Chapter Text
March, 1888
The ballroom at Basilwether Hall was built to a grand scale, with marble floors, a ceiling two stories high, and tall windows letting in the bright winter sunlight on both sides.
But what made Enola gasp when she entered at Tewkesbury’s side were the flowers. Thousands of hothouse blooms decorating the long tables spanning three sides of the hall, festooned on the windows and spilling gracefully from the musicians' alcove. No ice sculptures at this winter wedding luncheon.
She turned to the Marchionness -- the Dowager Marchioness now -- who was standing next to her. "Caroline...this is beautiful! You are brilliant. So many colors, and such a pretty pink rose you have chosen as the main feature for table arrangements. The ballroom looks glorious..and joyful…and just…perfect.”
Lady Basilwether smiled a little smugly. "Well, I can't take *all* the credit. Tewky helped me select the blooms from our hothouse -- it's his domain you know. But I must say I am very pleased with the outcome."
She squeezed Enola's hand and Uncle Whimbrel patted Tewkesbury on the shoulder before the two elders left to greet their guests gathered in the grand hall. Mycroft and Sherlock were already mingling in the crowd.
Tewkesbury leaned down and whispered with a twinkle in his eye: "Why do you like the pink rose?"
Enola just stopped herself from rolling her eyes. There he went, picking out the most random detail to fixate on and ignoring her main point. She knew by now that he did this on purpose, to tease her.
There was no time for a cheeky retort. It was time for the bride and groom to lead the wedding party down the hall and toward their table at the front. As the orchestra played Pachelbel's Canon, Enola and Tewkesbury started their leisurely walk, smiling at acquaintances and friends along the way. Emmeline, the maid of honor, and Wilhelm, as best man, followed. Enola grinned at Edith Grayson, Lady Carruthers and her former landlady Mrs Brown. She saw Cook and Lily near Mrs Brown, dressed in their Sunday best. And she smiled cheekily at Inspector Lestrade, standing with Dr Watson and a petite, fair haired lady who must have been Mrs Watson.
As they neared the main table, Enola suddenly realised why Tewkesbury had asked that question about the pink rose. It wasn't random at all.
She looked down at the bouquet in her hands, a profusion of yellow and blue blooms of different breeds, and the single red rose on Tewkesbury’s lapel. These were the colors of the flowers she had asked for when she found him hiding in Covent Garden all those years ago. But he hadn't given her what she'd asked that day. Instead, he had given her a pink rose -- the same one featuring prominently on the tables now.
She looked up and met his smiling eyes. He could tell she had figured it out.
"I procured the exact same variety that very same summer, so I would always have it in our gardens and hothouse," Tewkesbury murmured. "We have a great number of healthy bushes now. I call it Enola’s Willful Ignorance."
That earned him a pinch on his arm, making him chuckle. "Alright, I can be persuaded to rename it Enola’s Rose, if you are very, very, very nice to me."
"You know I am mentally rolling my eyes now, don't you," Enola whispered out of the corner of her mouth as they reached the table.
Tewkesbury just smiled happily.
*************************
Two hours later, Tewkesbury led Enola out to the dance floor for their wedding waltz.
The luncheon had gone without a hitch. Mrs McDonald, the Basilwether cook, had outdone herself superbly. Wilhelm had given a fine best man’s speech, regaling the crowd with Tewkesbury’s youthful foibles at Eton, including the time he stumbled late to Latin class with grass stains on his trousers and herbs stuffed in his pocket. He spoke glowingly of Enola’s successes as a detective, beginning with her first case, which first brought the two lovebirds together. And he made Tewkesbury laugh good naturedly when he recounted the time he'd innocently asked Enola for a dance and felt Tewkesbury's glare from across the dance floor, something that he saw happen repeatedly with poor unsuspecting fools who dared to partner Enola for a dance, whenever the betrothed couple attended social events in the year and a half since their engagement.
Wilhelm closed his speech by recognising the newly promoted Dowager Marchioness of Basilwether, inviting her to speak on behalf of the family. Tewkesbury had insisted that his mother give the speech, rather than Uncle Whimbrel. He had became much more conscious about the inequities women lived with in society over the past few years, and he had wanted to give his mother her due.
