DELICATE || TEWKESBURY [1]

𝐯𝐢.

➷ DELICATE ࿐ྂ
───── 🏹ׅ۬∙ ─────
Where We Part

MARCHING TOWARDS THE KITCHEN, Y/N SOUNDLESSLY FOLLOWED. "So, you genuinely believe my life's in danger," Tewkesbury questioned, carefully watching his steps while glancing up at the youngest Holmes from time to time.

"Yes, and get this," Enola trailed, "Y/N's too."

"From whom, exactly?" The young lord incredulously asked again.

"Your past and your future."

"Whatever does that mean?"

"Your family. They didn't send a detective to find you. They could have, and they didn't. Instead, they sent a murderer. And as for Y/N, have you heard? Your father has become friends with two other lords, a baron and an infamously known man. It's a benefit and a danger for once they find out about your actions, fighting for feminism, you are labeled as a suffragette. You may not stand a chance. Everything that you own can never be claimed again."

L/N was having a hard time processing what the girl had uttered. "Why would anyone want me dead?" Tewkesbury asked.

"Countless reasons!" Enola replied.

"This is not the only time I'll have to agree with Enola. You're quite a handful at times," Y/N finally remarked.

"Not to mention, your personality, your ridiculous hair, your silly smile, or possibly your land, your estate, your title, your seat. The same reason they want your father dead. Greed does funny things to people, Tewksbury," Holmes said as they walked to another room. Y/N hesitated a step when she couldn't shake the feeling that they were being watched.

"So now you're saying you think they killed my father?"

The girl turned around, discreetly snaking her hands somewhere underneath her dress. Once she got what she wanted from there, she hid the knife in her sleeves and turned back to her friends. "I don't think. I know."

"No, no. None of this makes the slightest sense. My father's death was caused by a botched burglary and — and — It would have been easier to kill me before I ran away rather than now — "

"I entirely agree. I think they tried to. I found the branch that almost killed you. It had been cut."

"Cut?"

As both of them argued, Y/N heard a leather squeak and the door creaked behind her so she quickly turned around to see a man, "Er, Guys? Did someone invite the weirdo behind the door?" She asked.

Enola rapidly grabbed the whistling kettle and hit him with it. "I guess the answer to that is 'no'." L/N said and snatched her knife from her sleeve, throwing it slightly to the shoulder with just enough distance of aim to create a painful deep gash.

"Seriously, he could've been more quiet," Y/N mumbled.

"This is not the time to be unnecessarily sarcastic, L/N! Let's go!" Tewkesbury exclaimed, grabbing her hand, pushing the man as hard as he could and leaving the room.

"Come back here!' The man yelled. "Oh, sure. Let's just forget why we're running from you" L/N yelled back. "Who's that?" She and the marquess asked in unison. The three went to the bedroom, closing the door.

"Move the chest! Move the chest!" The boy did as he was told as they all tried to hold the door.

"Open up, Miss Posy! Or, should I say, Miss Holmes!", the man shouted from the other side of the wooden material.