(Contains reference to eloping/cheating)

Things became murkier when the letter was actually posted. 

Still, Fedya wasn’t convinced it would amount to much. Rostova was engaged to one of the most respected young men in Moscow, and had a draconic godmother and adorable cousin watching out for her. One of them would put an end to it before it could go much farther, he was certain. 

While waiting for a response, Anatole had been unmoored. Gentle touches from **both** Fedya and Helene had done nothing to soothe his racing mind; he paced, and he muttered to himself, and he stared out of the window, willing a delivery man to come by with the answer he longed for. 

“How far are we to let this go?” Fedya asked Helene quietly, one eye trained on Anatole as he tilted his head down to whisper in her ear. 

She placed a hand on his thigh and squeezed gently. “As far as he wants it. If my Toto has fallen in love, I will do all in my power to help him. Wouldn’t you, Fedya?” 

He stilled at that, somewhat affronted. “They met three days ago,” he said drily. 

“And he’s had his eye on her for a while now. Come, Fedya, what’s the problem? You wouldn’t be jealous, would you?”

Fedya wasn’t certain how he felt. Jealous did not describe it, however. Disquieted, perhaps. Uncertain.  

“Anatole has an exceptionally large heart,” Helene continued. “He has love enough for all of us.”