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Enola rushes across the Magdalen College quadrangle, her arms weighed down by the heavy books she is carrying. She was just chatting with the professor after her History of Physics class ended, and became so engrossed in discussing the finer details of Kepler's model of the universe that she lost track of time, and is about to be late to her chemistry class. She isn't looking forward to the strong words she'll have to face -- she knows what a temper Professor Severn has! He is one of the old-fashioned type, who believe that women have no place at Oxford, and seems to constantly be on the lookout for the slightest chance to demean her...although given her outstanding performance, he has failed to find an opportune moment. Enola finally reaches the laboratory classroom, panting for breath, and slides into a seat at the back. Thankfully, Professor Severn is writing on the board with his back to the class, and doesn't notice her slight tardiness. Composing herself, ignoring the whispers of the two boys next to her, Enola opens her chemistry book to the chapter on endothermic reactions.
After twenty minutes of lecturing, the professor assigns the students into groups of two and asks them to prepare a reaction of hydrated barium hydroxide and ammonium chloride. Enola groans internally, cursing Professor Severn, when she is paired up with Tom Ruddle, an arrogant boy who acts like he owns the world. Tom eyes her with a condescending look. "Well, Miss Holmes, perhaps it is better if I mix the chemicals -- I wouldn't want the corrosive acid to burn those pretty hands of yours, would I?" He reaches for an unnecessarily large beaker to pour out some hydrochloric acid.
"Mister Ruddle," snaps Enola, defiantly looking him in the eyes, "I would appreciate it if you did not presume to dictate the division of work between us. Now, perhaps instead of pouring out an excessive amount of acid right away, how about we take a moment to think about the procedure and the actual quantities and sequence of substances we need?" She says this rather loudly, and a few boys look over from their tables.
"Oh, right," stammers Tom, "we need...er...the...I mean...it is clear that...".
Enola sighs. "We need to first measure out the barium hydroxide and put it into the beaker. Then we measure out the ammonium chloride and add it in as well." She puts on laboratory gloves, and expertly selects the required solids from the chemical stocking shelves. "Like this," she says, as she adds the first substance to the beaker. "You do the ammonium chloride."
Tom follows her guidance word for word, secretly very thankful to be paired with a partner who totally knows what she is doing. Soon, they are successfully blowing fumes from a small amount of hydrochloric acid over the beaker to detect the presence of ammonia, and measuring a temperature drop of twenty degrees -- just as predicted for a correctly-conducted experiment. Enola neatly writes up the results of the experiment (briefly hesitating for a moment before adding "and Thomas Ruddle" after her own name) and submits it to Professor Severn before any of the other groups have finished. "Hmph!" grunts the professor (for praising a woman is like blasphemy to him), skimming over the report, and feeling frustrated yet again that he will have to give a girl -- a girl! -- full marks for an impeccable piece of work.
When the class is dismissed, Enola walks out with the crowd of students, relieved to have no further classes that day. The next day being a bank holiday, she will have some time to herself. Maybe she can convince Mycroft to accompany her to the playhouse to see the drama society's dress rehearsal of Twelfth Night. She has always liked that play, feeling a certain affinity for the cross-dressed Viola...although she never understood why Viola wanted to sacrifice her freedom and marry the duke and be confined to a life of suffocating luxury like that!
As she walks past the rosebushes by the library, she hears rapid footsteps behind her. "Miss Holmes," a voice calls out.
Enola turns around to see a boy from her chemistry class -- a certain Viscount James Tewksbury whom she has spoken to several times before -- approaching her. "Miss Holmes, you were awfully brave to stand up against that Tom Ruddle's bossy behaviour like that. I don't know why Professor Severn pretends not to notice...I mean, you are clearly the best in the class and yet he never utters a word of praise for you! Did you see how he went on gushing last week about Rob Woodstock's report on the easy titration experiment? He acted like Rob had just made a ground-breaking discovery!"
Enola nods as Tewksbury fall into step beside her. "It doesn't matter," she says. "As long as Severn doesn't dock marks from me unfairly, I don't care for empty words of praise." Tewksbury is one of the nicer boys she has met at Oxford, and she feels relatively at ease talking to him.
"I was...er...I was thinking," says Tewksbury, a slight blush rising in his cheeks, "if you would like to have tea with me tomorrow at Exeter College."
Enola is slightly taken aback by this invitation, but agrees. She enjoys talking to people and silently practising her deductive skills on them. This boy might prove an interesting case study...in her previous conversations, although brief, with him, she picked up the feeling that there was more he wanted to say but somehow couldn't bring himself to say it.
They part ways at the high street, and Enola walks home to the little cottage, as she likes to think of it, that she shares with her brother Mycroft. Mycroft is usually away at Oxford board meetings during the day, and even after returning home he is busy with his remote government advisory role, reviewing top secret documents sent to him by Whitehall. Enola enters, hanging up her coat and removing her shoes. Putting her books down, she tiptoes into the study where her brother is hunched over his desk with his back to her. She springs on him from behind and wraps her arms round his neck, pressing a kiss to his temple.
"Enola!" says Mycroft, turning his head to face her. "How were classes today? Did you blow up anything?" He pecks her gently on the lips, eliciting a giggle from her as his moustache lightly tickles her.
Enola slides into his lap and leans her head on his shoulder. "Classes were good. No explosions, but I showed a useless boy how to do a proper endothermic solid reaction! I wish we could move on to more exciting topics in chemistry though...Professor Severn just drags everything out so much."
