Chapter Text
Warm.
Tewkesbury was warm.
Where did it come from? The curtains were drawn, the candles unlit and they were still well into spring. Why was he feeling warm? Strangely, in fact, only one side of him was warm. He tentatively opened his eyes to see that it was early in the morning. Birds were singing, the nearby creek was rushing, and Enola was lying next to him.
Wait… Enola was… what?
Suddenly, the events of the previous day came rushing back to him all at once. The escape from Miss Harrison’s, the return to Basilwether Hall, the death of Linthorn, and the Dowager’s betrayal. He then distinctly remembered that he and Enola slept on the same bed, though he did not remember them being as close as this.
She was lying on half of his chest with her arm around his torso.
Enola was a cuddler , he realized. This piece of information was something he was not willing to share with her—she would surely deny it.
Tewkesbury smiled, immediately wide awake. He had never been this close to a girl before. Not in parties, balls, dances, and certainly not in places as private as a bedroom. One of the perks of being so, well... rich was that not once in his life had he ever shared his sleeping space with anyone, not even his parents. This was new.
He observed her quietly. Her face was void of tension, completely relaxed in slumber, save for the smallest of smiles upturning her slightly parted lips. Her eyes were not completely shut. A small portion of the whites was visible, making her the absolute picture of serenity.
As the minutes went by, a thin sliver of butter-yellow sunlight happened to illuminate her hair. He had never seen a shade of brown more vibrant, more alive. From his perspective, Enola looked like she had a halo. It suited her beautifully. He realized how apt a halo was for her, as she was his angel, after all. She saved his life multiple times and never asked for anything in return.
Tewkesbury noticed her deep breaths getting shallower and shallower, and he came to the conclusion that she was waking up. Quickly, he pretended to be asleep to avoid getting caught staring.
Enola tensed against him. He could tell that she was now awake from the gasp that escaped her lips, as well as the discreet but quick disentangling she was doing from him. No doubt, she was mortified.
She rolled away completely, her back now facing him. He sneaked a glance at her and saw that her hands were at her temples and she was shaking her head aggressively as if she were chastising herself.
She did not go back to sleep, he quickly surmised. She merely lied on her side and let her mind take her places he knows not. He wondered what she was thinking of. Was she thinking about him?
Probably not, Tewkesbury thought. She’s probably thinking of leaving soon.
The truth was a dunk in an ice bath.
A few minutes went by with neither of them moving to get up. Then, Tewkesbury heard the distinct rumble of a hungry stomach. From the corner of his eye, Enola clutched her middle.
He decided to ‘wake up’, so to speak. Making a spectacle of it, he stretched his arms and legs and yawned not-so-quietly to let Enola know he was awake. Tewkesbury sat up on the bed and glanced at her. Her eyes were closed shut… no, they were clenched shut. She was pretending, too.
“Good morning, Enola.” Tewkesbury’s voice was deep and raspy, thick with sleep.
She ignored him, feigning slumber. He laughed fondly.
He sluggishly stood from the bed and made his way to the dressing room, where he splashed his face and changed his clothes for the day. He heard no noise coming from the bedroom, so he suspected that Enola was still keeping up the charade.
He was right. When he walked back into the room, she was now lying on her back, her eyes still clenched. Now that he knew exactly how she looked when asleep, he was not fooled.
Enola’s hunger made itself known once again. At that, Tewkesbury chuckled and straightened up, making his way out of the room.
Once the door was gently shut, he headed downstairs where the estate’s servants gaped and stared at him in disbelief. The room fell quiet.
“Hello,” he greeted them. “Good morning to you, Mildred, Walter, Mr. Brighton.” Tewkesbury greeted three out of the sixteen servants milling about.
Nobody greeted back, as was the usual protocol at Basilwether hall. They only gawked. Tewkesbury shrugged and headed to the kitchen. He asked two servants to fetch him the ingredients for a tomato omelette with a side of mashed potatoes and gravy.
As he was washing a pan he would be using for cooking, it slipped his grasp and noisily collided with the sink. To the normal person, the sound was not very loud. However, for Tewkesbury, it was deafening. In his head, he heard the sound of the Dowager’s fired bullet colliding with the metal on his chest. Slowly, a chill made its way down his spine, causing him to shudder. He closed his eyes and focused on calming his erratic breaths. He counted. One, two, three, four…
After sixty-four counts, Tewkesbury was able to get a hold of himself. His breathing was stabilized once again, and he was able to open his eyes. He repeated to himself: it was just the pan. It was just the pan. It was just the pan.
