Lady Ann's Holiday - Chapter Nine

Meeting the Earl

 

1

The next morning Ann woke up outside.

She was lying in a ditch with her legs up the bank and her head and left arm in its dank muddy bottom. She raised her head and saw the half-dried vomit down the front of her shirt and on her trousers.

She chuckled to herself and struggled over onto her hands and knees getting even wetter and muckier. She got to her feet and sidestepped, losing her balance as she realised how drunk she still was then fell through the side of a gorse bush.

She was chuckling even harder as she got upright again and staggered out onto the lane. She swayed back and forth, thinking about the night before and then started to stagger along in the direction she thought the manor was. Thirty paces on she stopped and looked round then staggered back the other way, deciding that actually it was more likely that way.

“What a night,” she mumbled. “There was nowt wrong with that. It was chuffing greet from start to finish.”

She had a fuzzy memory of pulling her cock out to all her mates at the pub and she chuckled again, then she remembered the expression on Mavis’s face and laughed aloud.

“A reet good night!”

2

“I want to ask your opinion on something Ann,” asked Grandmamma. For a change today she wasn’t wearing her customary black.

They were sitting in the morning room with sun streaming in through the French doors. Burt was wearing a sweet dress that left his arms bare, a gold necklace on his smooth chest and a matching bracelet at his wrist. “Of course grandmamma. What is it?”

“You know who I mean by the upstairs maid?”

“Yes.”

“Well I’m thinking of getting rid of her. I wanted your opinion before I did so.”

“Whatever for?” asked Burt.

“The girl’s lazy and good for nothing and she always has been. And she’s too slovenly for my taste.”

“Hmmm.” Burt pictured the girl in her maid’s outfit. “I wouldn’t say she’s that bad.”

“You wouldn’t?”

“No.” He considered for a moment. “I have spent… some time around the servants at Griply Hall…”

“I can tell that from the atrocious accent and manner you had when you’ve arrived.”

“And I should say that a servant’s life… is a very difficult one. From my observations.”

“Your observations?”

“I know that servants do try their best and I’m sure that if she were to be guided by a kind hand then she would correct her behaviour as quickly as she could.”

“Do you think so?”

“If I know servants, then yes. I should say so.”

“Well,” said the duchess. “Then I’ll leave her to you.”

“Pardon?” Burt sat forward and uncrossed his legs.

“If you think the girl can be brought around then I make it your responsibility and thank you for the kind offer.”

“My what?” Burt was confused.

“If you think you can improve matters then you have my blessing. If you decide she’s beyond hope and think she needs to go… well you have my blessing for that as well.”

3

Ann sauntered back onto the grounds of the estate and headed toward the stables so she could get some kip. Sleeping in the ditch might have been funny but it had left her buggered.

But as she turned the corner in the lane and walked down into the courtyard in front of it she stopped in her tracks.

There, in front of the building, wearing his hunting jacket and deerstalker hat, was her father, the earl, looking grumpier than she’d ever seen him. She started to back up but he fixed her in his eyes.

“You! Man! Come here!”

She pointed stupidly at her own chest.

“Yes. You.” She started toward him. “Quick man! Run! I haven’t got all day.”

She ran to him and stopped short, looking up into his hard face, his metallic eyes, his silvery handlebar moustache.  “Yes?” The earl’s cold eyes narrowed. “…m'lord?”

He pointed to some crates of wine. “These have been dropped off down here by some idiot. Pick them up and carry them up to the back of the house.”

“But…” She paled. “It’s me holidee… sir. I’s got a note… from your darter… Ann… er ladyship… givin me the fortnight off.”

The earl turned to face her properly, spacing his feet wide and putting his fists on his hips. “What did you say to me man?”

Ann’s throat became suddenly very narrow. She had always been wary of her father but she had no protection of blood now. He might literally do anything to her that he liked and he’d never know it was his own daughter he was punishing. “Holidee sir,” she said. “I’m not meant to be workin.”

“Well,” said the Earl, very quietly and coldly. “Shall I tell you what I think of that?”

“No sir. Er yes sir.”

“Let me ask you this,” he said. “Who is in charge of this estate? My daughter or me?”

“Er, you sir,” said Ann, increasingly terrified.

