Lady Ann's Holiday: Chapter Twenty Nine - Part Two

3

Ann lay on her side, too aching to move, staring into the blurry distance through her watery eyes; planning it out.

How she was going to become a man again.

She was going to get free, she knew that, deep in her heart, even though it was almost impossible to believe.

Richard would pay the ransom. Or he would find her. He would rescue her somehow, he had to.

He had to.

He’d take her home to Grandmamma’s, carrying her in his strong arms. And she would rest. The criminals would be brought to justice.

Then in a day or so she’d suggest to Richard that she wished to travel home to Griply. He would say yes; that it was an excellent idea. They’d travel up by train.

And when she was back in Griply the coach would carry her back to the manor. She would go inside. She’d go up to her room, to the draw where the butler had secreted the pendant. She would take it out and make some excuse to Richard. She wouldn’t even say goodbye.

And then she’d go to the stables. Find Burt. Take him to the holiday cottage.

And there they’d change back and she would return to her old life. And nothing like this could ever happen to her again.

She’d be safe. In a man’s body. In her old life.

Yes, safe.

That was what she was going to do.

A tear trickled from her eye.

It was what she was going to do after Richard came to save her.

4

Burt got no more than twelve yards into his plan to retrieve the pendant before his position betrayed him.

“Where d’ya think you’re off to?” asked Harry, sitting with his legs swinging on the rear deck of the little cart, whittling.

“Oh Arry,” said Burt, “I didn’t see ye there.”

“I bet you didn’t and were off to shirk ye chores.”

 “No sir. Course not.” Burt shifted uncomfortably, noticing how naturally the obsequiousness came now; how ingrained it was to his character. It had proceeded unimpeded since he’d drunk the potion until now it was just a part of who he was. He really was just Burt now with all the deference of a man brought up to serve.

“Well you look mighty shifty,” said Harry. “I’d put five bob on the fact you was plannin to see what you could get away with today.”

“No sir,” replied Burt. “Sorry sir.” He knew he had to get to the pendant as quickly as he could for fear of forgetting again but he also had a responsibility to pull his weight. The opposing priorities made his head spin. He wasn’t sure what he should do but Harry would have his guts for garters if he didn’t do as he was told. “What would you like me to do?”

“Get back down to them fields and start digging again; that’s what. Jeb says you ain’t been working as hard as you should’ve.”

“I ave sir,” said Burt. “Honest I ave.” He felt awful that Jeb was running him down behind his back and worse now that he remembered who he really was; seeing the tightness of this new horrifying development: a demotion to a post even lower than he’d held before, working under Jeb, a common farm hand.

“Aye. Well. We’ll see ow you get on today. But mark my words and mark em well. If I come down there an you ain’t workin ‘ard then it’ll be the Earl you’re answerin to. Is that clear?”

Burt bobbed his head, fretting over the pendant and how he was ever going to get to it. Even if he got away from his duties, he still had to get into the manor house and find it: an all but impossible task considering he was forbidden from setting foot inside.

“Well go on then you dirty ape!” snapped Harry. “I ain’t got all day!”

Burt started to hurry away.

“And Burt…!”

He stopped and looked back.

“Before you get back to your digging, get in there and shovel up the shit. You ain’t getting out of doin that.”

Burt looked forlornly through the stable doors into the gloom and then shuffled inside to do what he was told.