Mycroft chuckles proudly, knowing that his sister is far advanced for her age, and excelling marvellously even among all the Eton-educated boys in her classes. "I still have some more Whitehall work to finish tonight, sweetie," he says, "but I'll read you another chapter of The Man in the Iron Mask at bedtime, all right?"
"Yes, darling," says Enola, massaging her brother's shoulders. "I'm going to work on my physics tutorial exercises now. I was thinking of going to the Twelfth Night dress rehearsal tomorrow evening, want to come?"
"Tomorrow? Oh yes, tomorrow evening should be fine for me," says Mycroft with a little twinkle in his eye. He's not going to tell Enola right now that they will have another companion tomorrow evening.
"Yay, I love you, Mycroft!" Enola's face lights up with glee as she presses her lips to her brother's and gives him a juicy smack. She gets up from his lap to have a snack and start her physics homework. "Oh, by the way, a boy from my chemistry class -- Viscount James Tewksbury, he's the son of some rich bloke in Wiltshire -- invited me to tea at Exeter College tomorrow afternoon. Why don't you meet me at the Exeter College gate afterwards at six o'clock, and we can go to the play together?"
Enola finishes her homework before dinner. She and Mycroft eat at the Magdalen College dining hall and take a stroll round the gardens before returning to their cottage. When Mycroft finally finishes his work for the day, they climb into bed with The Man in the Iron Mask and settle into a comfortable position, with Enola sitting between Mycroft's legs and leaning back against his chest. He reads to her animatedly for half an hour, then puts the book away and lies down, pulling her to his side. Nestling under the covers, Mycroft buries his face in his sweet sister's neck, letting all stress and the cares of the day melt away with every tender kiss he gives her. Enola closes her eyes blissfully, having grown accustomed to her brother's ticklish caresses. She takes his hand and interlaces her fingers with his, placing a little kiss on each of his knuckles. She curls up against his chest, and is soon asleep.
The next day being a holiday, Enola and Mycroft spend the day going to the Covered Market and popping into the High Street shops. At five o'clock in the afternoon, Enola meets Tewksbury at the entrance of Exeter College. He is visibly happy to see her and leads her to a small table in the courtyard, where he offers her a medley of scones on a plate and a steaming pot of tea and initiates a conversation:
"So, Miss Holmes, I take it you come from London?"
"Thank you, Viscount Tewksbury," says Enola, taking a lemon scone from the plate. "Yes, London has indeed my residence these past few years, but I grew up in the West Country."
"Ah I see," says Tewksbury, "and please, do call me James. Have you got siblings, Enola, if I may call you that?"
"Yes, indeed, I've got two older brothers." replies Enola. "How about you, James?"
"I am the only child of my parents. I wish I had a sibling though...it's nice not to be alone. Anyway, how did you end up studying the natural sciences at Oxford? I mean, surely you couldn't have had time to learn advanced maths and things on top of finishing school?"
"Finishing school?" Enola asks with an air of disgust. "What makes you think I went to finishing school?"
"Oh," says Tewksbury, taken aback. "I...er...I just thought all girls...well, the ones from rich families...go there," he admits sheepishly.
"Well, not this girl!" exclaims Enola.
"You mean. you didn't even learn about deportment and etiquette? You didn't learn how to embroider?" asks Tewksbury in surprise. "How very strange!" he adds upon seeing her shake her head, and then in a softer, pensive voice, "I like strange."
"What to do plan to do after Oxford, James?" inquires Enola, helping herself to a second cup of tea.
"Well, I would like to enter the House of Lords in my father's footsteps, you see, but if not, I would love to become a botanist at Kew Gardens." Enola cannot help but notice the tips of his ears turning red as he says the last part. "I know, it's strange for a boy to enjoy flowers so much, isn't it?" he adds.
Enola smiles. "No, it's not. I know a boy who enjoys footprints and coal dust so much that he has devoted his life to finding meaning from them."
They continue talking for a good part of an hour. Without his telling her, she gathers from his appearance and manner that he sleeps very late on a regular basis, that he played a good deal of rugby in the past, and that he has a penchant for sherbet lemons. Enola also notices that sometimes Tewksbury looks at her with a fixed gaze as she speaks, his cheeks flushed with colour. She thinks it's a bit odd -- Sherlock and Mycroft have certainly never looked at me like that!
"I must go now," Enola says just as the old clock on the tower is about to strike six, "thank you for the tea and a lovely chat." She extends her hand to shake his.
"Oh, of course," stammers the boy, "thank you for your company. Perhaps we can have tea together again another day." He takes her hand, but instead of shaking it, he raises it to his lips and imprints a fleeting kiss upon it. "Let me show you out."
Enola is rather annoyed by these "gentlemanly" gestures, but calmly allows Tewksbury to escort her out. As she takes her leave, her eyes glance around for Mycroft. It is not like him to be late! But who is here? She catches sight of a tall, strapping figure, smiling at her from a few yards away, his wickedly handsome curls blowing in the breeze.
"Sherlock!" She hadn't been expecting a visit from her elder brother. She joyously runs into his arms and laughs as he scoops her up and twirls her around. "Mycroft didn't tell me you were coming to Oxford today!" She fondly looks into his eyes, locking her lips with his and kissing him eagerly, rejoicing in the warmth of her brother's touch after almost two months.
As brother and sister happily head off to join Mycroft for the drama society dress rehearsal, a lone figure gazes at them dejectedly from the Exeter College grounds. He doesn't realize that the newcomer is Enola's brother, for he has never seen siblings greet each other so passionately. And I thought I had a chance! She could have at least mentioned that she was already seeing someone...