Lady Ann s Greatly Extended Holiday Chapter Thirty Six
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Lady Ann's Greatly Extended Holiday - Chapter Thirty Three free porn video
Chapter Thirty Three
Going Home
1
Burt walked slowly up the lane toward the hall with Harry, the Earl
riding ahead of them on his horse; Jeb walking behind.
None of them spoke. Burt still ached from the scars on his back and all
over from the general rough treatment he'd taken. Harry wore a solemn
expression but there was no fear anymore of the old man in Burt's heart.
Instead he had nothing but respect for him. He had seen the look on
Harry's face when he was flogged; when he was sentenced in the makeshift
court. Despite all the bluster, Burt knew that Harry cared about him
deep down and that wasn't something he was going to forget.
He still couldn't quite reconcile with the turn of events - how sure
he'd been that his existence was over; that he would spend the next
sixteen years of his life in prison. In the space of a minute, that fate
had been taken away, but he still had no clue what was to become of him.
The answers he had expected from the Earl still hadn't come.
Before he and Harry had even reached the crowds outside the village hall
the Earl had climbed atop his horse and started away. No one in the
crowd had spoken but they followed Burt and Harry with their eyes. Tears
had been streaming down Mavis's face but even she hadn't stepped forward
and Harry's grip on Burt's arm had brooked no compromise on their steady
pace back to the hall.
They reached the drive. The Earl was no longer anywhere in sight. The
men continued up and found him standing beside his horse, one hand
holding the rein, the other behind his back. His chin was raised
imperiously and he glared at Burt, stopping him in place. Harry and Jeb
stepped away as though the gaze of their lord might burn them. Burt met
the Earl's stare for a moment then lowered his eyes and then his head.
"You violated the sanctity of my house," said the Earl. "You took it
upon yourself to disturb the purity of my daughter's bed chamber."
Burt didn't move. He knew how guilty he was. He'd already accepted
whatever penalty his betters deemed reasonable.
"But I can choose to be lenient if I wish it," said the Earl. "I can
offer mercy if it suits my needs."
Burt didn't raise his head but his heart pulsed brighter.
"In this case I choose to follow that path. You have had your lashes.
You have had your time in gaol. In return for a solemn vow that you will
never again shirk your rights and responsibility as my servant I will
allow you to resume your position in my employ."
"Oh thank you m'lord," gushed Burt, hurrying across to the older man
with no thought to propriety. "Thank you sir. I don't deserve your
forgiveness. I don't deserve nothin from you for the way I acted. It was
wrong what I done and I won't do nothin like that ever again, I swear
it. I'll do right by ye sir. I won't let you down, you can rely on me."
"If you do let me down you will be back in that prison coach before you
can blink my lad," said the Earl. "Is that clear?"
"Oh yes sir. Yes. I'll do whatever you say m'lord. I'll know me place. I
won't never go back in the 'all sir. I'll never break your rules no
more, I promise. Oh thank you sir. Thank you."
"Well give me your word then," said the Earl.
Burt gaped at him vacantly.
"I want your word as a man that you'll never shirk your duties here as
my servant until the day you die."
Burt looked back at him then glanced across at Harry.
He was so relieved that he could come back to work here - that he wasn't
going to prison. It was everything that he'd wanted.
When he was in his prison cell he had wished with all his heart that he
had accepted his fate as a servant once and for all. He'd wished only to
be the best servant he could be for all the rest of his life if only he
could be granted his freedom. Here, now, was that opportunity. He could
have his old position back as a labourer. All he had to do was vow to
serve willingly and blindly for the rest of his days and it could be
his.
But why did this make him quake with fear?
He knew why.
Lady Ann was on her way home at last.
At last.
What if she wanted to swap back?
What if she wanted to swap and he had given his word as a man to serve
the Earl to the best of his ability until the end of his days?
His word as a man...
He closed his eyes and swallowed.
What choice did he have? If he refused then the Earl would surely send
him away. He would lose all chance to swap back with her ladyship
anyway.
But if he accepted... if he made his vow, would he be able to violate that
and trade lives again if Lady Ann desired it? Or would his word lock him
in this life forever? Would he be forced to refuse the trade back, even
if it was offered?
"Well?" said the Earl. "Speak man! It isn't too late for you to go to
prison!"
Burt opened his eyes and looked up at the Earl. "I give you my word as
an honourable man that I will never let you down sir. I will serve you
and do your bidding until the day I die; I swear it by the good Lord."
The Earl glared at him a moment longer then continued. "Good man. And
I'll hold you to that. Any lapse in your labour or servility - any delay
in following your orders - and you will be dismissed without reference.
