A/N 1/19/21 Chapter 21 is just about complete - just needs 'ornaments' and tweaking - give me a couple days, give or take :) thank you for your patience!

A few examples of my inspiration for this chapter ….

"Always forgive your enemies; nothing annoys them so much."

― Oscar Wilde

"We have only this moment, sparkling like a star in our hand and melting like a snowflake..."

― Sir Francis Bacon, 1561-1626

I'm not where you left me at all

- Dua Lipa, Don't Start Now

Chapter 20

When it became time to do Scarlett's hair around three in the afternoon Prissy arrived in her dressing room with a copy of a French publication by the name of Femina magazine, opened to a large section depicting the latest hairstyles from Paris.

"Babette sent this to you," she said, pointing to one particular sketch, a very fetching combination of braids, curls and longer wisps of hair framing the face. "I think I can do that one with little trouble."

Still in her wrapper and yawning, Scarlett looked at the drawing and nodded. She read through the written instructions with Prissy, who was doing remarkably well sounding out words. She then sat at the vanity and Prissy began the laborious task of brushing out her waist-length hair, thick but fine with an almost imperceptible wave.

"Have you decided on a dress?" Prissy frowned as she tugged on knots and tangles. The morning of outdoor activities had made rather a mess of Scarlett's usually impeccable tresses.

Scarlett pointed to the dressing table bench, where she'd draped a silk gown the color of seafoam with seed pearls and aquamarine stones sewn around the semi-but-not-too-low neckline. She'd had it made to go with a necklace and ear drop set of aquamarine and peridot stones she particularly liked. Prissy nodded in approval.

Once she finished brushing Scarlett's hair Prissy's hands moved swiftly as she worked, stopping only to light the spirit lamp that heated the silver curling tongs. She braided and arranged, curled and pulled and loosened strands around Scarlett's face. After about half an hour she turned Scarlett around to look.

"It's gorgeous, Prissy!'' Scarlett exclaimed. And it was gorgeous, too, the luxurious locks and delicate wisps silky and smooth alternated with purposefully windswept and tousled pieces framing Scarlett's face in a particularly fetching manner. Prissy looked bashful but proud. Perfecting a new and quite complicated French hairstyle on the first try was certainly an accomplishment.

Scarlett completed her toilette with a little light rouge - she didn't need much, after spending the morning outdoors - neatened up her full and swooping eyebrows and brushed out her thick bristly black eyelashes with a little oil before applying the lightest touch of powder and lip color.

They heard a noise in the hall as India arrived, carrying her dress in a muslin dust bag. "You're early," Scarlett said, then took in India's sallow complexion, lank, nearly colorless blondish-brownish hair, sparse eyebrows and lashes, and thin, downturned lips.

"You're early," she repeated, "but I'm glad we will have extra time." We're going to need all the time. Not sure there's enough time. In the universe.

India didn't appear to catch the jab as Scarlett plopped the publication in front of her.

"Pick a hairstyle and Prissy can do it," she said. "She just did mine and it looks better than the magazine." Prissy openly preened. Scarlett recalled that Prissy had worked as India's maid as a child, before Gerald purchased her with Dilcey from John Wilkes, all those many lifetimes ago. Ha. Prissy learned how to do hair with me, she thought with satisfaction. India hadn't taught her anything at all.

"Oh my," India breathed, her eyes going to Scarlett's do, widening a bit, and then scanning the pages. Scarlett wondered how long it had been since India had her hair done. Not since times got bad during the war, she imagined, soon after Twelve Oaks burned. Years.

It took her a while but finally, India picked a comparatively simple, although flattering style and Prissy nodded as she began brushing out her fine, limp hair.

Scarlett studied the sketch, then dug around in her vanity, gathering a reel of quarter-inch wide fine yellow-gold silk ribbons, and brought them to Prissy.

"Here," she said. "Weave these into her hair to help make it thicker." Prissy widened her eyes, appearing grateful for the assistance.