Tewkesbury’s mother had joked about the Basilwethers’ recent tradition of hosting important gatherings on short notice, laying the blame entirely on her son's propensity to attract trouble. She intimated that his recent disastrous foray into international diplomacy came about after a lover's quarrel, and expressed her profound relief that he had convinced Enola to marry him without delay after all that, the better to keep him out of further trouble. Then she grew serious, making Tewkesbury tear up with her final words.
"My darling son, I only wish your father were here to give this speech. But I know he would feel as happy as I do, knowing that you have found a true partner who will stand with you through life's many challenges. Enola, I am so happy to finally welcome you to the family. I cannot imagine a better woman for the immense responsibility of being the next Marchionness of Basilwether. You are what my son needs, now and always. I wish you both many years of love, happiness and partnership. My Lords, ladies and gentlemen, dear friends, a toast to the Marquess and Marchioness of Basilwether as we invite them to take their first waltz together as husband and wife!"
The Dowager Marchionness had smiled warmly and raised her glass amid the thunderous applause from the guests seated around the ballroom. Tewkesbury had held Enola's hand tight as he raised his glass in salute to his wonderful, remarkable mother.
They were now twirling alone on the dance floor, looking at each other as if they were the only two people in the world. Enola’s brown eyes were shining at Tewkesbury, and he knew he would remember this dance for the rest of his life.
"I love you, you know," he said, tenderly. "More than you will ever know."
"I think I have a fair idea," Enola blushed. Tewkesbury was certain she was thinking of their passionate activities in the carriage earlier that day, which had left him eager to get this day's festivities over with. But for now, he wanted this waltz, and this feeling of pure, unadulterated joy, to last forever.
As the waltz ended to another round of applause, the orchestra struck up another tune, and others began to join the dance. Tewkesbury saw Wilhelm lead Emmeline onto the floor, followed by Uncle Whimbrel and his mother. Soon, the floor was filled with twirling couples.
"Wilhelm and Emmeline look good together," he remarked to Enola, causing her to turn her head to watch their friends as they waltzed past.
"They are both remarkably good looking people," she teased. "Of course they look good together."
"Do you think..." Tewkesbury began, before interrupting himself. "You think Wilhelm is 'remarkably good looking'?"
"Stars and garters, you're not jealous?" Enola did roll her eyes then.
"Do you think I am good looking?" He fished. Why not, it was his wedding day.
"I cannot believe you are asking me this *Now*," Enola smirked. "But yes, you are the handsomest man of my acquaintance. That is not the reason you have my heart, Lord Nincompoop."
Tewkesbury smiled softly. "I have your heart?"
"As well as the rest of me," she retorted. "You are asking the wrong question as usual."
He grinned and pulled her closer, leaning down to whisper in her ear. "Let's leave our guests to their dancing for a while so you can tell me how I won your heart, and I will show you how much I love all of you..."
*************************
Emmeline watched as Tewkesbury led Enola off the dance floor surreptitiously, doubtless seeking some privacy with his bride. She held back a little wistful sigh. They were besotted with each other and so happy to be finally together. It was something she knew she would never have.
"Five pounds says they won't reappear until it's time to farewell the guests," she heard Wilhelm say quietly before executing a turn.
She looked up in surprise, not realising he was aware of where her attention had been. Wilhelm was a sharp man, she had noticed, despite his easy manners and effortless charm. She hadn't met many gentlemen who had both style and substance, and The Honourable Wilhelm Oldenburg had an abundance of both.
It was the charm and good looks that had struck her the first time they'd met, back in late December at Enola’s lodgings. He had walked in, all handsome agitation with his windswept fair hair and blue eyes, and started discussing Tewkesbury without so much as how do you do to Enola or Emmeline. Yet he had done so without seeming rude, somehow. Perhaps it was the way his manner seemed to assume they were both his confidantes, even though it was the first time he and Emmeline had met. He’d made Emmeline feel part of his trusted circle.
