Aylia Holmes

4. Reforming Enola

An hour or so later, Aylia stood, leaning back against a bookshelf as the two boys played pool.

"What is she up to, Sherlock?" Mycroft mused.

"Why not ask Aylie?" Sherlock countered. "She knows Mother best out of the three of us."

Ignoring that remark, Mycroft continued, "She was too old to remarry, she had no passions or ambitions I was aware of. She simply had to ensure Enola a decent life and to live her remaining years with dignity."

"It sounds to me like she has done that," Aylia said, just catching Enola sneaking to the other side of the doorway to listen out of the corner of her eye. "Enola seems like she has had a happy life here with Mother. What is more dignifying than ensuring your child's happiness?"

"This is my house, not hers, and has been since Father died. She asked for sixteen years to bring up Enola here. I gave it, and for that, I deserve to be robbed? I am not the villain here."

Aylia sighed, averting her gaze from him.

"Perhaps she needed the money," Sherlock suggested, his tone flecked with the barest hint of irritability. "You clearly don't. Or has the government cut your salary?"

Straightening from where he had just made a rather lousy shot on the pool table, Mycroft glared at him.

"It's always the same, isn't it? Always the same," he grumbled. "The three of us don't see each other for months, or years, and then you blast in without a care and condemn me with your bon mots."

"Thank you," Aylia said quietly to Mrs Lane, taking the glass of water she brought her on the tray with the boys' drinks.

"Simply inquiring," Sherlock corrected.

"You are judging," Mycroft retorted. "You are judging something for which you took no responsibility. You've never shown an interest in this family."

"I don't mean to judge," Sherlock said.

"We have two problems, as I see it," Mycroft said. "One, finding a boarding school that is willing to take Enola on so she won't be a complete failure in this world. That, I am in the process of solving with the help of an old friend. And two, finding Mother. The first is my problem. The second I consider yours, brother."

"And me?" Aylia inquired, raising her chin ever so slightly.

"You are to go back home and occupy yourself," Mycroft ordered. "Maybe finally find yourself a husband."

Ignoring him, she asked, "Have you considered that Enola may prefer to stay here? She has known nothing different her entire life. The change in scenery would be much harder for her should she leave. If you would only hire a governess, then, when she is ready, she can come to stay with me at Aunt Loretta's and be introduced into society."

"You could acquire a governess," Sherlock agreed.

"She needs a firm hand, Sherlock," Mycroft replied. "We need to break her a build her up. In Mother's absence, she is my ward, not yours. A wild and dangerous woman brought up a wild child."

"She seems intelligent," Sherlock contradicted.

"With Miss Harrison's help, we'll make her acceptable for society," Mycroft resumed. "Father would be turning in his grave. An uneducated, underdressed, poorly mannered wildling."

"Mycroft," Aylia scolded softly.

He softened slightly at the reproach and turned to look at her.

Stepping closer to him, she said, "I know you think what you are doing is right, and I know you think you're protecting Enola. But, Mycroft, it will break her spirit if you do this to her. I know the friend you speak of, and she will ruin everything good about her."

"Aylia, dear, trust that I know what I'm doing," Mycroft replied dismissively.

Then, taking his drink, he disappeared out the door. Aylia sighed, collapsing into a chair and shoving her glass onto the side table. Hiding her head in her hands, she drew in several deep breaths in an attempt to calm herself down as Sherlock stared inquisitively at her, knowing she would eventually speak. However, when she raised her head, he was surprised to see tears streaking down her cheeks.

"Aylie-" he began, stepping towards her.

"No, I know," she sniffled, wiping at her tears. "My emotions are understandable but unnecessary. You don't have to tell me."

Sherlock sighed, sitting down on the arm of her chair and wrapping an arm around her. Aylia let out a sob, embracing him tightly as she hid her head from sight.

"He doesn't realize how much he's hurting her," she sobbed, her voice muffled slightly. "He's going to destroy her, Sherlock."

She looked up at him, her bright eyes red and glassy with tears that streaked down her pale cheeks like brushes of a paint before falling into her dark hair.

"Sherlock, please," she whispered. "You're the only one he may listen to."

Wiping away her tears, Sherlock embraced her again, letting out a long sigh.

.

Aylia had been asked to remain with Enola while Miss Harrison, the friend of Mycroft's, took some measurements. She was, however, wishing she had been able to stay out of it somehow, as the entire process was making her feel extremely uncomfortable. Or perhaps, it was just the woman herself that had that effect on her.

"Stand tall, girl," Miss Harrison ordered. Forcing her chin up, she said, "That's better."

"Waist, 24 inches," Mrs Lane said. "Chest, 33 inches."

"Well, that's too small," she said irritably.

"They're perfectly fine," Enola and Aylia said at the same time, one irritably and the other in a placid, cool way as though to imply that anything to the contrary was utter posh and barely even needed her cool remark to shoot down the idea.

"Hips, 35 inches," Mrs Lane finished, putting away the measuring tape.

"Oh, how disappointing," Miss Harrison murmured. "We will have to use an amplifier."

"Hips are simply a function of legs, aren't they?" Enola said, confused. "What need have they of amplification?"

"Aren't you the clever little tongue? I'll enjoy that," she said.

"I won't enjoy being imprisoned in those preposterous clothes," Enola snapped.

"These clothes will not imprison," Miss Harrison countered. "They will free. They will allow you to fit into society, to take part in its numerous pleasures. To catch an eye, to attract. At my finishing school, you will learn how to be a young lady, and you'll make many new friends."

"I don't need friends," Enola replied matter-of-factly. "I have my own company and I don't need to go to your ridiculous school."

Instantly, Mis Harrison slapped her across the face. It was not a harsh one that would cause tears, but even so it was so sharp and sudden that Aylia couldn't help the rage that roared in her chest at the sight of it.