was charcoal grey with a green bows. The trim was the same green. It was a lace design. It buttoned at the neck, and it felt like it was choking me, but I knew it had to stay. The sleeves were long, but the fabric was comfortable, almost like polyester, but that wasn't invented yet.
"There," Mammy smiled. "My lamb's the prettiest belle in the county!" She handed me a tan, wide-brimmed sun hat with a green silk band that tied under my chin. I smiled as I held it, thinking of my own hat I had back home. It had been white with a polka dot strap and I had loved it dearly, despite the fact that I had been thoroughly teased by the men back home for wearing it. Stupid twenty first century men. I blushed deeply at her compliment. I found I could blush on cue, which I would need to do if I were to be a proper lady.
"Won't you be a doll and eat, Miss Scarlett?"
As if in response, my stomach rumbled. "Of course, Mammy."
Mammy eyed me suspiciously. Usually Scarlett resisted Mammy forcefully, so Mammy would feel like she'd won when Scarlett gave in.
I knew Scarlett was a spoiled brat, and I had been jealous of her when I was younger. If I had acted the way she did, I would have been beaten. My mother had taken belts to my backside when I was younger, and I hated the feeling of it. However, I had respect for my parents and my superiors.
As I ate what I assumed were supposed to be pancakes, I idly thought of everything I had to do and say to be considered a "proper lady". My eyes rolled, and I caught myself. No more of that! Scarlett's memories blurred into my mind. Memories of who I assume is her mother, and memories of Mammy, chiding a young Scarlett who ate "like a field hand". With that in mind, I slowed down in between bites. I really enjoyed this food- it was delicious, and unlike the food I was used to, not full of preservatives.
"Katie Scarlett O'Hara!" I heard a booming, Irish voice that I knew was Gerald O'Hara. Surely, he was outside in the carriage, waiting on me. "If you're not down here by the time I count to ten-"
"I'm coming, Pa!" I yelled out the window. In my rush to get to the window, I knocked over the tray, spilling food everywhere.
The carriage ride to Twelve Oaks was boring and dusty. The red dirt kicked up by the horses seemed to settle in my nostrils, making me cough violently. The sun didn't seem to notice my hat, as I could feel the heat on my face. I opened a small, green parasol that Mammy had handed to me on the way out. The sun was awful on my pale skin, and I couldn't wait to be inside.
Careen and Suellen talked among themselves, but I wasn't interested in listening. Although the scenery was gorgeous, I suddenly found that I would be fighting homesickness today. The thought wasn't pleasing. I thought of home- my mom, my friends, my job, and I knew I had to act like I didn't have a care in the world. I had never been away from my mom for more than a few weeks at a time, and my homesickness could make me bedridden. Lost in my thoughts of my home, I wasn't aware of my surroundings. I was pulled from my thoughts when I heard horses trotting beside us. It was Mrs. Tarleton. She and Pa would probably want to talk about cotton and horses, no doubt. I found it hard to keep my eyes open. Time traveling will do that to you, apparently.
I was pleasantly surprised to hear her talking about Ashley marrying Melanie. "It's bad enough that he's marrying his cousin- but what makes it worse, Charles marrying Honey!" She couldn't contain her indignation.
I had to contain a laugh. I loved Mrs. Tarleton, and had always been saddened by her absence in the movie. Suellen nudged me, urging me to pay attention to the conversation. For a moment, I was confused but then I realized - Of course she would want me to listen- I was supposed to be in love with Ashley! I rolled my eyes at her. How would I explain my sudden change of heart to anyone? Maybe I could just wait a few months, and everyone would forget.
Mrs. Tarleton sped away on her horse. I was jealous of her form -if Scarlett had ever ridden a horse like that,straddling the horse, and not riding sidesaddle, Mammy would have had her hide- and of the fact that she wasn't wearing a dress. Nobody dare call her out on it; every man knew that she could out drink them, out ride them, and out play them at poker. But despite all this, she was still a respected lady- raising children and running a plantation better than any housewife many had ever seen.
When we arrived at the Wilkes', I couldn't help but notice the disdain Honey and India had on their face. My cool exterior faltered for a half second. Could Scarlett have been so mean to them? I would try to make amends, for Scarlett's- my sake. I was nicer than Scarlett, and I had Scarlett's memories of 'growing up proper'. Surely I could charm two simple girls.
John Wilkes helped me out of the carriage,and I took his hand, trying to dismount gracefully. When I found my feet, I curtseyed at him. I smiled at India and Honey, taking their hands respectively. "How lovely it is to see you, darlings." The looks that crossed their faces was priceless. They looked at each other in shock and an unspoken communication passed between them, though they may as well have shouted it. Surely Scarlett O'Hara isn't being nice!
I stepped into the huge house, and was hit by a wave of nostalgia that didn't belong to me. Scarlett had spent so many days here as a child. She had ran up and down these stairs with Ashley. She had napped next to India and Honey in the afternoons. She had ate at their table several nights. I smiled warmly at the memories, taking comfort in their familiarity even though they didn't belong to me. I began to climb the stairs when a tall blond came my way. Ashley!
"Scarlett!" He called.
I cringed a bit internally. Good grief, I was hoping to avoid him, but here we were and there was no avoiding it now.
