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The moment the carriage stopped in front of Basilwether Hall he made for the woods.
He was so sick of it all. He was sick of politics. He was sick of people thinking only of themselves. He was sick of having to be the perfect image of calm and collected. He just wanted to scream. He didn’t want his title, or his position, or his seat in the House of Lords. He had never wanted it. The only reason he had consented to live the life he was born to was because someone had helped him realize that he was in a position where he could make a difference.
But it definitely didn’t feel like he was making a difference.
He arrived at his old tree house. Nobody would disturb him there. And that’s really all he needed, right? Some time alone to reason with himself? But all thoughts fled his mind the moment he was at the top; for in the midst of his one safe place was something utterly unexpected.
“Enola?”
It had been years . Years since his first day in parliament when she told him he would see her again. When he kissed her hand through the gate. Not a single day had gone by where he hadn’t thought of her. As the days turned into weeks and weeks turned into months he found himself wondering if it would turn into forever. She was the only person who had ever truly understood him and he had been afraid he would never see her again.
And somehow, here she was.
“I hope you don’t mind my just showing up. I was in the area and thought I’d come by. Actually that’s not true. I don’t know why I told you that. I don’t know why I’m here. Maybe I should leave. I wasn’t thinking clear-”
He couldn’t take it anymore. He closed the distance between them and wrapped his arms around her, cutting off her rambling. “I missed you, Enola Holmes.”
He felt her hesitate for a moment before returning the hug full force.
“I missed you, too, Tewkesbury.”
He reluctantly pulled away from her, afraid that if he let go it would cease to be real. He ran a hand through his hair in an attempt to refocus himself. “So,” he started, “What have you been up to. I’ve looked for you in the papers but I haven’t seen anything. Are you still working on cases?”
“I am,” a smile split her features, “And I try to stay out of the papers. I’ve found it’s easier to be a detective when no one expects me to be one.”
“You must tell me all about it.”
And so she did. They spent hours together. Enola recounted her many adventures and Tewkesbury let himself open up about his frustrations with the nobility. He found it so easy to simply exist in her presence. He felt lighter than he could remember ever feeling as they sat in comfortable silence.
“Enola?” he asked before he could stop himself.
“Yes?”
“Will you stay this time? Or at least not go away for so long?”
She looked at him, considering. Tewkesbury’s heart beat faster as he waited for her answer.
“Okay.”