You have made a solemn oath. If you break it then you will burn in Hell.
Do you understand that?"
"Yes sir. I do sir. Thank you sir. You won't regret this. I'll do right
by you sir, I promise. I'll work twice as hard as I ever have."
"See that you do." The Earl turned away and marched up toward the hall.
"Now put my horse away and get back to work. I'll not have you shirking
on the job."
"Yes sir. Thank you sir," said Burt, rushing to follow his orders,
brimming over with relief and gratitude that he was a servant again and
determined to live up to his vow to the letter.
2
As the train coasted through the East Midlands, Ann watched the
countryside streaming by, her mind set loose to wander.
Richard sat opposite reading the financial pages of the newspaper with a
scowl on his face. Every so often he tutted loudly but Ann didn't allow
this to distract her from her meandering thoughts.
There was nothing to stop her return now. At long last she really was
going back to Griply Hall, but she'd never been so unsure of what
awaited her there.
For three weeks she had planned to return and resume her former life as
Burt, but the past week had been a cascade of different situations and
emotions that left her entirely bewildered. She no longer knew what she
wanted.
After the abduction she'd been so convinced she wanted to be a man
again, but after witnessing again the lives of the servants, she no
longer felt as sure. She had wanted the promiscuity of a lower class
existence but her principles had betrayed her. She was in love with
Richard... or she thought she was.
She just didn't know anymore. About anything.
Perhaps she would know when she saw Burt. When she looked into the eyes
of that lower class servant she would know in her heart if she could
stand to live his life again.
It seemed too fantastical really. Since the end of the first week she
had felt nothing strange about her body or feelings. This was just who
she was. It seemed preposterous to consider the possibility of
transforming magically into someone else, even though she knew it was
achievable. Surely things staying as they were had to be the simplest
path.
She didn't know anymore.
But she would know soon. When she saw him.
She would look into his face; into his eyes; into his soul; and then she
would know.
3
Burt was so happy.
It felt great to be back at the hall, working again as a labourer. You
never know what you have until you've lost it, and never before had this
been truer for Burt. It felt great to have his job back, the security of
knowing he had somewhere to sleep and a profession to call his own. He
thanked God he had his labouring job. He was so grateful to the Earl for
giving it him back. It was wonderful to regain his pride at being an
honest, hard-working man.
He couldn't believe that he'd broken the rules so badly, risked
everything that was good about his life. He was absolutely determined to
never do so again. He felt like the luckiest man alive to be given this
second chance and he wasn't going to blow it.
When Harry told him what to do he rushed to do it immediately, listening
intently to the simple instructions he was given, his mouth hanging open
vacantly, only having to ask a couple of times for Harry to repeat them.
He lugged sacks of grain, feeding the animals and then shifted bags of
manure. He scraped up horse dung on a shovel and gathered firewood.
Burt made sure that Harry had no cause to shout at him. He'd seen the
caring side of the old man and was determined never to let him down
again. Harry was a far better man than he was. He never got into trouble
with the Earl and he was right brainy. Burt worked as hard as he could
and always used the proper terms of deference.
"Yes sir."
"Right you are sir."
And Jeb, the same. Jeb was busy grooming the horses but he shouted
orders from time to time for things needing fetching or carrying and
Burt always hurried to do as he was told.
It wasn't that he didn't know who he used to be - his former life as her
ladyship was clear in his mind - but the reality of his current station
was now also as clear.
The trauma of the flogging and then the time in gaol; the threat of all
those years in prison; had drummed into him his own desperate regret for
pushing too hard to get his old life back. Every time he had tried to
maintain some semblance of his old ways he had failed and been punished
for it. These situations had simply broken him. They had broken him so
completely that he didn't want his old life back now. He just didn't
dare risk sticking his neck out again. He had a desperate yearning for
the simplicity and security of life as Burt. He had been burned too
badly, too many times. He simply didn't have any resistance left in him.
Added to that was the effect of the potion he'd drunk, making his soul
and body match. This form and lifestyle felt right in a way his other
life never could. He was entirely Burt, even if he would never forget
his old life now.
And on top of all that was his vow to the Earl and the prayers he'd sent
to God - to be the best servant he could be if only he got the chance to
have his life back. He had given his word as a man never to want to give
this up again.
"Burt!" yelled Harry.
"Yes sir?" Burt hurried round the stable building and up to the old man.
"Get up to the back of the hall. The Countess wants some pots shifting."
"Yes sir. But..."
"Spit it out."
"What about the gardener?"
"He's put his back out," said Harry. "Now get up there before I tell the
Earl you've been slackin."
