Lady Ann's Holiday: The Final Chapter - Part Two

Exactly one month to the day after the original trade of bodies, minds and destinies, Lady Ann Neville sat at breakfast, stealing little glances up the table at her only recently inherited father.

Aunt Geraldine and Uncle Patrick were heatedly debating the merits of Gustav Klimt’s rather perverse art while their children prattled; completely unaware that nobody was listening to them.

Ann looked at her father, with his silver handlebar moustache and bald head, thinking back to the near-disaster the night before. What would it have been like to trade places with him of all people: her father – her former employer? She imagined being such a big broad-chested man, sliding her hand back across the smooth skin on top of her head. She shuddered to consider it.

He presumably was happy with the way he looked and acted. If she had become him, would she grow to feel the same way, just as she had when she became a woman? It was hard now to imagine feeling any other way than she did, but she supposed it might well affect her in that manner. Would it have influenced her right away or would they both have swapped back quickly? If she had remained in his body, would she have become as proud and pompous as him?

She shook her head, smiling to herself at the preposterous idea. She really couldn’t imagine a worse fate.

Richard was reading the newspaper. Ann turned her attention to him, asking herself the same question. What would it be like to swap places with a gentleman? After all, she had wanted to be a man again. Surely a rich lord would be a better persona to assume than a lowly stable hand…

But the idea of that seemed even more repellent for some reason; she wasn’t sure why. He seemed so stern, concentrating on the paper like that. The idea of acting like that herself seemed such a waste of a life. Even Burt, with his simple and free promiscuity had more going for him.

The Earl scraped his chair back, standing up. “I ought to be going if I hope to catch the morning train.”

“Off to get your telling off Howard?” asked Uncle Patrick, chuckling.

The Earl huffed. “You can call it what you like Patrick,” he said, “but I’ll tell you one thing. When I come back there’s going to be hell to pay and one of my daughters is going to be the one paying it.” He glared darkly at Hattie’s pouting face and then marched to the door and left.

Hattie glared down at her plate sullenly.

“Oh do sit up straight dear,” snapped the Countess.

 

Ann couldn’t help but smirk.