Returning from the Suffragette meeting, Lady Mathilde repaired to her boudoir in the West Wing. Happy to have the company of her Lady's maid, Dilly, from Briarly Hall, she deposited her leather satchel on the escritoire.



Lady Mathilde worked punctiliously, recalling significant afternoon events and committing them to archival memory with eloquent strokes of her pen.



'See to it that the inkpot is full to the brim as I have much writing to do,' Lady Mathilde instructed Dilly.

'Why here's this beautiful quill that rests on the escritoire,' Lady Mathilde remarked. 'What a fine specimen, inlaid with aquamarine. Perhaps it belongs to Lord Charlois.

Papa still continues to write with his age old quill when he has important papers from Parliament to resume. Mama is horrified when she sees him reach for the quill,' Lady Mathilde added.



'Yes, Ma-am', Dilly replied, concerned how long Lady Mathilde was likely to spend at the escritoire. Dilly had to see to it that Her Ladyship was fully attired and ready to attend supper with Marquis Gregoire's family and invited guests before The Spring Ball got underway.

Dilly knew Her Ladyship's commitment to the Suffragette cause, planning and putting the Cause ahead of her own private life.



Dilly pondered how Lady Mathilde would find time to stroll arm in arm, in the garden with Gregoire, to be wooed in a chivalrous manner, to swoon in his sturdy arms, allowing him to plant a gentle kiss on her English rose cheek.



How lucky her Ladyship was to have such a chaperon, Dilly sighed.

Dilly longed for a chaperon to call her own. Percy, the gardener hadn't yet made her girlish heart race with his green wellies and clumps of dirt under his fingernails.



He never tried to plant even a little kiss on her Devonshire cheek, not even when they spent the whole afternoon at the local Fair, last Summer.



Dilly was awakened from her reverie by the clip-clop of horses' hooves coming up the avenue. Her eyes rested on the blue taffeta evening gown, still hanging in the armoire, adorned with precious azure stones at the neckline.

The light blue sandals, glittering in the candlelight, stood beneath the ball gown.

Lady Mathilde's brunette curls had yet to be dressed in a chignon and clasped with a silver barrette, complete with a delicate pink, silk ribbon.



Through the open window, cheerful laughter of the arriving guests could be heard. Dilly longed to take a peek. She wanted to feast her eyes on the young eligible men who were due to attend the ball. How handsome they would look. She loved their low cut dark waistcoats with ample shirt fronts, complete with gold studs and matching cravats.



Suddenly there was a knock on the door.



Dilly grasped the heavy brass door handle. Gregoire's father, Lord Charlois, stood outside. Wearing a black, superfine dress coat, with some slight braiding at the cuffs, the triangle of a white linen cambric handkerchief rested in his jacket pocket, he exhibited an air of concern. White kid gloves completed the ensemble.



'Lady Mathilde, please make haste,' he said. 'Gregoire's attendance at supper will be delayed as he is to chaperon Countess Mildred to the Ball'.



With that Lord Charlois, turned deftly on the heels of his horn pipe shoes and disappeared down the winding staircase, to the vast foyer below, to mingle with the guests.



Doubt played around the edges of Lady Mathilde's mind at the mention of a Countess Mildred as she had her hair dressed by Dilly.



'Say M'Lady,' Dilly blurted out, 'who is Countess Mildred? Haven't seen her name on the guest list'.



Lady Mathilde felt distinctly uncomfortable, yet dared not mention her misgivings to Dilly.

Gregoire had never spoken of Countess Mildred. She began to feel like the outsider, l'inconnu, not part of the London scene.



Dilly opened the door and peered over the large wooden banister.

Returning to the boudoir she reassured Lady Mathilde,



'M'y Lady, you are to be the prettiest girl at the Spring Ball.Why you will dazzle MarquisGregoire with your beauty.

After all, Norfolk planes are known for their pretty maids'.



Lady Mathilde took her fan from the dressing table, the pretty yellow and purple one Gregoire had presented to her on his return from Madrid. It had belonged to his great-aunt Josefina, who had passed away when she was a century old.

Lady Mathilde stood on the stair balcony while Dilly arranged the train of her evening gown.



She caught sight of Gregoire, chatting with his father beside the French window. The father's gloved hand rested on his son's shoulder as the two men shared a confidence. Seeing Lady Mathilde, Gregoire hurried to accompany her to the main hallway.



Taking her gloved hand in his, he introduced her to the guests as they entered the dining hall.

Seated between Gregoire and his cousin Lord Wakely, Lady Mathilde finally began to look forward to the soiree.



'So you are Lady Mathilde,' Lord Wakely began,' taking the Womens' Suffrage all the way to the House of Parliament, eh, got your work cut out for you , you ladies'.



'It's an idea whose time has come,' Lady Mathilde replied,' a vote is a powerful tool in the hands of the citizenry,' She continued.



Lord Charlois, seated arcoss the table from his son, listened attentively as Lady Mathilde spoke.

'Lady Mathilde,' he interjected, 'is it your movement's intention to use violent means to achieve your ends?'.



Always happy to discuss the movement's raison d'etre, she hesitated to reply to the question directly since policy making was always a work-in-progress.



'Lord Charlois,' she began, 'the Womens' Suffrage takes its purpose very seriously indeed and will consider whatever action is necessary and at an appropriate time'.

Lord Charlois peered over his glasses at this spirited young woman, in his presence, chaperoned by his favourite son.



'Lady Mathilde,' Lady Charlois interjected, 'how exquisitely beautiful you look tonight, despite having spent this cold March afternoon persuading the populace to change the course of history'.



Some voices hushed when the Suffrage came up in conversation.

'The Suffrage is a most embarrassing affair for society ladies of a certain vintage,' Dowager Dainworth, declared.

'How on earth can ladies of my generation decide who is best to sit in the House of Parliament. Surely we can do as our ancestors have done and leave these weighty political matters to our menfolk'.



A wave of nervous laughter ensued.



Gregoire glanced at Lady Mathilde. Leaning closer, he whispered in her ear,' Dearest Mathilde, please refrain from being goaded by the Dowager. Her views are old-fashioned and she is unlikely to change'.



Lady Mathilde's young heart fluttered as she felt the touch of Gregoire's hand on her wrist and his gentle whisperings in her right ear.



By now the gilded ballroom doors had been swung open and dancing was in progress. Soon Lady Mathilde was in Gregoire's arms as they tripped lightly to the strains of a Strauss waltz.



Changing partners, Lady Mathilde was next invited to dance by Lord Wakely. An accomplished dancer he concentrated on his foot movements and precision timing.



'What a fine dancer you are Lord Wakely,' Lady Mathilde said. ' You are no doubt a much sought after guest during the London Ball season,' Lady Mathilde continued.

'Indeed, Lady Mathilde,' Lord Wakely continued,' why my calendar is always full during the Ball season. And yet......and yet .... I have not until now encountered such an interesting young lady as you with whom to share the dance floor'.



Lady Mathilde blushed slightly.

'Lord Wakely,' Mathilde continued, ' you may have too great a selection of interesting young ladies to choose from. Perhaps you are spoiled for choice'.



'I cannot match your style on the dance floor,' she added.



'Lady Mathilde', he continued,' I wager you do not have a great deal of time to practise your dancing. A young woman who is intent on changing how we think politically cannot, perforce, have a great deal of time to devote to, what one might call, frivolous pursuits like dancing'.

Lady Mathilde laughed.



'Dearest Lord Wakely', she continued, 'one is lucky to have the privilege of choosing one's pursuits. That is a goal we hold dear in the Suffrage movement, to enable people, especially women to have greater autonomy in their lives in the matter of choice, especially political choice. How better can we hope to do that than by fighting for their right to have a voice as to who sits in the seat of power in the Parliament.'



Lord Wakely forgot momentarily his next dance movement, becoming engrossed in Lady Mathilde's view of the world.



'Lord Wakely', she continued, ' let's not forget our next dance move, after all we don't wish to upset the rhythm of the dancers with our inattention', she gently reminded him.



'Lady Mathilde, I am honored to make your acquaintance ,' Lord Wakely continued.

' I request the pleasure of another dance with you this evening. Perhaps you would like to join me for afternoon tea while you are still in London'.



' I shall be delighted to accept your invitation to tea in London at some future date,' Lady Mathilde continued, ever conscious of the need to engage more men, in the Suffrage movement.



The clock in the local Church tower struck midnight . Ladies now dressed in great coats and mufflers against the late Spring cold, hastened to rejoin their cabriolets.



Taking Lady Mathilde's hand, Gregoire bid the guests goodnight.



'My dearest Gregoire, the hour is now late and we must retire'. Lady Mathilde said.

'Taking both her hands in his, he gently kissed her cheek'.



'Lady Mathilde,' he said, 'It has been a wonderful ball this evening, especially since you consented to join me here for the occasion. Would you like to join me for a walk mid morning in the Rose Garden before your return to Norfolk?'

'Yes my dearest Gregoire,' she replied ,' I shall be delighted'.





 

Author Notes

Image courtesy of Google Images Thanks in advance if you took time to read it !!

Lord Airdale caught sight of his jaw in the mirror in the early morning spring light. M-mm, he thought to himself. Still a handsome devil, though on the wrong side of forty. Why a few grey hairs at the temples should only serve to enhance my mystique for the fairer sex.

His loyal butler, Charles, had carefully laid his breakfast tray with his favourite earl grey tea, together with buttered toast and marmalade. Though having lived for more than a decade between Milan and Rottingen, his palate longed for flavours of his English homeland.

Charles was such a loyal fellow, always careful to see to it that he received an English newpaper with his marmalade.

He glanced disinterestedly at the headlines.
Not the Suffragettes again, he thought. Front page news again. Chanting and marching and blocking the London streets.

On closer inspection, he recognised his only sister, Lady Mathilde, behind the podium in Trafalgar Square from the weekend events. He swiftly turned the page and proceeded to the financial section to evaluate the Stock Exchange returns. Suffragette unrest would only serve to dimish returns on the family Stocks.

'Drat', he cursed quietly to himself, he couldn't figure out why Mathilde could immerse herself in such hostility on the streets among the....the rabble? Quite an appalling vista.
He recalled Mathilde's childhood obsession with injured birds and rabbits on the Briarly Estate when they were children. Long afternoons spent tending to their injured wings or paws. Always championing life for the underdog. Papa too, he recalled, worried a great deal about his only daughter and her future marriage prospects.
One cannot live one's life by other peoples' misfortunes.

Who would pay attention to a bevy of women looking for, what was it, voting rights?. Men were the only ones who should decide who is entitled to take seats in Parliament. After all they are the ones in charge of family fortunes and fiscal matters.

Women were better suited to domestic affairs, hosting afternoon tea with cucumber sandwiches, but most importantly ensuring heirs for the next generation.

Lady Mathilde, he reflected, at thirty, had now reached early middle age and should be preoccupied with pursuing a suitable husband to father her child. Suitable husbands would not be available forever. Womens' looks did not improve with time, unlike men, who distinctly became a great deal more interesting with the passage of time.

Surely Mama, he thought, should advise Lady Mathilde not to waste any more time on causes and rather assist her in attracting an eligible man to be her lawful wedded husband.
Spinsters were not at all a desirable prospect at Briarly Hall. Tricky business of property rights. Quite a horrible, messy business, this Suffragette activity which now seemed to be attracting far too much public attention.

Enough of that. Today Lord Airdale would have the pleasant duty of accompanying his son and heir, Lord Elston, to his first day at school.
Lord Elston was a happy-go-lucky child. His dark features, however, bore no resemblance to his father's pale English complexion. Notwithstanding, Elston was his heir, the only heir or at least the only heir of which he was aware.

Lord Airdale liked to daydream, when the mood took him, about other possible offspring sired from his English loins. A man of forty years plus, besotted with beautiful women, must perforce, have already sired a line of blue blood. He smiled to himself at the thought. No shortage of heirs for Briarly Hall in the fullness of time.

With Lady Elsie, his paramour, he, occasionally shared his son's upbringing. In his native Norfolk, illegitimate heirs were dark secrets, hidden under false names and often raised far from their ancestral homes. Here In Rottingen young men flaunted bastard offspring. It was the mark of a man, proof of his manliness.

He wondered about his own father , Squire Alfred, how he had managed any offspring sprouted from his youthful wild oats. No one broached the subject, though there were times in his youth when distant cousins were introduced into the family circle with dubious lineage.
No such problem for his more enlightened generation.

Butler Charles, knocked on his door.
'Letter my Lord.'

Lord Airdale undid the seal and scanned the contents, raising his eyebrows in dismay.
It read:

My Dearest Lord Airdale,
My son, Lord Elston and I are re-locating to India with his father.
I hope this finds you well.
Lady Elise

Regaining his composure, he paused to reflect on the contents of the letter.' India, with his father. But ...but.. I am the child's father, surely,' he exclaimed.'Following that night of passion in Milan.. Lady Elise...no....it cannot be...',he said to himself.


Butler Charles rushed to his master's side,'Is anything the matter, Sir', he enquired.
'No.... no... not at all Charles...nothing that a single night of passion cannot fix', Lord Airdale whispered to himself.

Removing his leather satchel, cane and bowler hat from the hall stand and buttoning his great coat against the chilly morning air, he strode out purposefully.
Sired from his English loins indeed.....perhaps the potential brood were not so prolific as he might have first thought.

Papa will be concerned if there are no male heirs. What of Briarly Hall with such a barren line ? No male heir? The thought was disconcerting.
Lady Mathilde was too busy fighting causes to find a suitable husband to provide an heir.
Paternity was now a matter of urgency.

Lord Airdale felt it was his filial duty , to do all in his power, to sire a male heir for Briarly Hall. Middle age began to feel like a burden. He recoiled at the prospect of providing male heirs. It now began to feel like an onerous and unwelcome duty.




 

Author Notes

Image courtesy of Google Images Thanks in advance if you found time to read it !

Chapter 8
The Hunt

By zanya

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.

Author Notes

Image courtesy of Google Images

Chapter 9
Blue-blooded bastards

By zanya

Lord Everly and Squire Alfred strode along the path to the stables in their black bowler hats and mud spattered riding breeches.

'Why, it's been some years now since I've had the pleasure of a March hunt in Norfolk,' Lord Everly began.
'An invigorating experience. Good for the soul, eh Alfie?'.

Squire Alfred's ruddy complexion glowed in the chilly March sun. He seemed preoccupied.

'Oh...yes..yes indeed,' Squire Alfred muttered.

'Alfie, is anything wrong?,' Lord Everly asked politely.
'You do appear like a man who is distinctly out of sorts. Have you made any profit on your estate returns this year? Did you have problems with the estate tenants?. Tenants can be such a bothersome lot at times, eh Alfie...still ..of course we need their puny contributions to assist in the running of the estate'.

Sir Alfred paused momentarily making another attempt to light his midday pipe.

'Lord Everly,' Sir Alfred said,' do you have any succession issues at your estate in Worthampt? Your son is in residence there with his family, I take it? Briarly Hall is having a degree of difficulty in that department.
What with my only daughter,Lady Mathilde, foolishly trying to save the world for her fair sex and Lord Airdale, my only male heir, still sowing his wild oats, well into middle age, Briarly Hall may have to pass to some distant, irksome relative.

Lady Betsy is distraught regarding the whole sorry affair. Why, Lord Everly, you and I had no more wild oats to sow by middle age.....it was well and truly spent, by then and scattered far and wide'.

The two men guffawed loudly as they continued walking side by side.

'Alfie, it's preposterous, surely you would never seriously consider turning over Briarly Hall, the family seat for generations, to some ill-begotten stranger?.'

