LADY ANN'S FOLLY: Chapter Twelve - Part Nine

(Now with missing section) 


Howard Neville had managed to avoid taking the first or second courses through to the dining room by volunteering for alternative (though dirtier) tasks before he could be called upon, but he did not succeed in doing so for dessert.

The cook told him to start taking the desserts through and, terrified he would be chastised or beaten, he did as he was told, hoping he could avoid eye contact with the imposter. It was so humiliating to be in this position.

But when he got in the dining room he was surprised to find that the table was not fully attended. Only Elizabeth, Hattie and Felicity were seated. Patrick, Geraldine, Reggie and the false Earl were nowhere to be seen. The tension ebbed in so far as he had avoided the confrontation he feared, but the humiliation also increased because he had time to reflect on the fact he was serving to his own wife and daughter!

Elizabeth was entirely oblivious to his presence but Hattie eyed him oddly. The attention made Howard blush and he averted his eyes, hating his own daughter to see him as a common servant.

For her own part, this false Hattie was almost as nervous herself. Being a lady was nice enough but seeing her own body serving her brought how temporary this situation was and how ludicrous. It made her more afraid than ever of being found out. If that was really the Earl in that female body then at any moment he could denounce her as an imposter. What might happen then, especially without the real Lady Harriet there in the Earl’s body to provide assistance.

Howard headed back toward the kitchen to fetch another set of desserts, but he stopped in the back corridor, suddenly questioning his actions.

It occurred to him that the faux Earl was out of the room but that he might return at any moment. If Howard could only catch him now and insist on an exchange of forms then he could avoid the rest of the evening stuck as a serving girl.

Feeling anxious about ignoring the orders the cook had given him and afraid of being caught, Howard turned off before reaching the kitchen and headed for the main hall, hoping to see the imposter.

He took cover behind a pillar, peeping out, hating the fact he had to do so in his own house. He glanced back toward the kitchen to check he wasn’t being observed. No one was there.

Footsteps descended the stairs. She huddled back, peering from her hiding place, and ducked out of sight entirely when Patrick and Geraldine walked into view.

“I’ve never heard such balderdash I my life,” grumbled Patrick. “I never would have expected my boy to be a sissy.”

“No dear,” replied Geraldine, then they passed out of sight toward the dining room.

Howard waited, restraining his breath so as to keep silent. Presently he heard a series of heavy footfalls, coming from the right, and he knew that his moment had finally come; when he could reclaim his rightful place and leave this horrifying servant’s life behind.

The false Earl came into view, striding, his long arms swinging with his pace, his bald head shining in the light from the chandelier.

Howard took a sharp intake of breath and stepped out into the hallway in full view.

Hattie, in the Earl’s body, stopped abruptly, startled.

She knew this maid was really her father in an enchanted disguise but all poise and bearing were gone from his frame and face. He looked timid and shy; frightened. His shoulders were stooped, his brow furrowed. He looked up at her nervously, lips dry and quivering, hands clutched together at his waist.

It gave Hattie a great swell of triumph to see her father brought so low. She had relished this meeting and looked forward to putting him in his place personally.

More than that though, it was gratifying to stand so much taller and broader than this slip of a girl who was little more than a baby. It was slightly jarring to perceive a girl only a couple of years younger than herself as being childlike, but it came naturally.

Her father was struggling to find his words and Hattie came to a stop. What might have started as a look of open curiosity on her face quickly became a glare of impatience and obstinacy and it suddenly occurred to her that she, not he, should determine the path of this conversation.

She opened her mouth and once again words that would have been well suited to her father’s real tongue came pouring out of her. “Well girl? What the devil do you want? Don’t waste my time.”

Howard quailed before the powerful man whose posture and diction seemed identical to his. He still believed in his heart that he was the one true Earl but this man seemed to be as well. He was suddenly all too aware of how he would have treated a frightened servant girl making accusations of body swapping, and that made him realise how precarious his position was.

If this somehow was the real Earl, or even if it was as accurate a simulacrum as it appeared to be, then he was on the cusp of being in dreadful trouble.

It stood to reason that this man was one of two things: the real Earl, in which case he would be punished severely for making an absurd accusation; or an imposter and pretender who wished to keep his stolen place. This imposter too, would surely do anything in his power to balk any accusation Howard made.

It gave him enough pause to doubt himself; that maybe he shouldn’t confront the man after all; and the moment lengthened.

“Well?” snapped Hattie. “Has the cat got your tongue? Speak girl, or I’ll have you flogged!”

Howard’s knees felt like jelly. He didn’t know what to do. All he could think about was that it didn’t matter what he knew, he wasn’t the Earl anymore, and that very knowledge buzzed against the underside of his brain, weakening his resolve still further; telling him it wasn’t right to even consider addressing such an important man directly. This was a member of the Neville family. He was only a servant. He had to know his place.

Hattie glowered down at the young woman, really relishing her confusion and fear. She knew that was really her father but she could scarcely believe it. There wasn’t a jot of his usual character in view.

