Enola POV, Autumn 1888
"Respectably dressed?" Enola thought aloud to herself as she stood in front of her small mirror. Her clients found her perfectly respectable in her girlish frocks, but she felt Sherlock was alluding to Mycroft and the Tewksbury's definition of respectable. She hurriedly removed herself from the frock and then set about the task of getting redressed. This time in a fashionable, green, day dress with the appropriate accoutrements. As she pinned her hat on, and thus gave herself a handy weapon if needed, she looked herself up and down, and added the poised mannerisms that went with such an outfit. Hearing the church clock chime quarter past in the distance, she collected her bag from the desk and walked out to the bustling streets of London.
Making sure to stay in character, as the refined and respectable version of herself, she walked the short distance to her brother's flat completely on the inside of the pavement, with her head as high and straight as she could manage. Mycroft, who was waiting next to Sherlock on the steps of 211B Baker St, asked Enola she was lost and needed assistance getting home, before realising she was his sister, much to the amusement of the two younger siblings. "Sherlock, I specifically told you that while this meeting pertains to Enola, it does not involve her." Mycroft scolded, and then turned to his sister, speaking condescendingly, "You may be able to appear poised, but you still aren't needed." Enola was about to yell at him for speaking to her like a child when Sherlock responded, "She is sixteen, she is almost a woman, at least let her be present when you make decisions for her." Both Enola and Mycroft were shocked by his decisiveness and openly looked taken aback by their brother. "Fine, the girl may come, but the Dowager may still forbid her presence." He sighed, seeming to disapprove of the words coming out of his mouth, and climbed into the carriage which had now been waiting three minutes for the siblings to finish bickering.
The hour-long ride to Basilwether Hall was taken in silence, as the younger Holmes siblings knew that speaking to Mycroft in this mood could be dangerous, and being both extreme bookworms, had each brought reading material with them. Enola looked up every so often to see her oldest brother staring out the window and wondered what he was thinking so deeply about. Did he know what the meeting was about, or was he just as in the dark as herself? When they arrived at the front door of the grand house, a dark-haired man in a butler's livery approached their carriage, followed by a stout woman she assumed to be the housekeeper. Forgetting her airs for a moment, Enola opened the door for herself and carefully jumped down to the ground, startling the house staff and eliciting a chuckle from a window above her. She didn't need to look up to know Viscount Tewkesbury was smiling down at her, but when she and the rest of the party did, he quickly retreated behind the curtains like a child playing peek-a-boo. "The dowager is waiting for you in the library." Instructed the butler, as he pointed the siblings through the door, taking their attention away from the open window, "Follow me please."
When they entered the large library Whimbrel was the first to speak, "Mycroft, Sherlock. Thank you for coming." He was very much saying 'Not Enola', "I thought I had made it clear that the girl was not needed today." Enola could tell Mycroft was about to shoot her a face that said, 'Well there's your humble pie!' when Lady Tewkesbury spoke up "Whimbrel, Enola saved your nephew, my son, she is not just the girl." She turned to Enola, "I am very grateful to you dear, but I fear this conversation is much too adult for your ears." She said sweetly to cover up the condescending nature, "Why don't you go with Hattie into the kitchen to get a biscuit." She followed, as requested since deep down she knew that the dowager was on her side and all would be well, right?
The kitchen was much like every kitchen she had seen, kitchen maids running about, shiny copper pans, and an old oven chugging away. Hattie led her to a small table out of the way of the kitchen maids and went about finding her a biscuit. Hattie returned with a small plate containing three peek freans and spoke in a thick accent "These are the young Viscount's favourite, don't be telling him I gave you the last ones." She smiled down at Enola, "I can tell you don't need babysitting, so if you need anything, ask one of the kitchen girls to come find me." Not thirty seconds after seconds after Hattie left, Enola heard the door behind her creak open, and she whipped around to determine if this noise was made by a would-be attacker. "Tewkey," she whispered, "What are you doing down here? Do you know what they are talking about?" He shook his head, seeming frustrated, "I was looking for you, they won't tell me thing." Seeing that her friend was just as curious as she was, she spoke resolutely, "We need to find out what they are saying, and if they won't let us in, we will have to find our own way in."