'Would not be my choice...yet the matter must be resolved'. Alfie continued

'What about ...you know.......do you know if Lord Airdale may have sired any....sons out of wedlock..bastards?.'

Alfred continued, 'Indeed, the odds of that eventuality are high, considering he is now in middle age. Nevertheless the matter still needs to be resolved satisfactorily. Are you aware of any such in your locale, who may have inherited on such a pretext?'

'M-mm , can't say as I know of any of my immediate acquaintance, Alfie...why an old neighbour, Squire Reginald, before he passed away bequeathed his entire estate to a Marquis Philip of dubious aristocratic origin. Philip, though now in his dotage, is surrounded by a bevy of grand children. There were whisperings of lunacy and other imponderables in the line, you know, that sort of banter.
Exact details are shrouded in the mists of time.'

Lord Everly paused for a moment and stroked his goatee.

'Alfie, old boy, don't forget the world is changing fast. Take a look around.The aristocracy are a dying breed, clinging on to a sinking ship, if you ask my opinion. Who is going to sail in that ship for much longer?.'

Alfred listened intently, buoyed up by the prospect of somehow finding a potential solution. A broad smile broke out on his face.

'Good Heavens, Lord Everly,' Squire Alfred continued,' you are a breath of fresh air, devoid of stuffy, anachronistic ideas. Why indeed should we cling on to an idea that is clearly dying?.
Perhaps Lady Mathilde and her generation are on the right track. No more silly notions about needle point and playing pianoforte while patiently waiting for a knight in shining armour to come along to be her lawful wedded husband.
Lord Everly you are such a funny fellow, with an eye to the future.
You must come join us for supper soon at Briarly Hall and help change Lady Betsy's outmoded notions about heirs and heirlooms'.

Alfred slapped Everly good-humouredly between the shoulder blades and the two men stopped momentarily in the morning room. Butler Eames served them generous shots of vintage brandy.

'Ah-a what a good pick-me-up Alfie, just what's needed to heat the blood.

It's a vexed question, nevertheless,' Lord Everly continued.
Our son, Viscount William, resides presently at his wife's estate, due to the absence of a male heir there. Being an only child, she will, probably, ultimately inherit. William has, you might say, fallen on his feet.

Can be inconvenient at times, especially when he has duties to attend at Worthampt.

But on the other hand, who knows what claimant may emerge out of the shadows? The law on succession may still throw up some difficulty around inheritance by a female heir. Bloody English inheritance law, be damned.'

Lord Everly hastened to rejoin his equerry. Sir Alfred returned to his study with a renewed sense of purpose.

Author Notes

Image courtesy of Google Images

Chapter 10
Summer days return

By zanya

The cherry blossoms had begun to burst forth from their buds. Golden daffodils were beginning to fade as the sun's, as yet fragile rays, held distinct promise of warmth.

Squire Alfred felt invigorated as he strolled along the farm's western perimeter . He could see the farm horses, in the distance, turning the soil in preparation for seed sowing. He had instructed his farm manager, Andy, to employ an extra farmhand this Spring, so as to increase the farm's output.

Andy knew every nook and cranny of the farm and its idiosyncracies, having been manager at Briarly, for nigh a half century.

'But Squire,' Andy always insisted,'Briarly's eastern flank be not suited to tillage'.

Andy was wont to use the language of the battlefield, having served in the forces during the first world war. A permanent limp on his left side, from a stray shell, never let him forget his time spent in the trenches.

'Far better to plant more trees by the perimeter, for wind break, Squire. More shelter for the crops.'

Andy tended the farm with such care and dignity as if it were his own.

Squire Alfred longed to make some changes, to usher in a new era.

Alfred made his way towards Andy, who, painstakingly, followed the plough behind the two Suffolk Punch mares. Large veins protruded from his lower arms. The Suffolk Punch mares, due to their lower stature, were Andy's preferred breed for the plough.

'Andy,' Squire began.'Time to increase the farm output. Begin a new lease of life for the Manor'.

Andy tipped his peaked cap deferentially and wiped beads of sweat from his ageing brow.

'Squire', he began,' that's as may be, but it is time for a younger man to take the reins at Briarly. Doc's orders, says I need to take it handy now I'm past my seventy ninth birthday. Have to reduce my working hours'.

Squire Alfred had never really thought of Andy as old. He had known Andy for what seemed like forever. He was his late father's right hand man.


Alfred, nevertheless, felt disconcerted. He didn't want to lose Andy. Yet looking at his frail silhouette and the sweat trickling down his brow, a new farmhand would soon be needed.

'New ideas, Squire, Briarly needs new ideas', Andy continued.

Alfred knew change was in the air at Briarly. How it was going to be effected was another matter. He bent down and taking a fistful of the newly turned soil, he held it close to his nostrils.
'Andy,' he said 'get a whiff of that, invigorating and filled with promise. Mother Earth has not forsaken us, she is as vibrant and life generating as ever. We just need to treat her right'.


Andy paid little attention, preoccupied as he was to ensure Briarly would find a good farmer to look after her.

'Heard about a man in his forties, new to the area, who is eagerly looking for farm work. Name's Reginald, helps out at the local pub, washing glasses and setting fires and the like. But wants something in the outdoors', Andy continued.

Now that he had the Squire's ear, Andy warmed to his topic. 'Squire, shall I tell him come and see you ?'

'Andy, as soon as you can, bring Reginald to the Manor for a chat. And be alert for any other farm hands available in the area', Squire added.

Squire Alfred trundled back towards Briarly Hall, taking in the beauty of his surroundings, acknowledging how lucky he was to be the Squire of these historical acres.

Yet doubts began to surface at the outer reaches of his mind, as he contemplated what the future might now hold.

Lady Betsy was taking her afternoon walk among the sprouting Willow trees. She loved to stroll along the Willow Walk, with the perambulator, under the gently swaying branches, when their children were younger.

Alfred called out to her. 'Dearest Betsy, I'll stroll a little way with you, if you are in the mood for some company'.

Betsey knew that requests like this from her husband usually meant issues had arisen about the Manor and Albert wanted to give them an airing.

Securing the collar on their family Wolfhound,'Speckles,' Alfred soon caught up with her.

'Andy is slowing down, my dear and now has to take life easier, on doctor's orders'. Alfred began.

'Yes,' Betsey added, 'I noticed how difficult it has been for him all winter, making his way at first light to the outlying farm. Chilled to the bone on a few occasions, a shot of brandy helped to see him through the day.'

'Been our rock all these years,' Alfred continued.' Intend to hold on to him though, for his expertise and dedication'.

'We'll have to formulate a plan for Briarly, in the event our children are without issue,' Betsey continued.

Finally Betsey had found a way to raise the matter of heirs for Briarly Hall. She quietly breathed a sigh of relief.

Gently slipping her arm into Alfreds, the couple strolled purposefully towards their uncertain destiny.

Author Notes

Image courtesy of Google Images

Chapter 12
A visitor

By zanya

The April morning dawned sunny with a distinct hint of warmth. Squire Alfred laced up his riding boots. Daxon, his favourite stallion would need a good workout this morning, since he had recovered from his fractured hock. As equerry Harry led Daxon from the stables, he still had the remnants of a limp.

How his son, Lord Airdale loved Daxon, when he first started riding at 17 or 18 years old. Airdale was not keen on horse flesh at first, yet, became quite the horseman when he mastered the art.
If Airdale were here we could canter across the moors like we used to do, Alfred mused to himself. A feeling of sadness pervaded his soul. He hadn't noticed equerry Harry approaching.

'Squire', Harry began, Daxon is up for it today. The hock may be a little tender yet'.

Squire made no response.

'Squire,Sir, are you well today,?' Harry enquired.

Squire Alfred , caught up in his reverie, took a while to respond.

'Quite well, equerry,' he replied, 'and waiting to feel the warm air of April on my countenance'.

Lady Betsey sat in the needlework room, busy with her embroidery. Raised voices caught her attention. Looking up from her needlework, she saw her husband canter off into the distance on Daxon.

Settling back into her comfortable armchair, she concentrated on her needlepoint.

Briarly Hall, she thought to herself, was filled with silence. Only the occasional sound of the servants' voices from downstairs disturbed the  stillness.

She remembered vividly, how different it was, when she visited her friend, Lady Lucas, in Scotland, just before Hogamanay. The pitter patter of tiny feet of Lady Lucas's grandchildren and their peals of laughter from the nursery, brought life to the ancient walls. Would similar sounds ever resound within Briarly's walls, she wondered.

The morning wore on.

Lady Betsey heard the crunch of carriage wheels drawing up on the  cobblestones.
She heard the clang of the bells of the entrance door. There was an urgency to the sound.

Next came the scrunch of  the Butler's leather shoes, walking urgently towards the door.

The hinges of the great door creaked as it was  opened. Soon muffled voices were heard. 

Lady Betsey deciphered  a female voice speaking in  a foreign accent.
'I am Lady Letexia, I can speak to Lady Betsey?'

Just then the butler burst unceremoniously into the needlework room.

'Lady Betsey, apologies for my hasty entrance, but there is a foreign lady at the main door requesting to speak to you. Shall I inform her that you are indisposed? She is quite insistent'.

Lady Betsey's  eyes widened as she wrapped her shawl around her shoulders and prepared to meet the visitor.

The young woman, Lady Letexia, was of sallow complexion and slim build. She held a child of about ten months in her arms.

Her young companion was unable to communicate in english but waited protectively by Lady Letexia's side.

Lady Betsey's  gaze fell on the baby with its dark hair and olive skin swaddled in its layette.

Before she had time to reflect on the best possible action, Lady Betsey felt compelled to invite the two young women and the baby into the morning room.

'Senora,' Lady Letexia began. ' Sorry to arrive without letter first. But my business is urgent.'

Lady Betsey stiffened visibly at the sight of the slim young woman and her infant. Clearly she was of aristocratic origin, both by her demeanour and her dress.

'Shall I call  the butler to serve tea in the morning room?,' Lady Betsey asked.
'Tea, Senora..caffe also? Acqua for the baby ?'.

Lady Betsey noticed how slim the young woman was. Her beautifully crafted, bottle green, great coat hung around her small body. Her wrists, portruding from her fox fur muffler appeared small and fragile.

Her young female chaperone smiled politely, keeping a watchful eye on the infant, still sleeping peacefully.
'We return to Italy soon.not much time...' Letexia began.

Lady Betsey demonstrated patience and forbearance with the young women in front of her, who seemed to be sharing a secret burden.

'Senora,' Letexia continued,' he has your eyes, you see when he wake'.

Lady Betsey moved uncomfortably around the room. 

'I am sure he is a beautiful baby, Letexia,' Lady Betsey continued.

'Si Senora,' Letexia continued,' we... return to Italy, Milan tonight'.

The two young women stood up, wrapping their coats around them. Letexia's cough was worsening. Her young chaperone reached for a phial of liquid in her pocket, handed it to Letexia who broke it open and drank in one draught.

'Please', Lady Betsey continued, 'lie down on the chaise longue ..you will feel better'.
Letexia wrapped the baby comfortably in his swaddling clothes and handed him to Lady Betsey.

'Please, Lady Betsey ',.. Letexia said,' take good care of Giovanni, ..his father Lord Airdale......be good Nonna to him..he is my treasure..I am ill...dying.'

'Please..please Letexia , you are welcome to stay here ..we can help you..'

Letexia's companion guided her mistress to the waiting coach.  With a deft crack of his whip the coachman urged the horses forward. Soon they  disappeared  from view.

Lady Betsey stood dumbfounded in the morning room, holding a sleeping infant. Within minutes the infant had woken up and was wailing  loudly.

Butler Eames rushed into the morning room and was beside himself when he saw the crying infant.

'Lady Betsey..maa'm,' he began, 'shall I call Mrs Goodwood to assist you, after all she has years of experience as nurse here at Briarly.'

Lady Betsey was unaware of the butler's presence as she cooed and soothed the infant back to sleep. She moved to the chaise longue and positioned herself carefully beside the window where rays of sunlight streamed through the window pane, illuminating the infant's tear-stained face.

Butler Eames watched the scene unfold from the door of the morning room and was entirely bewildered.


 

Author Notes

Nonna: Grandmother (Italian) Image courtesy of Google Images

Chapter 13
Mrs Goodwood

By zanya

Lady Betsey crooned softly to the infant, as she was wont to do, in years gone by with her own children.
The baby 's cries lessened . Tears dried on its infant cheek. Two dark brown, chestnut eyes looked up at Lady Betsey.

There was a knock on the door. Lady Betsey opened it.

'Ma'm, it's Mrs Goodwood. Butler Eames called to my home in the village, just now, asking me to come urgently to Briarly. What good news Ma'am .. an heir born at Briarly? Now my Lady , you and the Squire need worry no more..there's been no talk in the village yet about the Briarly heir...but the good news will soon get around'.

Mrs Goodwood caught sight of Lady Betsey, gazing fixedly into the eyes of the infant.
'Why Lady Letexia said he has my eyes...', Lady Betsey continued as if talking to no one in particular.

Mrs Goodwood entered the room cautiously, confounded by the sight of Lady Betsey, who seemed totally absorbed in the tiny infant.
She gave a gentle cough to attract Betsey's attention.

'Mrs Goodwood,' Lady Betsey began,' see to it that the nursery is reopened today. Go to draper Smith in the village and order a complete set of baby bedding and clothing of the best quality'.

'But Ma'am,' Mrs Goodwood replied, 'It's been twenty years since I set foot in the drapers'.

'Mrs Goodwood', Lady Betsey continued, 'Carry out my instructions to the letter..see that all matters are sorted before the Squire returns in the afternoon'.

'Very well, Lady Betsey,' Mrs Goodwood replied, wrapping her shawl around her to protect against the late Spring chill.

'I shall go downstairs and have a word with Eames'.

Butler Eames was busy overseeing lunch preparation at Briarly.

'Butler', Mrs Goodwood began, 'does anyone know what is goin on around here..is this child a waif ..a foundling ? We needs to be careful ...is he of the blood of the household?'.

Eames was abashed, reminding her, 'Mrs Goodwood, you must follow the mistress's instructions'.

He leaned a little closer and whispered in her ear,' Mrs Goodwood, am I glad to see you, things are a little crazy here this morning..what with foreigners arriving at the door dropping babies and you returning to work at Briarly..it's almost like the old days'. The Butler chuckled.

Mrs Goodwood began to feel a little more at ease.
Donning her feathered, bottle green hat, she lifted the latch downstairs and turned the corner into the street in the direction of the drapers'.
It was market day and villagers were setting up their stalls. A strong smell of cheese wafted in the breeze. Piglets squealed noisily in their makeshift pens.

Mrs Goodwood had a spring in her step. How she used to love to walk to the village along the cobblestones especially as Spring returned. Her late husband Harold's long illness meant she had to leave Briarly to care for him.

The draper's door was already open and she could see the baby layettes from the door way. Smiths name was still over the door. Two young seamstresses, one with a long blond braid down her back, sat busily sewing by the shop window.

A pang of regret sprung up in her bosom at not having children of her own and the joy of grandchildren.

Mulling over how she might explain her return to Briarly, she hesitated for a moment before entering the shop. Not recognising the shopkeeper , she felt more at ease.

'Morning Ma'm ', the shopkeeper began,' looking for something for your grandchild'.
Ehm...'Yes sir, 'Mrs Goodwood, answered. 'Bedding and a layette of the best quality.. for a baby less than a year old, at Briarly Hall'.

