Chapter Five
You’ve Got Mail
Another three months—and dozens of letters—later
Dear Mr. Mischief,
I hope this letter finds you well and reasonably free—or at least sufficiently recovered—from the consequences of your disastrous actions of several months’ past. I confess I have been quite concerned since your last letter.
And greatly intrigued. I cannot imagine what error you may have committed that would cause you such distress—and whilst I crave to know the specifics of your greatest shame, as you called it, I know divulging such secrets would provide far too many personal details, so I shall have to suffer my curiosity without relief.
For your sake, however, I do hope the matter has been resolved to everyone’s satisfaction.
I have likewise, in my past, been forced to deal with a particularly unsavory matter.
However, at least in my case, the matter has been settled, so I shall put it from my mind.
Truthfully, I can do nothing else, or I shall drive myself mad.
And that is a state I endeavor to avoid at all costs.
Though my efforts to do so are more difficult some days than others, I’ll admit.
My mother has finally returned from her travels, a vast relief as I will no longer be graced solely by my brother’s presence.
He means well, but he takes his position as head of the family a bit too seriously for my tastes.
A position made all the more exacerbating by my age…
which I will not disclose, of course, as that is far too personal a detail even if we were sharing such things.
As we are not, suffice it to say, I am no green maid who needs constant looking after.
I am old enough, intelligent enough, and (generally) trustworthy enough to mind my own affairs.
Unfortunately, my brother feels otherwise.
And until such a time as I can find a man who I can stand the presence of for more than a quarter of an hour to wed—a task I assure you is no small feat—I am for all intents and purposes a prisoner in my brother’s household.
Such is the plight of women in the world.
That is not to say I am not grateful to be so well loved as to merit my family’s attentions.
However…whilst he means well, can any brother properly care for a sister without being utterly obtuse?
…
Exasperatedly Yours,
Miss Millinery
My dearest Miss Millinery,
Being a brother myself, I cannot say. Though I have little doubt my sisters would agree with your assessment.
However, as a brother, I do feel obligated to advocate on your brother’s behalf and plead for leniency and forgiveness.
He likely knows not what he does but surely operates under a great degree of affection.
I speak from experience as that seems to be the driving force behind the vast majority of my errors.
And I assure you, your insufficient imagination aside, my errors are grievous indeed.
The latest and most egregious misstep has been resolved (thank you for your kind inquiry).
Though whether all parties are satisfied with the resolution remains to be seen.
For my part, I am simply relieved it is, at the very least, settled, regardless of any satisfaction or lack thereof.
In my defense, there was a good deal of drink involved.
A detail that has caused me no small amount of embarrassment as I am certainly old enough to know better.
(And never fear, I shall not reveal a more exact age than that—we must follow the rules after all).
However, this being the case, and as my most staunch resolutions do tend to evaporate when the spirits are flowing, I have vowed to renounce the wretched stuff once and for all.
Or for at least a fortnight. I am repentant, most assuredly, but also realistic.
And doomed, it seems to cause mischief and mayhem where’er I go.
Though truly, I am attempting to rectify my behavior.
I fear it has proven far more difficult than I had anticipated.
In fact, in light of recent events, I feel it only fair to elevate myself. And so I shall sign off…
Mischievously Yours,
Sir Mayhem