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The day Enola Holmes took up the offer to stay in my house, I had woken up late. It was half past nine, and one of the new maids, Elizabeth, had torn away the curtains from their protective position, allowing the sun to heat up the room and alight a fire behind my eyelids. Sitting up, I groaned a good morning, getting a smile in return. She'd seemed glad that I was safe, when I returned after the ordeal with almost dying.
I'd missed breakfast, so I decided to head out into the woods behind my house. The treehouse was still there but it was ransacked. Enola had told me about what happened, with her and my grandmother. She stood in the corner, her eyes scrunched up in laughter.
"You know, Viscount, your handwriting is incredibly neat. I'd almost expected worse." I started to my feet, before realising. I turned away, upset to my stomach. The sun had disappeared, leaving the room dark and cold. All I wanted at that moment was to hold her. I climbed out of the treehouse, upset to my stomach. The sky outside was dark and pregnant with the threat of a thunderstorm breaking. The clouds swelled and billowed, the wind cutting into my eyes and cheeks. I ran as fast as I could, branches, flowers, and grass reeds whipping in my face. I could feel burning on my face and arms, a rip already appearing in my trousers. These were new, I thought, angry at myself for disappointing Mother so soon. I said I'd take care of them. I tripped, a root having been revealed by the gale. The ground met me with a harsh welcome, and I rolled like I did the day I met Enola. It was too steep for me to get a grip on the fleeting grass, and my fall was only broken when I splashed into the river face first. I jumped up as fast as I could, stumbling and spluttering, and waded across the river, glad there was no hill for me to climb with my clothes clinging to me. Lightning forked across the sky, lighting the path lined with flowers. Running as fast as I could, there were two more flashes and claps before I reached the door. It had started to rain, and I was even more soaked - this time to the bone. I slammed the door shut and leaned against it, head tilted back to meet it. I sighed, trying to steady my flighty chest with my hands.
"Sir, you-" I jumped, hearing Elizabeth's voice - "you're soaking wet, and you're hurt." She looked over my whole body, her eyes lingering over certain areas. I felt disgust rise in my throat at the thought of her thinking of me like that.
"I noticed, thank you," I replied, frankly rather curtly. It hurt to speak, and I realised my lip was cut. My hand flew up to it, and came away with stained ruby liquid. I stepped away from the door, sidestepping Elizabeth. "Now, if you'd let me be-"
"My lord, you need tending to. Let me see to that," she said, grasping at the buttons on my vest.
"No." I pushed her away, eyebrows furrowing in disgust, until she stepped too far and tripped. I caught her before she could have hurt her head on the armour behind her, and a flash of lightning seared the sky. I looked at the door again, wondering how on earth the lightning could have been so easily seen - and there was Enola, in the flesh. Real, alive, not like the poorly copied spirit in the treehouse. Her mouth was opened, a breath caught midstride. I straightened up, accidentally dropping Elizabeth as I did so. I shot her a sorry glance, before returning my gaze to the light of my life. She was completely soaking, and surely her dress was too thin to keep her warm. "Enola... You're here. Are you okay? Are you safe? You look cold, come in, I'll close the door and- and fetch you a blanket." I didn't know how much Enola had seen, and I was afraid she'd seen me holding a girl that wasn't her with no other context. Slipping behind her, I closed the door, locking it tight, before turning to look Enola Holmes in the face. She rose her hands to my face, something in her eyes looking so familiar and yet so strange.
"Viscount Tewkesbury, Marquess of Basilwether, I've never known such a strange man as you." Her hands traced the fresh scars on my fave and neck, and it felt right, like she was made to be doing it. All I wanted was for her to continue, for her hands to keep holding me like I was the only precious thing on Earth. I raised my hands to be on hers, clasping together, and I knew she'd seen enough to understand what had happened. Behind her, Elizabeth stood up, and looked at us, understanding and sorrow hidden within her eyes, before leaving, chin quivering. I returned my eyes to Enola, seeing she was now fussing over a few missing buttons from my coat.
"Enola, it's okay, I'll live. Just come inside, it'll be warmer. I'll explain to Mother later." She smiled at me, warmer than sun-heated honey, and I took her hand, letting her trace the scars from the trip home.
I settled her in the kitchens, the warmest rooms in the house, handing her a set of my clothes to change into. "When you're done, find my bedroom. It's up the stairs, turn left, and turn right. The second door on the left is mine."
"I'll find you, Altair."
"I know you will." I spun on my heel and walked, hesitating at the doorway. Turning my head, I glanced back at her, looking Enola in her doe eyes. "Thank you," I whispered, before an impatient cook pushed me out of the door and into the hall, telling me off in a joking manner about the importance of keeping the heat inside the kitchens. I grinned at Mrs Winger and her teasing, and marched on to my rooms.
A few minutes after I had changed and asked a maid, Isabelle, to please take away my clothes and make sure they get cleaned up as soon as possible thank you, a knock sounded on my door. I opened it, to see Enola and my mother.
