Thanks for reading everyone! I hope you're all enjoying this as much as I am.
The evening weather was much warmer and clearer than I thought it would be and it seemed almost providential considering the gathering tonight. Well, perhaps gathering was not the appropriate term as I watched from the porch. I smoothed the navy blue satin of my gown as a couple of my relatives passed by raising their champagne glasses to me as a salute. Seeing that I did not have champagne to return their salute, I smiled and gave them something akin to a military salute, raising my index and middle fingers toward my forehead. I leaned over the railings to observe the activity below.
Underneath the lofty oak tree, a string quartet played while Geoff looked towards them with a critical eye. Anne, who was one more month away from her due date, seemed content to remain seated with her feet propped up on an extra chair. Some torches were placed outside to light the ever darkening yard where the light flickered and interesting shadows played across the lawn. Tables had been set up throughout the width of the yard where many were seated and an open area had been designated as a dance floor where several taffeta dressed whirls spun across with silk-suited partners.
A tap on my shoulder wrenched me away from my observational and slightly voyeuristic tendencies and I turned around to see my interloper but managed to hear that unmistakable high, clear voice.
"I took the liberty of fetching you champagne. Lord knows that I may need it by the end of the night." Holmes said as he handed me the filled flute. He actually managed to look slightly handsome as he wore a dark suit that was impeccably tailored. The only thing marred was that perpetual look of arrogance on his face.
"Why thank you, Holmes," I quipped, my voice practically dripping in sarcasm. "It seems that we may share the same sentiments exactly."
"Well then I believe that calls for a toast." He answered wryly and raised his glass. I raised my own and clinked our glasses together.
Before I press on with this vein in my narrative, I will briefly revert back to the accord that Holmes and I reached that morning amongst the smells of chemicals and sounds of sarcasm.
"Holmes, I have a favor to ask."
He placed a finger at his lips while his grey eyes seemed to dance with amusement. "And pray tell, what favor would that be?"
"I think you very well know…" I said through gritted teeth and rubbing my left arm. "I shan't explain anything to you. You know that this has to do with Mr. Keating's unwanted affections."
"Ah, is it?" He asked lightly as though the thought had not come across his mind. "Well, since you do not care to dance around the subject, why should I want to escort you? I am quite sure that you could find any other Oxford student to take you."
"Yes, someone wants to take Professor Andrewes' crippled daughter around." I muttered under my breath, hoping that he had not heard that. If he did, he did not respond nor give me a steely gaze. "There may have been some incentives on accompanying me, Holmes. Emotional appeals do not seem to affect you so allow me to appeal to your pragmatic side."
A smile settled upon his thin lips as he stood up and moved the stool next to him closer so that he may stretch out his feet in front of him. "You have my full and undivided attention, Miss Andrewes."
"What would you say if I can turn Emily Ellis's attentions away from you?" I asked tentatively, remembering Holmes' embarrassment over the flippant and maddening young lady. Holmes' forehead wrinkled at the sound of her name and then comprehension dawned upon him.
"How pragmatic indeed," Holmes mused as he opened his eyes and swiveled his seat towards me. "I see the path you are traveling upon, my dear lady—"
"Don't belittle me, Holmes." I interrupted as I walked across the chalkboard. "I can assure you that if you accompany me, I shall be able to get rid of Emily's attentions on you. When she sees me on your arm, she will learn to find someone else to bestow her attentions upon."
He swirled the contents of the mixture and then recorded the results in his notebook as he spoke, "Clever, clever, I must say—however, do you not think that this may actually have the reverse effects on our prospective paramours?"
"That the effect being they may latch onto us like leeches?" I in turn asked towards his hypothesis. "Emily would be disheartened and perhaps heartbroken but I do not see that young lady mourning for long. She'll find another Oxford scholar to dote upon soon enough. For Aidan, it would seem highly possible but seeing as the both of you are friends—"
"Keating is a mere acquaintance of mine," Holmes stressed, briefly locking eyes with me before returning to recording his results. "Nothing more and nothing less." Taken aback by this interruption, I was about to ask why when he added, "The word 'friend' is something that I do not use lightly, Miss Andrewes."
"Very well, Holmes. Yet while we've discussed the possible ramifications of accepting my proposal, you have not made your decision yet." I began to trace flowers on the dusty chalkboard while a smile slowly curled upon my face. "I'm beginning to think that you're stalling, Holmes."
"Merely traveling a bit further on the path you provided," he said and then continued to work on his experiment in silence with an occasional grunt as he spilled some acid onto his cuffs.
