Eleanor knew very well why her father had ordered her to be left alone. She'd been unable to keep from breaking down and crying after Catherine's departure, sick with worry for the journey her friend was being forced to make and humiliated that her own father was the cause of it. She'd tried her best to hide the signs, even resorting to a bit of powder on her cheeks and nose, but her red eyes had given her away. She'd spent most of her noon meal being lectured by the general about the wiles of overly ambitious young ladies and being berated for not seeing Miss Morland for what she really was and encouraging her pretensions.
Eleanor could barely imagine a less accurate picture of Catherine Morland, but her early attempts at objection met with more ire, and so she fell silent and picked at her food until her father had dismissed her, telling her she should rest in her room until she could behave more sensibly.
She didn't start crying again, but she lay on her bed and fretted about Catherine's safety. And she both longed for and dreaded Henry's return. He'd undoubtedly be upset at how utterly rude and reprehensible Catherine's dismissal had been, though the reasons would hardly surprise him. How the general had gotten the idea that Catherine Morland was a wealthy heiress was bewildering as she certainly didn't act or dress the part, and she'd never been introduced to either Eleanor or Henry as such. Catherine was simply a sweet, likable, gentile, slightly naive young lady, and if Eleanor had occasionally wondered at the general's efforts to push Henry toward her, she'd at least been reassured by his taste.
As for Henry... Eleanor wasn't sure what Henry felt. Oh, he was obviously quite fond of her, but sometimes he seemed a little too amused by Catherine to be in danger of being in love. It would be better for him now if he weren't, but...
She stayed in her room through dinner, though her lady's maid brought her a tea tray with a sympathetic look. It had gone quite still throughout much of the house with the general in a temper, and so Eleanor could hear the footsteps of all those who passed. Which meant she heard when Henry made his way to Catherine's recently emptied room.
She gave him a short time, and when he didn't emerge, quietly left her own room to go join him. Her expression was as hesitant as her step, unsure of what she was interrupting, and her heart sank a little as she spotted the ribbon Henry clutched in one hand. "Oh, Henry," she sighed, entering the room properly and crossing to sit on the edge of the freshly made bed.
"I'm afraid I wasn't as composed at luncheon as he thought proper," she said by way of explanation. "But I keep trying to imagine how far she's gotten in her journey. Worrying if she's getting home safely."