"Hello again, Tewkesbury," Enola said, as if she hadn't just danced inside like she did my heart. "Your mother and I were talking about your passion for flowers. I think it's quite odd, but everything about you is quite odd."
"Have you heard they're making makeup from flowers these days? Quite strange!" My mother laughed as she added that.
"I thought I might quite like to try it, if only for a bit of fun, wouldn't you, my lady?" Enola voiced the thoughts echoing in my head. "Anyway, besides that, I must ask a question, my lady. You see, your son offered me a place to stay, and I must admit I was already heading here when the storm hit, and you know how soaked I was-"
"There's no need to ask, Enola. You are more than welcome to stay as long as you need," replied my mother. "The room just behind us is the guest room, feel free to make board in there." Enola beamed at her and me in turn, and threw her arms around me, almost squeezing the life out of me (not that I'd complain if she did.)
We talked to each other for hours, sitting on my bed, until night fell and Isabelle knocked on my door, signalling that we were expected at the table tonight. I thought she expected us to follow her, but she simply held the door open and smiled something wickedly mischievous. I took Enola's hand in mine before setting off running down the hall, spinning her by her waist around the corners. Her laughs were far more than enough to meet smiles of my own. After we'd eaten (it was sausages, carrots, broccoli, potatoes and a lovely gravy), Enola and I were asked to retire to our rooms, so that Mother and Uncle could have their own conversation. I knew that Mother probably didn't want to stare too long at the scars on my face from earlier - not that she would do it purposely of course, but I knew as well that she felt worried about the healing process. They were still at risk of bleeding if I didn't take care. Enola was talking about her mother, and the story of how she'd taught her how to do archery. I'd listened to her tell me that so many times, I could have recited it myself. Once we reached our rooms, I looked down upon her face again - her beautiful face - and laughed instinctively, not knowing whether to kiss her or say goodnight just yet.
"Goodnight, Altair," Enola said, spinning on her heel and touching the door handle before looking at me again.
"Goodnight, Enola." I knew it wouldn't be the last time I said that. Once in my room and changing into my nightclothes, I wondered why she was really here. Our houses weren't all that close together. Maybe something had happened with Mycroft. Or she'd just taken a fancy to staying for a while. I wouldn't judge her, of course, but I would always worry about her. She's almost inhumanly smart, and I know she does martial arts, she isn't one to go down without fighting, but when confronted with the one dearest to your heart, one of the most loving things you can do is worry for their safety.
After having changed, I lay on my bed for what must have been a good 30 minutes. Enola. I needed to see her again. I kneeled before a panel in the wood, and lifted. It was heavier than it looked, but it came away easily enough. I slipped inside, pulling the panel down; keeping my hands to the wall, I followed the wall to the room Enola was staying. I listened out in case she was changing, but the only thing I could hear was her pacing. A moment passed and she stepped over the panel I was under; before I could push it up she stepped on it. She didn't move for quite some time, and although I heard the vibrations of her muttering, I couldn't make out a word she said. Enola eventually stepped off the panel, and I pushed it up, climbing up and quietly placing it down. Enola spun and yelped at the sight of me standing in her room.
"Tewkesbury! You need to get warm, the storm is absolutely unforgiving!"
"But I am warm," I protested. In all honesty, I was. Her room was a lot warmer than the corridor.
"You haven't got a shirt on, how can you be warm?" She seemed flustered, turning her head away.
"I think I'm like a bear. I'm almost always warm." I fell backwards onto her bed, eyes at the ceiling. I could feel as Enola looked at me again, a laugh probably already twinkling in those pretty dark eyes.
"A teddy bear, perhaps," she teased, and dropped herself on the bed next to me, turning my face towards hers. I noticed her eyes were the delicate colour of a brown tulip.
"Prove it then," I said, a joking manner. I didn't expect her to actually do it. Enola's arms wrapped around my torso, trapping my own arms, until I broke them out to hug her with. I don't think at that point either of us cared about a damned scandal. All I wanted was her hugs, her kisses if she'd allow, her safety. She looked up at me, and I don't know what came over me but I surged forward, meeting my lips with hers while she was still holding me like a precious thing. It was a good few seconds before we pulled away from each other, and embarrassment flew across Enola's face before she giggled.
"Should we stay like this all night?"
"No! Your mother will find out, she'll hate me!"
"Enola, it's okay. She'll be glad. She'd been talking about marrying me off for months, to some girl I never even liked. I think she's happy we know each other. I told her what you did, how you saved me. She likes how smart you are, Enola, she said you can teach me things. I don't- I don't know what things, but... I'll accept the offer, if you'd let me." She looked at me with a look of something mixed with joy and shock and care in her eyes all at once, her breath tickling sweet against my cheek.
"I think I shall."
We stayed under the covers, our arms wrapped around the other, until even later the next day. I never wanted to let Enola go. My red rose.