Lady Ann's Holiday - Chapter Eight

Diverting Pastimes

1

After breakfast, Burt was wandering through the duchess’s huge town house, simply enjoying yet another day off from mucking out the stables and lifting sacks of grain. He was convinced he had the better part of the deal he and his beloved Lady Ann had made, even if he had written her a note to give her the fortnight off.

It still seemed incredible to him that he’d been able to write that note – and sign it with her very own signature; but it wasn’t the only change he’d noticed in his education. He was finding it easier and easier to discuss the arts and culture with grandmamma – something he never could have done before; and he really enjoyed it. He thrived on the intellectual conversations he was having now if truth be told.

He noticed a Jane Austin novel on a bookshelf in the drawing room and idly picked it up. It was called Pride and Prejudice and as Burt folded back the cover he surprised himself by just how well he could read now. He could read every word, even the big ones: words he’d never heard spoken aloud in his life. It was as though all the knowledge her ladyship had learned when she was growing up had been taken out of her mind and deposited into his. He smiled. She’d done all the hard work now he could reap the benefit. He shouldn’t really have been so shocked after the incident with the note but it was still a marvel. He’d never so much as read the first paragraph of a novel before!

This particular book was clearly intended for women to read. Flicking through it seemed to be all about flirting with men and finding husbands but Burt found himself intrigued nonetheless.

He found a quiet spot where there was a chair under a tall window with plenty of light and started to read. He quickly realised that it was a wonderful book and it had plenty to teach him about how ladies and gentlemen were meant to behave in social situations.

He went on reading it all morning, assimilating it carefully and as time wore on, he increasingly found himself identifying with Elizabeth Bennet, the heroine.

2

After having a gigantic breakfast with Mavis, Ann strolled back up to the manor, enjoying the morning sunshine. It was spring and the weather was really bucking up, the flowers starting to peek out to look at the sun.

She whistled as she walked – one of the tunes from the show she’d seen in York, thinking about what a good time she’d had the night before with her girlfriend.

It made her wonder if she really saw Mavis as her girlfriend. She mulled on that as she walked.

She definitely had a sexual attraction to Mavis – rough though she was, with her slutty ways and awful nasal voice – and she enjoyed the girl’s company. They’d had a right laugh after bonking the night before, making fun of her dullard brothers.

And she felt… possessive of her in a way that was rather inexplicable. As a woman, Ann had never been with a man or shared her life in any way. Exploring this part of life for the first time as a man left her feeling confused at times so all she could do was go on her increasingly male instincts.

Mavis was her girlfriend. She was her lass.

The fact that she’d shagged several other women wasn’t withstanding. As far as she knew, that was just what men did; and it was certainly what her dick was telling her to do. She saw no reason to go against that.

It occurred to her then that though she’d been whistling all this time, she’d never been able to whistle in her life. She just started doing it. It could only be a further effect of the transformation her body and brain had undergone. She had Burt’s education now – his limited ability to read and write. It made sense that she would have other learned abilities that he did have over her. It made her wonder again about whether she’d be able to groom horses now.

She decided to find out.

Ann walked to the stables and went inside. It was still early and with “Burt” off work, the grooming hadn’t been done yet. Ann entered one of the stalls and looked at the horse – her horse Rosebud. Despite being devoted to the filly she’d never taken the trouble to learn to look after her. Why have a dog and bark yourself?

Without thinking about it she took up a curry comb off the shelf and, starting on the off-side, beginning to loosen dirt and grit from Rosebud’s coat. Using circular sweeps across the horse’s body she worked her way round, instinctively using a lighter touch on the bonier shoulders and round the belly. At one stage Rosebud’s tail twitched and Ann reflexively lowered the pressure, know that the horse needed a more tender touch in that area.

Next she took up a brush and worked from the bottom of the tale to loosen the tangles, moving slowly up until the entire tale was smooth and lovely. Harry clearly hadn’t been doing this properly for the last couple of days and Ann tutted to herself.

Grabbing a coarser body brush, Ann started work on the flanks of the horse again, brushing out the dirt that the curry comb had missed, enjoying the rhythmic simplicity of the task. Finally she switched to the finishing brush to really bring up a shine on Rosebud’s body.

She stepped back, marveling at her work. She had known exactly what to do. She really did have all Burt’s knowledge as he had hers. It was kind of frightening just how powerful the transformation was but there was no point panicking. It was what it was. Until Burt came back from London she was stuck that way so she might as well enjoy it.

She reflected for a minute on the significance. She could groom horses. She was a groom. She really was a stable hand. Thinking that made her penis swell again. For some reason it turned her on.

But something wasn’t quite right.

She reached for a hoof pick off the shelf and stepped forward, sliding her hand down Rosebud’s foreleg. “Up.” The horse raised its leg and Ann dug at the dirt and manure lodged inside the hoof.

