Lady Ann's Holiday: Chapter Thirty - Part Four

7 

 

Burt paced to one side of his cell then turned and paced to the other, exploring the limits of his freedom, the enclosure trapping him into this new and pitiful existence.

He wondered how much further he could fall than this or whether this was the bottom. But he remembered the jailer’s words. Prison was going to be far worse than this and after that, surely the stigma of his criminal past would blight him for the rest of his days.

It seemed that his plummet was far from over.

And there was always hell itself, waiting for him at the end.

He stopped, turning, startled when he heard a man’s voice from outside. He gripped his bars then withdrew; sat on the bed and then quickly stood. He clasped his hands at his waist then put them behind his back; let them fall to his sides. He didn’t know what was best.

And then it was too late anyway because the Earl entered, speaking with the jailer.

Burt watched with trepidation, becoming more and more tense as their conversation continued, then his employer broke off and approached the bars, glaring coldly into his face.

He stopped outside the cell and did nothing but glare. Burt shuffled, uncomfortable; anxious; miserable.

“Well?” said the Earl.

“… M’lord?” 

“What have you got to say for yourself now?”

Burt gaped back at him, then quickly blurted a stream of servility. “I’m sorry sir. I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have dared to go inside the hall. It was wrong of me. I ain’t good enough for that. I’m ashamed of meself for going into her ladyship’s room. There’s nothin I could say or do to make up for that. And I shouldn’t have gone through her things. I shouldn’t have taken that pendant. I’m sorry sir. I’m so sorry. I’ll do anything to make it right. I’ll work for free. I’ll work twice as hard. I’ll do anything sir. Please. Please don’t send me to prison sir. Please sir, I’m begging you. Please. I’ll do anything.”

He stopped, panting, eyes red and moist, looking up into the indifferent glare of the older man.

The Earl said nothing. He folded his arms.

“I shouldn’t have done it sir,” whimpered Burt. “You was right to whip me. I deserved it. I deserve more. I’d gladly take another fifty lashes if you would take me back at the hall sir, if you could let me go free. Please sir, I’m beggin ye. Whip me again, as much as you like, but please let me work for you doin me labourin again. I’ll work harder than I ever have before sir. I’ll shovel the horse dung with me bare ‘ands. I’ll do anything you say. I’ll never talk back to nobody. I’ll follow me orders without complaint. Just don’t send me to prison sir. Please m’lord. Let me be your stable hand again.”

There was a further silence. Burt hung his head in shame. He couldn’t bear to look up at his master anymore.

Another full minute passed and then finally, the Earl said, “You pitiful swine… How dare you debase yourself before me, begging for favours? How… dare… you!”

Burt quailed.

“I spoke to my daughter on the telephone this afternoon.”

Lady Ann? Burt’s eyes widened.

“She actually thought I should let you off after your despicable behaviour. She thought you should be set free – your job reinstated… you: a dirty thief!”

The Earl stepped up to the bars, his hands clasped behind his back. “She’s coming back tomorrow night.”

Burt’s eyes widened still further.

“She might even be in time to see you stand before the magistrate and receive your sentence.”

“Please m’lord,” mumbled Burt.

“Shut up you impudent cur!”

Burt lowered his head, cowed; more deeply ashamed and helpless than he’d ever felt.

“You will be tried and sentenced and then you will go to prison. I’ll see to that.” The Earl turned his back and walked toward the door. “You’ll receive the maximum penalty – the severest punishment – the longest possible term of imprisonment; even if I have to bribe the magistrate myself.” He stopped in the doorway and looked back. “By God, this will send a message to every peasant who thinks he has the right to cross me! Nobody breaks the law in Griply Valley! Nobody goes against their Earl without living to regret it!”

8

Ann put her head round the door of the drawing room where Grandmamma was seated reading a book.

“I feel a little under the weather,” she said. “I think I’ll go to my room and rest.”

“Alright dear,” said Grandmamma. “You’ve been through such a lot. Rest is what you need and then you’ll feel right as rain.”

They shared a smile and then Ann closed the door, feeling awful that she was lying to the elderly lady.

She walked to the back door, avoiding the servants, and paused on the threshold, checking that nobody was going to see where she was going. No one was about so she crept out and closed the door silently behind her.

It was fully dark now outside. She was sure she wouldn’t be seen. The light was on in the study where Richard was working. She spied him there, his head down, and rather than weakening her resolution, it spurred her on. She went to the side entrance of the stable building, and only hesitating for a moment opened the door.

