Spring 1889, Enola POV
"I can dress myself, Alice," Enola complained, "Shouldn't you be dressing The Dowager?" Enola had found herself in yet another intricately decorated bedroom of Basilwether Hall on the evening of the ball The Dowager Marchioness of Basilwether was holding to celebrate her engagement to the Marquess of Basilwether, feeling rather overwhelmed by the fuss. "I dressed Her Ladyship hours ago, I believe she is already downstairs overseeing the finishing touches on the grand hall," the young lady's maid cooed as she began tightening the mauve corset she had just placed on Enola, "Besides, I don't believe you've ever dressed yourself in a ballgown with a crinolette and three petticoats, Miss." Enola scanned the various layers and accessories that would soon be on her body, and sighed in a way that could be interpreted as 'Give me strength.' but allowed Alice to continue.
An hour of semi-torturous poking and prodding - and a small amount of smoke from the curling tongs – later, Enola was in a hallway that housed the stairs that lead into the grand hall, anxiously fiddling with the wide neckline of her dress. "I would barely recognize you all dressed like that, sister," Sherlocked quipped, "I think it must be the hat and gloves." Enola twisted around to see her two older brothers, dressed to the nines, happily walking toward her. "You do look much changed Enola, and well turned out too." Mycroft confessed, "I am so glad you finally listened to reason." Enola was about to argue that nothing Mycroft had ever said had been reasonable when Lord Tewkesbury and his mother entered the room. "Enola, you look lovely, dear," she beamed, "best put your brave face on, we are about to be announced."
Enola heard the herald call for everyone's attention from the bottom of the stairs. "Presenting The Most Honourable Dowager Marchioness of Basilwether." He called as the Dowager walked down the stairs with an air of grace that Enola could never hope to achieve. "Presenting The Most Honourable Lord Tewkesbury, Marquess of Basilwether." Enola couldn't help but mimic Tewkey's charming smile as he confidently walked down the stairs. "Finally, presented by her brother Mister Mycroft Holmes Esquire, Miss Enola Holmes." Enola put herself into the posture Julia had schooled into her and walked down the stairs next to Mycroft, trying to ignore the hundred-odd pairs of unfamiliar eyes staring at her, looking for the five pairs that she did know. Julia was the first person she spotted, all encouraging smiles, inconspicuously gesturing to remind her not to grab her skirt.
When reached the bottom and stood next to Tewkey, he passed her a glass of champagne from the table they were in front of, he whispered into her ear, "You look beautiful Enola," he chucked, "Leave it to Mother to dress you in my favourite shade of blue." She giggled up at him, finally understanding why the dowager was so insistent on the colour. "My lords, ladies, and gentleman, I would like to raise a toast in celebration of the engagement of my son, and his lovely bride-to-be," the Dowager announced with her own glass of champagne, "To Lord Tewkesbury and Miss Holmes." The entire party lifted their glasses and repeated the toast. "In a few moments the band will begin the first dance of the night," the Dowager continued enthusiastically, "a grand march as listed on your dance cards." Enola looked down at the list of fourteen dances for the evening, hoping she wouldn't have to try out the nearly learnt steps of all of them tonight.
"May I write my name on your dance card, Miss," Tewkey smiled charmingly, "I believe it would be propitious for us to have three dances together, including a waltz." "Well, I do have Mycroft's permission for a waltz," she teased as she held out her wrist, "I wonder which lucky man is going to have the honour of me stepping on their toes during it." Tewkey gasped in mock hurt, "Surely you wouldn't waltz with another man in front of me," he continued writing on the small card, "There, the grand march, a quadrille, and a waltz." As if on cue, Tewkey grasped her gloved hand as the band started playing the first notes of the grand march, drawing the couples onto the floor. "You will be perfect, my love" He whispered encouragingly to a nervous Enola before starting the dance, "You can take down a man twice your size, dancing should be easy."
The grand march, Enola was happy to admit, was the easy dance, with the steps mainly consisting of walking gracefully around the floor. While getting through it without error made her feel more confident in her ability to play the society lady, she couldn't help me think that a more complicated dance would reveal her true nature. As she was heading for the refreshments table Sherlock called after her, "Would you save a dance for me, little sister?" She smiled at her brother, who was trying to escape half a dozen young ladies who all wanted a dance with the famous detective. "Of course, brother." Enola giggled at his crisis, "But after that and the dreaded waltz, I would like to try some of Hattie's finger sandwiches."
Sherlock had chosen a reel to dance to, having learnt the jaunty dance while on a case in Scotland. Enola couldn't help but smile as they both counted their steps and tried not to trip over the many feet on the floor. As the dance ended, and Sherlock escorted Enola back to the refreshment table, she noticed Tewkey waiting for her. "I believe your next dance is a waltz, with me," he smirked. "I would say I wouldn't miss it for the world," Enola retorted, "But I would rather not be at risk of breaking your feet so early in our engagement." She finally looked at him fully, wearing the standard black tailcoat and high collar, as well as a dusting of pink across his cheeks from the warm room, and thought that he was born to wear gentleman's clothes. "Luckily for you, my dance tutor was always quite impressed with my ability to lead a waltz," he chuckled, "If you break my feet, it will be very surprising."
The band finished the last notes of the galop that was currently being danced, and couples left the floor in search of lemonade. Tewkey once again took her hand in his and led them to the floor. They delicately positioned their arms into waltz hold, placing their right hands on the other's waist, and meeting their left hands above their heads. Tewkey smiled absentmindedly at the closeness waltzing allowed them as the music began and he led the first steps. "How long did you say you have been waiting to waltz with me," Enola asked, trying to remind herself not to look at her feet - which she couldn't see anyway. Tewkey chucked as he twirled her, "Since the day you pushed me off the train." The rest of the dance went on like that, with Enola relaxed enough by Tewkey's kind eyes to let him sweep her around the floor, and Tewkey smiling at her quips and light-hearted quibbles. As the music came to a close they bowed and curtsied to one another, and Enola was once again led back to the refreshment table, where Sherlock had a plate of sandwiches ready for her. "Mother insisted I must go talk to the other Lords, my love," Tewkey sighed as he stepped away, "I will be back after the intermission for the quadrille."
The siblings sat together in a corner, quietly chatting about their latest cases when the three young ladies a few metres in front of them began talking heatedly. "That girl may be dressed up as one of us," the first one started, "but she never will be." Both Enola and Sherlock went straight into their surreptitiously listening poses. "Nancy said her father wasn't even a baronet," a second one scowled, "she's just a little street urchin." Enola felt her gloved hands close into tight fists. The third one laughed, "She should be sewing gowns, not wearing them." "You two are both daft," the first one rolled her eyes, "Her brothers both work for the government, she's not exactly a beggar." "I still don't understand why Viscount Tewkesbury would want to marry a common wench," the third girl thought, "His family is powerful enough that he could marry any girl here." The girls paused in thought. "I would bet my hat that Miss Holmes has found some awful way to go from mistress to wife." The first accused to responses of laughter and nodding. Enola couldn't hold her tongue any longer.