Aylia Holmes

12. Mourning the Past

The moment the carriage stopped in front of her aunt and uncle's house, Aylia instantly got out, not bothering to wait for anyone to help her. Mycroft followed, walking with her up to the door and tapping the gold knocker sharply. The door opened almost instantly and Aylia found herself enveloped in the embrace of her Aunt Loretta.

"Come now, dear," she said gently, pulling her inside and up towards her chambers as Mycroft greeted their uncle.

.

Aylia had not said a word as she bathed and dressed in a nightgown and robe. She had just sat down to tea when the door opened again and her aunt appeared and sat beside her on the floor.

"Aylie, dear," Aunt Loretta said, brushing her niece's hair out of her face and trying to meet her eyes. "What's wrong?"

"I'm just overwhelmed," Aylia said distantly. "Enola's missing and so is Mother and I just want to find them, but Mycroft keeps yelling at me to just-"

She broke off as large tears flooded her eyes.

"Aylie, it's okay to cry," Aunt Loretta said gently.

And that was all it took. The floodgates opened and, wrapping her arms around her aunt, Aylia began to sob bitterly.

.

Shutting Aylia's door gently behind her, Loretta Chamberland, formerly Holmes, sighed. She was a younger woman, only about five and thirty, and looked remarkably like her niece as she had the same dark hair, the same light eyes and dark lashes, and even the same delicate features.

The moment she had shut the door, Archibald Chamerbland, a tall, stout man of about three and forty, approached and asked, "Is she all right?"

"Fatigued, I think," Loretta said softly.

"Mycroft had a few interesting instructions," Archibald said gruffly with a tone his wife instantly recognized as disapproval.

"What instructions?" she asked with a frown.

Archibald sighed before finally admitting, "He has said that Aylie is not allowed to leave here for any reason other than for the purpose of finding a husband."

Loretta sighed. Aylia had said little through her tears and had instead cried herself to sleep without explaining the cause of her tears. But now, it all made sense.

"And she won't go against him," Loretta said sorrowfully. "It will kill her, Archie."

"I know," he replied in as soft a tone as his gruff voice would allow. "Although, dear, we could remind her that we are technically her guardians and not him."

Loretta smiled in amusement as she glanced over at him.

"Yes, dear, I suppose we could," she said.

.

Aylia woke with a persisting headache. A headache that in fact stuck around for the proceeding three days. She had heard nothing from or about Enola nor her mother. It was complete silence from Sherlock and Mycroft. But for reasons she couldn't quite explain, the most notable silence came from Elwin. She knew not why she expected to see him or hear from him, but she did and the lack of communication hurt.

Even so, she forced herself, on the fourth day since her return, to ready herself for a ball at her aunt's suggestion, but as she sat before her vanity staring at her pale reflection, thinking about the prospect of spending hours making idle conversation, her heart sank. Even so, as she descended the winding staircase, she felt some excitement at leaving the house. She had elected for her most fetching gown, a navy blue one paired with a sapphire necklace. Her hair was mostly down and curled, while the rest of her hair was tied in a high braided bun.

As she was handed into the carriage, her uncle said, "You look beautiful, my dear."

Aylia nodded, giving her best attempt at a smile. Settling back in her seat, she pressed her forehead against the glass, watching London pass around her. The ball itself was being held at the home of a certain Lord Armond Thomas and his wife, Lady Sophia, and as the carriage pulled towards it, Aylia could not help but find herself distracted from her own mind at the sight of it. It was a large house with high, lighted windows and surrounded by lush gardens in full bloom. Torches blazed along the path, just above eye level, creating a mystic illusion as they got out of the carriage and approached.

When they were within five feet of the house, the door opened and they were greeted with charming chivalry and led inside. The swell of the music was, to Aylia's surprise, not the pinnacle of posh classical music but rather the pieces so enveloped in soul they hurt your heart to hear. Couples danced along the floor, talking and laughing in quiet tones as others conversed along the edge. Aylia walked with her aunt around the room before the sight of a shot of dark curls froze her in her tracks.

"Are you all right, dear?" Aunt Loretta asked in concern.

He had turned, meeting her eyes with an unreadable expression.

"Y-Yes, I'm all right, Aunt," she insisted, tearing her eyes away from him with force.

They finished their turn about the room just as a young gentleman approached and asked for a dance. Aylia graciously consented and, taking his hand, followed him onto the floor.

"I don't believe I've seen you before, Miss," the gentleman said. "Have you lived long in London?"

"Indeed, not long, sir," she replied kindly. "Just the past four years."

"Indeed," he said in surprise.