The years since I've been away have not always been easy. I wanted to return, needed to return to the orderly routines of court. I strive to gain a highly respected rank perhaps even to prove to myself that I am not my father. He was ruled by his booze, the drink consuming him until there was nothing but an empty outer shell left. My mother struggled to hold our family together, her quiet presence the glue that enabled us all to survive. Heaven knows my father did nothing but tarnish our name and leave his offspring to deal with the broken pieces. I miss my sweet little sister Grace the most... Gracie I call her. I pray she finds her own solace in due time. We were close, her and I even though more than a decade laid between us. Her dark beauty didn't go unmissed and our father only made matters worse by flamboyantly parading her around as if she were merely some toy in which he could trade for something better, a position of respect he would never achieve. She ached, that one, and I could not bear to witness the pain in her eyes the day I left for good. It almost broke me, to think of her and my other siblings, all younger, left to fend as best they could. How my mother wept but she dried her tears and bade me farewell without a tremble, just a whisper to make something of myself, to never lose my way as my father had done. I don't know how that woman lived as she did, her thin frame made more so with each passing year. She is the epitome of strength to me, ironically so I suppose, that a female could rise above the weakness of my father. You never know what goes on behind closed doors and in our house, that had never been truer.

Gracie sent word my father recently passed away. She assures me that Mother is doing remarkably well and that younger brother Peter has suddenly grown up and is running the household. I hope he has indeed since all I can remember is the spoiled behavior he so childishly exhibited. Not that I can blame him really. Our father was absent long before his physical death and Mother had enough worries on her plate. Peter always liked material possessions and in our home, they were few and far between. It was work to eat, frivolties were but a distant dream. Still I hesitate to return even for a few days. It took me nearly a decade to walk away from it all and I can't yet bear to face the remains my father left behind. I am sorry Gracie. I cannot attend Father's burial ceremony.

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Dearest Gracie,
I danced with an angel, quite simply the truth. T'was during the long anticipated masquerade of course. You would find her endearing though I must admit the contrasts between you are striking. Where your dark beauty is profound, she had hair of gold and skin of cream. I aim to meet her in a fortnight and learn her true identity. You must be shocked at such admittance but I could no longer remain silent. She made me feel at home Sister, the way home should have been....
speaking of which, I pray my absence wasn't a hindrance during Father's burial. I fear the day another courtier will remember his weakness. I will absolve our family from such memory in due time, I promise you that. Court has been interesting. It is a different world Gracie, one with silent expectations and proper protocol.
Until next time, Godspeed and God Bless.
With tender affection,
Edmund