December 26th, 1891 — Blackwood Estate

'Well hunted!' she called to the winner, swinging down from the back of her jet black animal with practiced ease.  Her crisp red riding coat tailed with mud from riding through the washes and gullies after their quary. 

'I thought he have you at the end there!' she praised removing her hat, with it's mesh black veil, her cheeks flushed with the exertion of the hunt and the cold Boxing Day air, 'You'll have to show me how you did that last little manover.' the keen horsewoman asked the person who had outfoxed todays fox. 

'My father will want to blood you.' she made a face, she was rather glad her own blooding had taken place years before and that she had hunted on almost every course in england before her debute, now she was blooding only when she was deemed to have taken the fox, which wasn't often as she usually pulled back at the kill, better to let the gentlemen shine in that moment. 

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