The shopkeeper placed a ladder against the tiered shelves. 'I'm George Johnson, by the way', he added as he carefully climbed upwards. 'Took over the shop a decade ago from my elderly Uncle.Took a while to gain the confidence of the customers. My only daughter has a baby just under a year old.
An heir for Briarly at last, you say...why the Squire will be well pleased,' Mr Johnson continued. 'Used to be a story doing the rounds about the curse of Briarly Hall when I was a lad.
Only the best for Briarly..Ma'am..why Briarly used to be one of our best customers..it will be a delight to renew our connection with the Squire'.

Unusually for Mrs Goodwood she was now short of words.
'What name have they chosen for the heir, Ma'm ...is it Albert after the old man himself?' George enquired.

'Can't say as I can tell..don't think they have chosen a name yet...'Mrs Goodwood continued.
'Maybe something a bit different...',Mrs Goodwood said ..'Maybe a nice foreign sounding name like Giova..,' she remembered hearing Lady Betsey cooing and singing to the infant while saying something like Giova.

'Foreigners at Briarly Hall...never....why the old Squire has no time for foreigners..remember that time when a few Scots, hardly call them foreigners, attempted to purchase part of the estate at Briarly and Squire got his parliamentary pals to wield the veto,' George added.

'Can't say as I do '..Mrs Goodwood replied ..'been out of the place myself these twenty years ..don't know what's goin on,' Mrs Goodwood replied.

'Twenty years Ma'm ..and you going back to resume your duties to the new heir..must be urgent..did nobody know this heir was on his way?'
Mrs Goodwood longed to probe the rumours a little further but realised her loyalty to her erstwhile employer. Carrying her brown paper package, tied with a blue ribbon, she hurried out of the shop.

By the time she returned to Briarly, Eames had found the large iron,rusty key and reopened the door of the nursery.
Cobwebs hung from the ceiling, shimmering in the midday sun. The sheets on the perambulator were yellowed with age. A musty scent hung in the air.
Mrs Goodwood removed her shawl, rolled up her sleeves, made her way downstairs to find the duster.

Opening the long, latticed windows of the nursery, air began to circulate. A wooden baby rattle lay beneath the window. Lord Airdale, Mrs Goodwood mused to herself...Lord Airdale loved to play with the wooden rattle. Perhaps the new heir will like it too.
An old abacus lay on a shelf covered with a layer of dust.
Mrs Goodwood had little time to ponder. She heard Lady Betsey 's hurried step in the hallway coupled with the sound of a baby gurgling.

Lady Betsey continued to cradle the child in her arms.
'Mrs Goodwood ,' she began,'You must hurry, the baby needs to sleep. We don't know how long he has been travelling from Milan, perhaps all night'.
Mrs Goodwood suspicions grew. But knowing the rules in Briarly Hall, she knew not to ask questions but rather to wait and let events unfold.

'Mrs Goodwood, call the butler and have him place a warm bedpan in the cot for Giovanni'.
She did as she was told. However it was clear Eames knew as little as she did herself.

'Why Mrs Goodwood', Eames began ,'for whom...Giovanni...who is Giovanni..and when is he due to arrive at Briarly?'
Knowing Lady Betsey was within earshot, Mrs Goodwin replied,'why it's the new heir at Briarly, he's here already'.

'No more talk of heirs at Briarly,' Lady Betsey interrupted,' Briarly is now blessed with a true heir..however we must keep it as a surprise for the Squire ..for the moment'.

The Butler and Mrs Goodwood exchanged curious glances, since the Squire was traditionally always the first to be informed.
Lady Betsey entered the nursery cradling Giovanni.

'Now Lady Betsey,' Mrs Goodwood,'said, ' I shall look after Giovanna for the afternoon while you have tea with Lady Lucas. Butler informs me that Lady Lucas is expected this morning from Scotland'.

Lady Betsey's face fell, having forgotten her appointment with Lady Lucas.
'Mrs Goodwood,' Lady Betsey began,' Lady Lucas is not due till three. Can you bring Giovanni in the perambulator along the laurel walk while Lady Lucas is here. Squire has a meeting at the bank and will not be home till later'.

'Why of course, My Lady,' Mrs Goodwood replied.
'Giovanna and I will go the long way around and I will show him where the robins always nest in Springtime'.
'Mrs Goodwood', Lady Betsey replied sharply,' Giovanni, not Giovanna.
Briarly has a male heir'.
 

Author Notes

Image from Google images

Chapter 14
Briarly Bloodline

By zanya

Next morning Lady Betsey arrived early at the nursery. The door was already ajar and Mrs Goodwood crooned softly to the infant.

'Yesterday, Lady Lucas was very curious as to the circumstances of our new arrival, Mrs Goodwood. However, I lied, just a little ..' Lady Lucas continued,  'till I speak with the Squire on his return from his European travel.'

Before Mrs Goodwood could respond, Butler Eames arrived with a letter for Lady Betsey.
'Ma'am , a missive from the Squire,' Eames said.

Lady Betsey was ill at ease. She removed the seal and read the contents.

My dearest Betsey,
Circumstances prevent my  return to Briarly for at least a few more weeks.
I shall be in touch with you very soon.
Sincerely yours
Squire

Lady Betsey felt alone now . Giovanni must receive the best possible care in the meantime.

The clip-clop of horses hooves could be heard at the entrance to Briary.
'Who the devil is that?', Butler Eames muttered,,'so early in the morning'.

Opening the large bronze front door of Briarly, Lady Mathilde stood waiting.

'Morning Eames,' Mathilde began,' see to it that the carriage is ready to take me to London for four o'clock. Now that we have got the vote there is a lot of work to be done. Campaigning for the suffrage all those years was one thing, but now that we have it officially, legal matters must be set in train'.

Lady Betsey overheard the conversation and hastened to greet Mathilde.

'Darling Mathilde, how good to see you'.
Noticing how pale Mathilde looked, Lady Betsey was cautious.
'I take it you are well Mathilde', Betsey began,'after all it was a long and bitter campaign'.

Just then a loud baby wail was heard coming from the nursery.
'Have you got Lady Lucas visiting again, mama with her offspring?' Lady Mathilde enquired nonchalantly.

Lady Betsey felt a sense of relief , not having to think of an excuse.
'How long will Lady Lucas be staying.. I may need to return to Briarly soon to work on legal papers,' Lady Mathilde said.

Relieved of having to furnish further explanations , Lady Betsey answered haphazardly,' who knows with Lady Lucas , my dear?'.

Walking to and fro from the nursery Mrs Goodwood overheard the womens' conversation.
She hurried past, accidentally dropping the baby's blue bonnet.

Lady Mathilde bent to pick it up.
'Why Mrs Goodwood, haven't seen you since my childhood, are Lady Lucas's grandchildren planning on taking up residence at Briarly? 
She looked closely at the blue embroidered bonnet.

Puzzled , she enquired, 'Does Lady Lucas have a new male heir, I understood the last grandchild was a girl named Lady Victoria?'

Not wishing to lie to Lady Mathilde, Mrs Goodwood was about to reply when Lady Betsey interrupted,' yes..yes..indeed ..but the new arrival is a little male heir ..Giovanni'.

'Giovanni,' Mathilde continued ,'why that is a name of Italian origin ..what British subject would wish to name their family heir after some italian count..? Just think how that might be frowned upon in Norfolk  in years to come.'

Mrs Goodwood noticed how Lady Betsey blushed a little.

'Darling Mathilde' she began'how nice to have you home ..will you be staying with us for long?'

'Why Mama, you were always happy just to see me when I arrived..why are you so concerned this time about my date of departure?'

Just then the carriage arrived at Briarly's entrance hall. Butler Eames assisted Mathilde with her suitcases. Embracing her mother, Lady Betsey , she assured her she would return soon.

Mrs Goodwood was within earshot.

'Lady Betsey,' she began ' time to tell the story about little Giovanni..no need to hide his origins ma'am..why you couldn't even tell your own flesh and blood'.

The two women had known and trusted each other for many years at Briarly Hall.

After the initial joy at Giovanni's sudden arrival, Lady Betsey began to feel less sure about the future.
'What shall I say , Mrs Goodwood?' Lady Betsey said with a sigh.

Mrs Goodwood secretly longed to be in Lady Betsey's position, holding her grandchild in her arms.

'Why, you must tell the truth, my Lady?'.

Mrs Goodwood didn't really know what the truth was but was eager to find out.

'When the Squire returns we shall tell the truth together,' Lady Betsey continued.

'And what is that then, the truth?' Mrs Goodwood pressed on ,' who is this baby..is he of the blood of Briarly?'

Lady Betsey cupped her face in her hands and whimpered a little.

'We will have to find out', Lady Betsey murmured.





 

Author Notes

Thanks to Google Images for 'Heir'

Chapter 15
New Horizons

By zanya

Mrs Goodwood quickened her step as she made her way towards Briarly Hall. Scent from the hawthorn hedgerows wafted on the early morning breeze. An azure blue sky above, gave promise of an early Summer's day. Glancing towards the fields that lay on the northern end of the estate, she noticed less tillage at Briarly.

'Morning Mrs Goodwood,' Butler Eames called from the Orangerie where head gardener, Robert Sikes, was examining the lemon trees for signs of mildew.

Butler Eames hurried to meet Mrs Goodwood.

' A fine english summer morning , Mrs Goodwood ,' he began.

'Yes , indeed , Butler Eames, are we not blessed to live in England on days like this?,' Mrs Goodwood replied.

'Yes, yes, ' Eames continued.

' Mrs Goodwood, since I have an afternoon free today, would you care to walk with me to the village.  We can have afternoon tea at the 'Olde England tea shoppe? Their scones and spring marmalade are excellent, I am told'.

Having lived alone for many years, since her beloved husband 's death, Mrs Goodwood often longed for company.

'A-h-h, why yes Butler Eames, I shall be finished with little Giovann, bless him , by four o'clock today.'

'That's settled then, Mrs Goodwood, I look forward to your company for a couple of hours. We shall meet at the back gate by the stables'.

Mrs Goodwood hurried to the nursery where Giovanni slept peacefully. Gazing fixedly into his crib at his olive skin and tiny thumb, which he sucked intermittently, she began to hope that he would always be at Briarly.

Lady Betsey , she feared, would be inconsolable if Giovann had one day to return to Italy or some far off land.

She passed Lady Betsey in the study, as she made her way to the kitchen, to prepare lunch for Giovanni.

'Good day, Mrs Goodwood,' Lady Betsey called out.

''I shall be perambulating with Giovanni in the afternoon, to visit Dowager Spencer . She is not at all well and has requested my presence. I shall not linger long, since Giovanni will require his evening nap.'

'Eh..eh...what do you plan on saying about Giovann to the Dowager...?.'Mrs Goodwood asked nervously.

'Oh,' Lady Betsey replied,' the Dowager will not be concerned...in fact she has wished for an heir for her residence in Granby Hall for many a long year. Tragically, both her Brigadier husband , Lionel and twenty-one year old son, Jacob, were both killed in the war. She will be happy to see that Briarly has not suffered that  terrible fate'.

Mrs Goodwood was happy to see Lady Betsey becoming more at ease with Giovanni.

'You may leave early today, Mrs Goodwood, if you wish,' Lady Betsey continued.

Mrs Goodwood felt a frisson of excitement.

'Yes, yes , thank you, Lady Betsey, thank you,' Mrs Goodwood replied.

'That means I will have time to put on my favourite red lipstick before I go out,' Mrs Goodwood blurted out.

'Your favourite red lipstick,' Lady Betsey laughed ,'why Mrs Goodwood, do you have a secret rendez-vous? Pray do tell..'

But Mrs Goodwood felt a little uncomfortable, not having intended to share news of her tea date. After all Butler Eames and herself were just old friends. No need for a girl's heart to start fluttering at the prospect.

Giovanni's wails from the nursery startled Mrs Goodwood out of her reverie.

'There, there, Giovann,' she began, ' nurse is here'.

'It's Giovanni,' Mrs Goodwood,' Lady Betsey called from the study door.

Mrs Goodwood's face reddened a little with embarrassment .

'Yes Ma'am,' she called, as she held Giovanni, crooning softly to him.
He smiled and giggled with delight.

Clouds began to gather and the sky darkened a little. Lady Betsey set off through the gates of Briarly with the ancient perambulator, its steel edgings glinting, in what was left of the afternoon sun.

Giovanni pointed excitedly at two large white swans that rested on the bank of the little river, Thate, that meandered peacefully through Briarly's century's old grounds.

Mrs Goodwood whipped off her white bonnet and apron, hung them hastily in the servants' quarters and walked purposefully through the gates.

Butler Eames, making his way down the marble stair case, spotted Mrs Goodwood hastily leaving the premises and wondered about their afternoon rendez-vous.

Eames lingered midway on the staircase. What if...oh no..perhaps she doesn't trust me..she may not know my beloved wife passed away ten years ago, he mused to himself.
He felt nervous and unsure.

Bewildered, he continued on.

'Be careful with those damn cut glasses ', Eames shouted angrily at young Henry, who had recently arrived to apprentice in Briarly.

''Yes Sir, I will Sir, I promise Sir', Henry replied as the tray slipped from his nervous fingers and crashed in smitheerens onto the marble floor.

'Drat, young man,'Eames continued,' fetch a brush and dust scoop from the kitchen and clean up the mess. That will be a shilling from your wages'.

Henry was overcome with shame. Only a few weeks at Briarly and already he had to pay for his careless mistakes.

As the clock struck four in the servants' quarters, Eames glanced at himself in the mirror.

M-m-m, he thought to himself, my jaw's still well set despite the passage of time.

Young Henry walked past purposefully.

'Henry', Eames called out abruptly, 'still got a good set to my jaw, don't you think..for a man of my vintage..still got a chance with the ladies ...eh ?'

Henry fiddled nervously with the empty tray he was carrying.

Had Eames taken leave of his senses, Henry wondered.

Henry helped Eames with his mackintosh. Eames donned his tweed cap. Catching sight of Mrs Goodwood by the back gate, he  hastened to escort her  to the tea shoppe.
Henry, gave a sigh of relief on hearing the iron gate slam shut.
 

Author Notes

Image from Google Images

Chapter 16
Will &Testament

By zanya

Lady Betsey pushed Giovanni's perambulator carefully, over the rough stones. Giovanni gurgled and cooed.

Soon they turned the corner into Dowager Spencer's courtyard at Mansfort Manor.
All seemed quiet. Two tan colored Corgis lay sleeping in the afternoon sun.


As soon as Lady Betsey rang the bell, Butler Haines answered the door. Elderly now, Haines had served at Mansfort for many a long year.

'Good afternoon, Lady Betsey,' Haines said.

'The Dowager is expecting you. Do you wish to leave your grandson's perambulator in the hallway? ' he enquired.

Lady Betsey took some time to compose herself. She loved the sound of the word'grandson', but could not as yet officially lay claim to such a status.

'Why no, Giovanni is happy to remain in the perambulator', she replied.

Haines showed Lady Betsey and Giovanni into the drawing room.

Dowager Spencer sat by her bureau reading letters.

The two women embraced fondly.

'Lady Betsey', Dowager Spencer began, 'why you are blessed by the heavens in the arrival of your first grandson. How sweet a child, he is. Yet he is dark of skin tone.'

'Yes, yes,' Lady Betsey continued, ' he is such a sweet child'.

'Dearest Lady Betsey,' the Dowager continued, ' we have been friends for a long time. I have some decisions to make about Mansfort. I shall soon be celebrating my three score and ten years. The future of Mansfort has not yet been determined. Having no living issue, since both my husband and I were only children, and our only son killed in war, I must decide to whom I wish to bequeath the estate.
My late husband's solicitor has made an appointment for me to meet him in his chambers in London next month to determine the matter.