Finally, he took one big breath and shook his head to expel the toxic thoughts. He had a trigger, he realized. Loud noises.
Soon, Tewkesbury cooked up a meal for himself and Enola. No servant dared to approach him or ask where he’d been. They hadn’t even asked him about the bloodstains in the foyer. To confirm whether or not they spotted it, he stepped into the receiving room and found the checkered tiles to be spotless. He knew for a fact that Lestrade’s men hadn’t mopped up the mess, so he figured that one of the servants had done it earlier today.
One of the servants offered to set the table with dishes, flowers, and placemats, but Tewkesbury politely declined her offer, claiming that he wished to do it all himself. The servant bowed and walked away.
Just as he was placing the last garnish on the omelettes, Enola appeared in front of him. She was clad in the same bloodied clothes she wore from last night—his mother’s night shift left upstairs.
“Why have you got that on?” asked Tewkesbury in lieu of a greeting.
“I didn’t exactly pack.” Her eyes were glued on the steaming plates of food.
“Well, you can borrow something of my mother’s. You can’t walk around in a bloodied dress.”
He thought of bringing up his short panic attack earlier but decided against it. He didn’t want to burden her with the knowledge. Instead, he asked, “did you sleep well?”
The prettiest shade of pink bloomed in her cheeks as she recalled the way she had woken a couple of hours ago. “Very much, thank you.” Enola did not meet his eyes. “What’s all this?”
“Breakfast.” Tewkesbury beamed. “I made us tomato omelettes and mashed potatoes.”
She shook her head slowly. “Look, Tewks, I mustn't. Really, I can’t—”
He cut her off. “I insist.”
“I dunno...”
“Please?”
“I’m very grateful and all but...”
“I made this all for you—I mean us,” he said, sighing. “Just—just let me do this. It’s the least I can do after you saved my life.”
Enola wrung her fingers together as she fidgeted nervously. After a tense minute, finally, she said, “those eggs do look delicious… okay.”
Tewkesbury grinned. Under his breath, he said, “you’re an angel.”
“Sorry?” Enola cocked her head at him.
“I said d’ya want a bagel?”
Breakfast went by quickly. Too quickly, in fact. Tewkesbury was dreading every second that passed because he knew that as soon as Enola was finished with her meal, nothing would stop her from leaving. He didn’t want her to go.
So, he stalled. When the clock struck eight, he said, “You should see the gazebo near the forest. My father and I built it, and I’m quite proud of how it turned out.”
“Really?”
“Yeah. Built it when I was nine, too. You’re going to love it.”
“I would like that… but I really do have to get going.”
He looked at her sadly. “Enola, you don’t.”
“Yes I do,” she said, sighing. “It’s only a matter of time before Lestrade tells Sherlock about last night, and he’ll come knocking on your door with Mycroft. They’re going to take me back to the finishing school, and you of all people know how much I hate it, so I have to go.” She said this all in one breath.
Tewkesbury hung his head and stared at his shoes. He sighed. “You’re right.” He nodded slowly. “Of course you are.”
Enola grimaced, allowing time to stretch in between them.
Suddenly, there was a loud noise. Tewkesbury’s heart sped up in the same way it had when the pan collided against the sink. Light abruptly filled the room. The sound of rushed, heavy footsteps made its way closer... as if the person—or people judging from the magnitude of steps—were getting closer and closer.
Someone was here.
From the corner of his eye, Enola turned bone-white.
And then…
“Where is he?” A woman’s voice echoed outside. “Where’s my son?”
Tewkesbury shot out of his chair and dashed out of the room, a relieved Enola trailing behind him.
In the living room, he collided with the woman.
Mother, he thought longingly, throwing his arms around her.
“Oh, my boy!” She cried out loud. “I was so worried about you! You were gone for such a long time, and when we found out about your grandmother, we came right away—”
“We’re so glad you’re home,” said another man. Tewkesbury pulled away from his mother and saw his uncle behind her. Whimbrel Tewkesbury, his father’s brother.
“Uncle,” he greeted.
“Are you alright?”
“I am,” said Tewkesbury.
“That was quite the assassination plan.” The older man muttered sadly. “Who would have thought Mother was capable of something like that?”
Tewkesbury bowed his head at his statement. The events of last night inevitably filled his head once again. He was right about to tell them both that he didn’t want to discuss it just yet when his mother said, “Missus May Beatrice Posy! You’re here?”
Enola laughed. “I’m afraid that name was an alias for the time being.” She extended a hand. “My real name is Enola Holmes. Pleased to meet you.”