After a moment, I realized that the man was toying with me and making me wait for his decision. Though seething at his pointed ignorance of my, I decided that I would have to swallow whatever I was feeling and wait. I was halfway through writing Whitman's poem To a Stranger from memory when a hand clasped my shoulder. I jumped, causing my perfect penmanship to jolt into wordless scribbles.
"Until then, Miss Andrewes." He answered and with that left me alone in the lab.
"So have you seen Emily yet?" I asked with a teasing edge in my voice. He looked unconcerned at my teasing.
"No, I have not seen that banshee of a girl yet." He said in a biting voice. "I know that she's around but most likely the girl is lurking in the shadows watching our every move."
"She's right behind you, I believe." I said though she really wasn't. I wanted to press his buttons considering how many times the man has needled me. Sure, revenge is childish and immature but it most definitely was enjoyable.
Holmes did not even blink or anything as he examined his nails. "Mr. Keating is currently behind you."
I was about to refute him when a soft yet familiar voice emerged from behind me. "Happy birthday, Charlotte."
I turned around and saw Aidan exactly where Holmes had said. The man had a rather annoying tendency to be correct, I thought to myself as I stood up and politely offered my hand to Aidan. He took it in his hands and gently kissed it.
"Good evening, Aidan, it is wonderful to see you." I said in a polite yet noncommittal tone.
"You look beautiful, I must say," he said and then eyeing my escort he coldly added, "Evening, Holmes."
"What is wrong, Keating? Don't I look lovely as well?" Holmes asked sardonically.
It was the first time that I heard him say something amusing yet acerbic. So he was capable of other traits asides from arrogance and that beleaguering tendency to be right. I nearly laughed yet I saw the hardness in Aidan's jaw at Holmes' words and I bowed my head to hide my smile.
When Aidan did not respond, Holmes stood up and gently tapped my shoulder. "There is a particular piece by Chopin that is quite suitable for a waltz, Miss Andrewes. Shall we?" I nodded and walked away with Aidan behind me and though I could not see his face, I knew that it was most likely screwed with disdain and annoyance. Holmes confirmed this as we moved out of Aidan's range of hearing, putting our empty champagne flutes on the servant's tray. "Keating seems to be seething with envy."
The dance floor was a swirl of silks and a symphony of raucous laughs that clashed wonderfully with the music. Holmes masterfully (as usual) set foot on the floor and bowed deeply while I gave a quick curtsy. He took my hands and placed one on his shoulder and the other he clasped in his hand and began to waltz.
For such a stiff man, I never thought Holmes would be a dancer but he was actually adequate. "You must have come from such an aristocratic family, Holmes."
"What makes you say that?" He asked.
"No working class family would have taught their sons how to dance seeing as food and shelter would be the main priority and the feeling of your hands reveals to me that you probably have not known a day of hard work in your life."
Yet before he could answer, my own clumsiness managed to tread on his foot. He winced slightly and I apologized quickly.
"I think," Holmes muttered icily. "That while your deduction is correct in my case, the link between great dancers and the aristocracy is not always true."
I would have thumped him at that moment for I was already embarrassed and he did not need to rub it in at all. Why the hell should I put up with this? After all, wasn't I also doing Holmes a favor by allowing me to accompany me and save him from Emily? Anger is an emotion that comes to me easily yet always manages to get me into trouble and often regret, which was exactly what happened. There was something else about Holmes that I had deduced.
"You're right-handed, Holmes?"
"Yes," he answered, though confused at my sudden turn in the conversation.
"Which tells me that the mark on your right wrist could not have been provoked on yourself," His eyes twitched down towards the mark on his wrist and he subtly attempted to avert my gaze on it by moving it at an angle I could not observe. But observed I already had. "It's a circular mark…looks like it's been burned. Roughly the circumference of a cigar…"
Holmes abruptly let go of my hands. I expected a blazing gaze at this but instead his eyes were unreadable. Luckily the music ended and I perfunctorily applauded and sprinted off towards the house, leaving Holmes to his own devices.
By the time I downed another flute of champagne and had polite yet inane conversations with some relatives and my father's colleagues, I felt a slight pang of guilt but that was quickly pushed aside by the image of frothy laces and blonde curls that was Emily Ellis.
"Hello, Emily," I greeted her as warmly as I could, which was quite an effort. "I'm glad that you and your father could come tonight."
"What did you do to him?" Emily asked petulantly as she absolutely swept away all prospects of polite interaction. I actually felt some pity for the girl who looked quite defeated with her red-rimmed blue eyes…pity that would soon fade fast.