How lucky you are Betsey to be blessed with a male grandson to continue the blue blood line of Briarly Hall'.

Lady Betsey shifted nervously. Giovanni had fallen asleep in his perambulator.

'Ah, but Dowager,' Lady Betsey continued,' Giovanni is but an infant. Who knows what he may decide. He may not wish to live as a blue blood.

The old mores are changing fast, are they not?'

Butler Haines strode purposefully through the morning room, puffing up some cushions on the chaise longue.

'Ladies,' Butler Haines interrupted,' If I may be so bold. I could not help but hear your conversation earlier about Mansfort's future. I am reliably informed that some Manor Houses in the area have already pulled down their shutters.The war is taking a terrible toll on England's heritage.

Some Lords and Ladies are inviting in offspring of dubious origin to attempt to continue the line'.

'Yes, yes', Lady Betsey replied. ' Do you think that is a good idea to ensure continuity of the blood line?'.

'Good Heavens, no', Haines interjected.

'English blue blood is english blue blood', Haines continued.

Dowager Spencer seemed irritated.

'Haines, prepare afternoon tea for my guest and I a little earlier today. Lady Betsey and her grandson must return home soon.' Dowager Spencer ordered.

'At your service, ma'am, ' Haines replied.

Turning to Lady Betsey who was crooning quietly to Giovanni, Dowager Spencer continued.

'Haines is such a blue blood enthusiast,' she began 'quite frankly, times are indeed changing and we must change too or fade away'.

'And how do you recommend we change with the times,' Lady Betsey enthused.

'Hard to say as yet, but we must begin to consider the distinct possibility that the Manors of middle England may soon have to bow to the inevitable. Blue bloodery, if I may dare to call it that, has been greatly diluted by the ravages of war. Where do we go from here is the question?. Allow the peasants to take control or find some other appropriate solution?'

'Or hope against hope our offspring have scattered enough of their blue blood seed on some foreign shore, that will sooner or later come to fruition.' Lady Betsey proffered, now warming to her subject.

'Is that how Giovanni came to be?' Dowager Spencer asked.

'Eh..m-m- well,' Lady Betsey reddened, as she searched for an appropriate answer.

'Who really knows, at any rate, he is my son's heir,' Lady Betsey replied.

Dowager Spencer's face broke into a gentle smile.

'Perhaps,'she continued, 'I can bequeath Mansfort to Giovanni. Since our Manor Houses have stood side by side through all these centuries,it would be appropriate. However, I would need proof of blue blood and the Briarly Hall blood line'.

Lady Betsey was dumbfounded.

'Ah, but Dowager,' Betsey continued, 'perhaps you have some distant relative of your own or your late husband who would wish to inherit?.'

'No', Lady Betsey,'not at all, why do you think I have requested your presence here today, under the pretext of ill health. As you can see I am in fine health. But having heard rumours of a Briarly heir, it seemed like the possibility of an answer to my dilemma'.

Lady Betsey was at sixes and sevens. After all Squire, who was abroad, was not yet aware of the new Briarly heir and the news was already spreading through the neighbourhood.

Lady Betsey arose abruptly from her seat.

''We must go, Giovanni and I', she began.

'Yes, Lady Betsey, so good to see you. Now I feel Mansfort will be safe for future generations, when Giovanni inherits. Lady Betsey, I shall send you the papers to sign when we have established lineage'.

Lady Betsey tied Giovanni's bonnet beneath his baby chin.

Dowager Spencer leaned into the perambulator.

'Giovanni, my darling,' she said, 'soon you may be our frequent visitor'.

Lady Betsey remained composed throughout.

As soon as she rejoined the country lane taking her back to Briarly, she stopped for a moment and gazed at Giovanni.

'My precious Giovanni', she began, 'Who are you, really?'.


 

Author Notes

Image courtesy of Google Images Thanks in advance for your time if you have chosen to read this chapter !

Chapter 17
The italian letter

By zanya

By  1923 the shadow of war had begun to recede.  A  royal  wedding helped to  raise the  nation's spirits,when  Prince Albert , Duke of York  took  Lady Elizabeth Bowes-Lyon as his bride.

The environs of Briarly Hall resounded to the laughter and squeals  of five year old, Giovanni, as he cantered on his favourite pony, 'Giorgio'.
 This May morning, his tutor, Mr Sanders, arrived on his wobbly  bicycle for Giovanni's  lesson. HIs dog-eared, italian grammar book fell onto the path as he dismounted. Some loose pages were lifted by the breeze and landed beside the Orangerie.
"Good grief", Mr Sanders muttered. Lady Betsey will be disappointed. Today was to be Giovanni's first italian lesson.
 
Mr Silkes was hard at work in the Orangerie,  tending the spring shoots. He picked up the loose pages.
"Looks like Italian, eh", he declared to no one in particular.

"Mamma mia! Expecting some italian visitors  to Briarly, Squire?" Silkes called out as Alfred returned from his canter.
"Young lad learning Italian, then, why so..ain't the King's  English good enough for your grandson?"

Squire walked briskly on.
"World is changing Silkes," Squire retorted sharply. " War is over..need to get to know our neighbours better".

Squire Alfred delighted in Giovanni's emerging horsemanship.

Lady Betsey watched closely from the window of the morning room.
Squire Alfred looked like a man with a new lease of life.
Though still unsure of his origins. Squire Alfred had begun to accept Giovanni's presence at Briarly Hall.

Only occasionally now would he remind Betsey of their dilemma.

"What if, Lady Betsey, his father, should appear and demand his return"?
By now Lady Betsey had come to terms with uncertainty.
" Alfred, darling", she reassured him, "paternity is above all other rights".

Despite ongoing swirling rumours and whispers, Giovanni's childhood at Briarly was filled with joy.

Lady Betsey guarded the sealed envelope, that fell from Giovanni's blanket, on that first day at Briarly, five years earlier.
Having locked it safely away in her secret drawer, she attached the tiny key,  to her silver bracelet.

Now that Giovanni was growing up, it was time to find out more.

 Perhaps, she thought, it would be preferable to allow the status quo to continue. Yet responsibility was hers, since she was the only member of the household, aware  of the letter. That afternoon, Betsey retreated to her bureau to open the missive.

Breaking the red seal on the envelope, she carefully removed the letter.
Inside lay two tiny photos, of Letexia and one of Betsey's son, Lord Airdale.
Lady Betsey gasped audibly.
Could this be proof of parentage ?

An italian address was scribbled on the letter. It was barely legible.
Milan, however, was clearly written  at the bottom.
Lady Betsey had difficulty deciphering the lettering, having no knowledge of the italian language.

Just then she remembered that her neighbour, Dowager Spencer, had spent a good deal of time in Italy, as a young woman. Dowager Spencer had clearly indicated to Lady Betsey, on many previous occasions, that she had no great difficulty with bastards.  Nevertheless,she was still not willing to sign over Mansfort Manor to a bastard.

Lady Betsey considered it worth the gamble. After all there were not many people in the neighbourhood who had a knowledge of italian. The Dowager was one of an elite few.

Lady Betsey felt a frisson of excitement at the possibility of discovering  Giovanni's origins.

 

Author Notes

Image from Google Images Thanks in advance if you found time to read this chapter

Chapter 18
A-wooing !

By zanya

Lady Betsey watched   Giovanni play with the wooden abacus. Morning dawned with an autumnal chill. Mrs Goodwood bustled through the nursery door. Giovanni ran to meet her.

As Lady Betsey sat at the breakfast table, Butler Eames placed a letter next to the silver teapot of Earl Grey.

Opening it, she recognised her daughter Mathilde's distinctive  handwriting.
From darling Mathilde, she thought.

Lady Betsey perused every word carefully.

September 16 1923
My Dearest Mama,

I hope this finds you well.
Life is busy here in London, working  for the Suffragette sisters. What an achievement for the Sisterhood! Generations of women to come will reap the harvest of our endeavours. 
Despite winning the franchise, there remains legal hurdles  to surmount in order  to  establish rights.

Enough of that Mama.

On a personal note, Marquis Gregoire and I are officially bethrothed and will quietly celebrate our nuptials on September 26.  We agreed a brief period of courtship, exchanging kisses and caresses during our love idyll. Marquis Gregoire has won my heart forever. He is truly adept in the art of wooing!
Our wedding banns have now  been posted. 

As we are  in early middle age, Gregoire being forty and me being thirty -five, we will marry in a simple Church service. Our local vicar, Dr Westwood, will pronounce us man and wife. 

A Suffragette sister, Elspeth, is to be my witness and Gregoire's elder brother, James, will be his witness.

I trust, darling Mama, the sound of wedding bells  will be  music for your motherly ears!

Gregoire's papa, Lord Charlois, is not so keen on an activist, or rather anarchist  daughter -in-law, as he sometimes terms it!

Gregoire, on the other hand, believes times are  changing and feminine power is in the ascendant. He dares to hope Britain may have a woman Prime Minister one day. A trifle far fetched perhaps !

Would you like to be present in London for our nuptials, Mama, in ten days time?

Perhaps you will advise Papa, in France, of our impending union ?

I hope and pray to be with child soon. Gregoire is longing for fatherhood and looking forward to playing his part in bringing it about. How naughty of me Mama !

HIs older brother, James, is father to a daughter, Beatrice, thereby creating succession problems for the estate. Damned English succession law. Is this another one for the Sisterhood to fight ?

I had hoped, Papa, following all his years as an influential Parlementarian, would have spearheaded that change.

Mama, is Giovanni still in residence at Briarly ? Surely not?
Mama, how I long to have you with us to witness our union in matrimony.

Be sure to wear your  indigo ensemble  and your green hat with the peacock's feather.

With all my love Mama.
Your loving daughter
Mathilde.


Lady Betsey read and reread the contents, hardly daring to believe it, 'nuptials', 'pray to be with child'.
She hurried from the breakfast room, to her boudoir, to find the hat with the peacock's feather.




.

Author Notes

Image from Google Images Sincere thanks, in advance, if you took time to read this chapter.

Chapter 19
Giovanni

By zanya

Giovanni tumbled with delight, amid the early falling leaves of September. His new, green knickerbockers ensured warmth as the chills of Autumn began. His laughter and squeals of delight filled the afternoon air.
Mrs Goodwood kept a watchful eye from beneath the line of birch trees.
Blue blood or no blue blood, Mrs Goodwood mused to herself, Giovanni, is bringing life back to Briarly.

Butler Eames could be seen hurrying from the stables.
"Butler Eames", Mrs Goodwood called out, "what on earth is the matter, you appear to be  flustered? Not even as much as a 'Good afternoon' ?
How we both enjoyed our afternoon tea at the 'Tea Shoppe' a few weeks ago, did we not? Perhaps we can share another pot of tea soon"?

A hint of a smile broke out on Butler Eames face.
"Ah yes, indeed , Mrs Goodwood", Eames replied, " that would give me the greatest pleasure.
First, though, I must attend to urgent matters in hand. The Squire will be in residence tonight, returning unexpectedly from his travels abroad. I must see to it that all is in order".

With that Butler Eames disappeared from view.

"Mrs Goodwood..please.."Giovanni called out," I've torn breeches of my new knickerbockers on the fence..will Grandma Betsey be very angry "?

Before Mrs Goodwood had time to reply, Lady Betsey arrived.

"The Squire will be in residence tonight, Mrs Goodwood. See to it that Giovanni goes early to nursery. Squire has a lot of matters to attend to and must not be disturbed", Lady Betsey instructed.

" Why, yes ma'am, " Mrs Goodwood replied, somewhat perplexed by the Squire's hasty return to Briarly.

"Mrs Goodwood", Lady Betsey continued, "I have news I wish to share. Our beloved daughter, Lady Mathilde, is to be united in holy matrimony with Marquis Gregoire on Sept 26th in London. I long to share the good tidings with Squire but am concerned by his premature return from abroad. Something is of serious concern to Squire".

"Why, Lady Betsey, what good news, holy matrimony for Lady Mathilde", Mrs Goodwood began," you and Squire may go to London together, if it is but one week away".

"I fear not, Mrs Goodwood", Lady Betsey replied, " the Squire's early return does not bode well".

Darkness fell early, on the September evening. The urgent clip-clop of hooves was heard outside Briarly Hall. The hall bell clanged loudly.

Butler Eames rushed to the entrance door.
Squire Alfred walked briskly through the great wooden door.

" Eames, advise Lady Betsey to meet me in the study by 7p.m", Squire said. " We have important matters to discuss. Giovanni's sojourn at Briarly may be short-lived".

 

Author Notes

Image from Google Images Thank you in advance if you took time to read this chapter.

Chapter 20
The Gate Lodge

By zanya

Squire Alfred sat forlorn at his oak desk in the study, his face, a deep pallor.  The pendulum of the large wooden wall clock swung back and forth.

"Dearest Alfred", Lady Betsey called to him, as she entered the study, "How wonderful to share my good news with you".

"Good news, Lady Betsey, I am certainly not, presently, the bearer of good tidings, quite the contrary, my dear".

Lady Betsey gently placed her hand over his, in a gesture of spousal affection.

" I have some joyful news, Alfred", Betsey continued.
"Our beloved, only daughter, Lady Mathilde, is to be united in matrimony with Marquis Gregoire in a few days time, in London".

Squire sat bolt upright, blurting out," Perhaps Marquis can come to Briarly's rescue..how much is the Marquis worth ..perhaps I can enquire from my old banking friend, Lord Alderly..why the solution may be not so difficult to find after all.."

Lady Betsey stood by the window, looking bewildered. She had never seen her husband,  so agitated.

Squire came out from behind the desk and began to pace the wooden floor, his leather boots making a heavy thud.

Silence descended between the couple.
Soon Alfred came to a halt .

Lady Betsey's voice rose in anger.
"Do you not, first of all, wish your daughter well, as she is about to embark on life, with her new husband?
Briarly Hall, Alfred, don't forget, is our responsibility , not that  of a newly married couple, even if one of them is our beloved Mathilde".

Alfred stood gazing through the study window.

"That's as may be, Betsey," he replied, " but Briarly is now in financial difficulty. The deaths of two of our elderly but  most profitable tenants,  last year, has resulted in a significant drop in income. We will  have to auction their vacant gate lodge, plus acreage. The estate is no longer able  to carry heavy financial burdens. Furthermore, we may not  be able to continue to raise Giovanni at Briarly, unless of course proof of bloodline is forthcoming ".

Lady Betsey listened as Squire Alfred expressed his deepest concerns about Briarly, his family seat for generations.

"How long have you known this news, Alfred"? Betsey asked.

"A few days, since my unscheduled meeting with Harold at the bank. That is why I cut my travel time short to return and discuss this serious matter with you".

"Why not sell the gate lodge with the acreage, Alfred? Many Manor Houses have to sell in these post war times.  Will finding a buyer prove  difficult ?

Lady Betsey saw her opportunity.

" Alfred, as I'm sure your're aware, Dowager Spencer, our neighbour, is encountering difficulty with succession rights, having no offspring or siblings".

" What," Alfred retorted , "neither offspring nor siblings ..why then the estate must be auctioned..sold.."

Lady Betsey hesitated for a moment, then responded,"  Dowager is considering bequeathing to a local heir..male heir of a friend".

"What the devil..Betsey..why on earth would  Dowager throw away her estate to a stranger "?

Lady Betsey decided to hold onto her secret for now.

Squire Alfred fidgeted nervously with the inkpot on his desk.

"Damn it, Betsey, where is our son, Lord Airdale, doesn't a man of middle years have a sense of responsibility ? What is to become ultimately of Giovanni ? Who will care for him if we..you and I .....should depart this life"?

