Chapter Text
Six years had passed, and a lot had changed in Enola Holmes’ life. She was letting a small townhouse in London and running her own detective agency. Her older brother Sherlock was still the more famous Holmes detective and people from all over England would knock on his door, but sometimes clients needed a lesser-known professional to do the job. Like when Lord and Lady Austen needed someone to go undercover as a handmaid in their household to find out who of the servants had stolen some of the silverware. Or like when the young debutant named Lady Victoria had disappeared and her family feared she had eloped with their stableboy.
Enola had improved her fighting skills even further and could now perform the Corkscrew Move on an opponent without breaking a sweat. She had become fluent in French, German, and the ways of high society; something her oldest brother Mycroft was very pleased with. She still loathed high society, however, so not everything had changed. The only benefit of attending all those boresome dinners she got invited to, was that lately, it had become the only opportunity for her to see her dear friend the Marquess of Basilwether. Or, how she called him, Tewksbury. Or, if he was really annoying her, nincompoop.
Tewksbury was now 23 years old and was running his estate and the adjoining grounds. He was a member of the House of Lords, and very popular with the people as he was known to take their best interest at heart. He had grown even taller than when Enola first met him, had started filling out his suits nicely for a few years, and had finally learned how to charm his fellow highborn acquaintances. However, he was still a klutz and someone who liked to hide out in his childhood treehouse when he had important social obligations – so, clearly, not everything had changed.
They hadn’t seen each other in a few months, and she knew he would attend the ball at the Heywood’s estate, and that was the only reason Enola accepted the invitation. Dressed in her red dress and accompanied by her brother Mycroft, they arrived at an already lively affair.
“Try to leave a positive, lasting impression tonight, Enola,” Mycroft said. “There are a lot of good families here who you could marry into.”
“I have no intentions—” Enola started.
“Enola, you will be 23 soon,” Mycroft said like she didn’t know herself. “If you will not marry soon, it won’t be long before you are considered too old for matrimony and you will become a spinster. Which will not be a fortunate situation for you.”
She had to refrain herself from rolling her eyes at her brother. Not again, she thought to herself. “You and Sherlock are both unmarried.”
“You’re a woman, Enola. Different rules and expectations apply to you.”
“What a convenient argument,” Enola replied, before continuing. “I’ll be looking for a glass of bubbles now before you sour my mood even more.”
She was enjoying a glass of champagne and looking at the people surrounding her when her old friend spotted her. “Enola!” Tewksbury greeted her, a bright smile on his face that seemed to light up his brown eyes. “I can’t believe it. Are you truly here?”
Enola smiled over his enthusiasm to see her. “The Heywoods are old clients. The invitation was a thank you for a job well done.”
“How have you been? I feel like I haven’t seen you in ages.”
He made her laugh again. “It’s barely been two months, Tewksbury.”
“Much too long, in my opinion. I’ve missed you, Enola Holmes,” he said the sentiment in a softer tone and it reminded her of that moment all those years ago, at the flower market in London when she had come to find him because she suspected his life was in danger. When he said it then it made her feel confused, now it made her heartbeat quicken a bit to hear it – which was even more confusing.
“I have missed you, too,” she confessed, and Tewksbury ducked his head on a smile.
“You must tell me all about the cases you have solved since we last spoke and all the ways you have complicated your brothers’ lives.”
Enola told him how the Heywood case had made her travel all the way to Chichester, to uncover that Mrs. Heywood had a secret, long-lost sister. Tewksbury hung on every word she said and inched closer to her than was strictly proper. Enola didn’t mind, she was never one to follow society’s strict rules on social conduct if it didn’t suit her, and Tewksbury radiated off a warmth that she wanted to envelop herself in. On top of that, he also smelled like wildflowers mixed with a scent that was completely Tewksbury which was strangely addicting.
He caught her up on what he had been up to, and how his family was doing before he asked about her own. “Are you here with your brothers?”
“Just Mycroft. I left him to his own socialising when he told me in no uncertain terms that tonight would be a great time for me to acquaint myself with some eligible bachelors since it is such a nuisance for a woman to remain unwed. It seems as if Mycroft believes a woman has only two choices when she comes of age: marriage or death. He’s absolutely ridiculous. A few weeks ago he introduced me to two doctors he invited to our monthly luncheon and—,” Enola ranted, and stopped herself when she noticed Tewksbury’s hand had tightened around his champagne flute and his shoulders tensed. “Are you alright?”
Her friend gave her a tense smile. “Yes, I—” he got interrupted by his uncle who told Tewksbury he had to meet someone or the other. Enola didn’t care to listen until Tewksbury addressed her again. “Don’t go anywhere, I’ll try to be back as quickly as possible,” he promised. “Will you dance the next set with me?”
“Only if my glass is empty,” Enola quipped.
Enola finished her glass and then another. Tewksbury took longer than Enola had hoped, so when the Heywoods’ middle son asked her to dance, she accepted. This was a ball after all, and she loved to dance. Mr. Heywood proved himself to be an adequate dancer and could hold his own in conversation with her. He thanked her for the dance and pressed his lips to her knuckles when they bid each other goodbye.
“Another one of Mycroft’s bachelors?” someone behind her said. She turned to find Tewksbury, with a look on his face she didn’t recognise. His jaw was tense, and his eyes were flashing with different emotions before he decided to settle on one. “I thought you promised me the next set?”
Why did he sound betrayed? “You didn’t get back in time and you know how much I enjoy dancing,” Enola explained. “How about we dance when this song is finished?”
“I wouldn’t want to give your brother the wrong impression,” he said, cross.
“What do you mean by—” Enola started, but before she could finish her question, Tewksbury had turned on his heel and left her.