"Yes sir. Sorry sir."
Burt hurried up the path as quickly as he could.
Since touching the pendant again, Burt recognised intellectually that
the Countess used to be his mother but in no way did he think of her
that way. The effect of the pendant remained hazy for the most part.
Deep inside him he knew the truth but this was still entirely superseded
by the plethora of Burt memories he possessed and his indelible identity
as a servant. Every human being knew that once upon a time they had been
a babe in arms. That had no bearing at all on their self-image or
current identity.
He was Burt and he always would be. That wasn't in any doubt.
The Countess looked irritable and impatient when he reached the back
lawn. Her mood didn't improve in the least as he shambled across and
doffed his cap.
"M'lady. Ow can I be of service?"
She sneered at his awful accent and dirty ways but Burt barely
registered that. He was used to that now. If anything, being addressed
with civility and respect would have made him feel deeply uncomfortable.
"I want these pots moved." She pointed at a series of huge stone flower
pots in which shoots were starting to come up. "They simply won't do
here. I want them in a row over there." She pointed toward the back of
the garden.
Burt nodded.
"Well be quick about it man. I don't have all day to wait."
"Yes m'lady," grovelled Burt. "I'm sorry m'lady." He picked up the first
pot and hurried bow-legged after her.
The Countess didn't look back to check on his progress. She walked to
the vicinity of the pot's destination then stood contemplating the best
position for several minutes while Burt strained, sweat trickling down
his brow.
"I wonder..." mused the Countess. She looked back the way they'd come.
"They might be better... Hmmm."
She put her hand to her cheek, considering the pros and cons of the
ideal location while Burt did his best to keep silent, standing
dutifully as she took her time, not wanting to be disrespectful by
showing what a strain it was.
After a full five minutes had passed the Countess glanced at him. He
gave a polite smile that was more grimace under the terrible weight of
the pot.
"I'll thank you to stand further away," snapped the Countess. "You smell
deplorable."
Burt blushed and staggered back, starting to lower the pot.
"Don't put that down. I've almost decided where it's going!"
"Yes m'lady. Sorry m'lady." Burt bobbed his head, standing straighter,
despite the numbness in his arms.
"Here I think," said the Countess.
Burt scurried forward.
"No. There."
Burt went over to where she was pointing and lowered the pot into place.
"Not that way round," said the Countess. "The other way."
"Sorry m'lady." Burt turned the pot.
"Lift it! Don't twist it! You'll mark the stone!"
"Sorry m'lady." Burt struggled to shift it round.
"No. The other way."
Burt shifted it round further.
"No."
He moved it more.
"No."
He turned it further.
"That will have to do." The Countess sighed heavily. "I'll have to get
the gardener to put it properly when he's recovered. At least he can
follow instructions." She pointed. "Now fetch the other pots and put
them in a line here. Is that clear?"
"Yes m'lady." Burt nodded and hurried to do as he was told.
4
After dinner, the Nevilles retired to the drawing room.
A stony silence had hung about the table during the meal and Hattie had
a most unpleasant feeling that some kind of enmity was being levelled at
her.
It wasn't until after the parlour maid had delivered the coffee and
withdrawn that the silence was finally broken by her father, the Earl.
"I am very disappointed in you Harriet." He glared at her sternly. "Very
disappointed."
"What for?" she asked.
"Don't answer back to me young lady!"
Hattie sat sullenly on the settee while the Earl moved to the fireplace
and took one of his awful cigars from his case on the mantle.
"I don't think you understand the seriousness of your actions," he said.
"You have caused me a great deal of embarrassment."
"What have I done?"
The Earl went to put his cigar in his mouth and then withdrew it. "The
trouble you stirred up with that stable hand of course!"
"Burt?"
"I don't know the blighter's name! It cost money to organise the trial
in the first place and even more money to persuade that jobs-worth
magistrate to let the filthy man go!"
"Well what's that got to do with me?" asked Hattie.
"It was you who started the whole thing you ignorant girl!" The Earl lit
his cigar and puffed angrily on it, partially obscuring his face behind
the cloud of foul-smelling smoke.
The telephone started to ring. Distracted, the Earl looked away then
turned back to her. "You mark my words young lady," he said. "This is
far from over."
Hattie crossed her arms more tightly, glaring darkly. It hadn't been her
fault. It was he who had done the flogging and demanded the servant be
thrown in gaol. This anger of his was entirely unjust.
The butler answered the telephone and, after a pause, handed it to
Hattie's mother.
Elizabeth Neville put the receiver to her ear and spoke imperiously but
softly. "To whom am I speaking?"