Scarlett regarded India's dress for a moment and then walked over to her jewelry box and pulled out several selections before deciding on a citrine and tourmaline necklace set in gold. The tourmaline was yellow, with traces of rosy pink around the edges. She'd purchased it to be worn with a yellow dress once, and held it against the tan, er, camel-colored dress. It went nicely.

She then went to India and held it against her skin, looking into her eyes, which were a lighter gray than Scarlett remembered, and actually had a ring of yellow gold around the iris. Hmm. Unusual, and rather attractive, she had to admit.

"This one," she decided. "It complements the dress and your eyes, and the little bit of rose in the tourmaline will bring out the pink in your cheeks," she frowned. "If you had any. Did you spend some time outside as I asked?"

" A few minutes," India said.

"How many minutes, precisely? Two?"

India shook her head and rolled her eyes. "Ladies should have the palest of skin, with no freckles," she said in a no-nonsense tone. Scarlett wanted to snap back that India's skin had never been, and never would be magnolia white, no matter what she did; and furthermore, since India had never had a freckle in her life, not even as a Georgia countryside-raised child, the chances of her obtaining one at this point in time were next to nil. She showed remarkable restraint by keeping her mouth shut, however.

"There's always buttermilk if you get too much," she said mildly after a moment, thinking of Mammy. Mammy. She shook herself back into the present. It hurt too much to think of Mammy. She needed to visit Tara, and soon.

Prissy continued to work on India's hair, while Scarlett took one of her hands for inspection. India jumped slightly, but allowed it. Her hands were smooth, and not too badly kept. Scarlett looked at her own and proceeded with touching up her manicure, smoothing the edges, and soaking the tips in lemon water while Prissy continued with India's hair. When she finished her hands she then touched up India's, who acted like she was a snake about to strike the entire time.

Another half an hour of teasing, brushing, weaving, and curling - and nearly half a bottle of Bandoline - it was done. The tiny gold ribbon woven throughout made the overall effect more blonde. And quite appealing. Scarlett nodded approvingly as she buffed her nail beds with a roll of cotton wool.

"We need to pluck your overgrown eyebrows," Scarlett then announced without preamble. "Even though they are thin, you shouldn't have little hairs all over the place."

India drew back, affronted. "Or you do it, or Prissy," Scarlett said, "just, they're a mess."

India relented enough to let Prissy shape her eyebrows somewhat. Scarlett went about dressing herself as Prissy worked, only stopping her to help with the lacing up. She'd never had many girlfriends growing up, other than her sisters, who were too young and/or annoying, and she hadn't cared to make other girls look better when she wanted all the beaux, after all. Except for Cathleen, she thought for just a moment. She hadn't minded sharing a few beaux with her one friend. Poor Cathleen.

But she also hadn't realized how much fun it would be, and she didn't actually care to compete with India. Besides, she wanted Ennis to enjoy his evening seated next to at least a somewhat attractive woman - and Scarlett always appreciated a challenge.

Preparing for battle, Scarlett picked up a rouge pot and carefully approached her nemesis.

"No," India said.

"You need it, India." Dear God, but you need it.

"I'm not wearing paint."

"Listen to me," Scarlett rummaged through the bowl and brought out several different shades of rouge, one a brownish pink that would work with India's sallow complexion. "You need it to appear healthy."

India shook her head, her already thin lips pressed together to the point of nihility.

"Your face is rather yellow. You look practically jaundiced," Scarlett all but blurted out, her voice rising. "People are going to think you've been quaffing down Aunt Pitty's swoon bottle and have nigh-on ruined your liver!"

India crossed her arms over her chest, her face like thunder.

'Please India, I swear if you hate it you can wash it off, just try." Scarlett walked to the door and reached for a basket. "I knew you would be recalcitrant so I am prepared with natural products."