A great part of her was riding high on her potent vengeance playing out before her; another part simply enjoyed the domination, revelling in her superiority over an underling. The final part of her was only irritated: that her time was being wasted by this speck of a girl; someone who was well beneath her notice and who had no right to talk to her.

That third part, the irritation, nudged her just enough for her to step forward imperiously and exclaim, “How dare you waste my time you ignorant girl! You should be ashamed of yourself! You have no right to stand there like a blithering simpleton and divert me from my pursuits. I am the lord of this manor! I am Howard Neville! Who are you?” He glared at her, pointing his finger into her startled face.

Howard cringed, his heart pounding.

This had to be the real Earl. He spoke exactly like he was. He looked exactly like he was. And this meant that Howard was in deadly peril. He knew exactly how dangerous the Earl’s rages could be; how terrible the punishment meted out.

“I’m Nellie Barrow m’lord,” he whimpered, his voice thin and fawning, the accent exactly that of a Yorkshire clod, born and bred. “I’m sorry fer stoppin you m’lord. I shouldn’t ave done it. It was a mistake. I ad no right.”

Hattie’s eyes blazed down at the cowering maid, but though her head found only amusement at this pitiful turnaround, her heart was burning with a bombastic and arrogant fury at being disrespected. That temper was flaring so brightly suddenly that it dazzled white any sense in her that she was really Hattie. Suddenly he was all Earl. He was Lord Howard Neville and this insignificant domestic had disrespected him.

“Quiet girl!” he roared. “Don’t you dare whimper to me about what you should have done! I have no interest in that! If you say one more word then I’ll have you whipped to within an inch of your life and thrown in gaol. And don’t think that I won’t; I’ve done it before!” He raised his head toward the back of the house and called the butler. “Powell!”

Howard trembled, looking fearfully toward the rear and wanted to curl up when she saw the butler hurrying through.

“Yes m’lord?” said Powell.

Hattie pointed to the girl. “This new girl seems to thin she has the right to waste my time! See that she is set right on this score immediately!”

“Of course sir.” Powell snatched Howard’s wrist, gripping it too tightly. Howard yelped in pain and anguish as he was yanked toward the back of the house.

“No, please,” she whimpered, but it was too late. She had dared to approach the Earl and now she was going to be punished.

Powell marched more quickly than her little legs could keep up and she struggled, looking back with horror toward where the Earl still stood, his fists on his hips.

All she could think was that she had learned her lesson. She didn’t dare approach him again.

She didn’t know who she was herself anymore but one thing was clear. That was definitely the one true Earl.

Back in the hallway Hattie watched the maid being dragged away and scowled, his anger crackling furiously.

Damned ignorant girl, he thought, daring to waste my time. How dare she? Doesn’t she know who I am? I’m Howard Neville!

But thinking these thoughts made Hattie abruptly snap out of the moment. She gaped, startled at what had come over her. She covered her mouth with her hand, for a moment thinking exactly as though she were the untainted Harriet Neville, but feeling the moustache on her upper lip brought back to her who she really was now.

“Good Lord,” she murmured. She’ never possessed a temper like that; such a consuming and powerful rage that allowed no room for any other thought or feeling. It was scary to think that she could lose herself so completely.

She ran her hand to the back of her head, scratching her bald crown, the action once again further settling her slowly altering self-image.

I really thought I was my own father,” she thought. I acted exactly as he would; not pretending; as though I really were him.

There was a mirror on the wall and she went to it, seeing her father’s manly features gazing back at her with concern. She put her hand to her cheek; a womanly gesture that felt a little odd; and touched the rough skin there, utterly dissimilar to her ordinary soft features.

It was sobering: the combination of losing herself to his character, even briefly, and then looking at herself in this way.

She closed her eyes and pictured her true face, grateful that she could, and then opened them again.

That was odd.

She closed them again and pictured herself. Opened them.

Of course it was to be expected. In her memory, her reflection sat so much lower in the glass being that she was only a slight woman.

She liked being so much taller. It was a shame women didn’t grow as big as men. Yet another benefit to being male that hadn’t occurred to her when she was only a woman.

“Hmmm.”

She ruffled her moustache thoughtfully.

Only a woman.

That was an odd way to think of her original sex and it disconcerted her rather.

She reminded herself of her sister’s fate: stuck in the life of a common stable hand, acting every bit the idiot, obsequious servant.

She didn’t dare risk falling into the same trap.

But then… this was a rather different situation. The crucial difference was that Burt had no power or authority. Ann had submitted that when she took on his form. Hattie was in the opposite situation. She had only gained in power. Nobody could stop her getting what she wanted. There was no danger of her losing the ability to change back, no matter how much she changed.

But she was wasting time. She was hungry and she rather fancied a bit of dessert. She had a man’s appetite to satisfy now.

I’m a man,  she thought. I need to eat.

She had one more look at herself in the mirror , smoothed down thin crescent of silver hair above her ears and then made her way back through to the dining room.

As the lord, the family would be waiting for her. It was gratifying to keep them waiting but not enough to deny her hunger. She rubbed her solid belly as she walked, imagining the feast to come.