Tuesday was traditionally the day of the hunt. Approaching the final week of March, the season was coming to an end. Squire Albert revelled in the rigors of the great outdoors at Briarly Hall.

Lady Betsy shared afternoon tea with Lady Lindsay. Now half way through her seventh decade, Lady Lindsay had been widowed for nigh on seven years.

As her carriage came around the bend on the way to Briarly Hall, she could see the scarlet coats and black velvet caps of the master and the whippers-in. She enjoyed listening to the growl of the hounds and the shrill of the master's horn.

'Tally-ho', the rallying cry echoed through the hills as proceedings got underway.
Lady Lindsay felt somewhat wistful, fondly remembering her girlhood when she loved to don her riding hat and hunting garb to ride side saddle with her beloved Lord Lindsay. It was while sitting side saddle on her horse, 'Diamond,' on a cold January morning, half a century ago, that she first made his acquaintance. A dapper young man with leather riding crop and a hearty laugh, she couldn't fail to notice him. What a delight for a young woman to accept his invitation to the Spring Ball.

Briarly Hall came into full view. Lady Lindsay descended from her carriage and was escorted to the morning room.

Lady Betsy greeted her and the two women shared a warm embrace.
'Dearest, Lady Betsy,' she began. 'What an invigorating sight, horses and hounds with their master, I have such fond memories from my girlhood'.

Butler Eames entered the morning room carrying a bone china teapot with violet trim. A tray with an array of marron glaces, together with bonbons were placed on the centre of the table. A bowl of daffodils reflected the Spring light.
As Butler Eames proceeded to pour tea for the ladies, Lady Lindsay wished to share her good news.

'I am heartened,' Lady Lindsay began, 'that our son Viscount Edward and his wife, Marquess Elena, together with their heir, Viscount Lesley, have returned to live with me at the family seat in Northerdale. It has been a matter of concern to me for some time since, I am getting on in years. Events however, have favoured the move. The Bank of England required a Share Manager in Northerdale, due to the retirement of Mr Smith, a loyal servant of the Bank for half a century. Viscount Edward is admirably suited to the post'.

Lady Betsy listened, with a twinge of jealousy, which she was careful to conceal.

'How wonderful for you Lady Lindsay to have this important matter now settled', Lady Betsy added.

She hastened to change the subject, before Lady Lindsay could raise the issue of an heir at Briarly Hall.

Placing her freshly poured cup of tea on the saucer, Lady Lindsay soon broached the controversial matter with alacrity.

'Has Briarly Hall the possibility of an heir in the near future?,' Lady Lindsay asked politely. 'Has your son Lord Airdale as yet plighted his troth?.'

Lady Betsy stood up abruptly and walked to the window, that looked out on the front lawn.
'My goodness,' she gasped ,' the hunt is already returning. I can hear the hounds and horn approaching'.

But Lady Lindsay would not be diverted from the subject. It was a matter of some concern to her.
'Dearest Lady Betsy', she continued.' We have been friends for many years. Our husbands were lifelong friends. The future of our class hangs in the balance. We must fight to maintain our way of life. Heirs are its life blood.

Your Lady Mathilde is an altruistic young lady. Her interest in the Vote for women is admirable. However she must be mindful of her duties and her station in life'.

Lady Betsy felt increasingly uncomfortable when Lady Lindsay came to tea. Producing heirs to the estate now took precedence in every conversation.

Today, Lady Betsy decided to grasp the nettle. She was weary of broaching the subject with her husband, Squire Albert and being blithely ignored.

'Lady Lindsay', she began,'it is a matter of serious concern to me, succession rights to Briarly Hall. Lady Mathilde is an activist for political causes, most especially that of womens' right to vote.
An eligible young man, Marquis Gregoire, greatly admires her and recently invited her to the Spring Ball in London. However, she regarded the invitation merely as an opportunity to further the Suffragette cause and take part in the Trafalgar meeting.

Precious little of her time there, as far as I can decipher, was devoted to getting to know Gregoire. They did spend some time walking in the garden before her departure. However, a young man must be afforded time to woo, to win his lover's heart.Don't you agree Lady Lindsay?'

'Why most certainly,' Lady Betsy,' wooing is all important. A young man must be allowed to devote time to the noble art of wooing his lady, gently kissing her cheeks and declaring his love.
And the young lady must permit herself to experience the young man's love, his tenderness, his gentle kisses. Love cannot be rushed.
Young women today have such odd pursuits, don't you think, Lady Betsy? Why some of these pursuits should be left to menfolk, who have dealt with them for generations. Young women do not have the stamina to stand in Trafalgar Square on a cold March afternoon, dealing with insults and rotten tomatoes thrown by an unruly public.

My good friend, Sir Annesley, had the misfortune recently to be struck by an egg on the lapel of his tweed suit, as he emerged from the Bank. Protesters for Womens' Suffrage were out in force that day. The suit was a family heirloom, having inherited it from his father.

And what of Lord Airdale?,' Lady Lindsay again returned to Lord Airdale's paternity prospects. 'How does he fare in matters of the heart.? He is approaching middle age now and losing his youthful vigour. Has he, as yet, renounced his lascivious ways?'.

Lady Betsy blurted out, 'He may indeed have produced some illegitimate offspring from his profligate lifestyle. His father is reluctant to discuss the implications of such offspring. Yet rumours abound that Briarly Hall may lack a legitimate male heir'.

'Lady Betsy, You must take this most serious matter in hand before it is too late. Briarly Hall is in danger of no longer being the family seat, for the first time in two centuries, perhaps, if matters are not resolved in a satisfactory manner'.

Lady Lindsay briskly got up from her seat, taking her muffler and parapluie and made her way to her waiting carriage.