Lady Ann's Holiday - Chapter Fifteen - Part One

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1

Ann came to slowly and sluggishly to the sound of nearby giggling, his whole body aching, his thoughts muggy, unsure where he was. Then something soft and wet struck him on the side of his face and he woke up fully with a jerk.

He was still in the stocks. He’d been in there all night!

Children were gathered in a group nearby, laughing at his predicament as the juices of what tasted like a tomato ran down his cheek into his moustache and onto his lips. They threw a big moldering cabbage at him and he tried, instinctively, to duck, wrenching his neck against the hard wooden ring where his neck was caught painfully.

“Go on! Gerr’out of ere, you little scamps!” he cried. “Or I’ll tan yer flaming ‘ides when I get free of this thing!”

The children threw another rotten tomato, striking Ann on the chest, then ran away howling with laughter. Ann sighed and tried awkwardly to reposition himself to get more comfortable. It was impossible. The stocks had his wrists and neck so securely fastened that there was no way to manoeuvre  properly. He was well and truly trapped!

Ann couldn’t believe the earl had left him out here all night. He might have caught his death of cold! At least that should have meant something to the old man – even if he didn’t realise that Ann was his daughter in this most complete and foolproof disguise. But clearly that didn’t matter to him. As long as he was Burt, Ann was regarded as almost worthless. It meant more to the earl that he be punished, even if his health was put at risk.

Ann had remained awake for hours through the night before he fell asleep, hoping desperately that at any minute the earl would come and free him; and all that time a pair of realisations had crept over him, encompassing his thoughts until he could think of nothing else. Waking up now, still trapped, only reinforced the realisations all the more.

As long as he was Burt, he ultimately had no control over his life. The earl, on the other hand, had total control and could punish him at will if he didn’t do exactly as he was told. The earl could do anything to him and he had no doubt that the stocks were the least of it. There were punishments far far worse than this, from a public flogging, to exile... to prison. The idea of any one of those chilled Ann more deeply than she’d ever been chilled before. He imagined the horror of a life in a cold hard prison cell, forever trapped out of the reach of the amulet, and actually quivered in panic.

And it was all down to the whim of the earl. That old man could do that to Ann any time that he wanted, and Ann would have no way to resist it. As long as he was Burt he had to do anything but risk the Earl’s anger again. He had to do anything that the earl demanded of him without hesitation.

And the second realisation was only this...

That he was truly Burt. He was living Burt’s life.

Up until the day before, Ann had believed that it was all a game – that he was pretending to live Burt’s life, but the reality of being thrown in the stocks had brought it all home to him. Until the real Burt returned from London in his rightful body – until Ann could retrieve the amulet and swap back – he really was Burt.

And he was completely constrained by the limits of Burt’s life; completely controlled by the whims of the quality.

Tears welled in his eyes until he realised how soft he’d look if anyone saw him crying and willed himself to stop. He couldn’t risk looking like a pansy now – not on top of everything else.

Some figures caught his eye and Ann looked up to see the last two people on earth he would have wanted to see him like this; his mother and Hattie.

They were walking on the other side of the street, attended by two servants, and they paused when they saw him there. Ann’s forlorn, beseeching gaze met his mother’s but instead of rushing over to protect him as Ann desperately wished, the middle-aged woman sneered with such total contempt that Ann felt physically sick as it reinforced everything he’d been thinking.

This was the one woman in the world whom Ann had always turned to when in need of comfort and now all the duchess saw was a filthy servant; a criminal being justly punished. It made Ann feel like he was a servant and a criminal to the core of his soul and the humiliation of it washed over him, especially when Hattie, the younger sister he had always felt superior to, tittered at his predicament, laughing at him.

Ann flushed with shame, trying to look anywhere but at his mother and sister but drawn back to them as the duchess walked haughtily on, refusing to sully her eyes on him. And Hattie kept glancing back, giggling at his horrifying predicament as they walked away.

2

Burt was furious.

She was out riding in the park alone; the better to fume silently. She couldn’t bear the thought of being questioned now on how she felt.

She was angry at having to leave Brighton, having to tell Richard that she could never see him again; that she would be leaving London soon and returning to Griply. She was angry at having to leave this wealth and splendour behind; angry that she would have to return to her life as a lowly stable hand. But most of all she was angry at the true Lady Ann for putting her in this situation in the first place!

