Lady Ann's Holiday - Chapter Twenty Five - Part One

Ever More Obsequious

1

The woman who would one day soon be the wife of Lord Richard Hurley, woke up early with a delicious smile on her face.

She had a long hot bubble bath, loving the luxury of it then ate a tasty breakfast with her grandmamma out on the balcony, chatting excitedly about ideas for the wedding.

Ann felt entirely happy; satisfied in a way she didn’t remember ever feeling before, as though not only was life perfect for her now, but it always would be perfect forevermore; for the rest of her days. And why wouldn’t it be? She was one of the gentry! She was a young and beautiful woman who was not only entitled to inherit a substantial amount from her “parents” but was now marrying one of the richest men in England!

She felt the tiniest twinge of guilt to think of the former owner of this body but only marginally. As she’d realized the day before, that odious creature was nothing but a servant. She owed him nothing and he had rights to nothing. Why, as an employee of her family, she practically owned him anyway. As a dimwitted commoner he had no say in what she chose to do. None at all!

Which got her thinking again about the letter that had come that morning. Thinking about it made her lips break into a smirk. She slipped it out of its hiding place and unraveled it to read it again.

dEEr lAYdEE anE,

iTZ BUrT EErE woTT yOOO dOinne dOun ThERR?

wEnn wEElE yOOO BE BaKK EErE?

bEggin YOOuR paRdinn bott i wonTs mE bOddEE baKK nOw PlEEEz mi LaDeE iF yur LaDeEship dOnnT mINd THaTT iSS NOUW!!!!!

BurT

She almost laughed aloud to look at the awful handwriting as the dirty dog-eared paper. The spelling was atrocious. The grammar was non-existent! As surely as she had gained the impeccable education of a cultured upper class lady, that grubby buffoon had clearly taken the worse end of the deal. She’d seen his dip in literacy before she left Yorkshire but he had become far far worse in the time since.

But the most hysterical part of it was the way he’d addressed the note, for he had addressed her as Lady Ann and he had signed it with her old perfectly simulated signature as Burt!

Until now she had conjectured about the switch of roles and personalities but she’d had no proof beyond the supposition. Now it was clear to her exactly how far the former lady of the manor had fallen, how deeply she wallowed in the mud of the lower classes.

The new Burt’s accent had started to change before Ann left Yorkshire. The accent almost dripped off the paper here and undoubtedly the urchin was now mired in her old speech patterns entirely.

And he’d addressed her as Lady Ann. He’d signed himself Burt. That was who he thought of himself as now. It was all too flawless. 

He’d had at least a week now since the original note she’d written would have run out – a week of mucking out the stables and doing hard labour; being told what to do and when to do it. Ann knew that her own persona had shifted, becoming more confident and imperious. Had this new Burt’s changed as much? Was he as servile now as she had ever been? Did he rush round saying “yes sir” “no sir,” eager to please and desperate to avoid a balling out?

It made her wish she was going home, so she could see him, compare herself to him as she was now.

But the time wasn’t now for that. And besides, “her” parents would be on their way to visit her today. She did want to go back to Griply at some point soon but there was no hurry. No hurry at all.

Ann turned the envelope over and saw the comparatively neat handwriting there, then she did laugh out loud. Burt had clearly got somebody else to write it for him for fear the letter wouldn’t reach her otherwise. That pea-brained oaf clearly knew exactly how much he’d lost. He knew how stupid and illiterate he was and his desperation was clear.

“Well damn him,” she sneered. “He can go on feeling desperate, wondering when I’m going to return. And when I finally do go back, he’ll find out exactly how long I intend to keep this new body of mine.”

2

Burt was feeling befuddled and hot as he tried to concentrate on what Harry was saying, wishing the old man would just let him get on with mucking out the horses. He felt uncomfortable being given instructions he wasn’t used to, especially complicated ones.

“Right,” said Harry, “I’ll say it one more time. Are you listening?” He clicked his fingers near Burt’s face, making him stop gazing off stupidly and jerk to attention. “You carry this ere step up to the front of the manor ‘ouse and wait out of the way so as you don’t muck up the place. You get that much?”

Burt nodded vigourously. “Stand out the way.”

“Then when the coach drives up, you step forward and put the step down in front of the door so as the family can get in easily. Then when they’re off you bring it back down ere.”

Burt frowned, mouthing the words “back down ere” soundlessly, then nodded again. “But where’s they going?”

“That’s none of your business,” snapped Harry. “All you’ve got to worry about is that step. Am I clear?”

“But what about er ladyship?”

“Lady Ann? You still fixating on er?”

Burt pouted slightly but didn’t answer.

