A Working Man
1
Ann barely slept at all and every time he woke he felt a sinking thump in his belly at exactly what had become of him and his so-called holiday; exactly how sickeningly poor his situation was.
At 5am, with nothing better to do and nowhere warm and comfortable to go, Ann eventually decided to walk to the farm where Jeb worked – where he would be working today.
It gave him an awful sense of dread but still an essence of fervour. There was a still a tiny part of him that was loving the intensity of this entire experience, even if it was unpleasant. After almost two weeks of pretending, today he was finally going to become what he had fantasised about. He was going to become a working man – even if only for one day. The idea of that was thrilling – the culmination of the most sordid erotic fantasy of his life.
It made him chuckle. He hadn’t realised what a saucy bint he was as Lady Ann but that dark lust for this kind of kinky exploration must always have been part of him.
It was only when Ann reached the farm and made his way straight to the manager’s office that it occurred to him that he shouldn’t have been able to. He had never been to this farm before – never seen it even; couldn’t have possibly known where the office was... but he had. It gave him an uneasy feeling to realise that it had been another Burt memory, but this one so subtly grafted that Ann hadn’t even realised at first that it didn’t belong to him.
Jeb appeared from a barn to the right, hailing Ann over. “Eh up Burt, yer’right?”
“Aye,” replied Ann, “but I slept awful like.”
“Well you better be ready to work hard my lad. Unless maybe’s all that time off’s made ye soft.”
“Give over,” snapped Ann, resenting the challenge to his manhood. “I ain’t never been stronger. I can do anything you throw at me and then some.”
“Well you better get up to the north field. There’s digging to be done and lots of it.”
“Digging?” Ann couldn’t think of a worse; or more mindless; job.
“Aye. Unless this fortnight off o’yours has given you airs. Maybe’s you think your quality now.” He chuckled.
“Ardly,” said Ann sorrowfully. If there was one thing he wasn’t in any doubt of after his day in the stocks and his night sleeping rough, it was that he was definitely not one of the quality... anymore.
“Well then,” said Jeb. “You’d best be getting along.”
“What about you?” asked Ann.
“Me? I’ve got to stay down here and help with the lambing.”
“Lambing? Well why can’t I do that?” asked Ann resentfully.
“No offence mate,” replied Jeb, “but lambing needs fellows with more...” He shrugged. “It ain’t your fault you’re ain’t got much goin on upstairs.”
Ann’s face fell.
“You’ll be ‘appier up there doin the diggin than down ere runnin about keeping the lambs alive, I’ll tell you that much.” He pointed. “Just follow the track up along the hedge line past two gates. You’ll see the other labourers there.”
Jeb smiled and walked away, leaving Ann looking up the track toward his fate.
The other labourers...
That’s what he was now. Not pretending anymore. For real. And like the real Burt he had no choice in the matter. It was either do a long day of back-breaking labour or sleep rough and go hungry.
With a deep sigh, Ann started walking up the track, desperately wishing that “Lady Ann” would hurry up and get back to Yorkshire to save him from this awful situation.
2
Burt enjoyed the wind in her hair as she cantered across the park on a lovely filly she’d borrowed from the stables.
She still felt forlorn that this wonderful holiday was coming to an end but in other ways she craved its termination. Being Lady Ann had become just too much torture, being tantalised with a life that couldn’t be hers. The sooner she was back in her own rightful body and life, the better. It would be a terrible comedown now after this but at least she could start to put these glorious experiences behind her and get back on with her life.
“Ann! I say! Ann!”
She turned in the saddle and felt her heart lurch as the identity of the caller became apparent. It was Lord Hurley – trotting toward her on a black stallion!
“Ann, wait! Please!”
Burt considered riding away but propriety made her stop and Lord Hurley circled round until he was at her front. “Ann. Thank goodness I’ve found you. I hoped me might be able to talk...”
Tears welled into the edges of Burt’s eyes. “I’m sorry Richard but I’ve already told you how I feel.” She started to turn her horse away but Richard stopped her with a word.
“Please.”
She froze.
“Please Ann. Since I saw you again in London I have... greatly enjoyed sharing time with you and would be deeply aggrieved if we were to part on unpleasant terms.”
“Richard, please...”
“I don’t ask much my dear, honestly. I know you must be reluctant to extend an acquaintance with your departure so imminent. Perhaps you fear to establish an association that would surely flounder when separated by hundreds of miles.”
“It would be much further than that,” murmured Burt, unheard, her back to Lord Hurley, the tears quivering, preparing to fall.
“I don’t request any long term commitment of you Lady Ann. I want to assure you that I will not press that matter. All I ask is that we enjoy a quiet dinner before your departure, perhaps the day after tomorrow, on your last night. Just to say goodbye. Might you... be amenable to that?”
Burt lowered her head and the tears trickled down her soft cheeks silently. Then before she could stop herself she breathed the word, “Yes.”
3
Ann shovelled up some more dirt and tipped it onto the growing pile of earth beside the hole, hating every second of it.
Where would he have been now if he’d still been a woman? He’d have still been in London getting “bored” – but what would that have actually meant in context with this arduous unending struggle?
He would have slept in, in a luxurious feather bed, then he probably would have eaten a sumptuous breakfast. After that he might have spent some time reading before going for a slow walk or a ride. True, he would have had to attend a dreary luncheon at midday but at least he would have been sitting down, surrounded by beautiful opulence.