She hadn’t been surprised when Enola introduced him as a member of the aristocracy. He was Tewkesbury’s friend after all, and he reeked of moneyed upbringing, from his well made coat to his polished boots and clipped Etonian accent. But his warm smile had been unexpected. Few members of the peerage exuded such natural, genuine friendliness in her experience.
So she had returned his frankness with some honesty of her own, something she rarely did with people she first met. Being the daughter of the foreign secretary — and a career politician — did that to you. Enola had clearly trusted Wilhelm, and Emmeline trusted Enola, she’d told herself. But the truth was, there was something about Wilhelm that made her trust him instinctively. So she had told him how she planned to extract information about the Russian royal family’s official engagements in London not ten minutes after they’d met, as they discussed how to help Tewkesbury.
Their shared mission to get Enola and Tewkesbury back together in the ensuing days and weeks had made them allies and friends of a sort. It was as if they were study partners at university, or members of the same rowing team. It was refreshing to be treated like a respected equal by a man other than her doting father. She would miss this camaraderie, she realised, now that they had accomplished their mission and they would likely go their separate ways again.
“After all we have done to get them to the altar and this day, I would extract five pounds each from them if they wasted any opportunity to be alone together,” she huffed. “You made a fine speech, by the way, well done Mr Oldenburg.”
“Why thank you Ms Hughes,” Wilhelm grinned devilishly, and the sheer power of his charm directed at her nearly caused her to miss a step. “And you will please dispense with the address by surname. It’s just Wilhelm.”
She smiled but kept quiet, and concentrated on dancing.
**********************
Ms Emmeline Hughes was a most intriguing creature.
Wilhelm had realized this almost as soon as they’d met formally in Enola Holmes’s lodgings in December. He had seen her before, but only from afar — he’d once observed the pretty red head in animated conversation with Enola from his carriage window when he dropped Tewkesbury off at the King’s College ladies department — which is why he’d recognised her as Enola’s friend and hadn’t bothered to mind his words when he burst in on them at 18, Cherry Tree Lane that day.
They had instinctively trusted each other then, without knowing much of the other. Being united in a common cause had made that part easy.
But now, having achieved their goal, he found that he knew as little about the smart, confident and witty woman before him as he did weeks earlier.
Oh he knew she was studying history, and planned to teach after earning her degree. That much he found out when Enola had left them alone for 15 minutes in the Cherry Tree Lane sitting room while she penned a letter for King's College to explain her temporary absence from class. He also discovered that Emmeline's hair tended toward auburn under certain light. Either way, it made her more than merely pretty; it made her striking.
But while they'd spent some hours together in the ensuing weeks, planning Tewkesbury's rescue from a forced engagement to a Russian princess, he sensed there were depths to Emmeline Hughes that she was hiding beneath a cheerful demeanor. He knew the signs because he employed the same tactics. It took one to know one.
Right this moment, for example, Emmeline was smiling at him, yet she didn't accept or reciprocate his invitation to use his first name.
He decided right then that he was going to solve the mystery of Emmeline Hughes.
"So, now that we have helped reunite our two lovebirds, what project will you occupy yourself with?" He asked with a wry smile. "I confess I am not looking forward to returning to managing our family holdings, interspersed with social engagements."
"I have my studies and my household responsibilities," Emmeline replied. "Doesn't your father the Baron handle the estate matters?"
"He's left it to me while he remains in Switzerland for his health," Wilhelm said smoothly. It was a half truth he had told so many times, he almost believed it. "You are managing your father's household while studying? That must be difficult."
The waltz ended and she curtsied while Wilhelm bowed.
"Someone has to do it. My mother died when I was an infant and Papa never remarried. He's married to the Foreign Office and his political party now." Emmeline grinned as she said this, yet somehow Wilhelm sensed the sadness behind that statement.
"Well, you can't do it forever," he said carefully, though he made it a nonchalant remark. "You have your academic career ahead of you, and when you marry, your father will have to manage without you."
Emmeline paused.
"I don't intend to marry," she said finally. While that bald statement sank in, she grinned again. "I shall be married to my career, too. I am sure I can manage that and my father's household. It's 1888, for heaven's sake. Lord Basilwether is promoting women's rights in the House of Lords. Women have choices beyond marriage."
