Lady Ann's Holiday: Chapter Thirty Three - Part Two

2

Burt hurried down from the hayloft and round to the front of the building where Harry was tapping his foot, arms folded, a slight smirk on his face.

“I’m sure you ain’t been oversleeping again Burt,” he said. “That’s right, ain’t it? You’ve been up for an hour working hard already.”

Burt froze, unsure how to respond.

“Cus of course if you ad been sleepin then I’m sure you’d be more than happy to work on this evening until all the jobs are done.”

“Er, aye sir,” replied Burt. “I’d never finish for the day without everythin bein done.”

“Good lad.” Harry winked and Burt brightened. The old man was certainly showing a different side to him now that he was back and working hard. It made him feel great to be home. This was where he belonged, not in prison.

He’d slept more deeply than ever the night before, tucked up on his pallet. He’d never felt so happy to be somewhere and had so much gratitude to his master, the Earl, for saving him from that terrible fate.

“I’d’ve thought you’da been waiting at the gate for Lady Ann to arrive Burt,” said Harry. Jeb stuck his head out the stable door and chuckled good naturedly. “She’s comin back this morning.”

Burt flushed from neck to crown. “Uh yes sir. I mean, no sir. “

“I woulda thought you’d have got spruced up for the great lady. You look like you crawled through a hedge backwards then took a bath in pigswill.”

Harry and Jeb laughed out loud, this time not so good naturedly. Burt turned a darker shade of pink. “Well I got me chores to do ain’t I,” he stammered.

“Go on, gerout of ere,” said Harry, still chuckling.“The pigs want feedin.”

“Yes sir.” Burt hurried off and got to work, starting to feel anxious.

It was really happening. Today! She was really coming back!

There were so many conflicting emotions in his mind; obviously fear of the humiliation he might feel being a servant in front of the woman he used to be, but also the delightful expectation of seeing that beautiful princess that he adored so much again. He was terrified of acting servile in front of her but also guiltily attracted to the dirty idea of that. The filthy part of his mind wanted nothing more than to be trapped in that bewildering humiliation.

He wished he knew the precise moment of her arrival. He dearly wished that. He hated not knowing; wondering what act of labour he would be caught in.

How would it feel to be sweeping the courtyard, or shoveling horse dung, or toting sacks of grain, and freeze to hear the rattle of the coach wheels; the clop of the horses? How would it feel to turn and see her for that first time?

His head felt hot, a headache scratching at the crease in his forehead. A shudder ran through him from top to toe. He felt energised and tired at the same time; restless and jittery.

But he had his jobs to get on with. Even with her ladyship coming back that didn’t give him leave to shirk his responsibilities as a working man. He’d given his word to the Earl.

He just wished he knew what would happen when she arrived.

Would she want to swap back immediately or did she plan to steal his former life?

And if she did want to swap, what would he say to her?