Lady Betsey took Alfred's hands in her own, in a gesture of consolation.

" Damn it Betsey, I intend to find Airdale and  insure he faces up to his adult responsibilities".

" But how?"Betsey asked.
" You say Lady Laetexia said she was returning to Milan, that day five years ago when she left Giovanni at Briarly. Does Airdale know he has a son and heir ? Does he care? Perhaps he is already dead, due to his profligate lifestyle. We must face reality, Betsey. I intend to find Airdale, even if it takes me years. Giovanni is entitled to know his father, if Airdale is indeed his father. Betsey I shall have to absent myself from Lady Mathilde's nuptials. Duty calls. I must resume my travels".

A faint smile appeared on Betsey's lips as she made her way to her boudoir. Grandson Giovanni, matrimonial union for Lady Mathilde. She hastened to find the hat with the peacock's feather.



 

Author Notes

Image courtesy of Google Images Thanks in advance if you took time to read this chapter.

Chapter 21
Suffragette Nuptials

By zanya

Dorothy, Lady Betsey's lady's maid, snapped the old wooden trunk shut. Lady Betsey adjusted her red bonnet and put on her leather gloves. Though it was only late September, there was an autumnal chill in the morning air.

Butler Eames waited by Betsy's boudoir to take the trunk to the waiting carriage. Lady Betsey and Dorothy were to take a train, a day early, to London, ahead of Lady Mathilde's nuptials.

Lady Betsey gazed out of the carriage window at the approaching dawn.

"Dorothy", Betsey began," raise the carriage window shutters, so we can see the approaching autumn dawn. Briarly is a beautiful place in the early morning. I remember, my first glimpse of Briarly, as a young bride, before the world knew the horrors of war. Having been born in a small Manor House, on the Scottish Highlands, Briarly seemed vast to me".

Dorothy listened intently, since Lady Betsey rarely spoke of her origins.
As Dorothy raised the carriage shutters, streaks of orange sunlight lit up the horizon.

"Ma'am ", Dorothy began," is his Lordship attending Lady Mathilde's marriage ?"
"No, Dorothy", Betsey replied," Squire Alfred has urgent matters to attend to in foreign parts".

"Shame, Ma'am", Dorothy continued, " Mathilde, being his only daughter. Me and my late husband, Victor, longed to have a daughter , but we had two sons. One died in the war and the other lost his leg".

Lady Betsey began to doze off.

Sad n' all, Dorothy thought to herself, no husband to be with her and a bastard for a grandson. Rich folk don't seem to get life any easier than us ordinary folk.

Dorothy noticed the countless haystacks, dotted throughout the fields. A few men worked along the perimeters, with large scythes, trimming the edges.
Apple trees hung with reddish apples, while large, purple plums had fallen to the ground. Dorothy longed to open the window to get the scent in her nostrils.

A few hours later, the chimes of Big Ben could be heard .
                                                                        **********************
Sept 26th dawned overcast. Lady Betsey, rose early, careful to don her hat with the peacock feather. Nuptials were due to begin at 11a.m.

At 10a.m the carriage arrived at the Hayfort Hotel for Lady Betsey.

Arriving at the tiny church in Haysham, Lady Betsey was directed to a front pew. The interior was dark, except for two candles burning by the altar. A musky, dank smell filled the air. A small number of guests were already present. Lady Betsey was introduced to Lord Charlois, Gregoire's father.

"How nice to  meet you, Lady Betsey", he said, " your daughter, Lady Mathilde, soon to be my daughter-in-law is a feisty, young woman, ahead of her time. Perhaps with her married woman status soon, she will be obliged to disengage".

" I should think not, Lord Charlois", Lady Betsey continued, not yet sure, as to how such political engagement might be viewed by Mathilde's future in-laws.

"Is Sir Alfred in attendance also?" Lord Charlois asked, without waiting for a reply. "Lady Charlois, is confined to bed with complications of pneumonia", he said. " How Lady Charlois longed to be present for Gregoire's marriage. Why she had given up hope of Mathilde ever accepting his marriage proposal".

Pastor Westwood tuned up the organ. Marquis Gregoire entered the chapel, by a side door with his witness, his older brother James. Gregoire was dapper, in his black wedding suit, with a white carnation in his lapel.

A young organist and chorister seated themselves and soon the strains of the Bridal Chorus from Wagner's Lohengrin rang out in the little chapel.

The guests turned to look towards the Church's great wooden, entrance door to see Lady Mathilde arrive, in her bridal raiment.  Accompanied by her witness and erstwhile Suffragette sister, Elspeth, the two smiled conspiratorially. Arrayed in an ivory satin suit, with light grey cloche hat, Mathilde carried a tiny bouquet of pink autumn lilies, from which a little silver horseshoe dangled.

Pastor Westwood smiled at the bridal couple. A young pageboy took his place, behind the couple, holding a silver cushion, with two wedding rings.

The guests stood up. Pastor Westwood began the service.

"Do you Lady Esther, Alexandria, Elisabeth, Mathilde take Marquis Philip, Emmanuel, Georges, Sylvester, Gregoire to be your lawful wedded husband, to love and honour, until death do you part"?

Lady Betsey noted the absence of the word 'obey' from the service. But this was her 'feisty' daughter.

A tiny  tear, rolled down Betsey's cheek on hearing Mathilde respond with an audible 'I do'.

Outside, a small group of Suffragettes, arraigned in white, lined up by the chapel door, as the couple emerged. Lord Charlois avoided their gaze and hastened to his carriage. Rice fell everywhere around the happy couple. As Lady Mathilde climbed into the carriage, a male voice shouted loudly," what about the plebs then, the ones with no property..no vote for them ..eh"?

Mathilde turned to respond but Marquis Gregoire gently took  his new wife by the arm," Mathilde darling, not today, on our wedding day..time enough for Suffrage.."

Following the marriage service, tea was served at the nearby Gastern Hotel.

Lady Betsey hugged Mathilde warmly. "How good of you to come to London for the service, Lady Betsey", Marquis Gregoire said.

Was Briarly Hall's future now in safe hands, Lady Betsey wondered.

A biblical verse, from Betsey's old Sunday school teacher, suddenly came to mind: "Do not let your hearts be troubled.".John 14:27
Lady Betsey smiled softly, as she rejoiced in the possibility of a new beginning for Briarly.






 

Author Notes

Image from Google Images Thanks in advance if you took time to read this chapter.

Chapter 22
Sir Alfred's fears.

By zanya

"So Harry, how much money do you think it would fetch, selling a few of the best horseflesh we have here at Briarly"?

Sir Alfred stared straight at equerry Harry, expecting an immediate response.

"Can't say as I know exactly", Harry replied. "Quite a lot of quality horses coming on the market these days. My equerry mate, Edmond, down in London, says they are running out of buyers, so many horses being sold".

"But Harry", Squire continued, "a good horse is an investment".

"Not any more, Squire, farming's changing too", Harry continued." Machines are the new horses. Though the war be over, changes be only beginning".

"Squire", Harry continued." I hear tenant Williams is interested in buying the Gate Lodge".

"Williams"? Alfred retorted, surprised.

"Yes, Williams", Harry continued."Seems his son, Alistair, is well established in Bank of London and is hoping to soon be Chair".

"Really, Harry", Alfred continued, "Williams is such a dark horse. He's been around Briarly since my late father's time. Never know what he's up to".

"With all your foreign travel, Squire, s'pose you don't really have time to sense the change happening at Briarly".

"Harry", Squire continued," would you keep your ear to the ground and find out what Williams may have in mind. A little forward planning wouldn't go amiss".

"Sure, Squire, Sure", Harry replied. "Rents must be down with the recent deaths on the estate", Harry continued.

"Sure are Harry, sure are", Squire replied.

"And what's more, Lady Betsey and I are not getting any younger", Squire continued, "estate matters need to be settled, and since there are no offspring....." Squire trailed off.

"But what of young 'un, Giovanni", Harry continued," surely blue blood runs through his veins, he has Lady Betsey's eyes..must have stolen those from the family tree, eh?"

"That's as may be, Harry", Squire continued, emboldened now by the airing of the matter of inheritance," but blood must be blue, as blue as can be, preferably, Harry".

"Shouldn't be any worries on that score, Squire ", Harry continued, feeling a little uncomfortable straying into the territory of titled blood lines.

Harry never really feared for Briarly's future, thinking it was safe in the fertile loins of Lord Airdale, yet Airdale was mostly an absent heir.

"And what of Lady Mathilde?" Harry continued, "of course English law requires male issue, or is that likely to change?..probably not in our life time Squire", Harry continued.

"Bloody english inheritance law has our hands tied, Harry", Squire continued, banging his fist against the stables' cut stone wall.

"My best efforts, politically, with the members of the Peerage, have come to nought. They refuse to budge, thinking male heirs are ten a penny. Not any more Harry..not any more ..the war has seen to that".

"How about getting the State to buy a few acres of Briarly, to turn into a hospital for the returning veterans?", Harry proffered. "Believe that's what's happening with some of the coastal Manor houses, down south".

"Good Heavens, Harry", Squire continued, " we'd have the stench of death, all day in our nostrils at Briarly..be time to sell up then and move on".

Sir Alfred knew the cost of war was not cheap and government revenue was going to increase, come what may.

How much demand for extra revenue could Briarly bear and how was life at Briarly going to be affected . Sir Alfred was fully aware that the day was fast aapproaching when these matters could no longer be ignored.

Sir Alfred watched, as Harry made his way, with heavy step, towards the approaching horses and their young stable hands.
 

Author Notes

Image courtesy of Google Images Thanks in advance, if you have taken time to read this chapter.

Chapter 23
Sir Alfred's prodigal son

By zanya

As Lady Betsey disembarked from the carriage, she caught sight of Sir Alfred in the study. He was holding his special, grey quill as he wrote.

"Eames," Lady Betsey began," has Sir Alfred not yet left for Italy?"
" No, not yet ma'am," Eames replied.

" Did you have a pleasant stay in London, ma'am at Lady Mathilde's wedding ? " Eames enquired.
" Marriage is one of mankind's best inventions," Eames continued,"how I miss my late darling wife,Victoria, especially at eventide and at Christmas."

Lady Betsey paid no attention, at first, to Eames philosophising about the married state.

"I hope to remarry some day," Eames continued, " if I meet the right person. Difficult at my age."

"Eames,"  Lady Betsey said," have you taken leave of your senses? See to it that my leather trunks are safely delivered to my boudoir. Take special care with my wooden hat box, as my hat with the peacock's feather is stored inside. That is my lucky hat, Eames, so  it must  not be damaged in any way."

"Yes Ma'am, at your service, Ma'am, it shall be done at once," Eames replied, reverting to his manorial demeanour.

Lady Betsey made her way inside the Manor, briefly stopping for a moment outside the study door, where Sir Alfred was still  writing.

"Good evening, my darling,"  she called out, but no response was forthcoming.

Lady Betsey noticed Mr Sander's bicycle outside, by the stable wall. It was now late afternoon and Giovanni's lesson should have ended already.

Suddenly Giovanni came running towards Lady Betsey. He raced towards her outstretched arms.

"Nonna, Nonna Lady Betsey," Giovanni shouted, "come va..come va Nonna Betsey?"

Lady Betsey's face lit up with pride, on hearing Giovanni speak to her in Italian.
Tutor, Mr Sanders, followed at a distance.

"Lady Betsey," Sanders said " Giovanni is so excited to speak his first words of Italian to his Nonna Betsey. He is such a clever young man, eager to learn. He insisted I wait until your return, all the while practising his new words."

Tears filled Lady Betsey's eyes.

"Mr Sanders,"  Betsey said " It is so important in the world, as it is today, that we understand each other better, is it not, and language is a sure way of doing that?."

"Especially," Mr Sanders continued , " if part of your family tree is firmly rooted in another culture."

Lady Betsey was a little baffled, wondering how much Mr Sanders knew about Giovanni's origins.

"Giovanni, " Lady Betsey said," you must greet Grandpa in Italian also".

"Mamma Mia!,"  Giovanni replied, " Mr Sanders hasn't taught me the word for 'Grandpa' yet. Shall I run after him, before he gets his bike and ask him?"

"No..no, not at all, Giovanni, " Betsey replied , as she watched Mr Sanders cycle through the front gate of Briarly Hall.

"Nonna Betsey," Giovanni asked," did Aunt Mathilde have a splendid wedding ? Was the carriage big and white"?

"Later, Giovanni, later," Betsey replied, as she tousled Giovanni's mop of curls.

Mrs Goodwood took Giovanni by the hand, as she greeted Lady Betsey.

" Lady Betsey", Mrs Goodwood began, " Lady Mathilde's wedding has made you very happy. You are wearing a broad smile on your face for the first time in ages".

"Yes, Mrs Goodwood," Lady Betsey replied, " and Giovanni is also a source of great joy, on my return. Have you heard him speak Italian ?"

"Yes Ma'am", Mrs Goodwood replied," can't say as I understand a word."

Lady Betsey pushed the door of the study, gently, where Sir Alfred was still hard at work.

"Sir Alfred,"  Lady Betsey said ," It is getting late. I have so much  to tell you, from Lady Mathilde's wedding. Shall we repair to the dining room for supper?"

Sir Alfred stood up behind his desk, came forward  and put his arms around Lady Betsey.

"Darling Lady Betsey, it is time to search for Lord Airdale, the matter is now urgent."

The couple strode, arm in arm, towards the dining room.


 

Author Notes

Image from Google Images. Thanks, in advance, for reading.

Chapter 24
Sir Alfred's departure

By zanya

It was now late November. Winter gales rattled the eaves of Briarly Hall. Alfred's heart leapt with joy, as his eyes took in the view. Briarly must be passed on to its rightful heir, he mused to himself. Hopefully, he thought, that heir is Giovanni.

He reflected on how life had changed,  since Giovanni's arrival. A sense of hope had returned and he was determined to legalise any outstanding matters. But finding his son, Lord Airdale, was not going to be easy. Middle-aged men had a way of blending in  with the crowd. He remembered his own father, Lord Philip's,  search for his missing sibling, years earlier. He never really learned the truth about that particular black sheep of the family. Does history repeat itself,  he wondered.

Tutor Sanders arrived on his creaking bicycle, frost still gleaming on the wheels' spokes. Making his way towards the entrance, he could hear  whoops and hollers of delight.

Giovanni ran through Briarly's great entrance door to greet Sanders.

"Mr Sanders," Giovanni began, "Nonna and grandpa, oh what is the italian for 'Grandpa'.............agree that I may travel to Italy soon. What good news..then I can speak Italian to real Italians."

Removing his woolly hat and scarf and rubbing his cold hands together, Sanders replied," That is good news, Giovanni."

"Perhaps you can come too, Mr Sanders?"

Sanders thought it best not to reply. After all, travel to Italy would be an expense he could not afford, on his few tuition hours. HIs prospects were bleak. Not many people in Norfolk were greatly interested in learning Italian.Though he had heard that the neighbouring Dowager Spencer of Mansfort Manor had spent some time there in her youth and was quite an italophile.

Sanders liked the possibility, though.

"Perhaps I can make some savings with a view to accompanying you," Sanders replied. 'By purchasing just one pair of sturdy shoes this  winter, I could  save a little."

"Grandpa Alfred is leaving for Italy today," Giovanni continued," he has business to do and  people to meet. Grandpa hopes to meet  family.... ...and ....he will get to see the Colosseum"

"Mr Sanders," Giovanni pursued," perhaps we can visit the Colosseum?"

By now Butler Eames had transported Sir Alfred's luggage to the hallway, where he waited for the coach to arrive, to take him to London.