Instead he was here, shovelling spadeful after spadeful of earth, dirty and sweating as the sun started to climb in the sky. He’d already been here for three hours and there was another seven hours of labour ahead of him.
It was breathtaking. As a woman he’d never had to do anything strenuous – had barely been forced into any activity, especially for an extended period of time. Now though, he had to stay here. He had to stay here all day and do as he was told. There was no escaping it. If he walked away he wouldn’t get paid and the time he’d spent here so far would be wasted. Worse, he’d be starving and homeless for two more nights.
And that still wasn’t the worst of it. The earl owned these lands. If he walked away from the job, the earl might well find out and only God knew what kind of punishment might be meted out on him for it.
He still resented how servile he’d acted in front of the earl; begging to be saved from the stocks... but he continued to live in abject terror of them; of angering the earl for any reason.
No. For now there were no two ways about it. He was a working man.
But thinking that gave Ann a kind of tingle still. This was, after all, exactly what he had fantasised about being all along. Today he had really taken on every aspect of that. He really was a lower class working man.
Thinking that gave him a flutter of different impressions: a kinky, dirty feeling of self-degradation but also a level of pride. For over a week now he had felt a level of guilt somewhere in his body that while he was Burt it was only right to live up to Burt’s responsibilities.
That was surely what he was doing now.
He dug up another shovelful. “I’m a working man.”
And another. “I’m a working man.”
Another. “I’m a working man.”
And another. “I’m a working man.”
And he was so busy working he didn’t notice the warm tingling in the back of his skull, gently working on his mind with each reiteration.
4
When Burt arrived with grandmamma at the Jessop’s she was greeted graciously and invited inside.
They made pleasantries with their hosts for several minutes before Burt caught sight of the lazy maid who had had the effrontery to try on her jewellery. Betty saw her there and paled visibly and Burt gave her a cold smile and turned away, otherwise ignoring the girl.
When she brought in the lunch things on a silver tray she was shaking with nerves, eying Burt repeatedly as she made polite conversations with the girl’s employers.
Gregory Jessop was into tobacco and had made a fortune importing it from abroad. His father had been a close acquaintance of Grandmamma’s husband when he was alive and she had known Gregory since he was a little boy. Burt got along famously with the couple and they both remarked on her outstanding beauty and on her impeccable breading... which Grandmamma took full credit for.
Burt watched the ignorant maid go about her duties, contemplating the objective of their visit and questioning whether she should really go through with it. Since the chance meeting with Lord Hurley earlier she had lost the malaise that had afflicted her disposition. Now there didn’t seem quite so much need to do this stupid girl down as there had been.
She decided to let the luncheon play out for now but when she excused herself to use the powder room the girl approached her in the hallway.
“Excuse me miss.”
Burt turned to her and found her voice to be more sharp-edged than she had intended when she said, “What is it?”
“Please miss. Please don’t make trouble for me ere. I got a good fing going and I don’t want it ruinin.”
Burt winced at the awful lower class accent of the girl, feeling it like the screech of fingernails on a blackboard. She resented the tone of the girl and the demands this urchin was making. Who was she to make demands of one of her superiors?
Burt turned away, ignoring her.
“Miss please!”
Burt stopped. He looked back to face Betty then said, “If I were you I would keep a low profile my girl. All you are doing now is reminding me exactly why I had you fired in the first place. Your laziness and stupidity are bad enough. Your insolence makes it far worse. And as for your dim-witted expression and lackadaisical attitude...” She turned her back on the startled girl and disappeared from view.
When she returned to the dining room the dull-brained maid was nowhere to be seen. Lady Jessop made enquiries to be told the girl was feeling ill. Burt smiled thinly and said, “You know we had the same girl under our employ.”
“Oh really?”
“Yes. And she always came across as lazy and good-for-nothing. Her work was shoddy and half-hearted and she was found... going through my things.”
“No. Really?” Lady Jessop looked deeply shocked.
“Indeed,” replied Burt. “I shudder to think what might have happened if I hadn’t come across her with her hand in my jewellery box.”
“Do you mean to say the girl’s a thief?” asked Lord Jessop.
Burt looked him in the eye. “I couldn’t say for certain, no; though I know in my heart that it’s true. And I also know that I couldn’t sleep soundly at night knowing she had free run of my house.”
5
When Burt was climbing into the carriage at the front of the Jessops’ townhouse with Grandmamma at the luncheon’s end she caught sight of the lazy maid emerging from the servant’s entrance.
The girl was dressed again in her ordinary clothes and carrying a threadbare bag of clothes and other belongings. She looked utterly despondent as she climbed the steps from the lower level onto the street.
Burt and Grandmamma watched her forlornly start to walk away, head hung low, steps shuffling.
“She’ll never get another job in service now,” said Grandmamma. “Not with two bad references. She’ll be blacklisted.”
“Well,” replied Burt snippily, “she should have done a better job when she had the chance.”
The carriage started to move off and for a moment Burt’s eyes met the sad-looking girl.
The maid gazed disconsolately out of her muddled face, and in return, Burt gave her a cold and triumphant smile.
Then she was gone in the carriage’s dust and within a minute Burt had put the ignorant girl entirely out of her mind.