As Burt, mucking out the horses and bedding Mavis, life hadn’t been prefect by any means but she had known a peace of sorts. Now, having been shown what life could be like it was going to be torture to have to go back! The mere idea of putting on those filthy clothes again and sleeping in the stable filled her with abject terror, but there was nothing she could do about it!

No of course not! She had made a pact! And that was sacred!

“Damn it all to hell!”

Ann stopped the horse and glanced round to see if anyone had heard her cry of fury but no one seemed to have. Then she saw something that actually made her blood boil.

It was the lazy servant, Betty – the one Burt had fired from grandmamma’s employ – except now the idiot girl was walking along the side of the road carrying the shopping for a well dressed couple. She’d clearly been employed by them after leaving the duchess’s employment and now seemed perfectly happy as though she’d gotten away with her insolence scot-free!

Burt couldn’t believe it!

Her eyes narrowed in anger and then Burt turned her horse sharply and headed back the way she’d come.

3

Fully eighteen hours after he had been locked up in the stocks, Ann gasped in relief to see the earl approaching on his horse.

The first flutter of instinct was to demand to be let free but another chill of fear clutched at Ann’s heart and he firmly pressed his lips shut, lowering his gaze.

The earl climbed off his horse and approached on foot, the ring of keys hanging from his fingers. “Well my lad. I expect you aren’t feeling as cocky this afternoon; hmmm?”

Ann didn’t know whether to answer or not so kept his mouth shut, his body quaking with adrenaline.

“Speak up man!” snapped the earl.

“No m’lord,” muttered Ann fearfully.

“Have you had time to think?”

“Yes sir.”

“To think about what you did?”

“Yes m’lord.”

The earl said nothing and Ann started to panic that something was expected of him. “Well?” snapped the earl.

“Uh, it was wrong what I done,” stammered Ann. “I shouldn’t’ve hit that bloke.”

“And?”

“And... I’m sorry m’lord. I’m right sorry. I won’t do nothing like that again.”

“If you do it will be the inside of a jail cell you see my lad, I can assure you. Would you like that?”

“No sir.”

“What was that?”

“No m’lord. I’m beggin’ you. Please.”

Ann gazed forlornly down, still not meeting the earl’s eyes, feeling just how low he’d fallen from his pedestal as the lady of the manor. As Lady Ann he had lived a life of luxury and privilege, surrounded by cleanliness and civility. Now, as Burt, he was filthy and cold and locked in the stocks, treated like a common criminal as he begged for mercy from his own father.

But that caused another crack in his psyche because Ann realised that it was no longer correct to think of this man as his father. While he was Burt, this man was the earl; his lordship. The distinction between them had never been clearer. There was no longer the protection of a blood bond. This man was Ann’s lord and nothing more; his employer.

The moment extended and Ann eyed the key ring at the earl’s thigh desperately, but the lord didn’t speak or move.

“Please sir,” begged Ann. “Let me out of here. I’ve learned me lesson. I know I done wrong. Please. I’ll do anything you say.”

“No,” replied the earl, “I don’t think I will.”

Ann’s eyes gaped open in horror. “Please m’lord. I’ll do anything you tell me to. I’m sorry. I ain’t never gonna do nothing like that again. Please sir. Please let me out.”

“No,” snapped the earl, “and I’ll thank you to stop that whining.”

Ann shut his mouth instantly.

“I’m not sure I like the cut of your jib,” said the earl. “I don’t think you’ve learned your lesson yet.”

“I ‘ave m’lord. Please. I’ll never do it again. Please.”

“I told you to be quiet,” cried the earl, slapping Ann hard on the face with his tough leather gloves, silencing her immediately. “I won’t have a man under my employ acting like a heathen and I will punish you until I decide you have had enough. Is that clear?”

Ann said nothing.

“Speak up man! Is that clear?”

“Yes m’lord.”

“Good.” He turned on his heel and walked back to his horse. “If I were you I’d think long and hard about what kind of man you want to be and how you fit into the society here. The sooner you come to accept your role here, the sooner I’ll let you out. Do you understand?”

“Yes m’lord.”

“Good. Because as far as I’m concerned, until you decide to fully accept your responsibility as one of my servants you can stay locked up! Even if it takes months!”