"Sir Alfred," Eames began," I understand your stay in Italy may be of many months duration. Are you happy with Reginald, the new farm assistant?
He appears to be settling in well, does he not ? Our resident farm hand, Andy, is happy to continue to help him out."

"Yes, yes, Eames," Sir Alfred continued," despite Reginald's war wounds, mental and physical, the outdoor farm work seems to suit him."

Eames cleared his throat. "Furthermore, Sir Alfred, since you are going to be absent from Briarly for some extended time, I wish to advise you of my intention to remarry."

Sir Alfred stood upright from his task of checking the latch on his oldest trunk, his father's heirloom.

"What the devil, Eames, at your age, you can still make the ladies' hearts flutter. Pray, who is the lucky woman who has succumbed to your masculine charms?"

Eames reddened a little before replying. " Why Sir , she is an employee of this household, Mrs Goodwood, gentle and kind and ready to give her heart to a man, like me, now in his seventh decade."

Sir Alfred stretched out his hand to Eames, slapping him on the shouder," why Eames, I wish you both, every good wish. You have been a loyal servant to Briarly, as has Mrs Goodwood, now caring  for a new generation."

"Why thank you Sir Alfred. Our nuptials will be simple, perhaps a cup of tea at the Town Hall, on the day of our marriage."

" Eames, no, not a cup of tea at the Town Hall. Not just a cup of tea but cake as well, served at Briarly Hall. I shall advise the staff."

Lady Betsey, within earshot, heard the exchange between the two men. Mrs Goodwood will oversee a second generation at Briarly Hall. Betsey breathed a sigh of relief.

Giovanni came running towards the door, shouting, "Grandpa Alfred, arrivederci......arrivederci...you must tell me stories of the Colosseum on your return."

Climbing into the waiting carriage, Alfred's face broke into a smile, as he contemplated the possibility of finding, not only his son, but Giovanni's father as well.
 

Author Notes

Image from Google Images. Thanks in advance, for reading.

Chapter 25
Search for blue blood

By zanya

The carriage rounded the corner. Briarly Hall faded from view. Sir Alfred called out to coachman, Harry. 
"Harry, we must disembark at the offices of Cootes & Son, Solicitors, as soon as we arrive in London. Matter's urgent. Try not to take too long to get there."

Harry, recognising Alfred's gruff, urgent tone, set the horses at a gallop, and replied, "Ay, Squire, wintry tracks test the horses' hooves. Carriage needs a good oiling, soon, to lubricate the axle."

Squire Alfred opened his leather bag, took out a sheaf of papers, spread them on the small table, between the carriage seats.

"Damn Primogeniture," he muttered, "ravages of war rattle it to its foundations."

Harry called out, " Sir, chimes of Big Ben. Soon we shall reach the outskirts of London."

Sir Alfred gathered up his papers, placing them back in his leather bag.

"Harry," Sir Alfred called out," I have important business with my legal representative, which may take a couple of hours. I have not advised him in advance of my visit. I trust I shall find him in situ. "

"At your service, Squire," Harry replied.

Harry halted the horses outside the offices of Cootes & Son.

Sir Alfred disembarked. He pulled the cord of the metal bell on the grey wooden door.

Soon the door was opened by Miss Edmonton.

"Good afternoon, Sir Alfred," Miss Edmonton said in a tiny voice. " Is Solicitor Cootes expecting you?"

Glancing at the list she held in her left hand, she searched in vain for Sir Alfred's name.

Alfred was surprised how much Miss Edmonton had aged since their last encounter. Her thin shoulders now drooped. Her voluminous, grey hair was still impeccably styled in a large bun held in place by silver clasps.

"No, Miss Edmonton," Sir Alfred replied , "Solicitor Cootes is not expecting me. I have matters of some import to discuss. I would appreciate if you could arrange an appointment before close of business today."

" At your service, Sir Alfred," Miss Edmonton replied, turning to ascend the marble staircase.

" Sir Alfred," she continued," you may be seated in the room next to the office. I shall request Ernestine, to serve Earl Grey tea and scones."

"I would appreciate, Miss Edmonston, an appointment as soon as is possible," Sir Alfred added impatiently.

"At your service, Sir Alfred," Miss Edmonton replied.

Within minutes, Miss Edmonton returned, to advise Sir Alfred, that Lord Cootes was available to see him.

Sir Alfred entered Lord Coote's office.

"Sir Alfred," Lord Cootes began, " how good to see you. Why you have not been in these parts for a number of years. I trust all is well at Briarly. These are testing times for middle England in the aftermath of war."

Sir Alfred relaxed a little, reassured his situation may not be as unusual as he, at first, thought.

"So then, Alfred, how is life at Briarly? Your children are well into adulthood. Have they so far, produced issue? Is Briarly's future secure?"

"Cootes," Alfred began. " How times have changed since we were young men, eh! By early middle age, in our thirties, we had already produced heirs, with a few wild oats strewn along the way."

The two men guffawed loudly. Cootes rose from his red leather seat, and reached for the Cognac bottle on his desk.

"You could do with a shot following your early morning journey from Norfolk?" Cootes remarked, as he poured the tawny liquid.

The two men clinked their glasses and swallowed a draught.

Cootes continued, " what fun it was, Alfred, sowing our  wild oats, while hoping for crop failure. By today's standards our wild oats were a mere flimsy scattering.  Alfred, wild oats aside, you have come here today to discuss more urgent matters," Cootes said.

"Yes," Alfred replied," Briarly is facing some stark realities . My son, Lord Airdale, has not been in touch for many a long year. Some time ago, a young Italian noblewoman, named Lady Laetaxia, arrived at Briarly, with a child, Giovanni..."

"Ah, ha", Cootes interrupted," Lord Airdale's wild oats now bearing fruit."

"Yes", Alfred replied, "so it would appear.The boy is now five years old. He is such a joy..."Alfred hesitated.

Cootes looked directly at Alfred,"Alfred you are smitten with this grandson, are you not? Have to admit, I was a little like that too, when our grandchild was born. More of that later."

"The problem is, Cootes," Alfred continued, "doting grandparents are all very well, but what of lineage and bloodline? How blue is  blue blood these days? How blue is Giovanni's blood?"

"M-m-m ," Cootes continued," maybe not quite so blue as we might wish. You are not alone. Middle England is now beset with inheritance issues. War has added to the turmoil. And Primogeniture regulations do nothing to ease the difficulties."

"What can be done, Cootes,?" Alfred inquired plaintively.

"It may be a long road, Alfred," Cootes continued, "to trace Giovanni's lineage. Then proving it, is another matter entirely. Paternity is a hard nut to crack. Damn difficult to prove. Apart from  family resemblance, local knowledge, hearsay,  In time, no doubt, science may make some discovery of interest in the area. Not in our lifetime, Alfred, alas. Perhaps not even in Giovanni's?"

Cootes stood up and retrieved a file from the upper shelf.

"Here is your father's Will and Testament," he said. "This is where we have to start. Do you wish me to open the file and advance the process, Alfred,?" Cootes enquired.

"At once," Alfred replied.

" Very well," Cootes replied. "

Alfred rose to leave.

" Cootes," Alfred continued, " You have much influence with the Peerage, can anything be done to change the legal process of Primogeniture?"

"Wheels of old England's bureacracy grind slowly, Alfred," Cootes replied, as he accompanied Alfred to the main door. However, I shall begin proceedings immediately."

Coachman Harry opened the carriage door for Sir Alfred as twilight descended on London.



 

Author Notes

Image from Google Images Thanks, in advance, for reading.

Chapter 26
Lady Mathilde waits.

By zanya

Lady Mathilde wrapped her winter coat around her as she turned the corner into Wadworth Square.

"M'lady," her lady's maid, Dilly, began, " Why not continue straight on? That way we will reach the park sooner. Ma'am, since you are heavy with child, you may not be able to walk far".

"Dilly", Lady Mathilde answered. "My physician, Lord Riddard, advises that women with child, should not only rest but also take a daily constitutional walk. Who knows, Dilly, what is best for the woman with child, except perhaps, herself?"

"M'lady," Dilly replied, "your physican be an educated man, so he knows what is best".

"He's a man, Dilly, how can he know what is best for a woman?
Consider how long it has taken, for men to realise, that women also have mental faculties and are capable of making choices and casting votes".

As the two women got closer to the park, they saw the girls from Miss Smith's London Girls' school, returning from their daily walk.

"Ah, ha," Lady Mathilde said to Dilly, " these young women are
being educated, not just mentally, but physically as well ".

"So you agree that a daily walk is of benefit, even for young women ?" Dilly interrupted.

"Yes, yes Dilly," but walking, while heavy with child, I am not sure about".

"How long Ma'am," Dilly asked," are you now with child?"

"Dilly,"Lady Mathilde replied," I don't know, nor does my physician. Lord Riddard is of an older generation, having been physician to Marquis Gregoire's mother , for his birth. I need to speak to a younger physician, who is aware of advances in medicine".

As Lady Mathilde drew closer to Miss Smith's school, she suddenly felt faint.

"Dearest Dilly", she called out,"please take my hand and assist me in reaching the seat outside Miss Smith's school".

The two women walked slowly, as Lady Mathilde leaned heavier on Dilly's right arm.

Soon they reached the stone seat outside the school.

Lady Mathilde swooned slightly.

"M'lady, m'lady," Dilly shouted, " wait a moment while I find the smelling salts".

Dilly reached deep into the pocket of her grey calico coat and retrieved the tin box, with the lady swooning on the lid. Unscrewing the lid, she placed the salts close to Lady Mathilde's nostrils and held it there  for a few minutes.

Gradually Lady Mathilde's facial pallor gave way to a little color in her cheeks.

Just then the door of the school house opened abruptly and a lady, dressed in a light blue school gown, appeared.

"Good afternoon," she said, " I am Miss Smith, teacher in charge of this school for girls. At first , I mistook you for  pupils trying to locate  the school house. Now, I realise I am in the presence of a famous woman. You are Lady Mathilde, Suffragette for the Sisterhood, are you not ? You have inspired many girls with  your ideals, here in my school. Do you wish to speak to the girls in person?"

Dilly spoke up, "why no, ma'am, Lady Mathilde is a little out of sorts today".

"Not out of sorts, Dilly, " Mathilde interrupted. "Womens' voices must be heard. Why yes, of course, Miss Smith, I will be glad to speak to the young ladies in your Academy".

With that Lady Mathilde sat slowly upright, dusting down her coat.

Mathilde entered the schoolroom. Twelve girls,hair braided, dressed in navy blue pinafores, sat at individual wooden desks. An ink pot and quill were on one side of the desk and a copy of the Holy Bible on the other. They rose swiftly  to their feet as Mathilde entered.

Lady Mathilde warmed immediately to her subject.

"Good afternoon," Mathilde began. " You are young girls on the threshold of womanhood. You and your ideas will shape the future of the world. You must stand up for your rights and those of future generations".

One young girl sobbed uncontrollably throughout.

Lady Mathilde finished speaking and the young girl approached.

" Lady Mathilde," she began, " It is my duty now to  write a long letter to my mother, Lady Eleanor, in New York, to tell her that I have just lived a moment of history. A real Suffragette came to our school".

Miss Smith then dismissed the class to their dormitories.

"Lady Mathilde," Miss Smith began, " you are an inspiration for generations of young women."
Dilly gazed in awe, at her mistress.

" Lady Mathilde," Miss Smith continued," if I may be so bold as to enquire if you are with child, and how far advanced you are?"

Lady Mathilde was abashed.

"Miss Smith," Mathilde replied,"yes I am happily with child , these many months. Alas my physician, is unable to tell me how many".

"Lady Mathilde", Miss Smith continued," having taken care of the sick , as a nurse, for many years, a woman carrying her child is a delightful sight to behold. You appear to be well advanced and childbirth cannot be far away. The pallor of the woman's skin is a good guideline. Also, Mathilde, you appear to be carrying a boy, from the outline of your silhouette".

"Why Miss Smith, you are an enlightened woman. Did you carry children yourself?" Mathilde enquired.

"No Mathilde, I am a spinster and barren. I have never lain with a man. My vocation lies here with the formation of future generations of young women".

At that moment Lady Mathilde cried out in pain."Dilly, I am unable to continue further".

Seeing the distress of Lady Mathilde, Miss Smith said," Lady Mathilde my carriage is due soon. I shall accompany you and your Lady's maid to your home. Childbirth is imminent"






 

Author Notes

Image courtesy of Google Images

Chapter 27
What now for Giovanni?

By zanya

Lady Betsey walked with Giovanni, on this April afternoon, to the local hamlet, Bertsdale. The sound of the blacksmith, Wesley Jacobs, hammering on his anvil could be heard in the distance.

Giovanni ran ahead and stood in the doorway. As Wesley struck the molten lead, in the dark, cavernous workshop, sparks of orange and yellow fanned out towards the roof. Giovanni watched in awe.

Spotting Giovanni, Wesley got up off his stool and came to greet him.
"Afternoon, Giov," Wesley called out," have you finished your lessons for today?".
"Yes, Mr Jacobs, I learned how to say , 'it is Spring', in italian, 'e primavera'."
"Ay, Giov, I recall a few words of Italian myself, from my days overseas, in the war. War left me lame on my right leg, as well Giov. Can't walk properly no more".
"Was it from a shell?" Giovanni asked. "My tutor, Mr Sanders has told me many things about the war. But you were really there , Mr Jacobs".
"Ay, it was a shell, can't say as I remember much about it. Was out cold, I was. Had to have my knee removed. Been a blacksmith ever since.
Would prefer to watch sparks fly here in my little shop Giov, than listen to them shells on the front".


"Giovanni, where are you?" Lady Betsey called out as she turned the corner.
"Talking to Mr Jacobs about the war, Grandma. Mr Jacobs was a soldier in the war. He speaks Italian, Grandma".
"Aw, Giov, can't say as I speak much Italian. Just a little,'un po, un po', Giov".
"Listen, listen, Grandma", Giovanni began," Mr Jacobs is speaking Italian".

Lady Betsey, lost in her own thoughts, didn't respond.

On returning to Briarly, Butler Eames handed Lady Betsey a letter, recently delivered.
While Mrs Goodwood prepared supper for Giovanni, Lady Betsey opened the letter. A black crepe bow sealed the contents.
She sat down by the window, to read it, as the evening light had begun to fade.
Although the missive was scribed entirely in Italian, she deciphered the name of Lady Laetaxia and a date, January 29th.


Unfortunately it was too late to ask  Mr Sanders, as he had already cycled  through the gates of Briarly, to return home.
 Perhaps Dowager Spencer would be in residence this evening. She would be able to read the contents.

Arising abruptly from her chair, she donned her grey, woollen bonnet, against the evening chill. Having retrieved the storm lantern from the servants' quarters, she set off.