"This is elderberry juice," she held up the small lidded pot. "For darkening your eyebrows and eyelashes. Ella picked the elderberries and Dilcey juiced them and cooked it down to thicken it properly."

"This is beet juice for your cheeks." Another pot. "Prissy squeezed a beet from the garden between two bricks, and strained the juice three times."

"And this is crushed roses in a little castor oil for your lips," Scarlett held the pot up to her nose and sniffed. "I made it myself out of the most luscious roses from my very own garden. It smells divine." She waved the salve in front of India's face, and the sweet smell of roses filled the air.

"These are natural stains, not paint. We made it all just for you," she pointed at the ladies' magazine, clearly a quality publication. "It is quite proper. All the fine European ladies are using these charming homemade accouterments from their very own gardens," she congratulated herself on using two of Wade's vocabulary words in a conversation with India.

"I obtained all the recipes from that magazine." She had not, in fact. A bald-faced lie, but yet, a small, harmless one, she told herself, as the world, in general, would surely benefit from any improvement to India's normally caustic mien and demeanor.

"It is still artifice." India's posture grew decidedly rigid.

"Please, you can wash it off," Scarlett clasped her fingers together. "I will use the lightest of hands, and I will wipe off half of what I put on. It will only be a trace."

India hesitated. Scarlett seemed genuine and rarely said please. She nodded stiffly.

Scarlett all but jumped up and down as she picked up the tiny brushes, small enough for Ella's dolls, and brushed them through the elderberry juice reduction.

"This will make them a little darker, not enough to hardly tell," she said. Of course, Scarlett, with her silky black eyebrows and bristly lashes, had never had to worry about that.

She took a little bit of the beet juice rouge and dotted it along India's eyelids and cheeks.

"That's it, Scarlett. I'm not going to supper looking like a painted woman."

"Hush up, India. I'm not giving you a tattoo." Prissy stifled a giggle.

India gave her the evil eye again and Scarlett huffed.

"Well, next week I suggest you get out in the sun as I asked!"

Scarlett dipped one of the stiffer brushes in a little pot of darkened, oily-looking wax and brushed out India's eyebrows and eyelashes once the elderberry juice had dried, making them appear thicker and lustrous.

She finished up with the tiniest bit of face powder, then pulled a few wisps of India's hair in front down around her face. She retrieved the rose salve and applied it to India's lips with a soft brush, and rubbed a smidge into both their nail beds so that their fingernails were pink and glossy.

Prissy helped India into her dress with all the usual clucking and admonishing about mussing her face and hair, then seated her at the vanity while Scarlett fastened her necklace and ear drops. She then stood back and regarded the woman - who, almost shockingly, appeared to have bloomed like a hothouse flower in front of her eyes.

Scarlett caught her breath as India, glowing a little even, with color in her face and pretty, full hair adorned with ribbons, bedecked with jewels, and a spark in her eyes almost - just almost, looked exactly like the girl she had been so long ago. Scarlett suddenly remembered a young India back at Twelve Oaks, one who had not become embittered and venomous by a life full of recriminations and ruminations.

Her brow wrinkled as she recalled something, a whisper of a memory - India, bending over her as a very small child, bathing a scraped knee, bringing her a glass of water. We haven't always been enemies, we were neighborhood children at one point in time, so very long ago.

"Do you remember the time I fell off your front porch - I was real little - and you picked me up out of the bushes and carried me into your mother?" Scarlett asked abruptly. India looked askance at the sudden change of subject, then nodded.

"You were just a baby," India said.

'So were you," Scarlett all but whispered. "Still wearing short dresses and your hair down your back."

India sniffed. "You were trying to pick my mother's kiss-me-over-the-garden-gate flowers after you were told not to, a rascally little thing even then," she said, turning away. "Always a mischief-maker."

The magic of the moment might have been lost in the venom if India hadn't caught her reflection in the mirror just then.

Her breath caught and her eyes lit up as she regarded her reflection, her hands moving wonderingly to her face and hair.