That statement intrigued Wilhelm even more. Emmeline's father may not have inherited a title, being the third son of an earl, but Emmeline was still the granddaughter of an earl. Her marital prospects were surely rather solid, and it was curious that he had never met her at any of the countless balls and soirees he had attended.
"Emmie, dear, there you are." Wilhelm turned to see the foreign secretary, hair graying at the temples but looking very distinguished, approach them.
"Papa," Emmeline greeted, though there was a touch of exasperation in her tone. Wilhelm remembered that she was upset with her father for letting Mr Morgan show up uninvited at the Ferndell wedding that morning. Well, *she* had misled her father into disclosing information on the Russians in January. There was a touch of "turnabout is fair play" in the situation, Wilhelm thought.
"Mr Hughes," Wilhelm nodded to the older man. They had encountered one another a couple of times. Wilhelm’s family holdings extended to the continent -- they had a family seat in Germany, in fact -- and the Oldenburgs had needed the foreign office's support and advice in some legal matters in recent years.
“Mr Oldenburg, how have you been?” The foreign secretary greeted. After a brief exchange of pleasantries, he added: “Might I steal my darling daughter away for a dance?”
“Of course,” Wilhelm smiled and bowed. He watched as his erstwhile partner swept away on her father’s arms, wondering when he would see her again so he could unravel the puzzle of Emmeline Hughes.
************************
The dancing was still in full swing when the wedding couple returned to the ballroom. They hadn’t stayed away too long, but it had been enough to put a blush on Enola’s cheeks and bolster Tewkesbury sufficiently to last another hour or two in company.
Enola’s mother-in-law found them immediately, eyes understanding as they scanned her two young charges. She reached out and straightened Tewkesbury’s cravat before tucking a stray lock of wavy hair behind Enola’s ear.
“Let’s mingle my dears,” she said, leading them into the fray. “Needs must.”
Enola grinned, happy for the Dowager Marchioness to guide them through this part. She caught Sherlock’s eye as she passed him and Mycroft, once again, surrounded by mostly ladies. He nodded and raised his glass in a toast to her. Mycroft smiled — he actually smiled warmly at her. Wonder of wonders. Perhaps he had imbibed more wine than usual.
They worked their way through the ballroom, greeting acquaintances and spending a bit more time with friends, such as the Baroness Oldenburg, Wilhelm, his sister Margerita and her husband Sir Randolph.
They came upon Inspector Lestrade and the Watsons, and Enola was pleased to finally meet Mrs Watson. She’d gathered there was a story behind her, from stray remarks she had heard from Sherlock and Dr Watson over the years.
“Lady Basilwether, Lord Tewkesbury, Enola, allow me to introduce you to my wife, Mary,” Dr Watson said, as his wife curtsied.
“I am so happy to meet you, Mrs Watson!” Enola said. “Thank you for coming.”
“I had heard so much about Sherlock’s clever — and much more charming — younger sister,” Mary Watson said, eyes twinkling. “Of course I had to attend. It is lovely to meet you all.”
“You must tell me how you cope when Dr Watson is called away on a case, Mrs Watson,” Tewkesbury piped up. “Do you have a way of staying in touch?”
“Well yes, we must exchange notes, Lord Basilwether,” Mary Watson smiled. “I am certain you and Enola have devised some clever methods, too. I have been unable to accompany John on his cases away since the baby arrived.”
“However did you meet?” The Dowager Marchioness asked curiously. “I can’t imagine anyone working so closely with the great detective Sherlock Holmes having much time for social interactions.”
The Watsons looked at each other and smiled knowingly. “We met on a case, just like the Marquess and the new Marchioness,” Mary said.
*************************
Tewkesbury watched Enola as she listened attentively to Mary Watson’s story. Her eyes sparkled with delight. He was glad to see her happy and glowing, despite her Mother’s absence today. But her brothers were here, and being very well behaved, he thought, looking over at them.
Sherlock had assured him that he would keep Mycroft in check, and he was keeping a sharp eye on the ballroom activities, too. The detective had wanted Enola to enjoy this day, and had ordered his sister to let her detective instincts rest for once and trust him to be the watchful Holmes at this wedding. Tewkesbury caught Sherlock’s eye and received a reassuring nod from his new brother-in-law: No trouble to be seen.