Noticing Lady Betsey on the avenue with the lantern, Eames became concerned.
He immediately put on his tam o' shanter and walked towards the entrance  gate.
"Lady Betsey", he called, " Lady Betsey, please allow me to accompany you on your journey, out of doors, at this late hour".
Lady Betsey, however, quickened her step and disappeared from view. Butler Eames returned,  bewildered.
Keeping watch from the latticed window in the pantry, he soon noticed Lady Betsey returning.
Eames went to meet her.
"Lady Betsey", is something the matter since you set off, out of doors at such a late hour?".
"Not at all," Betsey replied, "I simply wished to pay a visit to  Dowager Spencer, as she lives alone".
"But Lady Betsey", Eames continued, "  the Dowager,  has lived alone for many years now?"
"You're correct, Eames," Betsey answered.
"This evening, however, I have an urgent reason for visiting the Dowager. I wish her to read for me the contents  of the italian missive I received today. It may contain  bad news. Dowager is the only person in the neighbourhood who speaks Italian. I need to know what is in that missive, Eames.  Unfortunately the Dowager is not  in residence".
"But Lady Betsey," Eames replied, " just this afternoon, Giovanni came to the Orangerie, to tell me about the local blacksmith in the hamlet, Mr Jacobs, who speaks Italian. Perhaps he may be able to advise you as to the important details of  the missive. Or Mr Sanders?"
Lady Betsy sighed deeply.
" Eames", Betsey replied,"Mr  Sanders will not return to Briarly for a few weeks, as he has to travel to London. As for Blacksmith Jacobs, I am not sure his knowledge extends beyond a few basic  words".
"Ma'am," Eames said,"please allow me to carry the storm lantern and guide you to the entrance door".
Stars began to twinkle overhead as Lady Betsey entered Briarly Hall. She turned to look skyward. Tears began to dampen her cheeks. 






 

Author Notes

Image courtesy of Google Images. Thanks in advance if you read this chapter.

Chapter 28
Milan

By zanya

"Fredrick." Sir Alfred called urgently to his footman, "See to it that my leather case is stowed carefully beneath the carriage seat. Open the windows a little. Our journey between Rome and Milan will take several hours, across mountainous terrain. We need to breathe some italian mountain air, as March begins."

"At your service Sir," Fredrick replied, making his way up the final step to the train. There was already a hint of Spring in the air. Women had discarded their heavy winter coats in favour of crinoline dresses.

Sir Alfred slowed down as he climbed the steps to the train. A sharp pain shot through his left foot. He flinched. He remembered his father's painful, nightly groans, when gout robbed him of his 'joie de vivre'.

Marquis Leponte's italian hospitality  where he had just spent the Christmas season, was indulgent. On brisk, wintry afternoons, hunting parties ensured a supply of wild boar or partridge for the evening banquet.Sweet scented cigars, with a draught of Cognac, was the irresistible finale to the evening.

And so it was. Now, however, the season of revelry was over. He had a serious task to undertake in tracing his son's whereabouts. Stamina would be a prerequisite.

The train chugged out of Rome's station. A puff of greyish, white smoke blotted out the pallid sun.

The prospect of a sojourn in Italy, cheered Alfred's spirits. He was happy to leave behind the damp, english Spring. Someday soon, Giovanni would travel with him. Fear crept in at the edges of his mind. Would Giovanni always be in residence at Briarly Hall ? Would he grow up without a father? Being  reunited with Lord Airdale, who perhaps, was still resident under an italian sky, warmed Alfred's paternal heart.

"Fredrick," Sir Alfred called to his footman at the other side of the carriage, "Le Marquis Leponte appears a tad melancholic does he not? A wife deceased, a son sacrificed in the war."

"Yes, Sir Alfred, so it appears for the Marquis," Fredrick responded uncertainly. " My own son, Jacob, lost both his legs in war, in Italy, never the same again, lost his speech. Died within months of his return."

"Why Fredrick, you have not shared this sad news since your arrival at Briarly. Will this journey be difficult for you In Italy?"

"Why no Sir," Fredrick continued, " was before I came to work at Briarly . We had waited long to be parents, my dear wife, Ellen and me. Our son was born after many years of married life. Am happy to accompany you, Sir," Fredrick continued," leastways, will have stories to tell my Ellen on my return. Ellen never got over his loss. Went quiet after that. Still don't say much. Leastways, we manage with my wages at Briarly. Ellen keeps our little cottage tidy. Can't complain. Many folk worse off than we are."

Sir Alfred shifted uncomfortably.
"How long before we reach Milan, Fredrick," Alfred asked.
"Can't say as I know, Sir. Not used to these foreign parts. Train seem to go on forever," Fredrick responded.

"Fredrick," Alfred resumed, in a more serious tone, " While we are resident here, in Milan, I will require your loyal assistance. I have much work to do. I hope to contact my son and heir, Lord Airdale. Giovanni is in need of a father."

"Aye, Sir, t'would be a blessing for the lad to have a father," Fredrick replied.
"At your service, Squire," Fredrick replied. " We was good parents to our son Jacob. Every boy needs a father, a lad needs a father."

As the train wend its way, through the mountainous countryside, Sir Alfred opened his old, brown leather suitcase and took out the letter with the Italian seal. To Lady Betsey's chagrin, she was unable to meet the Dowager, to decipher the letter, before Alfred's departure.

He pondered the possibility of calling on his old friend from London, James Cooke, whom, he believed, still resided in Milan. Though never very fond of Cooke, or his entourage, Alfred felt he needed his assistance. Furthermore, Alfred still harbored a degree of embarrassment about his renegade son, Lord Airdale.

Memories of Giovanni's smiling face spurred Alfred on.
Giovanni was entitled to his birthright.

Author Notes

Image from Googel Images. Thanks, in advance, if you took time to read this chapter.

Chapter 29
May Blossom bouquet

By zanya

Mrs Goodwood opened the lace curtains early.
"Ay," she murmured to herself. " I hope as Butler Eames likes the pale cream colour and the little bit of lace at the collar. My late husband didn't care for pale cream, always said t'were too pale for english skin.

There was a gentle knock at the door.

"What the heck," Mrs Goodwood muttered . "Who can it be at this hour, don't they know I am to be wed to the Butler today."

Mrs Good wood lifted the latch on her cottage door. Her neighbour, Elsey, stood in the pale May sunshine, with a tiny posy of May bush and Lily -of -the-Valley, wrapped in some brown paper.

"Aw , Mrs Goodwood," Elsey said, " I come over to wish you well on your matrimony to the Butler at Briarly. My husband, Jeremy, plucked these bluebells and lily-of-the valley before dawn, out of sight of the faery folk, before he went to work at the mill."

"Faeryfolk , Elsey," Mrs Goodwood replied, " don't believe in no faery folk. Eames don't believe neither. Had some difficulty with the Vicar about his belief in God. Am marrying a good man. I've been lucky Elsey, to find another good husband. Some folk can't even find one."
The two women chuckled. "Aye," You's right, Mrs Goodwood. Our neighbour Maggie, walked out of her cottage, after Christmas, leaving her husband, John, alone after thirty years. Husband don't know how to butter a scone. Jeremy and me hope the two of you will be very happy. "

A tear flowed down Mrs Goodwood's flushed cheek.

"I hope so and all, Elsey. T'was good of your Jeremy to pluck the flowers. Elsey, Is my dress proper for a wedding ? I hope the Butler likes it. Me and the Butler will be living here in my little cottage . Have scrubbed and cleaned it these past days."

"You are pretty, Mrs Goodwood. Pale cream color suit you. Don't forget to wear a flower in your hair. Pluck one from the posy for good luck."
"Ay," Mrs Goodwood replied, " I love the scent of the May bush."
She attached a floret to her grey chignon.

"T'was a dress I got from my friend Flo. Flo lived in New York for years. Said t'were all the rage in America. Kept it, I did, hung up in the attic. Gathered a lot of dust over the years. Gave it a good dusting, I did."

"Best be getting home, Mrs Goodwood, wish you luck."

The cottage door closed and a smile broke out on Mrs Goodwood's wrinkled face.

The clip clop of horses hooves was heard on the street. Looking out the latticed window of the cottage, she spied a Hansom Cab. Butler Eames was disembarking.

The cottage door, being ajar, Eames walked in.

"Dearest Mrs Goodwood, I have come to fetch my bride in a Hansom Cab."
Mrs Goodwood was giddy with excitement. "Why Butler Eames, I has never been in a Cab."
"Don't worry, Mrs Goodwood," Eames replied, "It's so pleasant. You won't want to get out. We must be at the Chapel to meet the Vicar at noon. "
The couple climbed into the Cab and rode to the local Church.

Vicar Smith greeted the couple by the Church entrance.
Lady Betsey was seated in the front pew.
Being the witnesses, Mr Silkes, the gardener sat by the nave door, with his wife, Jane.
A few local people hovered outside, occasionally peering through the entrance door.
Having read the wedding banns, Vicar Smith then pronounced the couple man and wife.

Outside,local woman, known as Sally the Sage, scattered a few grains of rice over the newly married couple, intoning an old nursery rhyme" fair maid..bathes in the dew from the hawthorn tree will ever strong and handsome be."
Eames turned to his new bride, saying,"Mrs Goodwood we are now blessed with the buds of May from Sally Sage."

Mrs Goodwood and Butler walked back together, through the tiny hamlet of Bretsdale, towards Briarly Hall.
On reaching Briarly Hall, Giovanni ran to meet them. "Mrs Goodwood," Giovann asked , " were there white flowers in the church like for the fairy princess? Butler Eames did you kiss Mrs Goodwood, like the Prince in fairy tales?"
"There, there," Lady Betsey interrupted," Giovanni. Enough questions for today. Go and play in the nursery with the abacus."

White linen tablecloths adorned the dining tables in the servants' quarters. Tea was served, piping hot, in large ceramic pots. Plates of scones were arraigned with large helpings of apple jelly and cream. A small draught of english rum was served to some of the men . The ladies took a sip of a deep red sherry.
A few sprigs of hawthorn, tied with white ribbon, lay, at intervals on the tables. The fresh scent of Spring blossoms wafted amid the teacups.
A middle aged man with a gold earring , skin weathered by a foreign sun, unstrapped his bouzouki and began to play a waltz.
"Dance Madame and Monsieur," he called out to the newly wedded couple. "Dance in joy on your marriage day."
Butler Eames took Mrs Goodwood in his sturdy arms and danced hesitantly, to the music.
"Eames." Mrs Goodwood exclaimed,"t'is a pleasure to have a husband who dances so."
"Mrs Goodwood," Eames replied, " I love to hold you in my arms."
Mrs Goodwood smiled broadly.

Later, as the soft light of the May moon lit up the evening sky, the couple made their way home, arm in arm, to their little cottage on the edge of the hamlet of Bretsdale.




 

Author Notes

Thanks in advance, if you took time to read this chapter. Image from Google Images

Chapter 30
Primogeniture

By zanya

 On this December morning London was shrouded in a heavy fog. Lady Mathilde felt a little stronger for the first time in many months. Her six month old son, Lord Philip, gurgled in his bassinet watched over by loyal lady's maid, Dilly from Briarly Hall.

"Ma'am," Dilly began, "Lord Philip's brown eyes seem a little brighter this morning."

Lady Mathilde, still feeling poorly since her son's birth, attempted to prop herself up on two embroidered, satin pillows.

There was a loud knock on the boudoir door.

"Lady Mathilde," Gregoire called , " May I hold my son today ? It's been three days since I last held him in my father's arms."

Dilly made her way outside.

"Yes, yes Marquis, you may hold your son today. He is getting stronger. Perhaps I can take him in his perambulator to the park with Dilly and Mrs Abercrombie, his nurse. Winter's bracing air may give him strength or perhaps put a little color into his pale cheeks. We will wrap him up warmly. I too, may benefit from a change of air."

Marquis Gregoire, on entering the boudoir, kissed Lady Mathilde on her pallid cheek.

"Dearest, darling Mathilde, you have given me a son, my heart's desire. My heart breaks to see how ill you now are and confined to your boudoir. I shall attempt to find a more capable physician to examine your state of health, while I am abroad in Paris."

"Darling Gregoire, our hearts overflow with joy at the birth of our precious son. However, I am a Primigravida, having come to childbirth at the more advanced age of thirty -six. My body is reacting to an event usually undertaken by a much younger woman."

"Dearest Mathilde, you are my precious darling and wife, my joy. Following our marriage and sexual union, which gives me great joy, you immediately conceived a child, carrying him in your womb, while attending to matters of suffrage. Such matters weigh heavily on a woman's body force and will."

"Gregoire, our sexual union is a source of great joy and strength and it has borne fruit, our beautiful baby son. However, matters of suffrage must also be attended to. It is important that women progress in their search for expression and suffrage."

"Is suffrage more important than our union, matrimonial or sexual?" Gregoire's tone was angry.

"Darling Gregoire," Mathilde continued, " You and Lord Philip are my life. I long to rest in your arms. But not yet, since I must recover my strength after childbirth. Chiidbirth requires great physical strength."

"Darling Mathilde, I long to hold you in my arms and cover you with kisses."

Dilly returned to assist Mathilde to dress warmly, to walk in the park with Lord Philip. Her great grey coat reached to the ground, while her brown muffler ensured ample warmth for her outer limbs.

Gregoire accompanied the women with the perambulator, as they set off towards the main door.

Gregoire's father, Lord Philip was writing letters at his writing desk.
Hearing the sound of the perambulator wheels, he rushed forward.

" Dearest Lady Mathilde, you have filled our home with such joy on the birth of Gregoire's son and my first grandson. Suffrage can now take a back seat as you raise the next generation. Soon, God willing, Gregoire will fill your belly with another male heir."

"It's preposterous, simply preposterous, Lord Philip to address me in those terms, as if I were a mere brood mare for your household and line. Gregoire, can you speak with your father and advise him of the significance of the suffrage?."
Lady Mathilde's face reddened, as she struggled to contain her anger.

"Papa, you do not seem to understand how the world around you is changing. The war has changed everything. Male heirs no longer matter as they did once." Gregoire said, looking anxiously at his father.

"Of course male heirs matter, Gregoire. How on earth are we to ensure continuity of the dynastic line? We have primogeniture to copper fasten it."

"Primogeniture is fast becoming irrelevant, Papa, since the war has wiped out so many of our young men and heirs to dynastic estates."

"But Gregoire," Lord Philip replied, " what is to replace Primogeniture? Lily- livered  female heirs can't take precedence. Heaven be praised, we don't have to rely on your brother's female progeny. Before my grandson's arrival, I was loathe to even consider such a frightening eventuality.
Suffrage indeed. Women are not at all in need of suffrage. Suffrage is  poppy cock. An activity for barren women."

Lady Mathilde grasped the handles of the perambulator tightly, rushed through the iron doors, slamming them loudly behind her. Marquis Gregoire followed at a distance. 

Author Notes

Image from Google Images Thanks in advance if you took time to read this chapter.

Chapter 31
Briarly Spring

By zanya

Lady Betsey worked on her needle point in the morning room, putting the finishing touches to a yellow bonnet for her new grandson, Lord Philip. Lady Mathilde would visit Briarly as the Spring sunshine warmed in April or May, she thought.

Meanwhile, she waited to take a stroll with Giovanni, after his morning lessons. Today she wanted to walk along the newly ploughed fields towards the southwest of Briarly Hall. Sir Alfred had instructed the farm hands, Andy and his assistant Reginald, to plant ample crops this Spring.

Hearing the rasping sound of carriage wheels, Lady Betsey placed her needle point on the table and looked out. At once, she recognised Marquis Gregoire's family coat of arms crest on the carriage door. The black and red Eagle, with outstretched wings, was unmistakeable.

The carriage came to a halt, just as Lady Betsey exited the entrance door.

As the footman opened the carriage door. Lady Betsey's heart filled with joy at the sight of her daughter, Lady Mathilde, cradling her son, Lord Philip. Lady's maid Dilly, followed behind.

"Mama, Mama," Mathilde exclaimed. "Kiss your newborn grandson, Lord Philip."

Stooping down to kiss his little fingers, Lady Mathilde noticed the baby's pallor.

"Darling Mathilde, it's truly a joy to see you and your newborn son, Philip. My heart overflows ."

"Grandma Betsey, grandma, " Giovanni called, catching sight of Lady Betsey.

