Spring 1889, Enola POV
Sherlock made to grab at his sister's wrist a second too late as Enola hurtled towards the three girls who had been talking about her. "Last time I checked it wasn't ladylike to talk about a girl behind her back." Enola hissed at the ringleader who was looking quite alarmed, "Let alone imply that she is a whore, at her engagement ball." Enola covertly readied herself to fight, her instincts and training kicking in. The girls just laughed, "It's definitely not ladylike to act like one," one girl sneered, "You may have your young fiancé fooled by your wiles, but not us." Enola struggled and looked for Tewkey or Mycroft over their shoulders, "You're just jealous that I don't have to show off my father's money," She quickly glanced at their low necklines, "Or my decolletage, to get a man's attention."
The two followers gasped in indignation, but the ringleader merely smiled, "Viscount Tewkesbury isn't a man, he's eighteen," she whispered, "He's just a green boy who can be led around by anything he finds interesting." "Such as the thrill of adventure," the girl on her left side added, "Or a common whore." Enola knew she couldn't fight these girls, not without ruining her already tenuous reputation, so she went for the next best option. She spotted a footman carrying an empty ice bucket in her periphery, and skilfully collided with him, making him spill the freezing water all over the three bullies, and allowing her to depart the scene while they cried and sulked.
Having used a servant's entrance to exit the grand hall, Enola found herself at a staircase that she supposed would lead down to the kitchens or up towards the main living quarters on the next floor. Up seemed the best option as the kitchens were no doubt, busy with more footmen and maids preparing to serve refreshments. As she got to the door at the top of the stairs, Enola realised it was the same staircase Tewkey had led her up the day she had been promised to him, and if she turned left at the door she would eventually find the abandoned nursery that sat above the dowagers sitting room. When she got into the room, she found it as dark and dusty as before, and search blindly for a candle, and hopefully a match to light it. She was just going around the last corner of the room, losing hope that she might find a candle when the door opened.
"Enola," the voice that she would know anywhere called, "Are you in here?" She turned to look at the doorway where Tewkesbury stood still dressed in his top and silks holding a lit chamberstick. "Tewkey," she gasped, "How did you find me?" He closed the door behind him and chuckled, "Sherlock told me you had run off," he answered as he walked towards her, "I guessed you would either be in mother's bathroom or in here." Tewkey was finally close enough to see the anger on Enola's face, and the compassionate look on his made tears well up in her eyes. "They will never accept me Tewkey," she shook her head, "No one thinks me good enough for you." He pulled his fiancé to his chest with his free hand, "So those girls won't be lining up to go to your dinner parties," he smiled down at her, "But you don't want a life like that, full of pandering and silliness." "No." She sobbed. "Plus, I think I should be the judge of whether you are good enough for me," he took her hand in his, "And I think you're quite lovely Miss Holmes."