Chapter 13
The drawing room was quieter than it had been the day before, though it was not empty.
Anne sat opposite Eleanor, her attention fixed more on her newly married friend than on the tea between them. Eleanor had missed her friends, there was no question about that, but even she had underestimated just how much she had needed to see Anne.
Anne was her most reasonable friend, someone that understood her far more deeply than anyone else did. Her presence softened the room, making it feel less like part of the house and more like something set apart from it.
"How was your journey?" she asked. "I do hope that my brother was a reasonable travel companion."
"He certainly was," Anne replied, blushing slightly. "My maid was captivated by him throughout the journey, which I must say passed far more quickly than I expected."
Eleanor raised an eyebrow, wondering just how true it was that it had been the maid captivated by Henry.
As his sister, she did not understand the appeal of him, but he always seemed to have several ladies interested in him.
He was intelligent, she supposed, and kind, but she failed to see how that was a good foundation for an entire marriage.
Then she thought of her own match, and decided it would be best to not pass judgment.
"Where is her, by the way?" Anne asked. "He disappeared shortly after my arrival."
"I believe he wishes to speak with my husband. As far as I am aware, there had not been time for the typical warning that an older brother gives before the wedding, so I suppose he has chosen now."
"That is most thoughtful of him! You are most fortunate to have someone that cares for you that way."
"I know that I should feel that way, Anne, but it is suffocating. He practically threatened my husband when he heard of our engagement."
"And he should have! El, you know as well as I do that this marriage is not something you would have agreed to mere months ago, and you changed your mind so suddenly. He might even have thought that something happened to force your hand."
Eleanor’s eyes widened at that. Nothing of the sort had occurred, but of course she had no control over what was said of her. She had borne witness to that at the dinner party, after all.
"You have been here long enough now," Anne said, setting her cup aside. "I think I am entitled to an honest answer."
"That sounds ominous."
"It is not," Anne replied. "But it is necessary."
"Then I shall prepare myself."
Anne did not return the smile that Eleanor was giving her.
"Are you happy?"
The question settled plainly between them. Eleanor did not answer at once. She looked down at her cup, her fingers resting lightly against the porcelain, as though she did not know what to say.
She did, of course, and when she spoke, her tone was calm.
"Yes."
Anne watched her closely.
"Yes?"
"Yes," Eleanor repeated, more firmly. "He makes me very happy."
"That is not what I expected you to say," Anne said, clearly surprised.
"Nor I," Eleanor admitted. "I shall not tell you some romantic version of events and expect you to believe me, because you know me far too well for that. However, I am indeed very happy. I am taken care of here, and I am anything but lonely. What more could I want?"
Love.
There was a small pause before she continued, her voice quieter. She did not want Anne to remind her of what she had chosen to lack. She thought about it enough herself.
"I did not think it would be like this," she said. "I expected there to be far more distance, but he and I enjoy each other's company and it is making for an easy marriage."
She bit her tongue after that. It was not because of that that their marriage was even close to good. Eleanor setting aside what she wanted made the marriage work, and she would never be given any credit for that.
"It is easier," she said at last, "being here with him. I do not feel as though I must manage myself in the same way as I do in London."
Anne smiled faintly at that. In spite of herself, Eleanor did the same. There was honesty in it; she did truly feel more herself in some ways, but in others it felt as though she was just as trapped.
She lived in a beautiful home, and she had a friend in Lily, and she had time to do anything she wanted. She was fortunate, and that meant she had to be happy.
She did not want to be ungrateful.
"There is something else," Eleanor said.
Anne did not interrupt. Eleanor’s fingers tightened slightly around her cup before she set it down.
"It is foolish," she added.
"I doubt that. Even if it is, that is why I am here."
"You should not doubt it," Eleanor said. "It would be more sensible."
Anne’s expression softened, though her attention did not waver.
"Tell me."
"Sometimes," she said slowly, "it feels as though there could be something between us."
Anne did not react immediately. Eleanor continued before she could.
"I know that there is not," she said. "There cannot be. That was never the arrangement, and he has made that very clear, and yet it does not always feel that way."
The admission settled between them, more fragile than anything she had said before. Anne leaned forward slightly.
"In what way?"
"I cannot explain it," she said. "It is only moments, but I am starting to wonder if there is more between us than there should be."
"Is it possible that you are imagining it?"
"I hope so," Eleanor replied. "Because the alternative would be far less sensible."
"And when have you ever been guided entirely by sense? You have always listened to your heart, El, and it has never failed you."
Eleanor allowed a small, quiet smile. It was true that her feelings and intuition had never led her astray, but they all had to quieten when it came to her marriage.
"It has, and more often than you think."
"Not in matters such as this."
Eleanor did not answer that. Instead, she looked down again, feeling as though everything had suddenly become far more complex than it had been before.
"It does not matter," she said after a moment. "Whatever it is, it changes nothing."
Anne did not seem convinced.
"It changes how you feel," she said.
"That is precisely why it must not be indulged."
"But how can you avoid it?"
Eleanor did not know what to say for a moment. She knew that she could not avoid him altogether when they shared a household, but that did not mean she had to allow her feelings to grow.
"I must, and so I will find a way."
Her words were steady, but not entirely untroubled.
Before Anne could respond, there was a sound in the corridor beyond the door, footsteps approaching, followed by the quiet murmur of voices.
It was only a servant, but it was enough to momentarily interrupt their discussion.
Eleanor hoped that that would bring an end to the matter, but of course her friend knew better than to let that happen.
"Do you want there to be something more?" Anne asked.
