Mostly Enola POV - Autumn 1888
Tewkesbury would have loved to have talked until the moon came out about books, and theatre and whatever would make Enola happy, but he knew his mother would be expecting more than that when she sent his uncle out to fetch them. "Mother is right though." He started, pulling Enola's attention away from a nearby wren. "It would be easier to marry someone I care for. Even if she is a beautiful, slightly wild, lady detective who outwits me at every chance she gets. If our guardians wish for us to marry, I would happily love you. I would not force you to be anyone you are not, and if mother, or uncle Whimbrel, or your brothers try to, I will forbid it. I outrank them after all. Would you give me the chance to love you?"
Enola's mouth had fallen agape somewhere around beautiful. Was this how he really felt about her or was he simply trying to honourably follow what he viewed as the right path was for his family? Did he long for her, as she did him? A simple but daring litmus test developed in her mind as she stared into his eyes, trying to find something sensible to say; an honourable man would reject a kiss from a woman he was not betrothed to, but a man in love could not resist it. She took a deep breath as if she was about to speak and pressed her lips to his before he could turn away. Without Enola having time to decide if she wanted him to resist or not, she felt his lips press back against hers and his hand come to her knee, and then quickly pull away. "Was that a yes?" Tewkesbury asked, face flushed. "It means you feel a level of tenderness for me and are not being a right honourable nincompoop," she explained, mirroring him, "It means if I must, I will try." He smiled, knowing not to push the subject, "Excuse me but I think you mean the most honourable nincompoop," he corrected playfully before they both erupted into laughter.
Tewkesbury stood and offered his hand to her, "We best go accept our fate now, it will be dark soon, and Uncle Whimbrel will be grumpy if he has to fetch us." She smiled and let him help her up. They walked slowly back to the big house, each preparing themselves for the discussion they would have to walk into. Enola wasn't sure what to feel. She didn't want to leave her life of freedom to a lady, but the promise of her friend's affections made her feel warm and safe, a feeling she hadn't felt since her mother disappeared. She wondered what he was thinking, watching as his mouth seemed to form the shape of words but not the sound. She knew she would find out as soon as they stepped through the door, they had both stopped at.
"I think they are back," she heard Sherlock note as Tewkesbury carefully opened the door. His mother turned to face them and removed the magazine from her lap, "Thank you for returning. Please sit down." Enola noticed that Mycroft was no longer present and deduced that he had gone back into London, leaving Sherlock to act for her. Tewkesbury attempted to clear his voice in a serious manner, "Miss Holmes and I have talked, and we will follow whatever you decide for us." Enola could tell he was trying to assume the dignified manner that befitted a Marquess, but calling her miss just sounded awkward in his voice. The dowager nodded elegantly at him, "The Mr Holmes's and I have agreed on the terms," She explained, "You shall be engaged promptly." Tewkesbury smiled at her, in a way that said, 'this will be good'. And with that, she was being led back out to a waiting carriage by Sherlock. "Write to me!" called the young voice from the doorstep.