<strong>Lady Beatrice</strong><br/><br/>Lady Beatrice sipped from her glass thoughtfully as the girls spoke.  She set the wine aside with Madi’s question.  It was better often times to explain than to allow others to guess.<br/><br/>“It is in poor taste for someone to judge and convict another for what they think they may have seen. There are proper authorities who hand such matters and as you can see I have initiated such action as to call in question some activities which the Constabulary might wish to investigate.”<br/><br/>“Having said that I wish to assure all three of you that your lifestyle is for you alone as individuals to choose.  I simply wish to ensure that those under the diligent care of men like my son have been given the opportunity to choose.”<br/><br/>Lady Beatrice opened her hand bag as though the conversation they had shared with her had never happened.  She dug around for a few minutes.<br/><br/>“Hmmmm.. No, that’s not it. I know it’s… Ah!”<br/><br/>She removed a pair of surgical scissors, gauze, an ankle brace and medical adhesive tape.<br/><br/>“Let’s have a look at that ankle, Madi. We can’t have you carried into Printemps and Gallery Lafayette in pain, shopping should be fun!”<br/><br/>“Ladies, would you do me the honor of calling me Beatrice?,” Lady Beatrice requested.