Disclaimer: If only my name happened to be Margaret Mitchell. I wish.
Authors Note: If you didn't read the book (of which this is based on) Ella is Scarlett's child by Frank Kennedy . . . Please REVIEW!! ; )
Her friends and all her beaux never noticed it, but Ella wasn't really beautiful. Her chestnut mop of hair was wavy, and it always looked windswept and out of place, and her deep-set dark brown eyes clashed with her delicate features which she got from her late father, Frank Kennedy. But as unusual her face was, it turned millions of heads nonetheless. She took pride in her looks, and Ella never realized that she wasn't the most beautiful girl in the county, and that state of mind was something that she got from her mother, Scarlett.
People will never understand her.
Ella Butler. Ella Kennedy. Ella actually had tried Ella Hamilton and Ella Robillard, but she stuck to Ella O'Hara.
It sounded much better.
Rhett Butler never cared much about Ella, for she was a stupid capricious little girl too much like her ignorant mother, Scarlett, but there was a disparity. Scarlett was headstrong and determined, while Ella just didn't care much about anything that really matters (which is somewhat like Scarlett, if you think about it) and her heart was too soft and sentimental. That's why when Ella decided (at the ripe young age of fifteen) to drop the infamous 'Butler' in her name, Rhett only screamed and shouted for about 2 hours . . . While Scarlett was undoubtedly amused by the whole ordeal, she agreed that Ella O'Hara was much more becoming. Ella sighed, and she remembered when her mother once said that Ella was so much like her Aunt Suellen, but ever since Scarlett heavily scolded Ella for complaining about cold ham, her bad habit of nagging has lessened a little . . . Well, a lot.
Around Scarlett, anyway.
"I think the blue one looks better on you, Ella." Scarlett said disapprovingly at the pink dress Ella had on. Ella twirled around a critical Scarlett and once again faced the large oval mirror, her fuchsia petticoat rustling noisily beneath her new gown trimmed with dark pink lace.
Ella stuck her chin up and made a stubborn face. "I like this one just the way it is." Ella reached out for a small heavily carved wooden box, where she kept her trusty rouge. She brought out a small gold case, and rustled towards her dresser.
"Ella!" Scarlett exclaimed, scandalized. "A young girl of sixteen, wearing rouge! Where did you get that?"
Ella rudely rolled her deep-set brown eyes and sucked her cheeks in, ready to apply the pink concoction where it was needed.
Ella stood against the gleaming pink sunset of Tara, was making her baby pink gown shimmer beautifully, and made her blonde hair look shinier against the background. Scarlett watched her, expertly applying some rouge when she was told she wasn't allowed to do so. Ella was never a stubborn mule when she was a child, but as the girl grew up, she became hardheaded and at times ridiculous in whatever she did. Scarlett remembered how she was such an ugly baby; how people thought she looked like boy, but now . . . well; now she has become the belle of the county, just as Scarlett had once been. Although Ella wasn't truly beautiful, no one had realized that fact. Ella's straight blonde hair was silky and at times very limp; her deep brown eyes like her father's were scary and looked deep inside you. She inherited Scarlett's lethal charm but didn't inherit her business sense.
Ella finished applying the rouge (which she had secretly stolen from Christine, Suellen's child) and faced her mother for approval.
Scarlett looked up from the dress she was mending and into Ella's fetching face. She smiled despite her obvious disapproval. Ella did look beautiful and she couldn't lie about that fact. Ella always had a way of knowing when anyone was fibbing. "You look lovely, dear. Sweep them all of their feet."
Ella giggled at how her mother always knew exactly what her intentions were. Ella had been invited to a small rendezvous organized by her best friend, Lucie Lynn Tarleton, where she knew that there would be tons of boys where she could practice her expert flirting skills. "Although I hear the Bullocks would be there. " She said unhappily as she tied the pink velvet ribbon attached to her wide-brimmed straw hat.
Scarlett scowled at the thought of the Bullocks, and how unlucky she was that they were her neighbors now. After the war was all over and the reconstruction was finished, The former governor and his family had moved to the south, and right beside Tara!! They had supposedly 'renewed' and are now accepted by society (as they were once often sneered at and were greatly disliked in Atlanta), but not by the Butlers. While everyone had become close friends with the Bullocks, Scarlett just couldn't stand for it. The Butler's were known for their dislike towards the Bullocks all over the South. "What a shame." Scarlett stood up and turned towards the great grandfather clock in Ella's large over decorated room. "You are going to be late, dear. You must hurry."
Ella nodded and hurriedly went into her stepfather's room. "Will you bring me to the Tarleton's, father? Please?"
Rhett looked at her through his glasses and got up from a lavish velvet armchair setting is book down. "Wear a shawl, Ella." He said simply. "And wipe all that paint of your face."
Ella's eyes widened alarmingly at her stepfather's meanness, and turned towards the stables, hopefully to find Abraham free to drive her to Lucie's. As she started down the large blue stairs, she felt Rhett's strong arm grab hers. She faced him and she frowned deeply. "Yes?" She hissed sharply.
