Chapter
The
Second
Tewky – perhaps it had been improper to refer to him by his mother's pet name out loud, but he had been and would always be Tewky to me – appeared torn between exasperation and amusement. "Well, it certainly is you, Miss Holmes," he said after a moment, attempting to frown and failing, "I have not been called by that name in years."
I raised an eyebrow. "Not even by her Grace, the Duchess?"
"Ah. Yes. Let me amend my statement: No one else has called me that in years besides my mother."
He smiled and I laughed. There was a brief silence and I became abruptly aware of my brother's presence at my elbow. Tewky seemed to notice Sherlock at the same moment.
"Mr Holmes! A pleasure to see you again, sir," he said with a start, reaching over the division to shake my brother's hand. Having opened my mouth to introduce them, I was forced to swallow my words as I recollected that the two had become acquainted on the occasion that I had accompanied the boy to Scotland Yard.
Sherlock clasped Tewky's hand warmly and inclined his head in a shallow bow. "Indeed, the pleasure is mine, Lord Tewksbury."
I felt more than saw Sherlock glance sideways at me as he said this, as if to chide (or tease, often the two were very similar) me for my lack of propriety. A faint heat rose in my cheeks but I refused to be made to feel uncomfortable. Tewksbury and I had a shared history of fear, danger and the sudden loyalty that springs up in such situations. He may be the son of a Duke, but to me he was the shocking boy who'd dared to comment on the colour of my corset, the brave idiot who had been prepared to hold off a villain twice his size with a pen knife, and the naive child with sore feet that I had cleaned and bound myself.
Propriety could take a long walk off a short pier, I thought grumpily. I'd call him what I liked.
I directed a pointed smile at Sherlock, and turned back to Tewky. He was watching me closely, as if he expected me to disappear in a puff of smoke. Having a predisposition to blush easily, I felt my cheeks grow warm under his persistent gaze. All thoughts of how best to continue the conversation drained from my head. Looking about desperately for a source of inspiration, my eyes found his companion's face.
"Oh! We still have yet to be introduced – Amelia, was it?"
Tewksbury started and looked around at the young lady. "Of course, where are my manners? Miss Holmes, Mister Holmes, this is Miss Amelia Ward. My fiancé." Tewky cleared his throat painfully. "Amelia: Miss Enola Holmes and Mister Sherlock Holmes."
Amelia stepped forward, eyes shining, face pink. "Yes, I know," she said excitedly, and, taking both my hands in hers, held them eagerly. "I am so pleased to make your acquaintance, Miss Holmes."
"And I, yours, Miss Ward," I returned politely. The young lady shook her head vigorously, her dark brown curls bouncing around her head.
"Miss Holmes, I would be so honoured if you would – yes, you absolutely must – call me Amelia. I have heard so much of you, I feel as if are the dearest of friends already."
In the face of her effusions and the surprise of meeting Tewksbury again, I had very nearly forgotten the upset of the morning until that moment. As I smiled down into the girl's face, unbidden, my mind dragged forth the image of the last woman I had spoken with that day and placed the two faces side by side. The bitter, disbelieving woman of the morning contrasted grotesquely with the innocent, devoted girl before me. The memory of the former had the effect of cold water splashed in my face. I felt my smile slip and hurriedly hoisted it back into place, lest my enthusiastic new friend should think herself the cause of my sudden gloom.
"Um, yes, that is, I'd be delighted," I stuttered, "and you must – that is to say, if you'd like to call me Enola, I would, um –"
I was saved from the necessity of attempting further speech by the sounds of screeching discordance as the orchestra prepared for the opera to begin. With an apologetic smile that hid my relief, I freed one hand and motioned vaguely at the stage. As almost an afterthought, I said aloud, "The play is about to start, perhaps we can continue this later?"
Amelia nodded and then, after giving the hand still remaining in her grip one last squeeze, she and Tewksbury returned to their seats.
"Well, that was... interesting," Sherlock murmured beside me as we seated ourselves. Fixing my eyes on the stage as a large, square man marched out to thunderous applause, I silently agreed.
At intermission, I was glad to stand and stretch my limbs. Though I take as much pleasure in music as the next person, my enjoyment is not as fervid as that of my brother. The artistic genes our mother passed on manifested very differently in her children. For me, it is a knack for caricature. For Sherlock, it's music, particularly the violin. For Mycroft, my eldest brother, it is an extensive collection of still life paintings.
Sherlock watched me as I wandered over to the barrier between our box and the next. I thought I could make out a glimmer of amusement in his eyes, though the rest of his face was hidden by his steepled hands. Amelia was already at the barrier, all but bouncing on her toes as I approached.
"Miss Holmes," she exclaimed, "I've been unable to think about anything else the whole play – I'm quite lost as to the plot, in fact; I have no idea what's going on – I would be so honoured if you would take tea with me tomorrow. Please say you will!"
I'd been meaning to visit an old friend for tea the next day – Mrs. Tupper, my exceedingly elderly former landlady – but Amelia's eyes, startlingly blue amidst a halo of mahogany hair, were wide and pleading. Her hands gripped mine almost feverishly.
Was this normal behaviour? She seemed a trifle too desperate to me, but then, I had little experience with the type of fanatical follower that I'd taken Amelia to be.
"Please?" she pleaded once more, catching at my hesitation, and this time, I noticed a nervous tick flicker just below her right eye. As something of a professional busy-body, I'll admit, my interest was piqued.
Hoisting a smile onto my face, I gave her fingers a cautious squeeze. "O f course I will, Amelia. Name the time."
