Work Text:
She’d not expected to find him there that cool spring morning, instead assuming he’d still be working his investigations on Sunday, despite it being a day of rest for her.
She approached silently, taking care not to disturb him, the grassy earth muffling her footfalls. She shifted the bouquet of white lilies and pink carnations in her arms, as she watched him remove his bowler hat and tuck it under his arm, then lean forward to place a posy of light purple lilacs at the foot of her mother’s gravestone.
She heard William murmur, “I’ve brought Lavinia lilacs, Henry, as you would’ve done were you still here. I recall you telling me they were her favorite.”
A sharp stab pierced Eliza’s heart, and her eyes pricked with tears at this gesture of devotion he’d shown her father by bringing flowers for her mother since Henry Scarlet could no longer. How had William known these details about her parents and their love, while she had not?
She lifted a gloved hand to smooth away a single tear trickling down her cheek. She watched, mesmerized, as William pulled the black leather glove from his right hand, raised his fingers to his lips, then touched her father’s headstone reverently, running his fingertips along the smooth marble surface.
In his lilting Scottish brogue, he confessed, “God, I miss you, Henry. I’m doing my best to look after your daughter. Surely you know, perhaps have always known, it's not merely my duty to you that compels me to watch over Eliza. I care deeply for her, sir, and I promise to keep her safe for both our sakes, though it almost certainly won’t be easy.”
He exhaled sharply and shook his head, laughing quietly to himself.
The wind shifted, and his head snapped up. He stood still as a statue in the cemetery, guarded once more.
“How long have you been standing there?”
“Not long,” she answered, then asked softly, “How did you know?”
“Your scent - gardenias - floating on the breeze. How much did you hear?” he queried, at last turning to gaze at her.
She stepped forward to stand beside him, then kneeled to place her flowers next to his at her mother’s gravesite. Straightening, her eyes focused on her mother’s headstone, she replied, “Not much at all.”
She removed her left glove and slipped her hand into his, squeezing his fingers lightly.
“When Father died, I felt my parents had left me completely alone…”
“They didn’t. You are not alone, Eliza, and I’m not leaving you,” he assured her solemnly.
“I know, William, and for that, I’m eternally grateful.” She raised his clasped hand and pressed it to her flushed cheek. “Thank you,” she said, tenderness weaving through her voice. She held her breath, then asked, “Would you join me for tea and cake when we’re done here?”
“I'd like that very much,” he replied, his thumb gently stroking the back of her hand, as they smiled into each other's eyes.
The End