Rhett raised his eyebrow, and pulled his glass off his nose. "Don't just walk away from me, Ella." Then Rhett smiled mockingly, his white teeth emerging under his bushy mustache, contrasting with his olive-skinned face. "And besides, you know that Abraham is always out with Christine or your Aunt Suellen."
Ella just stuck her chin up even more.
"Lets go."
Ella looked behind Rhett's shoulder and into Scarlett's smiling face. Her mother winked and Ella nodded happily, excited to be going to her long awaited get- together. "Thank you." Ella said with a fake sweetness that was too obvious.
************
"Thanks you again for bringing me, father." Ella said sweetly.
Rhett nodded and whipped his fine red mare, urging it to go. "Be home by dinner-time!!" He called out as his voice faded.
Ella stood at the long entrance and gazed up at the big red brick house that Ella always thought was inferior compared to the beautiful white house of Tara. As she walked towards the house, she stopped in her tracks upon hearing an irritating masculine voice that drawled on like a song that was sung terribly out of tune.
"Well if it isn't my favorite lady, Ella Butler—I mean, O'Hara."
Ella rolled her brown eyes and faced Michael Bullock, who leaned against a large towering oak tree smoking a cigar, his black hair falling over his turquoise eyes, Oh, how that lock of hair always annoyed Ella, and she always said she "would give anything just to wipe that know-it-all look on Michael Bullocks face and tuck his hair behind his ears."
"Why, don't I get a hello?" He walked towards Ella, who gripped her purple umbrella tightly, her knuckles turning white. "You seem mad, Ms. O'Hara. Why is this?"
"Any sight of you makes my blood boil until I can't take the heat." Ella said sharply, her chin stuck out proudly.
Michael took a pace closer to Ella, and shook his head pitifully. "Why must we always fight? Why can't the Bullocks and the Butlers, dare I say it, make peace?"
Ella pursed her red lips together, and loosened her death grip on her tortured umbrella. "Peace? Peace. I hate that word, as I hate hell, all Bullocks, and you!"
"Clever."
Ella glared at him and turned on her heel, dramatically leaving Michael all alone.
"Hells afire when that woman leaves the house."
From Moi: Hope you like it… ; ) Oh, and I didn't make the line "Peace? Peace. I hate the word… blah blah blah." Its actually: "Peace? Peace. I hate the word, as I hate hell, all Montague's, and thee." From R + J Oh, and DON'T FORGET TO REVIEW!! Love ya… ; )
Authors Note: If you didn't read the book (of which this is based on) Ella is Scarlett's child by Frank Kennedy . . . Please REVIEW!! ; )
Her friends and all her beaux never noticed it, but Ella wasn't really beautiful. Her chestnut mop of hair was wavy, and it always looked windswept and out of place, and her deep-set dark brown eyes clashed with her delicate features which she got from her late father, Frank Kennedy. But as unusual her face was, it turned millions of heads nonetheless. She took pride in her looks, and Ella never realized that she wasn't the most beautiful girl in the county, and that state of mind was something that she got from her mother, Scarlett.
People will never understand her.
Ella Butler. Ella Kennedy. Ella actually had tried Ella Hamilton and Ella Robillard, but she stuck to Ella O'Hara.
It sounded much better.
Rhett Butler never cared much about Ella, for she was a stupid capricious little girl too much like her ignorant mother, Scarlett, but there was a disparity. Scarlett was headstrong and determined, while Ella just didn't care much about anything that really matters (which is somewhat like Scarlett, if you think about it) and her heart was too soft and sentimental. That's why when Ella decided (at the ripe young age of fifteen) to drop the infamous 'Butler' in her name, Rhett only screamed and shouted for about 2 hours . . . While Scarlett was undoubtedly amused by the whole ordeal, she agreed that Ella O'Hara was much more becoming. Ella sighed, and she remembered when her mother once said that Ella was so much like her Aunt Suellen, but ever since Scarlett heavily scolded Ella for complaining about cold ham, her bad habit of nagging has lessened a little . . . Well, a lot.
Around Scarlett, anyway.
"I think the blue one looks better on you, Ella." Scarlett said disapprovingly at the pink dress Ella had on. Ella twirled around a critical Scarlett and once again faced the large oval mirror, her fuchsia petticoat rustling noisily beneath her new gown trimmed with dark pink lace.
Ella stuck her chin up and made a stubborn face. "I like this one just the way it is." Ella reached out for a small heavily carved wooden box, where she kept her trusty rouge. She brought out a small gold case, and rustled towards her dresser.
"Ella!" Scarlett exclaimed, scandalized. "A young girl of sixteen, wearing rouge! Where did you get that?"
Ella rudely rolled her deep-set brown eyes and sucked her cheeks in, ready to apply the pink concoction where it was needed.