“Eh up Burt,” said Harry as he walked into the stable and spotted her. “I thought miss high-and-mighty had given you the fortnight off. You back working again? Can’t keep away eh?”

Ann set the foot down and stood up feeling caught out and embarrassed. “No. I was just… Just checking on Rosebud… for er ladyship.”

“Er again?” Harry frowned. “You lovesick fool. When are you going to get it through that thick skull o yours that she’s never gonna want to be with you? She’s quality. You’re a servant. And a smelly one at that.”

Ann crossed her arms.

“If you were a proper servant oop at manor she’d still think you were dirt beneath her shoe but you ain’t. You’re a groundsman. Ain’t ya?”

Ann didn’t reply.

“Ain’t ya?” pressed Harry.

“Yes,” mumbled Ann.

“Well, if yer back to work you can get the rest of these ‘orses done and then come out to feed the sheep with me. There’s no point me luggin round sacks of grain if I’ve got you to do it.”

“I ain’t back to work,” said Ann. “I’m goin.”

“What?”

“I said I’m goin.” She put down the hoof pick and went to leave.

“Oh you leaving me to do it all meself, is that right?” asked Harry. “An old man toting grain sacks up and down the fields?”

Ann looked back at him. She did feel like she was shirking her responsibility. She was Burt – she kept telling herself that – and Burt’s job was to help Harry with the labour. That meant it was her job now because she was Burt.

Perhaps she should give up the rest of her holiday and work instead. That was only right.

But no! That was idiotic! It was Burt’s responsibility! Not hers! She was Lady Ann! She practically owned all of this! She didn’t have to do anything!

“Well?” said Harry. “You going to toss off like a selfish wank and leave me to do it by meself or are you going to be a man and help out?”

Ann faltered, confused. More than anything she wanted to be a man. She wanted to be a decent bloke who didn’t let people down. But she resisted with all her might. She wasn’t going to waste her time doing work when she could be enjoying herself.

She stormed off without another word while Harry called after her.

“Great! Thanks! You’re a real mate leaving me to do this! A real mate!”

She felt awful; truly awful; but she didn’t turn back. She just kept walking.

3

At brunch, Burt ate sparingly. He wasn't very hungry but it was so wonderful to be waited on! It made him feel in truth like he was Lady Ann. Grandmamma was reading and periodically she let out a dry chuckle.

"Whatever is it Grandmamma?" asked Burt.

"A most diverting book child. You must read it. Leave it to the yanks to be to be so silly and bold."

She passed over a novel called Perkins the Fakir but when he flicked back the cover the first story title leaped out at him. When Reginald Was Caroline!

"It’s about a married couple,” said grandmamma. “The wife switches bodies with her boorish husband to teach him a lesson! It is most diverting."

Burt shot the old woman a glance. Did she suspect?

No. It wasn’t possible. She still thought Burt was Ann, especially now he had become so much better at acting like a lady. Fascinated Burt read a little, giggling at the mistakes the man made.

He passed the book back but decided to take another peek later. Reading it might help even more to masquerade as a woman…

It made him reflect on how well he was doing already. His voice and body language now seemed exactly those of the real Lady Ann and he could also read and write as well as she could.

He supposed that close scrutiny from someone who knew Ann well might show him to be a fraud but he was spending most of the day with his new grandmamma and she didn’t seem to suspect a thing! He really was Lady Ann now.

Burt found more and more pleasure in his appearance and the lovely gowns he wore. Everyone said he was beautiful and he always flushed with gratification.

Being a lady was so enjoyable and he was doing it so well!

4  

Ann was bored.

Mavis wasn’t available and she’d had enough of travelling for now. She didn’t feel like going for a walk or going down to the village. All of her new mates were working. Not too surprising since they were all working men.

Thinking that gave her a moment’s pause. She kept enjoying the fact that she was a working man but she did feel slightly disappointed that she couldn’t really call herself that if she wasn’t work. A very small part of her wished she could take on Burt’s job for the rest of the holiday and really become a working man properly.

Fortunately it was completely overshadowed by the rest of her mind that wanted nothing of the kind.

Feeling increasingly at a loose end and tired of sitting around the hay barn, Ann climbed down the outside staircase and sauntered up toward the manor. What she really fancied doing was going inside and up to her bedroom; sitting on the window seat with a good book, but she knew she couldn’t. As a mere labourer, Burt wasn’t allowed to set foot inside Griply Hall. And now she was Burt, with every downside that entailed.

It did grate on her somewhat. In a holiday that was meant to give her freedom above all else, she was growing more and more weary of butting up against restrictions that she had now she was living Burt’s life.

She ended up loitering outside the front of the manor, looking up at the window of her room, not realizing that it was a stance the old Burt had frequently taken up, gazing up in the hopes of catching a glimpse of her.