They encountered Enola’s university classmates and her Cherry Tree Lane family next, who had managed to attract Lady Carruthers to their group. It was an eclectic mix of women for certain.
While his mother discussed recipes with Enola’s former landlady Mrs Brown and her Cook, Tewkesbury found himself drawn into a discussion of strategy with Lady Carruthers and Sarah Montague, a tall legal student, regarding the suffrage movement. Enola was catching up with the other ladies on the classroom shenanigans that she’d missed in November and at the start of the year.
He knew her university experience was somewhat different from his. King’s College had just started its women’s education program and many of the classes available to men — especially in the sciences — weren’t offered to the women. Still, he knew Enola valued the opportunity to engage with other women, and her professors, at an intellectual level.
Over the past two years, he had often met her after class or one of her student meetings, flushed from the excitement of a robust exchange of ideas. Emmeline was likely the closest friend she had at King’s, especially after the events of the past few months, but Enola had benefited from getting to know other intelligent women, each remarkable in their own way and hailing from a diverse swathe of society. There was Maria Gordon, daughter of a renowned scientist; Philippa Jamieson, who had been born in India; Abigail Adams, daughter of a vicar who was determined to become a writer.
Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed a pair of guests approaching their group, and turned, preparing to greet the newcomers. He froze for a brief moment when he realised it was Emmeline and her father. He wasn’t quite ready to forgive the foreign secretary yet.
He felt Enola come next to him as the Hughes’s reached the group, putting a calming hand on his arm.
“Lord Basilwether, Lady Basilwether,” Mr Hughes said cautiously. “Please accept my sincere congratulations on your union. Believe me when I say it is wonderful to see true love triumph over adversity, as yours has done.”
“Thank you Mr Hughes,” Enola replied. “And thank you for sparing Emmeline these recent days. She has been an invaluable maid of honor, though I am sure you have missed her at home.”
“Indeed, I don’t know what I would do without her.” The foreign secretary cleared his throat and lowered his voice. “Lord Basilwether,” he began in a regretful tone. “I am sorry to have put you through your recent ordeal. Now that I have seen the two of you together, I know how unforgivable it was for me to have asked that of you.”
Tewkesbury was spared from an angry reply by the arrival of a footman at his elbow. The footman murmured in his ear and he nodded.
“You have a message, Mr Hughes, from your office,” he told the older man stiffly.
The foreign secretary took the note from the footman, opened it, and his face turned serious.
“I am afraid urgent business calls me away,” he said apologetically. “Emmie,” he turned to his daughter, who was not looking happy. “I must return to London immediately. Morgan is waiting to join me in our carriage.”
At the mention of the foreign officer’s name, both Tewkesbury and Emmeline’s faces turned stony.
“We’ll make sure Emmie gets home safely, Mr Hughes,” Enola stepped into the breach. “She can return to London with us tomorrow. I have to be back in time for classes Monday, too.”
“Thank you Lady Basilwether,” Mr Hughes said gratefully. He nodded to Tewkesbury and turned to leave, a clearly unhappy Emmeline by his side. She looked apologetically at Enola and Tewkesbury as she left to accompany her father out.
“I should make sure she’s alright,” Enola murmured to Tewkesbury, but he’d caught Wilhelm’s eye not far away and nodded in the Hughes’s direction. Wilhelm sized up the situation at once and followed the father and daughter out of the ballroom.
“Wilhelm’s on the case,” Tewkesbury murmured back. “He’ll take care of Emmeline.”
*************************
Wilhelm came upon Emmeline and her father in the grand entrance of Basilwether Hall. He watched from afar as the foreign secretary put on the long coat, scarf and hat handed to him by a footman.
“You are working too hard, Papa,” Emmeline was saying. “Being foreign secretary is killing you. The doctor said…”
“The doctor doesn’t understand the importance of what I do,” Mr Hughes interjected. “You know what is at stake for our country in many of my dealings.”