“So if I tell you to do something… you’d bloody well better do it or I’ll have you in the stocks before you can blink! Is that clear!?”

“Yes sir.”

“Is it?!”

“Yes sir!”

Then pick up those ruddy bottles and carry them up to the house! Now!”

“Yes sir,” gasped Ann, rushing over to pick up the first of the heavy crates, her mind filled with white panic.

“Then come down here and clear up this yard! There’s detritus everywhere! Do you hear me!?”

“Yes m’lord,” muttered Ann, hefting up the crate and staggering with it up toward the house.

“Then and only then can you go back to having this bloody holiday that Ann seems foolish enough to have given you!”

Ann gasped with relief. “Yes sir. Thank you sir. Much obliged sir.” She hurried on.

“But let me tell you one thing my lad,” called the earl after her.

Ann stopped, afraid to turn round.

“If you ever talk back to me again I will have your guts for garters and you’ll be shoveling up horse dung from dawn until midnight, holiday or no!”

4

Burt passed the maid that grandmamma had talked about on the stairs. She was dusting the paintings and Burt had to agree: her whole manner was rather lackluster and placid. He went on walking but tried to think of the best approach to the girl.

He had been a servant his whole life and he empathized with her but working out the kindest way of correcting her behaviour was a challenge. He had been spoken to innumerable times by his superiors and told what to do. Invariably they had left him feeling like dirt. Now he had a chance to do it himself he wanted to do it the way he would have liked to be spoken to all his life.

He went into his gigantic bedroom, loving the warmth and comfort of everything he saw. He went to the mirror and started to repeat the lines he had begun doing every day to reinforce who he was and encourage his change in behaviour.

“I’m Lady Ann Neville. I’m a beautiful woman and heir to Griply Hall where my family has lived for generations. My father is the earl Neville and I have a wonderful caring mother and a sister named Hattie. I am visiting my grandmamma and the two of us are getting along famously. I do so enjoy our long conversations about culture and the arts.”

He smiled at himself, seeing only a woman looking back at him, then switched to the other half of his daily reaffirmation.

“I am not Burt. The very idea of that is preposterous. Burt is a filthy menial with no wit to speak of and even less education. He is a dirty servile clodhopper who is completely beneath me. He’s nothing but a working class thug – a worthless servant and nothing more. He means absolutely nothing to me.”

That was better. He smiled again. Distancing himself from his old life did no end of good for strengthening his perception of being a lady and that did no end of good for living up to his side of the deal and being the best Lady Ann he could be.

5

There was nothing for it, decided Ann. She had to do something about her appearance.

She was getting tired of being looked down on because she looked like a vagabond. She had money. There was no reason she couldn’t dress smartly. As a matter of fact, with money, there was no reason she could walk round dressed and treated like a swell. With her upbringing she could act like an upper class man as well as she could an upper class woman.

She imagined herself strutting about in top hat and tails at the races in a man’s body with servant’s tipping their caps at her. That would be right ruddy grand and no mistake.

She hadn’t changed clothes all week but she decided that was going to have to if she was going for a fitting. No tailor would treat her seriously if went walked in dressed in her filthy working clothes. Burt only owned one other outfit: his “Sunday best.” It wasn’t much better than the clothes she had on – barely any difference in the cut or quality – but at least they were cleaner. Ann decided to wear them for now.

She needed to get clean as well so she got the bath down off the wall. After looking at it for several minutes while she stroked her bushy moustache she put it back on its nail and went outside to the water barrel instead. She washed her face and hands there. That would have to do. It was a chilly day and she didn’t fancy going to all that trouble again to have a lukewarm bath.

When she was changed she walked sown into the village whistling a tune she must have heard from somewhere, though she couldn’t think where.

She tried not to think about what had happened with her father as she walked. It had been the most unpleasant situation of her life and she had no desire to either dwell on it or repeat it.

It seemed like a longer walk than usual and Ann was rather irritable by the time she reached the edge of the village. It just seemed like it was going to be such a hassle having to wait around while the tailor measured her up then fannied around. And she looked much better already in her Sunday best! Was it really worth all the trouble?

She knew she’d made a resolution to look better but she’d already more than achieved that! Not only had she got all dressed up but she’d washed her face and hands!