"And you are now a sorceress, Scarlett O'Hara," she muttered, turning this way and that in the mirror. "With all your little scrappy pots and potions." She smiled in spite of herself then, completely unable to hide her pleasure at the changes - an actual smile, not a sneer or smirk.

"Why, you almost look pleasant, India Wilkes," Scarlett countered airily. "See if you can keep that expression on your face for the entirety of the night, in the place of your normally soured countenance."

India turned immediately away from the mirror and frowned, her now-visible eyebrows drawing down over her face and her lips thinning to nothing.

"Yes," Scarlett drawled. "I'm talking about that one."

India huffed and sent a brief, longing glance at the high-quality Bandoline bottle. Scarlett resolved to pack it up with the rest of the handmade cosmetics to send home with her. The lady needed to experiment on her own. Obviously, she couldn't afford such luxuries, living as she did with Aunt Pitty and Ashley - not that she deserved such consideration.

Scarlett handed India a silk tasseled, embroidered shawl that both matched her dress and softened it, and they swept down the stairs followed by Prissy, both buoyed in spirit at the prospect of going out to supper while looking their best despite their personal differences.

They passed the parlor and stopped to say farewell to Ella and Wade, who admired Scarlett's appearance but were totally rendered speechless at India's transformation. Both children made over their aunt, marveling at her hair and dress. Although Wade regarded her with a wrinkled brow, no doubt sensing the cosmetic alteration, Ella clapped her hands in delight.

India actually looked shy when the small girl circled her, remarking on every little detail, asking her to bend down so she could lightly touch India's hair and jewelry and face, commenting so sweetly and genuinely that even India's normally hardened expression eased into laughter.

Prissy shot Scarlett a look of triumph as India continued to appear quite flustered by the attention and she grinned right back. Scarlett assured the children that Babette would send them supper with Pork, and to be good to Prissy and Pork, as Dilcey would be working at the hotel. The ladies then retrieved their shawls and headed out the door.

OOOOooooOOOOoooo

A/N I went ahead and posted this while I continue to struggle with the supper and subsequent chapters; apologies that it doesn't much progress ahead, just all I could do with my usual chaotic real-life stuff. Also, my boss is a miserable jerk who canceled my staycation this week out of spite. Just wanted to put that out in the universe.

I do hope to update with another chapter in the next week or so.

As far as India and the cosmetics, I did a good bit of research and it turns out that many Southern ladies in the Victorian era did make use of cosmetic preparations; they were just very sneaky and light-handed about it, as you might imagine.

Ladies very much didn't want to look like painted women and didn't want to use commercial products which were often cakey and quite obvious, so they sometimes experimented with flower and vegetable stains and homemade preparations, as I used in the chapter. And yes, I had a Cinderella/My Fair Lady moment. Someone needed to help old sour India out, although she certainly didn't deserve it from Scarlett. And I do have a plan. Kill them with kindness, as they say. Or not … wait and see.

Fun Facts:

In Victorian times a commercial product known as bandoline was sold as a sort of pre-hairspray hairspray. Bandoline was a liquid made of watered-down tree gum with a few teaspoons of rum and a dash or two of fragrances such as essence of almonds or rose oil that was applied to the hair to make it sticky.

Cheap bandoline would damage the hair and change the color, so the quality of the ingredients was important then, as it still is to this day in such products. A homemade hair setting preparation of quince seeds soaked in water was also quite popular and worked similarly to bandoline.

Before bandoline was invented wax and oil were used for hairstyling. Bandoline remained popular through the turn of the century.

Also - Tattoos, previously relegated to sailors and circus folk, became popular during the Civil War as a way for soldiers to ensure their bodies were identified correctly. Which is sad, but also, pretty smart.

P/S Thank you again for all the lovely comments and thank you for reading this story. I enjoy the research as much as anything. It is vastly therapeutic to feel I am learning as I write. Shameless plug for reviews here - they cheer my down face up :)