“I also know you have devoted yourself to your political career since mother died,” Emmeline burst out. “And I know you are taking on greater and greater burdens each year in service to her majesty’s government. You are my life, Papa, I do not wish to lose you, too.”
“My dear, you are my life, too,” her father said, hugging her tight. “But I won’t be here forever. You must make a life for yourself, marry.”
“I will never marry, you know that, Papa,” Emmeline said, sounding resigned.
Her father sighed. “I can’t fault you for wishing to avoid it,” he said. “But look at your friend and her Marquess. They will have an unusual marriage, but it is a true marriage regardless.”
Emmeline crossed her arms and looked mulish. “Not everyone is that fortunate.”
“I was fortunate to meet your mother, and while I miss her every single day, I cannot regret that I have you.” The foreign secretary kissed Emmeline on the cheek and left.
Emmeline stood very still as she watched her father disappear out the door. When she turned, Wilhelm could see tears tracking down her cheeks before she saw him and wiped them off with her hands.
Wilhelm stepped forward immediately and extended a handkerchief. She took it silently.
“I didn’t mean to eavesdrop,” he said by way of apology. “Tewky wanted me to make sure you were alright.” Hell, Wilhelm needed to make sure she was alright now.
She nodded, taking a deep breath.
“Is there any place a girl can sit and stew for a bit in this grand estate?” she asked.
Wilhelm laughed. “On a day like this?” But he remembered something. “Come on, I have an idea.”
*************************
Emmie followed Wilhelm down a side corridor. He seemed to know his way around Basilwether Hall. She supposed the Oldenburgs and Basilwethers were close.
After a few minutes and several turns, they reached a staircase that descended into a secluded sunken courtyard. The sounds of activity faded. They were a ways from the ballroom.
“This is perfect,” Emmeline breathed, heading straight to a bench and sitting. The courtyard was exposed to the sky above but surrounded by Basilwether Hall’s sturdy walls on four sides. Still, she felt the chill of the winter air and couldn’t help rubbing her arms a bit.
“I found my mother here one summer, deep in conversation with Lady Caroline Basilwether, and in tears,” Wilhelm said as he removed his jacket and draped it across Emmeline’s shoulders. “It was our first year back in England without my father. I was 10 and I had scraped my knee climbing a tree with Tewky, so I was looking for my mother to fess up before she heard it from a servant. Since then, every time my mother disappeared on a visit here, I knew I would find her here, rebuilding her defenses before putting on her brave front for the world again. I haven’t had to look for her here in a long time, though.”
Emmeline took in what he said. “You haven’t been with your father since you were 10?”
Wilhelm paused. Emmeline could tell he was deciding what to say, how much to share. She recognised the dilemma. She could tell the moment he decided to take the plunge.
“We saw him once a year,” he said slowly. “Less as we grew up. I haven’t seen him since I was 18, when I came of age and he delegated his duties to me.”
“I am sorry,” Emmeline said gently. “It must be harder for you. I never knew my mother, but you must miss your father. Is it consumption?” She knew that the Swiss sanatoria were famous for treating tuberculosis patients.
“Among other things,” Wilhelm said evasively. Alright, it wasn’t a plunge, more a dipping of the toes, Emmeline thought. She decided not to pry, though her curiosity was piqued. He sighed. “It was harder on my mother, having to bring us up alone. My father provided the funds, but she had to be the rock that held our family together. The Basilwethers were good friends to her… and to us.”
He paused. And caught her gaze, his blue eyes serious and suddenly intense. “I won’t speak for the Basilwethers but I think you know that they will be there for you, as they were for my family. But if you need me, know that I am a friend you can lean on.”
Emmeline stopped breathing for an instant, staring into Wilhelm’s eyes. She was sure she was tearing up again.
“Thank you,” she said, looking away, neither accepting nor rejecting his offer. “Thank you for showing me this sanctuary. I shall be ready to face the world again soon.”
Wilhelm was quiet for a moment, then chuckled to himself, as if he understood she wasn't ready to accept his help just yet. He sat down next to Emmeline.
“Take your time,” he said, bumping her shoulder gently. “No one will come looking for us for a long while.”
And Emmeline let herself lean against him, just a bit.