The carriage rattled along the country roads, Eleanor gazing out the window at fields and hedgerows blurred by motion. Beside her, her father's voice carried softly over the steady clatter of the wheels.
"You were only seven when last you visited their estate," he said, glancing at her. "Do you remember much, Eleanor? The gardens, the halls, the fountains?"
Eleanor smiled faintly. "Fragments, Father… the sunlight through the library windows, the fountains in the courtyard, and the grand hall with the chandeliers so high. I ran and played a lot then; it all felt enormous and full of wonder."
He nodded warmly. "Yes, I remember you as lively and curious. You had such energy, yet even as a child, there was a spark that made people take notice. It pleases me to see how you've grown."
Eleanor blushed lightly. "Thank you, Father."
The carriage continued through the countryside, eventually reaching the estate gates. Eleanor's breath caught at the sight: sprawling lawns, stone terraces, and the grand manor house rising with quiet majesty. Her father helped her from the carriage, offering his arm. "Observe, learn, and enjoy what you can of this visit," he said warmly.
Once inside, Eleanor was shown to her room. The afternoon sun cast long shadows through the tall windows, and the quiet of the chamber allowed her a moment to catch her breath and take in the familiar grandeur of the estate she had only glimpsed as a child. She wandered along the room, noting the tapestries and polished wood, until the distant sound of voices drew her curiosity.
Some time passed before Eleanor, feeling a restless pull, ventured down the corridor toward the study. The door was slightly ajar. She paused and, careful not to be noticed, overheard the conversation within.
"…of course, it is customary," her father's voice carried clearly. "The arrangement will ensure the families remain closely aligned."
Lord Greystone replied, measured and firm, "Yes, the union will benefit both households. It is time the children understand their roles and the expectations that accompany them."
Eleanor's heart skipped a beat. Arrangement. Union. Roles. Theodore was nowhere in sight. She allowed herself to assume — perhaps mistakenly — that this concerned William. A mixture of excitement and apprehension pressed on her chest as she retreated silently back to her room.
Later that afternoon, seated at her writing desk, Eleanor carefully penned a letter to her brother, unburdening her thoughts:
Dear Brother,
I have arrived at the estate. It is grander than I remembered, and yet the weight of expectation presses down upon me. Father accompanied me, and while exploring the house briefly, I overheard a conversation in the study regarding arrangements between the families. Theodore is absent, and I am left to believe this concerns William. I am uncertain what to feel — excitement, apprehension, or something in between. I wish you were here to guide me.
I miss you dearly and hope to recount everything upon my return.
Your sister,
Eleanor
That evening, dinner was served in the estate's grand dining hall. Candlelight shimmered across the polished silverware and delicate china. Eleanor's father engaged warmly with the hosts, sharing light-hearted stories about the children's ages, playful antics, and fleeting mischief from years past. Eleanor listened, a small smile tugging at her lips. Despite the weight of expectations and the uncertainty looming over her, the warmth of family connections offered a fleeting comfort before the complexities of her visit would demand her full attention.