Enola POV, Autumn 1888

The next few weeks seemed to fly by for Enola, between managing her detective cases and the society outings she now needed to be a part of since the engagement was announced, she had little time to herself. She would have liked to have dedicated that time to finding her mother, visiting Tewkey, or practising her jiu-jitsu, but she found herself at her desk, reading and writing letters more often than not. Tewkey's sweet and often flirtatious letters however were a lovely respite between the mind-numbingly dull letters from Mycroft about how she should be conducting herself, and the frustrating letters from the Dowager Marchioness about where she should be conducting herself. The latest one took the cake, however, for most infuriating letters.

'Dear Miss Holmes,

It was lovely seeing you last week at my sister, the Countess of Warwick's afternoon tea. Your countenance and deportment are definitely improving. I hope you got to try the apricot tarts; they really are divine.

Your brother Mycroft has informed me that you are refusing to continue your education with Miss Harrison, no matter how beneficial it would be in turning you into the lovely society lady that my darling boy needs. For the moment I will not oppose your decision, on the condition that you allow a governess of my choosing to educate you from home, as well as chaperone you when needed.

The young lady I am suggesting is a few years older than you; the unmarried daughter of the fourth son of a Lord; and is highly educated in politics, history, philosophy, and the classics. Her name is Julia, and because of her social standing and exemplary education, she is uniquely well positioned to finish your education and I believe she would be highly beneficial to you.

If you are agreeable to this arrangement, I am happy to organize a meeting between the two of you the next time you are in the area.

I hope to further get to know you and assist in your education as best I can.

Kind Regards,

Caroline Tewksbury, Dowager Marchioness of Basilwether.'

Enola would have screamed and thrown the letter into her fire had the dowager not been so reasonable about her requests. She was still fuming, however. 'Finish her education'? Her mother had taught her all she needed to know about the world. What could a highborn lady teach her that her mother didn't? To simper, to curtsy, to be the perfect picture of a proper little lady? Is that what Tewkey wanted? All these thoughts were running around her brain as she squeezed her hands into fists and hit the pillow next to her for some catharsis. No, he didn't want a perfect lady, he wanted her, the girl who has pushed him off a moving train, cut his hair, and helped him to disappear into a crowd of commoners. Tewkey wanted the girl who was wild and teased him with every chance she got, but his family wanted the sort of girl she would have called prissy. Maybe she could fake it for them, so Tewkey would be happy. She had been seeming to care more about how happy he was with each passing week and her studies of philosophy (which were not lacking, thank you very much) told her she was on a slippery slope towards not being able to walk away from him if needed.

Enola sighed, staring at the still unfamiliar ring on her finger. The arrangement to marry Viscount Tewkesbury had been made only 4 months prior, and she had not meant to develop feelings for him so soon. She wished to talk to her mother about why she wanted to be closer to him when they were together, or how different she felt when they weren't; as if together they were atoms sharing electrons (her scientific skills were also in order). But the mysterious Eudoria Holmes was in hiding and hadn't been seen for months. When she did find her mother would she be upset that Enola wasn't following the path she had laid out for her, and instead was engaged to a man well above her station? Would she be happy if they were happy? She wasn't going to find out today so grabbed the last letter from her desk and opened it with the ornate letter opener she kept in her pocket for self-defence, and well, letters. While it had come at the top of the day's mail, she saved it for last after recognizing her fiancé's overly slanted hand.

'My dearest, Enola,

I have been repotting my alyssum seedlings and they remind me of you. So much potential for beauty in such a little flower.

I can only assume mother is still sending you insufferable letters. She visited me in London a few weeks ago and the talk I got about us both being constantly chaperoned was almost as if she didn't want us to marry. I may have to keep my letters brief lest she asks James to read them for her. This one is safe however as I will take it to the postbox myself.

Mother is hoping for a Summer wedding the year after next. She went on about "the new decade will bring wondrous new joys", or something sentimental like that. She may be onto something because the joy I felt just kissing your rosy cheek was certainly something to behold.

While I know you are very busy chasing that twelve fingered ring thief across the country, I hope I get to see you before I go home to Basilwether while Lords is out of session, possibly at Baron and Baroness Blazevic's ball? If not, you know where to find me.

Affectionately yours,

Tewkesbury.'