When she got level with the Dog & Pony she saw that there was already a din of frivolity coming from inside. She weighed up her options, quickly justifying what she really felt like doing against what she thought she ought to do. With an expectant grin on her face and a weight off her shoulders she crossed the road and went inside, giving a loud cheer to announce her arrival.

Sensing free beer, the other punters cheered too and Ann went quickly to the bar to buy drinks all round.

6

Burt found the upstairs maid, Betty, smoothing the bed covers down when he entered his bedroom and stood for a moment watching the girl, his hands clasped demurely at his waist.

She wasn’t putting much effort in and she looked very bored. She left several ruckles in the covers as she turned to leave and only then did she see him standing there. She looked caught out and ashamed. “Oh! M’lady! I’m sorry. I didn’t see you there.”

“No matter,” replied Burt. I was hoping to have a word with you.”

He had planned out what he was going to say carefully but he was still a little nervous. Talking to a servant as one of the quality was still new to him and correcting one was unheard of; but he looked forward to seeing the light of realization in her eyes as she realised how easy it was to avoid being fired.

The girl looked sullen and evasive. “What about?”

Burt took a seat on the edge of the bed and patted the covers next to him. “Here. Sit down.”

The servant girl looked startled. “On the bed?”

Burt nodded. “It’s alright. Come on.”

She did so, looking entirely uncomfortable.

“I wanted to speak to you about your performance here,” said Burt.

“I’m not good enough, am I?”

“It’s not that. It’s just that it would help if you could take a little more care… to get things just right. I know that you’re an honest hard-working girl and with some positive guidance I’m sure you could be an excellent worker.”

“So you are saying I’m no good. I knew it. I knew I was terrible.”

“No. Listen,” said Burt. “If you’ll listen, I can give you a few helpful tips. If you follow my advice you’ll be doing better in no time.”

The girl looked sullen, her cheeks flushed red. She sat staring down at the floor as Burt went through several suggestions on how she could improve. She didn’t respond to anything and he started to feel as though she wasn’t even listening.

“Do you understand what you need to do?” asked Burt.

The maid shrugged. “I suppose.”

“Alright., Just to be sure, tell me what your plan is going to be.”

The girl looked at him stupidly.

Burt forced a smile. “Just tell me back what I said to you.”

She shrugged. “I don’t know. To try harder… and stuff.”

Burt sighed and folded his arms. “Were you even—?” He paused, calming himself. “Alright. Don’t worry. That’s enough for today. We can have another chat tomorrow. Alright?”

The girl said nothing.

“I’ll help you until you’re doing a first rate job. Hmmm?”

She shrugged, avoiding eye contact. Feeling like he was wasting his time, Burt stood up and let her go, shaking his head as she walked off down the landing.

7

Ann was glaring at Jeb across the pub, watching exactly what he was doing as he talked to some of his mates at the farm he worked. She was sure the big lummox was giving Mavis the eye, following her round with his gaze as she delivered ale to the tables.

Mavis was wearing a particularly slutty outfit this evening with both shoulders bare and a great circle of cleavage sprouting from her chest. Ann could hardly keep her eyes off the girl herself but she resented Jeb’s attentions.

“Ere Burt,” said an old man named Arvin who was sharing a table with her. He had a newspaper folded up and was puzzling over a crossword puzzle. “Chief city Christian. Six letters. Something something S; something something P.”

Ann Looked at him then turned back to Jeb.

“Any ideas Burt?”

“No,” said Ann.

“Ah,” said Arvin. “Bishop. The chief Christian in a city.”

Ann shrugged.

“Here’s one you’ll definitely get,” said Arvin. “It’s easy.”

“I’m busy,” said Ann.

“No. Listen.”

Ann snorted and turned to face the old man. “What?”

“French capital.”

Ann shrugged.

“French capital,” said Arvin. “Begins with a P.”

Ann was getting tense. “I don’t know.”

The old man chuckled. “What’s the capital city of France?”

Ann got what he meant and groaned. That was obvious. She opened her mouth to say it. Then stopped, mouth gaping.

“What’s the capital of France Burt? Come on. You must know that. Everyone knows that.”

Ann stared at him; and she went on staring. She didn’t know. She’d been there. She remembered going. She’d spoken fluent French since she’d been a little girl. But she had no idea what the answer was! She no longer remembered what that place was called!