But she wasn’t there for long. After five minutes the butler came out and shooed her off, snapping that he didn’t want her “dirtying up the place.” Cowed by the much older man’s aggression, Ann slunk off, chuntering to herself about how she’d give him what for when she was back in her rightful body.

Still bored she ended up round the back of the house, watching the coming and going of the servants. She had several enjoyable minutes watching the chamber maid beating the dust off a carpet before she got snapped at by the cook.

“Oi! Burt! Go on! Be off with you!”

Ann scowled.

“You hangin round look to cadge some food again?”

Ann paused, thinking that she was actually quite hungry. “If you got some goin then yeah.”

The cook frowned, then allowed herself a tiny smile and said, “Alright. If you’re that desperate that you ‘ad to come beggin again then I’ll see what I can do.” She disappeared inside.

Ann grinned to herself at the feast to come but did wonder what she had come to that she was begging at the back of her own home for scraps.

The cook appeared a couple of minutes later but the grin fell from Ann’s face as she was handed some leftovers from the previous night’s meal – fatty pieces of meat and some dried up potatoes – in a dog bowl of all things.

“This’ll have to do,” said cook. “The food’s been out all night but the bowl’s mostly clean… and I don’t trust you with a proper plate. You’re liable to break it.”

Ann couldn’t believe what she was looking at – that she was thought so low that she couldn’t be trusted with a china plate – that the cook really thought she’d eat leftovers on a dog bowl.

“Just leave the bowel on’t floor by the back door when you’re done with it,” said cook. “I’ll get Sally to put biscuits out for the dogs later.” Then she vanished inside.

Ann should have thrown the bowl back in the cook’s face. She didn’t know why she hadn’t, except for the trouble she might have got in. She went to throw the bowl down then hesitated, noticing how enticing one of the bits of meat was.

It couldn’t hurt to have that and the dried up bits of dog food on the bowl weren’t touching it. She grabbed the greasy chunk in her ditty fingers and shoved it in her mouth, chewing clumsily. It was cold but delicious and she had a second piece. And a third. Before she knew it she’d polished off all the potatoes too then she licked the gravy residue off the bowl and tossed it down, rubbing her tummy happily.

5

In London, Burt and his new grandmother ate out at a lavish restaurant.

It was the most fabulous eating establishment Burt had ever been too but he was disgruntled and confused when he found that the menu was in French. Reading was still comparatively new to him, but in another language – no chance.

He gaped at the different columns awkwardly, feeling like a dunce, then realised suddenly that he could read it. He could read it all! He looked from the back of the menu to the front. He could understand every word! There were even words he had never known in English! Now he understood them perfectly in French!

“Bonsoir mademoiselle,” said the waiter. “May I take your order?”

Burt was in a daze. He spotted something he fancied and quickly told the waiter what it was but he didn’t even realise right away that he was doing it in fluent French – even so far as telling the man how he wanted the meat cooked and what wine he wanted.

Grandmamma did the same and Burt watched the waiter depart, satisfied. It was plain unbelievable but it was further proof that his and Lady Ann’s bodies weren’t the only things that had swapped.

He spent the rest of the meal discussing the literature the two of them were reading. Burt was well into Pride & Prejudice now and loved discussing the finer points of the narrative with the duchess. They laughed as they talked about the different tactics the women in the book could have used to snare their men and Burt found himself making comments that sounded just as informed as the old lady’s.

They discussed her book too and then went on to a much wider conversation regarding the development of literature in the latter part of the nineteenth century and how it measured against the books being published nowadays.

Again Burt found himself with many an opinion and taking great satisfaction in exploring the subject.

6

That night at the Dog & Pony, Lady Ann really cut loose.

She was there at opening time, knocking back one pint after another and by the time the place filled up she was really off her head.

Since she’d been a little girl she’d never been allowed to utter a curse. Swearing was deemed entirely inappropriate behaviour for a young lady and as a result she’d never done it. Now she was really making up for lost time. Like a naughty schoolboy she made one lewd joke after another, making up dirtier and dirtier stories as the night went on and then laughing raucously.

She got to telling folks about her trip to York later on and ended up singing some of the songs from the music hall. As Ann she’d had a lovely singing voice and has performed solos from time to time. As Burt she was tone deaf but that didn’t stop her droning on, falling over more than once and knocking drinks flying before clambering up laughing loudly and carrying on.

She saw Mavis scowling at her but that didn’t stop her carrying on. As long as her dick stayed big she knew Mavis would forgive her anything. And speaking of her dick…

Ann started bragging about how big it was to all in sundry and before you could say how’s your father, she had it out in her hand, flashing it around with her shirt off, bare chested. The ladies screeched but the men chuckled and Ann bawled with laughter, thrusting it this way and that, feeling how proud she was to be so well hung.

She fell over again, knocking a table over and sat there on the floor in the dirt, covered in beer, laughing her head off.