A crease appeared in between Lady Tewkesbury’s eyebrows, but she shook her hand nonetheless. “Likewise, young lady.”
“Mother, uncle,” he began. “This is Enola. She saved my life.” He said proudly. Enola turned pink and studied her shoes.
“Is that so?” His mother asked, intrigued.
“Thrice, in fact.”
“Thrice?” Whimbrel asked.
“Once on the train, once in the boarding house, and once last night.”
“Well, I’ll be damned!”
“She’s amazing,” said Tewkesbury, smiling at the girl.
“Stop it.” Enola murmured quietly to him.
His mother asked, “however can we repay you?”
Enola looked at her and held up her two hands. “Oh, no, that won’t be necessary, please.”
“You must take seventy pounds.”
“Oh! Oh, no, please. I can’t accept it.”
“Come on, Enola, it’s the least we could do.” Tewkesbury coaxed.
“I can’t, I really can’t.”
“Sixty-five.” Negotiated his mother.
“I’m good, thank you very much.”
“Fifty, then. It’s settled!” Lady Tewkesbury clapped joyfully. Enola opened her mouth to protest, but the older woman spoke before she could. “Take it, darling. It is the reward money, after all.”
Enola visually hesitated. She looked at Tewkesbury and he offered her an encouraging smile. Finally, she said, “alright.”
Lady Tewkesbury beamed, reached into her purse, and pulled out twenty pounds. Enola took it reluctantly as it was handed to her. “Thank you,” she said.
“You’re very welcome, dear.”
Enola pocketed the money. She turned to Tewkesbury and said, “I guess this is goodbye.”
“Goodbye?” Whimbrel turned his head to the young girl. “But we only just got here! You must stay, at least a while. Or at least for a change of clothes.” He said, eyeing Enola’s bloodied garments.
“Yes, there’s always room for you here, with us.”
She smiled. “Thank you kindly, but I have to leave immediately. My brothers are after me, you see, and they mustn’t find out where I am.”
“I see,” she said. “Well, you can borrow a carriage. I assume you’re off to London?”
“I am. Thank you for the offer, but I actually have my own ride.” She and Tewkesbury shared a smirk. “It’s a motor car.”
“Good, good.” She said. “Thank you, Miss Holmes, for bringing back my son. Words cannot express how grateful I am.”
Enola smiled at the woman.
“Walk her out, will you, boy?” Whimbrel patted his nephew on the back twice.
Tewkesbury cocked his head in the direction of the door, silently asking her to follow.
Once they were outside and out of earshot of the two adults, Tewkesbury said, “you’re positive I can’t convince you to stay?”
She chuckled once. “Yes, Tewkes. I am. Thank you, though. For last night. The bath, the bed, the clothes. It was perfect.”
“Anything for you, Enola.” He paused. “You know… once my mother and uncle find out we’ve shared a bed, they’d track you down and make us marry.”
A big smile appeared on her face and her eyes lit up as she laughed boisterously. “I'd like to see them try!”
She looked at him. Really looked at him, and she realized how deep his affections ran for her. Unbeknownst to them, their hearts began beating at the same time, much like it had the night before. When Tewkesbury looked at her, he saw a future. A beautiful future filled with adventures, mischief, and daresay… love. He didn’t know it yet, but his whole world was going to gravitate towards hers from now on.
“Will you come to visit me? On the day we vote in the House of Lords?”
Enola said nothing.
Tewkesbury rambled. “I–I want to be reassured that what I’m doing is the right thing. I just… need to... need to see your face.” He looked down.
Enola reached for his hand and took it. She said, “you’ll be a great addition to the House of Lords. That I am certain.” He lifted his head and their eyes met. She said, “you’re not a complete idiot, you know.”
She stepped closer and reached up on her tippy toes to encircle him in a tight hug. Her hands came around his neck, and after two stunned seconds, Tewkesbury pulled her close as well. They stayed that way for some time. Her hair smelled like the flowers and salts he had put in her bath the night before.
They didn’t quite pull away. Enola stood close, allowing him to plant a chaste kiss of protection on her forehead. She smiled.
No more words were exchanged between the two. He offered his hand to help her mount the motor car, but she playfully swatted it away, silently implying that she did not need his help. He laughed, knowing exactly how true it was.
As the motor car made its way out of Basilwether Hall, Tewkesbury felt as if one end of a string was tied around his heart, and the other, hers. The string tugged harder and harder as the distance between them grew. His eyes never left her silhouette, even as it faded into a tiny speck in the distance.
There was no denying it.
He was in love.