Giovanni rushed to peer into the perambulator.

"Grandma, grandma, a new baby, is he my brother, does he have a mother and father or just a grandma and grandad?"

Lady Betsey's newly found joy faded at Giovanni's words. She struggled to respond.

"Philip is your cousin, Giovanni," Lady Betsey replied. " Lady Mathilde is your aunt. You may kiss him gently on the cheek. He is but eight months old."

"Lady Mathilde." Betsey continued," I shall instruct Mrs Goodwood to prepare the nursery for Philip. It has not been used for seven years now, since Giovanni was a baby."

"Philip may play with my abacus, grandma," Giovanni added.

The two women smiled.

"Not yet Giovanni," Lady Mathilde replied," he is just a baby. When he is older perhaps."

"Mathilde," Lady Betsey began," what a pleasant surprise to have you visit here at Briarly, so soon after childbirth. Why I thought you needed to rest for an extended period of time."

"Mama," Mathilde replied," the pleasure is mine. I am feeling much better now. Marquis Gregoire will be in France for some time and his father  Lord Charlois, is not at all interested in Women's Suffrage. In fact, now that he has secured a grandson for his dynasty, he is simply anxious to ensure a second one with all due haste. However I am not one of his brood mares."

The two women smiled conspiratorially.

"Darling Mathilde," Lady Betsey replied," it is always an urgent matter for our menfolk, assuring the dynastic line. But it is us women who must ensure our bodies can carry the progeny.
Your father is presently in Europe to ascertain lineage for Briarly. He is searching for our son, Lord Airdale, hoping to confirm paternity for Giovanni. So you see the presence of male heirs, sadly, does not always assure succession, Mathilde."

Lady Mathilde heard the sadness in Lady Betsey's voice.

The two women strolled along by the Orangerie. Lord Philip slept soundly in his perambulator.
Giovanni skipped alongside.

"Grandma, when will Grandpa return from Italy?" Giovanni asked. " Will he have stories to tell me about my father, Lord Airdale? How will he know Lord Airdale when he meets him? Will he have brown eyes like me?"

Lady Betsey's face formed into a frown at Giovanni's words.

"Why Giovanni," she began," Lord Airdale is Grandpa's son. Of course he will recognise him...."

She trailed off, remembering stories she had heard of sons being unrecognisable, due to war wounds or acute illness.

The two women walked past the Orangerie.

" Mathilde," Lady Betsey began," let's take a stroll by the corn fields and see how the new season's crop is sprouting."

"Why Mama," Lady Mathilde responded," it will be pleasant to walk by the cornfields at this time in early Spring. Mama I have never heard you speak of cornfields with such enthusiasm. That was always Papa's concern, was it not? Needle point mattered a great deal more to you."

"Yes," Lady Betsey replied. " But times are changing. Squire is abroad for an indefinite period of time on our family's urgent quest. I must see to it that Briarly's affairs are in order. After all I now have two beautiful grandsons to consider."

Lady Mathilde halted with the perambulator. Looking directly at Lady Betsey, she continued,
"Why Mama, you could assist us in the Suffrage Movement, with your ability to manage Briarly's affairs in Papa's absence."

Lady Betsey smiled a gentle smile.

"Briarly is my home. It is a joy to take care of it. As for Suffrage, I am not so sure."

"Mama," Mathilde exclaimed, " Times are indeed changing. And you are thankfully, attempting to change with them."

"Mathilde," she continued , "Hasten slowly. I now have two grandsons to love first.

Remember my aunt, Maude, who lived in London, widowed at age twenty , with two infants. Adept at needle point, she sewed uniforms for the Army and helped to keep the Manor going. I am lucky to have inherited her needlepoint skills. Perhaps I can use my skills to assist Briarly, or maybe even The Suffrage."

"What is needlepoint, grandma?" Giovanni interrupted.

"Giovanni, do not interrupt grandma," Lady Mathilde continued.

The two women and Giovanni strolled along with the perambulator. Soon they arrived at the outer perimeter of Briarly.

"Sprouting already," Betsey said, looking more closely at the fresh green shoots, above ground.
She noticed there was a large bare patch in the midst of the barley crop.

" I need to speak to Andy with all due haste and see why part of the field has not produced barley crop," Lady Mathilde said.

" Why you are a meticulous manager, Mama," Lady Mathilde replied.

"Let's get you some Suffrage matters to resolve."

" Briarly's future may not be so precarious now with two male heirs," Lady Betsey remarked.

Mathilde sighed deeply.

 

Author Notes

Image from Google Images Thanks in advance if you took time to read this chapter.

Chapter 32
Sir Alfred's pain

By zanya

Sir Alfred settled in to life in Milan at the Manor of his friend, Count Eduardo. Anticipating a brief sojourn, he passed pleasant mornings riding out with Eduardo's  equerry, Ernesto.

"You like Italian Spring days, Sir Alfredo?" Ernesto enquired. Conversation flagged thereafter since neither man spoke the other's language.

Count Eduardo's  ancestors had lived for three generations in Milan and its environs. Yet he was unfamiliar with Lady Laetaxia 's family.

"Perhaps Lady Laetaxia come from another Italian province," Eduardo suggested. " I will enquire with my lawyer," Eduardo promised.

Sir Alfred was feeling more and more distraught. After all Giovanni was growing up and needed to learn about his family. Soon he would ask more serious questions.

Sir Alfred loved the Italian countryside in Spring. Warmer days and bluer skies encouraged him to ride out earlier and for longer. Eduardo's  estate stretched for miles. He felt freer here than
back home in England where boundaries and fences were de rigueuer.

His favourite mare in Eduardo's  stable, 'Marisa', challenged all of his horseriding skills. Marisa whinnied and charged forward with all the force of an ancient steed.

One morning halfway through his canter with Marisa, she took off at speed. Marisa was easily frightened by rabbits or wildlife. A young tawny fox strayed into her path and Marisa stumbled.
Sir Alfred was thrown clear. Marisa charged back towards Eduardo's  Manor. A riderless horse stirred fear in equerry Ernesto's heart.

Grasping his riding crop and mounting his horse 'Equus', he headed in the direction from which Marisa had come.

It was not long before he saw Squire Alfred attempting to stand upright as he brushed off blades of grass and mud stains from his riding breeches.

"Squire Alfredo," Ernesto called out,"are you well?"

"Si, si," Alfred responded, happy he was able to reassure Ernesto with his minimum of words.

Leaning on Ernesto's shoulder as he led Equus home, Alfred groaned, in pain, from time to time.
Count Eduardo, hearing the commotion came out of his study and rushed to meet the two men.

"Alfred, Alfred," he called " come into the morning room and we shall see if you have broken bones? You are such a good horseman. Marisa is runaway."

Sir Alfred stumbled on to the chaise longue.

"Alfred, dear fellow, a draught of brandy will soon settle the pain," Eduardo  suggested.

"Maybe not this time," Alfred replied , " it's a searing backache."

"Perhaps I should call our country physician, Vincenzi, to have a look at you?"

Alfred readily agreed, to the surprise of Eduardo.

Physician Vincenzi quickly delivered a prognosis.

"Eduardo ," he began, " your house guest Alfredo has injured muscles in his back and will require many months of bed rest. Travel is forbidden."

With that Vincenzi closed his doctor's black leather bag and rejoined his hansom cab.

Vincenzi was a physician of few words.

Alfredo's face fell as he contemplated the prognosis.

"Eduardo," he began, " this is preposterous. How am I to find my son Lord Airdale and when do I return to Briarly Hall? Lady Betsey is alone there and like all women, is not accustomed to dealing with estate matters. Why Briarly may even fall into disrepair. Fetch a quill and an inkpot so I can write her, explaining what has befallen me."

"Alfredo," Eduardo continued, " Do not fret. Lady Betsey is a very capable woman. After all, you have produced a powerful Suffragettist, have you not, from your loins, you two? And Suffragettes are not, how do you say in English?..not shrinking violets."

Alfred smiled.

"That's as may be, Eduardo ," Alfred continued, " That's as may be. However, I am not a young man, now in my sixty-ninth year and I need to put my legal affairs in order for succession rights for Giovanni. Briarly needs an heir. Giovanni is our heir. He's not only our heir. He is our joy. Alfred discreetly wiped away a tear from his eye.

Eduardo stood by the window of the morning room and listened as Alfred, whom he had known since they were young men, bare his middle-aged soul.

"Why Alfred," Eduardo continued, "Giovanni is your darling, life's blood for Briarly. Tomorrow we shall begin the search, in earnest, for your son, Lord Airdale."

Although Alfred's face was contorted with pain, he did succeed in smiling at the mention of his son and a future for Giovanni at Briarly Hall.

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Author Notes

If you took time to read this chapter thank you in advance. Just paying another visit to the residents @ Briarly Hall !!

Chapter 33
Squire Alfred's sojourn in Milan

By zanya

Warmer breezes stirred the leaves of the Olive trees on this April morning. Through the bay window of his second-floor bedroom, Squire Alfred could see an azure sky. His back ached as he turned to take in the Spring view.

Count Eduardo, his host and lifelong friend would by now be making his way to the stables for his early morning canter. Country blood ran in Eduardo's   veins, just as it did in Alfreds. It was now one month since Alfred's mishap on his early morning canter, alone, across Eduardo's estate.

" Fiddlesticks," Alfred muttered to himself. " How could I have been such a fool? Cantering alone at speed in unfamiliar terrain. Now I must endure the pain and wait."

There was an urgent knocking on his bedroom door.

" Entrare, " he called out. Gradually Italian words were becoming part of his conversation. He hoped it would prove useful in his search for his son.

Dr Vincenzi opened the oak bedroom door. Alfredo had begun to look forward to seeing Vincenzi. Vincenzi had served on the battlefield, sustaining serious leg injuries, forcing him to return home after six months. After eighteen months recuperation, Vincenzi eventually resumed his doctor's duties.

"Buon giorno, Alfredo," Dr Vincenzi said.
"Buon Giorno, Vincenzi," Alfred replied.

" You begin to speak good Italian, Alfredo," Vincenzi added with a chuckle.

Dropping his doctor's bag on the ottoman stool, he took Alfredo's wrist and listened to his heartbeat.

"You have good English heart," he said. "But your back, it take a long time to heal."

" How long, Vincenzi," Alfred asked, " how long......soon I shall be a burden on my kind host, Eduardo?"

"Burden..no...no...no ..no burden for Eduardo..he tell me how happy he is to see his old friend."

"Eduardo tell me you search for your son here in Milan...why is your son lost in Italy ? Is he a child?"

Alfredo smiled to himself. " No', he is not a child. He is a wastrel..how do you say in Italian? No-good son.......we say in English...a wastrel."

With that Vincenzi reached into his bag and took out a dog-eared Italian/English dictionary with a green and red cover.

"This belonged to my mother, Beatrice, who studied in London, as young girl. Told me to treasure it."

"Ah.." Vincenzi replied with a laugh" in Italian we say 'perdigiorno' ..you know a person who wastes the day. But why are you looking for him. He is a grown man? No?"

"Si...si..Lord Airdale is a grown man for many years now ...forty -five years old," Sir Alfred replied.

"Heirs..Vincenzi..heirs..property ..." Alfred answered.

"Ah..".Vincenzi replied. Does he have sons.?"

"That is the problem..my wife and I, Lady Betsey had a visit from a young woman, Lady Laetaxia, seven years ago at our Briarly Hall home. Not just a visit but she bestowed a baby, Giovanni, on us stating his father was Lord Airdale."

"What fun you English men have when you go abroad," Vincenzi answered, laughing loudly. " You ungird your puritan loins and sow your seed."

The two men laughed conspiratorially.

Reaching one arm towards his bedside table, Alfredo took a bottle of brandy while pointing to the two shot glasses glinting in the morning sunshine. Vincenzi poured two small draughts, handing one to Alfred.

"A drop..just a drop," Alfredo, I do my doctor's morning duty."

Vincenzi's face took on a serious expression.

"Alfredo, you and your wife now have a problem. Who is Lady Laetaxia? She is your son's lover and mother of his child. Paternity ?"

"Vincenzi..you are a medicine man, a doctor, you know more about these matters..there is no way, is there? Truth to tell Giovanni has my wife's chestnut eyes and button nose. But button noses are little good in a court of law where primogeniture is supreme."

" Ah..primogenitura..primogenitura.." Vincenzi repeated.

Vincenzi sipped his draught of brandy slowly,

The clock in the Church tower struck noon. Vincenzi jumped up placing his brandy glass on the mantlepiece.

"Why what an interesting guest Eduardo has in his casa."

"So why did you come to Milan to search for your perdigiorno son?"

Alfred now felt a sense of relief being free to talk about his son.

"Because Lady Laetaxia said she was hurrying back to Milan to rest. She was very ill. She may be no longer alive."

Leaving a bottle of dark green tincture on the night table, Vincenzi prepared to leave.
"Ask Eduardo's footman to put the tincture into your back two times a day. Loosen the muscles and heal."

Alfredo heard the sound of footsteps on the marble staircase.

"Alfredo..Alfredo..are you ready for lunch." Eduardo called out." Have you seen Vincenzi today?"

"Si..si..Eduardo ," Vincenzi called out as he picked up his doctor's bag and snapped it shut.

"Come in Eduardo.."Vincenzi said. " You have an interesting house guest."

"Ah..Vincenzi..good to see you. How is the English patient today ?"

"Strong heart..beating well...but sad for his perdigiorno son..Lord Airdale..I see what I can do for Alfredo."

With that Vincenzi left the room and soon the clip-clop of his horses hooves could be heard on the cobblestones, driving away from Eduardo's family seat Castello Rinello.

"Pranzo.or as you English say luncheon or is it lunch ?.Alfredo..pranzo.." Eduardo said as he opened the window wide.

"Italian Spring air ..good for health," he said.

"Vincenzi is good company, Alfredo, good doctor, good company, good war stories. Knows many people."

Alfred had begun to feel helpless in his plight, serious back injury with no hope of searching for his son, at least for several months.

"Alfredo," Eduardo began, " I have important letters to write and will spend the evening in my study."

"Bene, bene.." Alfred replied. He knew he could not impose upon Eduardo's hospitality for much longer. He sighed deeply at his predicament.
How he wished Betsey were here to share his sorrows as she had always done. He longed to write her a letter.
A large bottle of black ink and a dark green quill, encrusted with a blue stone, stood on his bedroom table but he was unable to write or even sit upright.

He thought of how he and Lady Betsey had raised Lord Airdale to be responsible and trustworthy. Yet now in his middle years Lord Airdale had lost contact with his family. How could he find out if Giovanni, who had lived at Briarly Hall was in fact his son.

A few hours later darkness had begun to fall. Stars twinkled in the eastern sky. He dozed off. Shortly afterwards he heard voices outside his door. Butler Mario and Eduardo spoke in hushed tones. He could only make out a few words.

"Va bene...Mario," Eduardo said. "Good for Alfredo..."

Alfredo listened closely.

Eduardo knocked loudly on Alfred's door and walked in.

"Vincenzi has located your son Airdale in a Milan hospital. He is not well. He has not long to live.
He asks for his son Giovanni."

Alfred found it difficult to believe what he was hearing.

"Vincenzi says you must write him a letter asking him to declare Giovanni to be his son. There is not much time."

Next morning Alfred woke with a start. He was delirious. Vincenzi sat on a chair by his bedside, mopping his brow.

" Alfredo," Vincenzi said, " You must rest. Yesterday you worried too much about your troubles. Tomorrow is a new day."
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Author Notes

Image from Google Images. Thanks in advance if you took time to read this chapter. Trying to find my writing voice !

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