After their honeymoon, Ione and Lindsay settled into married life at Ratcliffe Hall in Leicestershire. Two children were born to them: a daughter, Bettyne Ione on 14 December 1919, and a son, Patrick Anthony William Beresford, or Tony as he became known, on 28 November 1922.
In 1924, Lindsay was elected Member of Parliament for Melton Mowbray as a Conservative. A year later, he took over the management of Everards Brewery, which had been founded by his grandfather in 1849. From the late 1920s onwards, he became known for his pioneering work as an advocate of private aviation. Having been elected president of the Leicester Aeroclub in 1928, he purchased a number of aircraft for the use of its members. In 1930, he had a private aerodrome built near his home. With its first class hangars and comfortable clubhouse, the Ratcliffe Aerodrome became one of the finest of its kind in civil aviation. Lindsay campaigned actively to free private flying from some of the many restrictions and regulations which had hindered its development during the period between the two world wars. When civil flying was suspended with the onset of the Second World War, Ratcliffe Aerodrome was taken over by the Air Transport Auxiliary (ATA), a network of pilots that ferried new, repaired, and damaged aircraft between factories, maintenance units, and airfields. In the course of the war some fifty thousand ferry flights passed through Ratcliffe Aerodrome.
A prominent philanthropist, Lindsay was knighted for his political and public services on 16 February 1939. He retained his parliamentary seat until 1945, when health reasons forced him to retire. He died while on holiday in Torquay on 11 March 1949, two days before his 58th birthday. His son Tony took over the management of the family business.
Ione’s final years were tinged with sadness. She never lost her love of parties and shopping sprees to London, but advancing age deprived her of the ability to drive a car. ‘I can’t find my way about, & have to refuse so many nice luncheons parties &c. … it makes one sort of die out of fear, people forget, after a time, one exists’, she wrote to Jess on 29 October 1967, adding that ‘One’s old age is awful’. Disillusioned and tired of life, she died by her own hand in the early hours of 30 October 1967, four weeks after her 77th birthday.