“Well I ain’t got nothing to tell you anyhow. As far as I know she might be staying in the capital for good at this rate!”

Burt’s ears grew hot and something awful stirred in his stomach as dread overcame him again.

“Well go on then,” snapped Harry. “Take the step up and wait for the coach. And get it right you great idiot or there’ll be hell to pay!”

Burt picked up the step and hurried up the drive to the manor house. No one was visible so he just stood near the front steps, waiting… until he remembered what Harry had said about not mucking up the place. He didn’t like being reminded how dirty he was but at a glance down he had to admit that it was true. With all the work he’d been doing down the fields his clothes were filthy. He thought about how primly and perfectly he had always dressed as a woman and flushed in frustration and embarrassment.

He felt far more uncomfortable up here near the house than he did at the stables and around Harry and his mates. Down there he had grown used to being a servant and a man; used to being ill-educated and ignorant. Awful though it was to think it, it just seemed normal to him.

Up here, so near to where he’d spent the majority of his time as her ladyship, there was all too clear a reminder of the gulf between where he was now and the pampered beauty he used to be. He shuddered to think of his former mother and father seeing him again in this role. He remembered enough to feel mortified by it even now.

Though they still felt less like his family and more like his superiors; his employers. He didn’t identify with them in the least. They were aloof and far above him. He couldn’t imagine having to carry an actual conversation with one of them. They were lords and ladies! What was he? Nothing but a simple farmhand.

He scurried off to the side and stood waiting out of sight then, on a second thought, removed his cap, not wanting to show disrespect when his employers emerged. He checked to ensure he wasn’t visible from the house, all too aware of how angry people would be if he was lowering the tone of the front-facing vista and then stood as close to attention as he could, eager to show the proper deference the moment the earl showed himself.

3

Half an hour later, Burt was still waiting, questioning now whether he had understood his instructions correctly and kicking himself for being such a dunce. If he’d listened to Harry as he should have then he wouldn’t get himself into this state but, idiot that he was, he hadn’t been concentrating enough.

This was him all over! He cursed his own thick wits. When was he going to learn to pay proper attention when his betters were giving him orders? He was always getting it wrong and being shouted at. He hated getting shouted at but hated more the fact that he knew he deserved it. He had a responsibility to do what he was told. If he didn’t do it correctly then his superiors had every right to tell him off. That was his lot in life now that he was a servant.

He thought about that for a few minutes, chewing over what that meant then looked back to the incident the night before with the butler and the amulet.

He’d had it within his grasp. He’d had the amulet so close that he could reach out and grab it. He should have taken it and scarpered – used it to swap bodies with someone else – someone better than he was now. Anyone would have done – just so he didn’t have to be lower than the low anymore. He could have traded lives with one of the indoor servants at the very least!

He sighed, imagining how much better his life would be if he was allowed indoors and only had to sweep floors and make beds. He could be happy with that life.

Then he grew angry again at himself. He shouldn’t be fantasizing about being any kind of servant, even one better off than himself! He was supposed to be the lady of the manor! Even if the very idea of that still felt increasingly absurd.

Despite himself he went on imagining the happier life he would have if he could change places with one of the indoor servants. Which one would he choose, he wondered. Obviously he wouldn’t want to be one of the women. No. He wasn’t queer. He loved being a bloke too much. He couldn’t imagine being a namby pamby female. That would be horrible!

The butler had the most prestigious position but he was very old and the only other male indoor employee was the footman. He was little more than a boy. But at least he got to work indoors.

Burt sighed. None of this mattered. He didn’t have the amulet. He’d been ordered to hand it over and he did. He reflected on that, feeling confused and uncomfortable. He knew that he needed that amulet more than anything but he also knew that he had to follow instructions; that was only right. He couldn’t go against his betters. They knew what was best. If her ladyship had asked for the amulet to be moved inside it had to be for a good reason. She was so far superior to Burt, he had to trust her judgment. Who was he to question anything that the fancy lady decided? She was quality. He was nothing but a clodhopper.

But he went on feeling uncomfortable and unsure of himself, sure somehow that this was all wrong, that he shouldn’t be thinking like that. But then, how else should he think? He was a working class man, body and mind. She was a cultured aristocrat. Knowing firsthand how dim and uncultured he was and how much more intelligent she was, there was no doubt in his mind that she was better than him by a country mile. He was nothing to that beautiful lady. His opinions were irrelevant next to hers and he was far too thick to be choosing what the two of them should do. She, on the other hand, had right by position to lord it over him. If she wanted him to stay a servant then she had to have good reason for it. And regardless, she was quality. Good reason or not, he still had to do as he was told by her regardless.