There was a worn narrow wooden stair inside leading up to the first floor. No light shone in there. Electricity didn’t reach as far as the outbuilding.

She felt nervous – more nervous than she’d felt in a long time – but one glance back through the study window hardened her resolve still further.

Just a few days earlier she had been so happy, so sure of what she wanted. Now her heart was a welter of confusion. She wasn’t sure anymore of anything, but she knew she wanted what was up those stairs.

She put her foot on the first step and closed the little wooden door behind her then she started to climb.

Each footstep higher tightened the tension in her and raised the exhilaration. She had wanted to do this for well over a week now but she hadn’t had the… the balls. She’d let herself be molded into a perfect doll, but there was that part of her that lived for passion. It had been a part of her when she was Burt and the original Ann had had it too. That same characteristic coming together from those two different sources intermingled in her, bubbling away just under the surface, nudging her toward this irresistibly.

She knew it was wrong – that it could ruin everything – but so had the original Ann known deep down when she’d put the pendant round her neck that first time. Part of who she was desired risk – wanted to be overcome by eroticism – wanted a dirty man to possess her.

She pushed back the door of the top of the stair.

The stable hand was sitting on the edge of his narrow bed, untying his boots. His shirt was off and Ann’s eyes fell on his taut muscular torso, the contours accentuated in the flickering candlelight.

His hair was tousled; his eyes wide with bewilderment and surprise as he stared back at her. “M’lady?” He froze briefly, eyes flicking down her body then back up, then he scrabbled for his shirt, desperate to cover up.

“No,” said Ann. “Don’t.”

He paused, clutching his shirt. “M’lady?”

“Don’t put that back on… I want to see you.”

He gaped back at her, unsure, thrown off-balance; but he didn’t put the shirt back on. He stood up instead, looked plainly at her and then dropped the shirt on the bed.

Ann stepped further into the room, eyeing the stable hand’s muscular chest and stomach, his broad shoulders.

The man looked uncomfortable but there were instincts at an animal level in action here. He knew why she had come. He needed no explanation and she could see the light of attraction in his eyes. She’d seen it in the upstairs corridor a week earlier.

She was only about eight feet away from him now. He stepped to one side, widening his stance, standing in such a strong and masculine pose she felt her heart flutter.

For a second she thought of Richard, wishing that he would show this kind of uncomplicated virility, but he had his work and she was starting to think that he would never show her the simple maleness that exuded from every pore of this servant’s body.

The stable hand was much taller than her. This close she could feel it: the silent Neanderthal potential to have her - to dominate her physically. But this wasn’t like the domination of her kidnapper. This was a vulnerability she had freely given.

She wanted this man.

No. She wanted a man and Richard would not give her what she needed. And she did need this. She needed the closeness and the belonging. She needed to be taken up by this beastly lower class peasant and made to feel like a woman as she never had before, as she’d yearned to be.

The stable hand stepped closer to her. She moved further in. He glanced down at himself and unbuckled his belt. He let his trousers fall over his feet, his muscular thighs revealed.

Ann softened, losing herself in the moment.

She wanted this man so much.

She looked down at his body, at the thatch of pubic hair, at the extended penis, reaching up toward his belly button, only briefly feeling disappointment that, though large, it wasn’t in the league of her former cock.

Then all thought of that and all though in general left her mind. He was right there, only a footstep away and then he was directly in front of her.

She looked up into the stable hand’s face; into his eyes and he looked down into hers.

His fingers rose to her cheek, rough and huge. He traced her cheek bone down to her chin then used his thumb and forefinger to lift her face.

“Kiss me,” she whispered.

He lowered his face, pushing his lips toward hers and Ann’s eyes closed, her senses melting into a misty haze.

He paused, half an inch from her mouth and her eyes flickered open to meet his. She felt the connection: the penetrating animalistic lust connecting all creatures of every species.

His own eyes closed and he lowered his lips to hers.

But she pulled away, startling herself.

The stable hand’s eyes came open again, his forehead creasing into a frown. “M’lady?”

“No,” she whispered. “I can’t.” She shook her head.

“Miss?”

“No. I’m sorry. I can’t do this.” She backed away; put her hands over her mouth. “Oh God, no; I can’t do it. I’m sorry.”

She withdrew further, knocking up against an old trunk.

The stable hand watched her pull back, unsure. He was naked but he didn’t cover himself, He didn’t move.

Ann stared at him one last time; at his glorious masculine body; then she went to the door. “I shouldn’t have come here,” she said, then she flew from the room and hurried as fast as she could down the stairs.