Ella stood against the gleaming pink sunset of Tara, was making her baby pink gown shimmer beautifully, and made her blonde hair look shinier against the background. Scarlett watched her, expertly applying some rouge when she was told she wasn't allowed to do so. Ella was never a stubborn mule when she was a child, but as the girl grew up, she became hardheaded and at times ridiculous in whatever she did. Scarlett remembered how she was such an ugly baby; how people thought she looked like boy, but now . . . well; now she has become the belle of the county, just as Scarlett had once been. Although Ella wasn't truly beautiful, no one had realized that fact. Ella's straight blonde hair was silky and at times very limp; her deep brown eyes like her father's were scary and looked deep inside you. She inherited Scarlett's lethal charm but didn't inherit her business sense.
Ella finished applying the rouge (which she had secretly stolen from Christine, Suellen's child) and faced her mother for approval.
Scarlett looked up from the dress she was mending and into Ella's fetching face. She smiled despite her obvious disapproval. Ella did look beautiful and she couldn't lie about that fact. Ella always had a way of knowing when anyone was fibbing. "You look lovely, dear. Sweep them all of their feet."
Ella giggled at how her mother always knew exactly what her intentions were. Ella had been invited to a small rendezvous organized by her best friend, Lucie Lynn Tarleton, where she knew that there would be tons of boys where she could practice her expert flirting skills. "Although I hear the Bullocks would be there. " She said unhappily as she tied the pink velvet ribbon attached to her wide-brimmed straw hat.
Scarlett scowled at the thought of the Bullocks, and how unlucky she was that they were her neighbors now. After the war was all over and the reconstruction was finished, The former governor and his family had moved to the south, and right beside Tara!! They had supposedly 'renewed' and are now accepted by society (as they were once often sneered at and were greatly disliked in Atlanta), but not by the Butlers. While everyone had become close friends with the Bullocks, Scarlett just couldn't stand for it. The Butler's were known for their dislike towards the Bullocks all over the South. "What a shame." Scarlett stood up and turned towards the great grandfather clock in Ella's large over decorated room. "You are going to be late, dear. You must hurry."
Ella nodded and hurriedly went into her stepfather's room. "Will you bring me to the Tarleton's, father? Please?"
Rhett looked at her through his glasses and got up from a lavish velvet armchair setting is book down. "Wear a shawl, Ella." He said simply. "And wipe all that paint of your face."
Ella's eyes widened alarmingly at her stepfather's meanness, and turned towards the stables, hopefully to find Abraham free to drive her to Lucie's. As she started down the large blue stairs, she felt Rhett's strong arm grab hers. She faced him and she frowned deeply. "Yes?" She hissed sharply.
Rhett raised his eyebrow, and pulled his glass off his nose. "Don't just walk away from me, Ella." Then Rhett smiled mockingly, his white teeth emerging under his bushy mustache, contrasting with his olive-skinned face. "And besides, you know that Abraham is always out with Christine or your Aunt Suellen."
Ella just stuck her chin up even more.
"Lets go."
Ella looked behind Rhett's shoulder and into Scarlett's smiling face. Her mother winked and Ella nodded happily, excited to be going to her long awaited get- together. "Thank you." Ella said with a fake sweetness that was too obvious.
************
"Thanks you again for bringing me, father." Ella said sweetly.
Rhett nodded and whipped his fine red mare, urging it to go. "Be home by dinner-time!!" He called out as his voice faded.
Ella stood at the long entrance and gazed up at the big red brick house that Ella always thought was inferior compared to the beautiful white house of Tara. As she walked towards the house, she stopped in her tracks upon hearing an irritating masculine voice that drawled on like a song that was sung terribly out of tune.
"Well if it isn't my favorite lady, Ella Butler—I mean, O'Hara."
Ella rolled her brown eyes and faced Michael Bullock, who leaned against a large towering oak tree smoking a cigar, his black hair falling over his turquoise eyes, Oh, how that lock of hair always annoyed Ella, and she always said she "would give anything just to wipe that know-it-all look on Michael Bullocks face and tuck his hair behind his ears."
"Why, don't I get a hello?" He walked towards Ella, who gripped her purple umbrella tightly, her knuckles turning white. "You seem mad, Ms. O'Hara. Why is this?"
"Any sight of you makes my blood boil until I can't take the heat." Ella said sharply, her chin stuck out proudly.
Michael took a pace closer to Ella, and shook his head pitifully. "Why must we always fight? Why can't the Bullocks and the Butlers, dare I say it, make peace?"
Ella pursed her red lips together, and loosened her death grip on her tortured umbrella. "Peace? Peace. I hate that word, as I hate hell, all Bullocks, and you!"
"Clever."
Ella glared at him and turned on her heel, dramatically leaving Michael all alone.
"Hells afire when that woman leaves the house."
From Moi: Hope you like it… ; ) Oh, and I didn't make the line "Peace? Peace. I hate the word… blah blah blah." Its actually: "Peace? Peace. I hate the word, as I hate hell, all Montague's, and thee." From R + J Oh, and DON'T FORGET TO REVIEW!! Love ya… ; )