So if you ever heard of Gone with the Wind (my favorite book ever) you'll know what I'm talking about.
I had this idea come to me one night in the shower (amazing place to think, btw) and I thought it would be interesting.
Warning: To fellow Windies, you'll know this is very AU-ish.
"Yankee girls and Yankee men." Mammy muttered disapprovingly, squatting her neck into her heavy-set shoulders, regretting on coming all long with Scarlett on this no good trip. It was too far from Tara and crawling with Yankee white trash. But Mammy knew that if she wasn't there to chaperone Scarlett, he lamb would get into heaps of trouble.
"Fiddledeedee." Scarlett clicked her tongue, her curious, blazing green eyes sweeping across the exotic cityscape of seaside Boston. It was so different from Georgia!
"My lamb ain't dancing with them Yankee boys at the ball tonight neither." Mammy puffed, deflated by Scarlett's lack of disgust with the wild Northerners. Mammy would not have her well-brought up girl philanderin' with them Yankees, they ain't no gemppums, hardly is people.
Scarlett gritted her teeth in annoyance, but her voice remained sweet. "Now mammy darling."
"Don't Mammy-darling me!" Mammy argued, sitting back deeper in the carriage, her round, brown face blending in with the leather interior. "Miss Ellen would turn in her grave if she knew…"
But Scarlett was hardly listening. Her heart swelled with excitement as her eyes jumped from building to building, mouth hanging open in an unladylike fashion, drinking in as much of Boston as she could. She knew hat Mammy would not be able to do anything about her dancing at the ball, for she was Annie Haggerty's guest, and besides, tonight she wouldn't mind dancing with Abe Lincoln himself!
The war had dampened everyone's spirits, especially Scarlett's for plantation life was quiet boring without the weekly parties and barbeques now that he boys had gone to fight. She moped around Tara with such boredom on her face and ennui in her heart that Ellen began to worry. She called the old Dr. Fontaine, who suggested that a change of scenery would do her good.
Though Scarlett did not trust those of her own sex, she agreed to go to Boston and stay with Annie Haggerty for a couple of months, who was kin to the Robillards. Though Scarlett did not like women much, she had to admit that her urge to travel was stronger than her vanity, and Mammy was packing her bags the moment her mother Ellen had brought up the idea. But Mammy was not happy at all.
Scarlett O'Hara and her plump, African mammy had stepped off of the train not thirty minutes ago, being picked up by Annie's coachman in the Haggerty's fancy carriage, and driven towards Annie's house. The carriage sloshed through the puddles, finally pulling up in front of a lovely, red-brick house with petunias growing on the outskirts of the picket fence.
Scarlett had met Annie only once before, when both had visited Savannah to celebrate the birth of another Robillard. Scarlett thought Annie to be plain, like Melly, with nothing but her heart-shaped face and reddish-brown hair to recommend her. But she had a certain air about her that Scarlett didn't have, and though she'd rather die than admit, she secretly envied her for it.
The front door flew open and Scarlett was greeted by none other than Annie, her hair up in a bun and her arms outstretched towards her. Scarlett did not like being touched and she hugged her back only from courtesy. Scarlett was a loyal Confederate and was put-off by Annie's utter loyalty to the Union, but she swallowed her venomous tongue and smiled up at Annie as she spoke about the evening ball at some Shaw residence.
Kinda scared about this post, but I tried.
Review? Easy on the harshness, otherwise, by all mean criticize.