LADY ANN'S FOLLY: Chapter Six - Part Three

Ann felt nothing but despair and panic as she was marched round the side of Griply Hall and down the drive to the lane by Powell and the gardener.

She couldn’t truly comprehend what had just happened, her mind still snagged on the moment where Hattie had told the butler to take the pendant from her while they stood at the kitchen door. She knew something terrible had happened but it was so big and so awful that her brain couldn’t really process it; was afraid to.

The men’s grip on each arm was unbreakable. She didn’t even struggle as they forced her along uncomfortably quickly. The truth of her predicament was sparking now, trying to break through the veil of horror and each burst of it sent a shudder through her

They reached the end of the drive and the gardener let go of one arm while Powell thrust her forward and off the property with the other. “You aren’t welcome here anymore girl,” he said. “Be off with you.”

Ann twirled, gaping back at him.

“I don’t want to see you on this property again, is that clear?”

“But...” This couldn’t be. It was her home. As both Burt and Ann, Griply Hall had been her home for the better part of her life. “Where will I go?”

Powell sneered at her. “You live down in the village you silly girl; above the pub where you tend the bar. Don’t try and pretend you don’t.”

Ann pictured the Dog & Pony and the panic crept up a further notch, scratching at the inside of her neck. She gave a little shake of her head.

“If I see you on this property again then I’ll have you thrown in the stocks. Do you understand? The Earl might even have you flogged like he did that idiot stablehand. You don’t want that, do you?”

Ann stared at him.

“Do you?” he snapped.

“No,” she whimpered.

“Then be off with you.” He pointed down the lane toward the village.

Ann followed the line of his arm, feeling another pinch of despair. She couldn’t leave. She had to go back for the pendant. She couldn’t be trapped like this. It had all gone so terribly, horribly wrong. But the two men weren’t budging. They stood impenetrable; and though she knew there was a chance she might race past them and have a chance at reaching the house before they did, she would never be able to get inside the house, find Hattie and retrieve the pendant before she was stopped... and the punishment for such effrontery really might be terrible.

She took a step away. Then another.

The men watched her. They didn’t move.

Ann quailed, the reality of her situation sinking in more fully. This wasn’t a game anymore or any kind of situation where she possessed control of any sort. She’d taken a risk, just as the original Lady Ann had done, and now suddenly she had had all her power taken from her.

She was no longer pretending to be Mavis, just for an hour or two, or overnight. She really was Mavis now. Unless some drastic action was taken then she would slowly become more and more like the bawdy girl in character until she was a perfect simulacrum and for the rest of her life she would be trapped back in the lower class that had originally spawned her.

“Oh Gawd,” she whimpered, but she stiffened to hear her words draped in their base Yorkshire accent. “Oh my giddy aunt. This can’t ‘appen to me. I can’t be Mavis.”

“What are you mumbling about girl?” demanded the butler, only yards away. “Get out of here or I’ll set the dogs on you! Do you hear me!?”

Ann turned and hurried away, looking back over her shoulder fearfully, and as she pulled off down the lane she realised just how bad things were now; how hopeless.

The pendant was somewhere inside Griply Hall in the possession of Hattie and she had been forbidden even from setting foot on the grounds. The situation was worse even than when Burt went in looking for it a week earlier. At least then he had known where it would be. She had no idea. And surely her punishment would be every bit as bad as Burt’s had been. He had been sent to gaol for his crime and Powell had threatened the stocks, which were surely worse.

“Oh Gawd,” she whispered again. “I can’t get back in there. I can’t get the pendant. I’m gonna be stuck like this.”

The two men were still watching but they were about to break off. The gardener fell back and started to retreat up the drive. Powell went on waiting to see that Ann continued down the lane.

She looked down toward the village and pictured the pub; the only place where she would be welcome now; but not as a lady; as a lower class tart expected to work for a living, tending bar every night, supplementing her meagre wages with crude sexual favours.

Powell was still watching.

Could this really be happening? Had she really made exactly the same mistake as the original Lady Ann? Had she allowed herself to be trapped in the life of a peasant again?

Yes. God help her. She had.

She wasn’t Lady Ann no more. She had no way of getting back to that life.

She was Mavis.

And in all likelihood, she always would be.