Olivia,
It pains me to write so awkward a missive, but I fear that I cannot leave Brookington Hall at the moment. Such censure is best heard in person, but I shall not temper my words because I cannot share them with you personally.
I regret having taking such a care to befriend you. I believed that you were an innocent, someone who needed the help of a friend, who had suffered some hardship, and deserved mercy and justice. I even believed that you were worthy to love one of my truly closest friends, and I fear that I have done him even greater harm in having raised his hopes in your love, which has only added to the depths of his current sorrows.
When I heard of your cruel abandonment of Andrew, especially after the terrible illness that took both of his young children from this world, I was still completely unsure of your worthlessness. Had you felt a trepidation at becoming stepmother, I could have forgiven your leaving him in such an abrupt manner. But your action of cutting all ties to him, as well as your lack of condolences after the tragic passing of little Sarah and little Christopher! It is unfathomable to me how you could be so unfeeling, especially when I had seen your attentions to them both, as well as Andrew. What sort of creature are you?
Then, worst of all, I heard word of your atrocious and improper behavior in London! Carrying on with Christian Blackwell, of all people. Tongues wagged, sharing your closeness and the frequency with which you were both seen together, often embracing and once or twice even sharing affection in public! Yet this still did not have me convinced that you were no good.
I am loathe to judge people, as I have been judged, and I shared these feelings and doubts with Edward. Edward himself shared his personal knowledge that you were a person of untrustworthy character, and though he did not betray the truth of your maliciousness, because he said it could harm many others involved, I know that I can trust his word.
In a fortnight, Edward will come to the town house to make sure that there is not a trace of you or your sister left. I fear that I have to extend this disinvitation to her, as I still have hope that she is an innocent in this matter. I ask that you do my family and yourself a favor and remove yourself from my home. I offer you no friendship or kind words, but only a bit of advice. It is not too late to atone for your sins and begin life anew. I think there must be some part of you that is still good, and I implore you to absolve yourself of this bad behavior and find some peace and light in your life.
Cordelia