If Lady Ann didn’t want him to have access to the amulet then she was right to do so. And he had no right to question it.

At that moment the coach and horses came up the drive and the front door of the house opened. Burt started nervously, gripping the little step tightly in his grubby hands.

The earl and duchess emerged along with the footman and butler carrying their baggage. Lady Harriet came afterwards as the coach pulled to a stop and the coachman climbed down. Burt was sure he was meant to do something but stood still, staring gormlessly, unsure of himself.

“You!” snapped the butler. “Bring that step over here! Quickly!”

Burt jerked into action, hurrying over with the step. “Sorry sir. Sorry m’lord; m’lady. So sorry.” He bowed repeatedly, placing the step in front of the carriage door and looking up for a nod of approval.

“Well get out of the way then you miserable cur!” snapped the Earl and Burt backed away anxiously, terrified that he might be thrown in the stocks again. He lowered his eyes as the quality ignored him, climbing aboard.  He dared not raise his eyes to look at them and clutched his flat cap dourly, flushing red as Lady Harriet came near, to think of his uncouth and inappropriate behaviour round her the other day. He couldn’t believe how impertinent he’d been to address her directly.

The other servants fussed round securing the baggage as Burt wondered where the family were going, resenting the fact that nobody would tell him, though he begrudgingly accepted that it really wasn’t any of his business what those of the quality got up to. They secured everything in place then he and the other servants watched as the coach pulled off.

When it was gone, Powell turned to Burt and said, “Well pick up the step then you stupid idiot!”

Burt hurried forward to do so, kicking himself for not remembering it.

“And don’t let me catch you talking directly to the earl again! You should know better than to think he’d want to be sullied with contact from you!”

“Yes sir. Sorry sir,” groveled Burt. “I’m so sorry. You’re right.”

The butler glared at him. “Well go on then! You dirty fool!”

Burt scurried back down toward the stable house with the step in his hands, all too aware of how obsequious he was being and hating it but knowing at the same time that it was expected of him.

When he reached the stable he wandered about, wondering where to put the step. There were half a dozen places it could go but he was terrified of choosing the wrong place and incapable of making a decision. What if he put it somewhere and Harry or the Earl saw it and told him off? He didn’t know what to do.

And then he realised what this meant – that he didn’t trust his own judgment anymore. He didn’t trust his own ability to make a decision, even about something so trivial. He needed someone to tell him what to do that was clever. He knew that he couldn’t be trusted not to get it wrong.

So he hunted round until he found Harry and asked the older man what to do, bowing to his greater knowledge, intelligence and experience.

“In the stable under the workbench,” snapped Harry and Burt backed away sheepishly.

“Thank you sir. I’ll put it there right away. Sorry for bothering you sir.”

He rushed into the stable and put it away then stood in the darkness, reflecting for a minute on how he’d been acting, how servile and insecure he had become. This was wrong. It was all so wrong. He was supposed to be one of the quality – not this bumbling obsequious servant. He was meant to be an aristocrat himself!

But he wasn’t anymore. He wasn’t at all. And each day that passed made him act less and less like one and more and more like the idiot peasant he was. More and more like Burt.

More and more like himself.

4

“I’m beginning to feel rather like a princess,” laughed Ann as she walked slowly around the British Museum with Richard, her wrist hooked into his elbow in a feminine way that she never would have used it in her… darker days back at Griply Hall. 

“And well you should,” chuckled Richard. “When we’re married you will be wealthier than most princesses and certainly more at liberty.”

“Really?”

“Well I don’t like to blow my own trumpet too loudly but I’m a millionaire many times over.” He laughed when he saw her expression. “I own property here in London, in Paris and Madrid and then of course there’s the Hurley estate in Shropshire – one of the most sumptuous houses in England.”

They passed through an arch into the next room.

“And if that isn’t enough for you, I can promise you a jaunt to Egypt or Rome whenever it might take your fancy.” He touched Ann’s cheek tenderly, stopping her for a moment. “I want you to feel as though the world is at your fingertips my dear; as though you are the most important lady in the world. Because you are, you know… to me.”

“Oh Richard,” breathed Ann. “I’m so happy we’re together; that I didn’t go back to— that I didn’t return to Yorkshire before you got the chance to propose. I think I might have died if I’d gone back and then you’d proposed later.”

“Whatever do you mean?”

“Nothing. Nothing dear. Ignore me. I’m just glad we’re together and that I’m going to be your Ann forever.”

She wanted him to take her in his arms but with other people around she knew he wouldn’t. Still, it didn’t matter. They would be together soon enough.

They would be able to share their entire lives together now.