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."