The morning sun streamed through the tall windows of the Blackwood Estate’s library, painting dust motes in the air like tiny, shimmering stars. Eleanor sat curled in a deep armchair, a well-worn copy of "Pride and Prejudice" open in her lap, but her eyes weren't focused on Elizabeth Bennet's witty banter. Instead, her gaze was fixed on the distant hills, shrouded in a soft, morning mist. The silence of the library, usually a sanctuary, felt heavy, pregnant with the unspoken weight of the choice that lay before her.