"Florence, how are things with the Earl of Kent's son?"
"Thomas?" Florence asks, twirling the end of her bright blonde hair between her fingers. "It's going well, we've met as families more than a handful of times."
"He is rather dashing," Victoria swings her light brown hair over her shoulder. "And you, Eleanor? How are things with Lord Moriarty?"
"You mean Albert." Florence winks, taking a forkful of cake from her plate.
Looking down at her floral teacup, the loose leaves swirling, a small smile creeps on Eleanor's face. "Very well."
"We told you!" Victoria waves a hand.
"How many weeks has it been since you first acquainted?" Florence asks.
Eleanor purses her lips, thinking for a moment. "Four weeks or so?"
The friends share a smug look, nodding in response to their friend.
"Do your parents like him?" Victoria asks pointedly.
Eleanor shrugs. "My father likes him, they know each other from work at the palace. I assume mother does since he's a Lord, but she doesn't appreciate the informality of our meetings."
Victoria crosses her arms, an eyebrow cocked suspiciously. "How informal are your meetings?"
"We don't have a chaperone." She tells them, both gasping under their breaths.
"You mean you're unattended?" Florence asks, sipping her tea.
Eleanor purses her lips. "Um, well, mostly, yes..."
Victoria's eyes practically bulge out of her head. "You can't be serious?"
"I don't blame your mother for not approving..." Florence grimaces. "Sorry, I know you like him, but I understand where she's coming from."
"Your father wasn't born into a family of higher standing as your mother was, he's of working class descent, so he wouldn't understand—" Victoria speaks her mind, regretfully looking down and away. "I shouldn't have said that..."
Eyes narrowed slightly, Eleanor places her China cup down on the saucer. "You didn't need to say that. Let's drop it."
The three sit in uncomfortable silence, both Eleanor and Victoria avoiding the other's gaze.
Florence clears her throat awkwardly. "Are you seeing Albert later today?"
~
The carriage trundles along, vibrating gently as they go over bumps in the road.
"Thank you for dinner, Albert." Eleanor smiles.
Albert sends her a brief nod.
"Is something wrong?" She asks, eyes searching his face.
"It's a rather sensitive matter."
Eleanor sighs. "We're hurrying back to the estate for a reason. Did William say something over the phone at dinner?"
"Somethings happened," Albert begins. "Adam Whiteley's brother? He was murdered this evening, along with the officers ordered to take care of him and their maid."
A shaky hand over her mouth, Eleanor's eyes widen. "What?"
Albert's eyes meet hers, glossed over. "He phoned the estate, looking for me. William took the message, so I phoned Adam back promptly and he told me."
"What else did Adam say?" She asks.
"He hasn't said much about it, but he came home to find the bodies and he's devastated. Understandably so." Albert looks out the window again.
Eleanor bites her lip. "So what now? He must be heartbroken."
"We have a plan," Albert assures her. "A plan that he can accept should he choose to use his life for the good of this country."
"I'm confused, how exactly?"
"It's simple," Albert rests his elbow on the side of the carriage. "He will leave a lasting impression on the public about equality and freedom of speech for the lower standing classes. Then his life will be valiantly, and surprisingly, taken by the Lord of Crime."
Eleanor raises a finger. "But won't that make the Lord of Crime seem less like the Robin Hood type? He'll just become a murderer."
Albert nods, a chuckle escaping his lips. "That's the plan all along. The Lord of Crime will bear the cross of Adam's heartbreak and he can peacefully be reunited with his loved ones, knowing full well his life wasn't taken in vain."
"I see," Eleanor stares out the window in the dark evening. "You three have had this all figured out."
"For quite a while."
"When will this happen?" She asks.
"We will meet with him tonight and the day after tomorrow he is supposed to appear at Westminster," Albert explains. "That will be the time the Lord of Crime will strike."
~
Eleanor shakes her head curtly. "Not today."
Victoria groans, turning to her friend and grabbing her hands. "I shouldn't have said that, it was wrong of me to say. Whether you're formal in Albert's company or not, what matters is that you're happy."
Eleanor purses her lips, looking down at their hands on the table. "Thank you for saying so. And yes, I'm very happy."
"Good," Victoria sips at her tea. "I'm...glad."
"So, how are things with Lord Barkis?" Eleanor asks regretfully as Victoria huffs.
"Still no marriage proposal." She crosses her arms. "And after his father told my father that he's to be wed by the end of the month."
Staring pointedly at her two friends, Victoria throws her hands up.
"And it's the end of the month!"
Florence laughs awkwardly. "Please, calm yourself Victoria."
The waiter makes his way over to their table, pouring fresh tea into their cups.
The doors to the tea room are thrown open and a commotion follows after. Smartly dressed, the concierge hurries after a younger man dressed in a scruffy brown vest and shirt with brown trousers and scuffed plimsole shoes.
"You can't be in here!" The concierge whisper shouts, quickly gaining the attention of the whole room.
Victoria scoffs. "What is a commoner doing here?"
"Victoria!" Eleanor scolds, Florence rolling her eyes at their friend.
"Adam Whiteley is dead!"
Gasps are heard around the room, the low hum of whispering ensuing the young man's announcement.
"What happened?" Eleanor calls out.
"The Lord of Crime stabbed him!"
Florence's mouth is agape. "My goodness, he's dead?"
"And murdered by the biggest criminal as of late." Eleanor shakes her head, raising a hand to her mouth in shock.
"Wasn't his family just murdered?" Florence asks, her eyes welling up. "You can't even imagine what he must have been going through."
Eleanor mumbles to herself. "He must have gone through with William's plan..."