"I have no idea what you are talking about, Miss Ellis." I answered and then began looking for a way out of this uncomfortable situation. I saw James talking with some St. Hilda's bluestocking girls and I tried to discreetly get his attention. He held one finger up, telling me to wait and then relapsed his attentions to the young ladies around him.
Emily narrowed her eyes and I could tell that she wanted to wring my neck if she could. "Look, Miss Andrewes, I do not know what Sherlock sees in you. Maybe he pities you, I don't know." The anger that had subsided with Holmes now returned with vengeance. "I should tell you though that he'll see through whatever it is that you've done."
She had cast me in the role of some sort of witch that was looming over a steaming cauldron. If I had my cane on me, I would have thumped her soundly and I actually wished she would. I was reaching my absolute limits when luckily I was saved.
"Charlotte, they want you outside. Mum and Dad are going to toast to you and all." James pulled me to his side and led me out.
"Oh God, that Emily is a nightmare." I said when we were out of earshot. "She thinks I'm trying to steal Holmes away from her."
"Well, are you?"
I recoiled in horror and then pretended to vomit. "Oh come on James. I would like to keep my dinner in my stomach and not out."
"Where is he anyways?" James asked as he gave our Aunt Betsy a quick hug while I blew a kiss.
"Right here, Andrewes," Holmes said appearing at my side.
"Ah, Holmes, good to see you. I was an acquaintance of your brother's during our time at Oxford." James greeted warmly as he shook hands with him. "Well, let me pass my sister into your hands and let the celebrations continue."
James gently nudged me back towards Holmes and was then ambushed by Aunt Betsy's horde of children. In vengeance, James roared like a monster and began chasing them through the labyrinth of party guests and servants. Meanwhile, I was left with Holmes and I was slowly becoming sober after the several flutes of champagne and also because I was not as angry as I was. With sobriety came the realization that I had unwittingly found a button that I had pressed, which caused him to be upset…essentially guilt.
"Holmes…"
"There is nothing to apologize for." Holmes replied in a harsh and biting voice that felt like a whip snapping on me. Obviously there was but he was refusing to talk about it. Mum was calling for everyone's attention towards the dance room. "Well, Miss Andrewes, let us make our way over."
We were meandering through the crowd when like a banshee Emily Ellis stood between in our path. Holmes fixed a light and uncaring look upon his visage and greeted her with a casual voice. At the sound of his voice, Emily latched herself on the arm that was not linked with mine.
"Oh, Sherlock, whatever she said to turn you against me, I don't care! I will still love you forever and ever." Emily whimpered as tears settled into those blue eyes as she stared into cold grey eyes.
He let out a long sigh and gently yet firmly managed to pry the simpering young woman off of his arm. "Emily, I do not know how to say this in a polite way but I am afraid I cannot reciprocate the feelings that you obviously have for me. There are many young men who will find you a viable young lady but I am not one of those young men. Do you understand me?"
Emily looked like she had broken into a million pieces for a moment and then put herself back together quickly. "Sherlock, but why? Am I not beautiful enough or…or…"
"I just do not have the same feelings, Emily." Holmes repeated firmly. He turned to me and surprisingly said to me in a gentle tone, "My dear Miss Andrewes, shall we proceed towards your parents?"
I nodded in reply and we passed by Emily with her ashen face. I could not help but feel some sympathy for the girl as Holmes and I passed her by. However, when I turned around after several minutes, I saw a young man cheering her up. I rolled my eyes and finally got on the dance floor, where Mum had begun to make a speech.
"Well, she took that blow quite hard." I said sardonically and then in a lower voice, I added, "Sorry, Holmes, I should've kept that to myself—"
"Like I said before, Miss Andrewes, there is nothing to apologize for." Holmes whispered yet this time there was no sense of iciness in his voice. In fact, when I turned to look at him there was a hint of humor in his eyes. "Anyways, I deserved it, didn't I?"
"…and to my darling daughter, Charlotte. May you continue to live your life laced with the beauty, intelligence, and optimism in which you live. Let us raise our glasses," and with that, the guests raised their glasses. "And give a toast to my lovely daughter, Charlotte Sophia Andrewes. Happy birthday, sweetheart!"
"Happy Birthday, Charlie!" Dad said as he raised his glass in one hand and clasping my mom's shoulder in the other.
A chorus of birthday sentiments rang in my ears from the various guests and my eyes landed on Aidan who raised his glass halfheartedly and had a half smile upon his face. However his eyes were not on me and they were on Holmes and those normally genial blue eyes were filled with contempt.