Enola POV, Winter 1888/89
"Sodding bicycle." Enola yelled into the stormy air as she threw it aside. She had been on her way to Basilwether village from the nearby train station to meet the woman who would be her governess. That was until her lack of skill on the bike forced her into a fence, twisting the front wheel irreparably and throwing her into a puddle. She had already walked at least half a mile when she gave up on carrying it. Between the puddle and the current downpour, she was soaked through to her shift and would have to stop every so often to squeeze the water out of her dress, so it didn't weigh her down.
Miserable and cold she turned to thoughts of the marquess in hopes they would keep her warm until she found the village. She thought about the delicate way he held her hand as he proudly introduced her as "my fiancée" to people who would have ignored her months before, and how magical the moment felt. She thought about how he had gently placed the beautiful ruby ring on her finger before kissing her cheek, wishing it was her lips. She thought back to their first and only kiss, how sparks had flown all over her body and his face turned as pink as some of the flowers he grew. She closed her eyes and imaged him, crisp voice, shiny brown hair, deep brown eyes, and the smell of fresh flowers following him everywhere.
"Enola? What are you doing walking down the middle of the road in a rainstorm?" She thought she must have imagined it, but when she opened her eyes and turned towards the voice, he was there, walking through the long grass with a white horse's reign. "I was trying to get to the village, to meet with the governess your mother picked out for me." She paused awkwardly, "And I fell off my bicycle." Tewkesbury chuckled but quieted himself at her glare. "We'll have to get you back to mother. There is no accommodation in the village, and you'll catch your death if you stay in your wet clothes all day." He instructed, smiling down at her sweet, indignant face. "I suppose I will allow you and your horse to escort me to the dowager." She asserted once again squeezing the water out of her dress and hopping over the small fence that separated the field from the road. He chuckled again as she started off without him, "Basilwether Hall is three miles from here. It may have stopped raining, but I would rather not walk the whole way back." He pointed his head toward the horse when she turned back to him.
"Ride back with you?" She gasped and raised her eyebrows. "Would that not be improprietous?" "When has Enola Holmes, lady detective ever cared for propriety?" He probed, feeling that she was hiding something, "You've never ridden a horse before have you." She nodded embarrassed that she could fear such a silly thing. "You just have to sit up there; I'll be doing the actual riding." He explained, trying to calm her, "And Daisy is a pretty laidback mount, good for beginners." She didn't reply but seemed to weigh up her options, before walking up to the horse, who was happily grazing, to pat her. "How am I supposed to get up there?" she asked, still slightly dubious. "I'll help you up," he offered, smiling at her again, "You may need to pull your skirt up slightly to get your leg over though." She looked down; the wet ankle length cotton skirt did seem an issue. Enola grabbed the hem, pulling it up to her knees, and tied a small knot over each leg. Turning back to him, she asked "Will that do?". She seemed to startle him, as he quickly moved his eyes from her exposed stockings back to her face, "Yes," he nodded.