The Eighteenth Reply - Nine Years Prior

To Sonia, whom I have great seasonal compassion for, 

Winter has joined Bellchester in full force, and as I stare at the powdery white blanket which has covered all, I am thinking a great deal about how much more suffocating it must be in frigid Tuscovy. I hope you spend the whole season comfortably by a hearth, drinking fragrant tea and waiting out the dreary weather; and with the knowledge that had I the means, I would be overjoyed to share a cup with you and chat away the months. As pleasant as your written company is, I am just as sure you would make excellent conversation in person - provided your oral lessons in Emrish have been as successful as your written ones. 

 I must say that while I do appreciate your suggestion of how to ease some of my loneliness, I cannot, in my present state, truly consider it. I suppose I have no particular qualm with the concept of a servant - here in Bellchester we refer to them as “collars'' in reference to the leather bands they don around their necks - nor do I struggle financially to such a degree that I could not afford the burden of care. However, I find a history with servants in my life which compels me to avoid taking one into my own home. 

It is not a particularly unsavory history, not a fear of crime or hostility or any of those terrible stories you hear circulated upon occasion, but rather that I possessed a very close friend who was a servant in my family before I set out on my own. She and I were close as can be, inseparable as if we were dear sisters, and I trusted her in a way I have never trusted anyone before - and likewise, so did she. Until, that is, my own ambition set me onto a path which cast her aside without much thought - an unfortunate sacrifice I was willing to make at that time. I harmed her greatly, and in her pain, she likewise stung me back in such a way I am sure I will always feel the scars from it. All of this is simply to say, I do not, at this time, desire to court such possibilities again. 

I am learning to accept that to be Cordelia Jones is to be, as a matter of fact, lonely - save the brief holidays I receive from this state of being, such as receiving a letter from you. My reputation as a detective, private but in the hire of notable persons, has finally begun to settle in earnest, providing me with a stable and fascinating supply of scandal and intrigue. On occasion, I feel I contain secrets powerful enough to topple a scattered handful of prominent names within Bellchester. How could I possibly have time for anything else? 

With great esteem, 

Detective Cordelia Jones