I'm so sorry it's been a few days. I've pined for you terribly, and told Syd twenty times how silly he was being but he said the world could get along without me for a couple days. I'm not sure I like the implication there, that I'm not the absolute most important person in the world. Aren't I supposed to be, to him at the very least? I very nearly attempted escape, but he was always about and I was a bit well, it doesn't hurt to give a man his way every once in a while. I suppose. Just so long as he doesn't start getting used to it, that is. That wouldn't do at all.
I'm not sure all that rest was restful, to be honest. There were so many things to do that just lying there thinking about them was dreadfully tiring. But it was that or risk being sat on. I'm fairly certain he would have sat on me, too, and he's not exactly light as a feather.
He said to give his apologies, by the way, for being a bit brusque. He wouldn't say why - he's keen on privacy these days, it seems. Why, he actually told me you sent him two owls while I was "bedridden" and then refused to show them to me! He claimed they were his correspondence. His correspondence, and reading it behind his back was against the law and rude besides, and anyway, it wasn't as if I ever told him what my correspondence said. I think he's a bit sulky from turning away visitors. No one as important as you, my love - I wouldn't let him turn you away for the world if you'd come - but a few people did come by to chat or to pick something up from me, and he was a bit annoyed when he came back. The poor man. He doesn't do well with company, and I gather there were quite a few people the first day. It died down a bit after that, I suppose everyone spread the word that I was out for the count, or down, or whatever the phrase is.
But whatever the reason, he said to give you his best, and no hard feelings about... whatever. I do think it's unreasonable of him to not tell me what my dearest friend said, or if you fought. The only thing he did let slip was something about Acantha, and I'm sure he must be mistaken about that - I told him, no Syd, it's not Acantha that's missing, you're thinking of Sam, and he said, I'm not stupid you know, Sam doesn't sound anything like Acantha what sort of silly mistake would that be to confuse the two? And he looked like he was going to say something else besides but he shut his mouth in time and I'd be quite mad to know what it was if it weren't for the fact that, well, I am pretty sure he was confusing them.
I went back to the salon today, and everyone was very nice. I walked again, too - no sign of Madamoiselle of the Cafe, sadly. And it wasn't raining, so I shan't take ill again, even as briefly and unimpairably as I was this time.
But enough about me, my love. How are you? How is your house? How is your ankle? How is your ghost? How are your neighbours, and have you met them yet? And of course I ask this, I'd hardly be a friend if I didn't, how is your John? I've been wild to hear from you since April played its little trick on me, and nearly snuck a bit of parchment to bed with me while Syd wasn't looking, but I do like my sheets and I've never been good at removing stains so I refrained in the end.
I feel like I'm forgetting something, but I'm not sure if it's something I'm supposed to do or something I'm supposed to ask you. But if it's for you I'll just write you again and if it's something I must do I guess it will just have to wait! (Peaches? Something about peaches? I have no idea, really.)
I am, Madam, Your Moste Humble Servante, Cassandra