The concierge and a pair of waiters manage to remove the man from the tea room, the public returning their attention to their tables.
Victoria shakes her head. "He was such a kind man, any woman would have been lucky to be in his company."
Lowering her hand, Eleanor stands up from the table huffing in her friend's direction. "A man has been murdered and that's all you can think about? Not the pain he was going through or the state of our Parliament now he's dead?"
Crossing her arms, Victoria rolls her eyes. "Don't act all high and mighty 'Elle', just because your father works in the Ministry."
"Having an interest in politics and the economy makes me high and mighty?" She questions.
Victoria narrows her eyes. "And stuck up too."
"Don't fight, please you two," Florence looks between the two. "At least not right now and in public."
"Fine," Eleanor points a finger at Victoria. "But if all I cared about was men and when I was going to be married and pushing out his children one by one, I'd feel genuinely sad and alone. I pity you."
Florence's eyes widen and she rubs her temple. "Eleanor, that was rude. Victoria, don't retort."
Turning on her heel, Eleanor storms out of the busy tea room, the door opening for her as she stalks out the entrance hall and towards the exit to the street.
"Eleanor!"
She swings around, eyebrow twitching as Florence hurries over to her, brows knitted.
"What is it?"
Florence sighs. "You're both on edge, don't let her bother you. She says things she doesn't always mean."
Taking in a few deep breaths, Eleanor nods, foot tapping on the floor. "I know. I did mean what I said though."
Florence crosses her arms. "Eleanor—"
"I should have been kinder about it, I know that."
Florence shrugs. "We both know how she can be."
They stand in silence, the entrance door opening and closing as people enter.
"Are you available tomorrow? Maybe we can have lunch as a three and hash it out?" Florence suggests.
"I can't..." Eleanor purses her lips. "Not tomorrow at least, I'm— I'm busy...sorry."
Florence places a hand on Eleanor's shoulder, sending her a friendly smile. "Cool off and I'll phone your house later this week to talk."
Nodding, Eleanor turns away and walks outside to hear the sound of clicking hooves and people talking. She huffs, rubbing underneath her eyes.
"Tough day?"
Eyebrows raised, Eleanor's eyes meet the direction of the voice.
With a cigarette between his lips and an eyebrow cocked, Sherlock Holmes strolls over to her.
"Mr Holmes, I didn't expect to see you here." She smiles weakly.
He waves a hand, exhaling smoke. "Call me Sherlock. I take it you were enjoying a spot of afternoon tea."
"Enjoying isn't exactly the word I would use," She crosses her arms.
"I didn't take you as the type to enjoy tea and cake with boring chit-chat," Sherlock leans against a streetlamp post. "Thought you'd enjoy more stimulating conversations."
"I didn't take you as the type to hang around outside tea rooms." She retorts and he raises a finger in her direction. "Thought a bar was more your scene."
"Very witty, Eleanor. So," He stomps out the finished cigarette. "How are things going with your gentleman friend since the experience that was the Noahtic?"
She tucks a strand of hair behind her ear. "Everything is going rather well, but I feel wrong expressing such a feeling after such a horrific incident has taken place this afternoon."
"Adam Whiteley being murdered?" Sherlock stuffs his hands in his trousers pockets. "He wasn't your average politician. A lot of them promise equality and never deliver, but he seemed genuine."
"How did it happen?" She asks. "When did the Lord of Crime stab him?"
Sherlock scuffs the tip of his shoe on the pavement. "As Adam was about to enter Westminster, he gave a brief speech on his ideals and his plans for the future despite his loving family being brutally murdered. It was then that the Lord of Crime appeared and ended his life."
The corner of Eleanor's mouth curls up. "But he spoke of equality up until the end. A truly nice man."
"I do have a theory."
She raises her eyebrows, watching closely as he raises another cigarette to his lips. "What do you mean?"
"As to the identity of the Lord of Crime," Sherlock lights the end with a match, tossing it to the side as he inhales the cigarette smoke. "Shall I tell you?"
Eleanor rolls her eyes, crossing her arms. "You don't have a theory, you're bluffing."
He raises his hands up in defence. "Of course I do. I'll tell you..."
Waving a hand for her to lean in closer, Eleanor humours him and takes a step forwards.
"I believe the Lord of Crime is actually a nobleman himself."
"Is that so?" Eleanor laughs. "What is your evidence behind this?"
Shrugging, Sherlock exhales smoke. "I have plenty of evidence, but more importantly I have intuition. My intuition has led me to solve many a case and it hasn't steered me wrong."
"Well, aren't you clever?" She mocks him, clapping her hands together.
"You can ridicule me all you like but you know I'm right." He points a finger at her.
She shakes her head, stepping away from him. "I don't know what you're talking about but good luck with your crazy theory."
Sherlock pushes his blue-black hair out of his face, removing the cigarette from his mouth. "When you have eliminated the impossible, whatever remains, however improbable, must be the truth."
Eyebrows raised, Eleanor is taken aback by his statement and so surprised that she doesn't notice a carriage pulling up at the curbside next to them.
"Miss Eleanor?" Samuel steps down from the top of the carriage and opens the door. "Are you ready to leave?"
She shares a look with Sherlock, her eyes searching his face for any indication of him seeing through her lies and she laughs.
"You certainly are an interesting man, aren't you Mr Holmes?"
With a twinkle in his eye, Sherlock nods towards the carriage with the cigarette between his lips. "You'd best be on your way, Miss Williams. Your carriage awaits."
Eleanor sends Sherlock a wave goodbye and he watches as she climbs inside the carriage and her auburn locks disappear out of sight.
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