"Mother. It's Ann."
"Ah good." Elizabeth smiled. "Ann dear. We were expecting you home this
evening. Have you been delayed?"
"Yes," replied Ann. "We've arrived in York but the journey took longer
than we thought. We're going to stay at a hotel tonight and come the
rest of the way in the morning."
Elizabeth frowned. "Oh dear. That's simply awful. But not to worry. It
will be an even greater pleasure to see you in daylight when we have the
day ahead of us to spend time with you. Did I tell you we will have
guests from tomorrow as well? Your aunt and uncle and their children are
popping over from Blacklake to stay for a few days. They'll probably
arrive an hour or two before you."
"I see." Ann seemed distracted, possibly even disappointed.
"You don't mind do you Ann dear?" asked Elizabeth. "Only Aunt Geraldine
is dying to offer her congratulations to you. I know they don't live far
away but this visit had been arranged for weeks. I have a fabulous
picnic planned for next Wednesday."
"No, I'm sure it will be divine," replied Ann tersely.
"Good. That's settled," said Elizabeth, entirely unaware of the sarcasm
in Ann's words.
"Alright," said Ann. "I was... wondering how things were resolved with the
stable hand that father had arrested."
"Oh him?" Elizabeth snorted demurely. "Your father weaved his magic
spell and had the blackguard released and reinstated, all on your advice
I might add."
There was a pause at the other end of the line.
"Ann?"
"Yes, I'm here," she replied. I'm looking forward to seeing you
tomorrow."
"Yes dear. It will be lovely to see you. It's been almost a month since
you left. I expect it will odd for you to return."
"You have no idea," said Ann.
5
Exhausted from the trials of his day, Burt rolled out his pallet and got
ready to go to sleep, stripping down naked. He scratched his arse and
then got under his blanket and lay staring up at the ceiling.
It was almost impossible to believe that after all this time Lady Ann
was finally returning. He was a little worried that she hadn't turned up
today as expected but felt sure that she would appear the next day,
exactly four weeks after she had left.
To think of seeing her again filled him with... he didn't know what.
Dread? Yes; certainly. He was terrified of how it would feel to see her
and know how superior she was to him. She was one of the landed gentry,
far higher than him on the social scale. He was a country bumpkin
labourer. She was a high society well-bred lady. He knew that was who he
used to be but he felt completely detached from that persona now. She
was the upper class daughter of his employer. He was her servant. He had
no right to even speak to her directly unless bidden to. He shouldn't
even dare to look at her.
What would it feel like to stand before her, knowing how drastically
their statuses had reversed - to know how low and pitiful he was next to
that wonderful woman?
And what else did he feel?
Excitement?
The chance to see the beautiful angel he had spent so long fantasising
about, wishing he could see again. It would be truly magical to set eyes
on her fine features and bask in her glorious splendour. Despite all the
history between them, he wanted nothing so much as the chance to take
her in his manly arms and press his lips to hers. He wanted to make her
his woman, even as he knew in his heart that he wasn't good enough for
her and never would be.
And fear and trepidation: he felt those too.
Why was she returning? What had brought her back? Did she plan to
exchange forms once more? He couldn't know.
Would she draw him off to some secret place and put the pendant around
her neck. Would she embrace him, initiating the mystical exchange of
their destinies?
Or would she laugh in his face at the very concept? Was she planning to
keep that life that he had given up all right to?
Would he be his old self come sundown the next day? Was that even
possible?
And could he even accept that after giving his word before God and the
Earl that he would always live up to his responsibilities as a servant?
Burt's mind was crackling with conflicting thoughts and nowhere could he
settle on anything as clear as the simple pleasure he'd had in doing his
duty as a man earlier that day. That was the only truth he could cling
onto.
He had been truly happy to take up his job at the hall once again; to be
a servant, dutifully following orders. He loved his job. He loved
knowing that others would tell him what to do - that he didn't have to
struggle to think for himself.
Every instinct he had told him to cling onto that and to go on clinging.
It was the only thing he could be certain of.
He closed his eyes and shivered, imagining how it would feel to see the
coach pull up, the door open: to see Lady Ann descending at long last.
Would he stand proud and demand his body back?
Or would he act every bit as servile to her as he did to the rest of her
family?
He didn't know.
But he didn't have long now before he would find out.
Read the extra extended version of Lady Ann's Holiday available on
Amazon
For more of my stories, check out: http://transformation-
stories.blogspot.co.uk/
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Emma Finn
Emely
- 21.04.2020
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Lady Ann s Greatly Extended Holiday Chapter Thirty Four
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