The question was direct, and Eleanor stilled for a moment and did not answer.
It was not because she had nothing to say, but because the answer did not come as easily as the others had.
It required something she had been deliberately avoiding, something she had kept firmly contained beneath reason and decision just as she assumed her husband did.
She looked at Anne, then away again. The thought formed, but it was not the one she wanted to have.
What if there was?
Even as a girl, she knew that she wanted something that could not be controlled or predicted, something that would require trust in a way she had already learned not to allow.
She wanted love, but it was more than that.
She wanted something that came from nowhere and took her by surprise, and in a way, that was indeed what her marriage had been.
She considered it only for a moment, but it was enough. Eleanor drew in a small breath and answered quickly, the hesitation gone from her tone as though it had never been there.
"No. I do not need there to be anything more."
Anne did not look convinced.
"It is better this way," Eleanor continued, more firmly now. "It was always meant to be this way."
"And what if it is not?"
"It is," Eleanor replied. "Whatever is happening, if anything is happening at all, it is not something that can be allowed to matter. I am happy with my marriage, as I told you, and I do not need anything more."
Anne watched her for a long moment, her expression thoughtful rather than challenging.
"You are very determined to make me believe you made the right decision."
"Because I did, Anne. I know that it is not the great and enchanting romance that you might want for me, but it offers me security, and that means everything."
Anne’s gaze did not soften.
"Security is not everything, Eleanor."
"It is for me."
"And what of your heart? You are denying yourself of something that you have always wanted, and if you tell me that this is what you want then I will accept it, but I will not believe it. This is a beautiful life, but it is not yours."
"I am happy here," Eleanor snapped. "One can be made happy by more than one thing, and that is what has happened to me."
"It is not. You cannot simply decide not to feel something."
"I can decide what I do with myself."
"And you intend to do nothing."
"Yes."
Anne studied her, something almost searching in her. Eleanor knew that she was not being truthful, and she wished it were not the case. She hated lying to her friend, especially when all that she was trying to do was help, but she could not stand it.
She could not tell the truth, not when she hardly understood it herself.
"I think you should listen to yourself," Anne said softly. "Not to what is safe, or what is sensible, but to what you actually want."
Eleanor did not respond. She held herself upright, trying not to reveal anything in her face. Nothing in her manner suggested uncertainty, but the silence itself was an answer.
The thought of it– of trusting that part of herself again, of allowing it any influence over what she had so carefully arranged, did not feel like a possibility. It was too great a risk, and after London, risk was something she understood too well.
Eleanor reached for her cup, though she did not drink.
"I have already decided," she said.
Anne did not press her further, but she did not look convinced. Eleanor did not allow the silence to linger. She set her cup down, as though the matter had been settled simply by deciding not to return to it. When she looked up again, the shift in her expression was subtle, but deliberate.
"And you," she said, tilting her head slightly. "What of your own future, since you have taken such an interest in mine?"
Anne raised a brow.
"You are deflecting."
"Entirely," Eleanor replied. "You may answer me regardless."
Anne let out a small breath, though there was the faintest hint of amusement in it.
"I am less certain about it all than I was," she said.
"And what has brought this about?"
Anne gave her a look.
"I have observed a great deal, and it has brought something to light."
Eleanor smiled faintly.
"And given that you undoubtedly have observed me, I am delighted to be of use."
Anne did not quite return the smile.
"I had thought it all rather straightforward. One makes a suitable match, then proceeds with good sense, and everything settles as it should. Now I am less convinced that it settles so neatly."
"And what does that leave you with?"
Anne hesitated slightly.
"Possibilities, I suppose. An arrangement remains an option, though it is not my preference. It is as you say, after all. You have found happiness in your match, so I can do the same."
Eleanor looked at her more directly. She knew what her friend was doing; she was showing her what she sounded like, but Eleanor was not so inclined to admit that she disliked the thought of it.
"Are you certain of this?" she asked.
"I am," Anne replied. "It is sensible. It avoids unnecessary complications."
"Then I see that you have adopted a most practical view of the matter. I hope that, in time, you see that it truly can be for the best."
Eleanor let the silence sit for just long enough. She watched as Anne waited for her to argue, but she did not intend to. It was more enjoyable, she decided, to agree with her friend, and have her admit that she was bluffing herself.
"You realize," she said, "that you have just advised me to listen to my heart, and you are now proposing to ignore your own entirely."
Anne stared at her. Eleanor’s smile deepened, though it remained gentle.
"It is a remarkable position to take within the same conversation."
"That is not–" Anne stopped, then shook her head slightly. "That is not what is happening here."
"I would say that is precisely what this is
Anne let out a short breath that might almost have been a laugh.
"You are insufferable."
"And yet, you miss me in my absence. Fear not, my dear friend, for I miss you too. Fortunately, when you find a husband of your own, we shall see more of one another!"
There was silence for a moment, and then the two ladies made eye contact with one another. As soon as they did, they burst into laughter.
"You are far too pleased with yourself," Anne sighed when they were calmer.
"Perhaps," Eleanor admitted. "I cannot help myself. You make it far too easy."
Anne reached for her tea at last.
"I shall reconsider offering you advice in future."
"That would be unfortunate," Eleanor said. "I find it very entertaining."
"Of course you do."
It all became easier then, with them leaving the matter behind. It was preferable, Eleanor thought, for she did not want to quarrel with her friend, but there was a part of her that wished she had been questioned further, in spite of it all, so that she might have made more sense of it.
Neither of them returned to it, however, though neither had quite forgotten it either.