Work Text:
July 1890
Enola had developed a great friendship with Caroline Balestier and her brother Wolcott since she had found and rescued the latter from ‘thick new man’. She’d even come to enjoy the company of their friend, Rudyard Kipling, despite the rather rocky start to their relationship. So, she was not at all surprised to receive an invite for tea at the Balestier’s home that afternoon.
Donning one of her favorite afternoon dresses and matching cap in light green, Enola hailed a cab and made her way to the Balestier residence in good spirits. Upon her arrival she was greeted by the parlor maid, on friendly terms now. They’d had a bad start of things after it was discovered Enola had fibbed a bit previously to get into the house for investigation purposes (disguised as a cockney child looking for a day's work), but as she did ultimately bring the master of the house home, all was forgiven.
The maid showed Enola into the sitting room where she was rather surprised to find Mr. Balestier sitting alone. “Oh, Mr. Balestier, how do you do?”
“Enola, I am quite well, and haven’t I told you to call me Wolcott?”
Enola blushed, it was true he’d asked that she use his first name before, and she’d returned the favor and was quite happy to be called Enola, not Miss Holmes. Yet, she struggled to return the same casual friendliness.
“Of course, Mr. Bale… Wolcott, that is, I’m glad to find you well, and how is Caroline, will she be joining us?”
Enola noted, with confusion, that Mr. Balestier appeared uncomfortable as he answered her.
“Caroline has run out for a few errands, but I’m sure she’ll join us when she returns… Actually I was hoping to speak with you privately for a moment,” Wolcott explained, gesturing for Enola to sit with him.
“Oh? Is everything alright? Are you in need of my investigative help?” Enola was sure this must be the reason for his discomfort, he had a problem he wished to keep his sister out of. Therefore, he invited Enola to come over while Caroline was out, so that he might consult her. The situation beginning to make sense, Enola pulled out a small notepad she kept in her reticule and prepared to take the preliminaries of the case, settling into a chair opposite her friend.
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Wolcott was rather embarrassed to be so woefully misunderstood. In all his planning to court the magnanimous Enola Holmes, in all his fretting over asking Sherlock, then Mycroft for permission, in deciding the time and place, he had never anticipated her being wholly unaware of his intentions.
Hadn’t he made his growing feelings clear over the last couple of months? Inviting her over more and more, claiming her attention for his own, away from his sister and Ruddy? Did she not catch him looking longingly at her just last week, and teased him that he was checking her teeth for spinach?
And just now, he thought he’d given her quite an intimate glance. He’d clearly gestured for her to sit beside him, and emphasized his desire to speak in private. Were these not all the typical signs of a man’s intent to ask a lady to court him? Yet, she sat across from him with pen in hand, expectantly awaiting his description of a problem she might solve. He nearly lost his nerve. Nearly.
“Er, well, Enola, that’s not exactly what I meant. You see, this is actually something personal I wanted to discuss, between the two of us.” There he thought, surely she’ll catch on now and we’ll be well on track again.
Enola wrinkled her brow in confusion “I see, well whatever it is, I’m quite happy to be of assistance.”
Wolcott internally groaned, she was not going to make this easy at all, “I’ve no doubt, Enola, that you’d be of the greatest help should I need it, but actually I mean to ask you a question.”
“Oh,” Enola perked, intrigued now, “then please, ask away, Wolcott.”
Wolcott had originally intended to request Enola’s permission to court her with a great Shakespearean-esque speech. ‘Dearest Enola, most cunning, lovely creature, wilt thou permit that I should pursue thee?’ A callback to the ‘secret’ code of their first meeting he imagined would delight her, but somehow that no longer seemed right. He found himself quite doubting all his instincts about the situation and decided it best to speak plainly now.
Leaning forward to grab Enola’s hand, he asked “Enola, would you do me the great honor of allowing me to call upon you?”
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Enola only realized she’d been holding her breath when she released it with a great woosh. Had Wolcott Balestier really just asked her what she thought he had? Surely she misunderstood. What could possess such a handsome, charming man to call upon her?
He didn’t mean it romantically, of course. He couldn’t. Such a bumbling lanky girl as she? Why hadn't she embarrassed herself in front of him only a week ago by getting food caught in her teeth? Enola Holmes was not the type of girl a man like Wolcott Balestier pursued romantically, nor any man for that matter.
Sure, she could be beautiful and graceful, or timid and dutiful, the picture of a perfect wife, but that was an act. One she rarely put up anymore, save for the occasional case, but she’d never been any of those things to Wolcott Balestier. No, she’d only ever been herself, plain old Enola Holmes, and Enola spelled backwards was alone, after all. And she liked it that way just fine. Now she had her brothers and several good friends, which was important, but a beau? No, that was quite unnecessary.
As she thought this all through, just a moment passed and Mr. Balestier still sat expectantly, grasping her hand.
Enola gently patted his hand as she withdrew her own from his grasp “Call on me? You mean at my club… should you need my help,” she asked, floundering for his true meaning.
Wolcott’s eye seemed to twitch with the slightest bit of irritation as he replied, “no Enola, I mean call upon you, as a man calls upon a woman…”
“You mean because, um, well so that, er… Wolcott, speak plainly would you, I’m sure I’m quite misunderstanding you!”
Grabbing both of Enola’s hands now and staring into her eyes, Wolcott answered sternly, “Enola Holmes, I think you’re quite intentionally misunderstanding me, but fine I’ll speak as plain as plain can be, and I dare you not to understand after this! I, Wolcott Balestier, am wholly and unabashedly infatuated with you. I’ve asked and been granted permission to court you from both of your brothers, provided you are also agreeable. And so here I am, requesting your permission to pursue you, to bring you flowers, and take you on strolls in the park, and carriage rides, and all the other romantic fodder that besotted young couples participate in. I thought that you might share my interest in such a thing, but if you don’t then for goodness sake tell me now so that I might put a stop to this fool's errand!”
Enola sat shell-shocked with her mouth hanging open. She certainly could not misunderstand Wolcott’s meaning after that. And yet she couldn’t bring herself to truly understand either. The words made sense enough, but that they were directed at her? Unfathomable.
She knew she must respond and tried to gather herself, but all she could manage was a half strangled, “I, oh, I don’t know,” before she fled the house entirely.