"Ashley," I replied, none too warmly. No need to give anyone more ideas than they already have. I could feel India's eyes boring into the back of my head.
Ashley took my hand and smiled at me. "You look lovely, Scarlett," Ashley announced, as he held me back for further inspection. He smiled drowsily. "Of course, you always do." He kissed my knuckles. It took me everything I had not to take my hand and wipe it off on the skirt of my dress. I knew Scarlett would have been over the moon, but I wasn't Scarlett, and I didn't like the idea of him kissing me. I knew that kissing womens hands was, like, a thing, but ew. And they don't have hand sanitizer, either! Yuck, all those germs. "Scarlett, how are you today?"
"I'm well, Ashley. It's a gorgeous day for a barbeque!" And a beautiful day to announce an engagement, I thought.
"That it is, my dear. Come, I have someone I want you to meet." He led me to a woman who was shorter than me, and impossibly small. I was afraid a gust of wind would come in and knock her over. "Scarlett, this is Melanie."
Melanie's face lit up when Ashley said her name. I could tell that she was in love with him, and wondered why Scarlett would ever want to ruin that.
"Melanie," I said, taking her hand, my earlier fear striking me again. "How wonderful it is to meet you! And your dress looks lovely." She was rather plain. Her hair was dirty-water brown, and her eyes matched. While her dress was pretty, it looked plain as well. I suspected she wasn't as rich as the O'Haras. Her dress was a pale pink, with no designs, and no lace trim except for the sleeves. She looked like a small child playing dress up in her mother's hoop skirts. I wonder how she is.
Melanie smiled and blushed under my compliment. I suspected hers wasn't on cue, like mine had been.
"It's so nice to meet you too, Scarlett. I do hope we can become friends," she replied shyly.
"Me, too, Melanie."
My attention moved to Charles, Melanie's brother. He was more handsome than I had thought he'd be, but he was too young for my taste. You could tell he was barely nineteen. He still had round cheeks and his eyes had the glow of a boy who had never experienced heartbreak. No, I like men. Tall, dark, handsome men. Like Rhett Butler, a small part of me offered.
"Scarlett, this is my brother, Charles," Melanie offered warmly.
"Well, Charles Hamilton, how are you?" I smiled at him, using my dimples and looked up at him through my lashes.
Charles blushed and stuttered out something that I didn't understand. I looked to Melanie for help, and she couldn't help but laugh.
Steaming, Honey came over and snatched Charles away from me.
"Sorry, darling," he mumbled half-heartedly as he was dragged away. He looked over his shoulder at me, and I half-smiled at him.
"Scarlett, do you really have to tease him? It's unfair darling. You're so pretty." Melanie offered me a compliment, and I blushed again.
"How you do run on, Melanie," I mumbled. While I loved the compliment, I wasn't used to having this many of them.
"Please, call me Melly. All of my friends do."
"Of course, Melly," I smiled. If I remembered correctly, Melly has Ashley's child during the war, and it takes all the life out of her. I must stay close to her, even though I have no intention of marrying her brother.
"You must eat with us," Melly pleaded. Her hands gripped mine firmly.
I laughed quietly. "If I can get the Tarleton twins away, I will do just that."
Melanie and Ashley walked away, and I was pulled into the scene around me. The women were all dressed lavishly. The men had soft, warm voices, and the women's voices complemented thiers. Nobody ever spoke loudly, and everybody had slow drawls that could make me drowsy.
Twelve Oaks was a gorgeous plantation. The house was large and white, but unlike Tara, it opened to a large staircase, and the entry way could be used as a dance floor. Scarlett's memories flashed before me, and I knew that upstairs, there would be beds waiting for the women to nap on after lunch. How silly would it be to nap, I wondered. Although, with the excitement, I knew why.
A girl around my age came up to me, and the name Cathleen surfaced to my lips.
"Scarlett, there you are!" She hissed. She took my arm in hers and lead me up the stairs. "Darling, everyone is green with envy over you!" I looked at her incredulously. She smiled knowingly. "You always do look much better than everyone, Scarlett! Even better than those city girls."
I didn't think I did, but maybe Cathleen was used to building Scarlett up. "Why, Cathleen, you look gorgeous too!" I offered. "Your hair is definitely prettier than mine!"
Cathleen let out a loud laugh, and immediately, all eyes were on us. "Scarlett, what has gotten into you? You aren't dressed like you usually are, you could hardly contain the look of disgust when Ashley took your hand, and now you're complimenting me."
I squeezed Cathleen to me, fully realizing what an awful person Scarlett could be. "I'm fine, I promise."
We were at the landing of the stairs when I felt eyes on me. These were not India's hot stares. No, this stare made my hair stand up on end. I looked around, trying to find the person who made me so uncomfortable. My eyes settled on a man who was tall, had tan skin, black hair, and black eyes. He looked at me intensely, with a smile on his face. He made me uncomfortable, and I shifted under his gaze. He laughed at this, and then turned and made conversation with Mr. Wilkes.
"Cathleen, is that-"
"Why dear, that's Rhett Butler!"
Between the tight stays, the lack of food, and the realization that my dream may come true, I felt more faint than I had when getting dress, and I could feel my legs buckle under me.