Dear Mary,
I've found it. The last bit of parchment an old lass ever sent to me was hiding under the cushion of that dreadful old armchair we used to dream about. You know the one with the yellow stripes and a yellower history. Curve-backed and claw-footed monstrosity it was. We used to come up with stories for each of it's stains, remember? I miss those times, and you even more, which brings me to my main point. I'd like to see you again. I haven't looked upon you in 12 years, and I imagine you've changed quite a bit. You will have won the prize for most beautiful woman in town by now no doubt. Fortune has not favored me as much I'm afraid. I'm not nearly as much of a looker as I was back then. Young and strong I was. I still like to believe I was the most handsome of all the boys in Blackveil. Alas, the same cannot be said of me now. I am, "decrepit and insane," words voiced by a judge and her confidante I overheard at the tavern one night. You know her I think. The judge with the monobrow? Shirley or something. Anyway, your last letter was not opened when received for I feared I knew your response to my own last correspondence. I have withdrawn the question posed in said letter and, after taking some good advice from dear old Marcus, decided to advance a little more precariously on the path of our relationship. I wish to merely remain friends, nothing more. It was a drunk man who asked, and no doubt a drunk woman who answered. Regardless of your answer I am still willing to be acquaintances with you, and hopefully something more later on. A shame that 12 years were spent in silence spawned out of neglect and misunderstanding. But no matter. I have become a wiser man by far, than any local who would challenge my wit. I have inherited Blackspire Manor after the death of my dear (don't worry, I'm only joking) father. He wished to have my younger brother Collen own the estate when he perished, but I was too quick for him! I seized the papers as soon as I could and wrote my name down for it instead. His handwriting never was too difficult to copy. Remember when we forged his signature on that committee supporting public nudity petition? The town got a good laugh out of that. He was furious though. Took his anger out on our servant, poor old Mrs. Hammock. Thank God he never found out it was us! We'd have been flayed alive! Anyway, I'm glad he's gone, as you can imagine I would be. I never did like beatings or getting yelled at or being blamed for everything all the time. But no more of that! I invite you to dinner at my aforementioned estate, 8 o'clock on Saturday. I will pay for your transportation, all you have to do is send a quick letter back with your reply to me. I hope you will accept, and cannot wait to catch up with my dearest old friend.
Sincerely,
John Privet
