These letters just keep sending farther and farther apart, don’t they? I think this time might be partly my own fault, though. Changes to the staff have left me swamped.
Do you remember John Frobisher? Oh, why am I asking—of course you do. Anyway, he decided that his job helping me run the estate was too much of a bother for him, and he took his wife and kids and ran off to god knows where. So, all I have left is his secretary. I now have to figure out what to do there. Wish me some luck.
Tommy has been itching to leave off for war, which is troublesome. First of all, he seems too eager for his own good. That makes me nervous, for some reason. Second of all, Andy is not suited for your job. And he’ll be getting second-hand education on the job, because Tommy will be passing on his only passable knowledge on the matter. Lastly… we would miss him, if he left.
Speaking of missing people, I miss you right now. I always miss you. Missing you has permeated my daily life and become a constant heavy weight hanging over me. It hurts, in a way…
I also especially miss you right at this moment, because I have just received a letter from Martha, and I will now have to write her back and tell her you cannot help her with the idea you two shared. I suppose you could write your own letter to her and the two of you could collaborate that way, but to write and tell her that she cannot come over just to see you, because you aren’t here… that does not feel good.
But, since I miss Martha, too, I will convince her to join me here, anyway. God knows I need somebody’s company.
The staff are fine. Some have asked me to write more notes for you, but for now I think I just want this letter to myself. If they really want to reach you, they can write their own letters this time.
I have to go and figure out how to fix Frobisher’s mess now, because Owen just came in and yelled at me for it.
Also, I’m fairly certain that there are biscuits being made, and I would like to go steal one of those.
Hopefully you’ll write back faster than I do.
It has been… longer than it usually takes you to write me back, so either you missed my letter, or you just do not want to talk to me. I’m assuming it is the former—for the sake of my pride and because it seems the smarter thing to do—so I will repeat (in part) what I said last time.
As of then, John Frobisher ran off with his family and abandoned his job, the estate, his secretary, and me. And I had no idea what to do.
As of now, I have replaced Frobisher with his secretary.
Yes, his secretary.
Evidently, Ms Lois Habiba is well-versed in the workings of her former employer. Sneaky of her, but also incredibly clever. And while technically she still holds the title of secretary, and I have technically replaced Frobisher, that is only in writing. She is as much in charge of this as I am, and she is now helping me run the estate fairly well. We have big plans ahead of us, Ianto. Big, exciting plans. Well, exciting if you are either Lois or myself, anyway. Andy finds it dull as all hell.
Martha came to visit back then, which I had told you was going to happen in the last letter. She sends her regards and love. She said she might write you a letter, so the pair of you could work on whatever it was you were scheming up in those brilliant minds of yours. Maybe you have gotten that letter already. I have no idea if she sent it, or if you even received it if she had.
I found an old diary of yours. Very interesting stuff in there, if I may say so. How much do you write in your diaries, anyway? It seemed to be a rather eclectic composition.
And for the record—measuring tapes never lie.
I should go now. I have work to be doing.
Come home soon, safe and sound.
I am getting worried now. I waited even longer for that last one, but it seems you are not getting them. If you were annoyed with me, you would at least send me a letter saying to leave you alone. But you wouldn’t be so cruel as to leave me uncertain and concerned like this. That, and because I would then stop sending you letters, unlike now. Because I’m hoping that this one will reach you.
Also, Martha says she wrote to you, but you didn’t respond to her either, so there’s me glad it certainly isn’t me.
Right, if you haven’t gotten those last two letters, I suppose I’ll just quickly recapitulate once more.
Martha came to visit, because she had wanted to meet with you. I told her you were not here, but still convinced her to come, anyway. She sent you a letter, instead (as mentioned prior).
John Frobisher left his job and ran off with his family, and I replaced him with a joint combination of myself and his secretary. Lois is completely capable—if not more so—and together we are working on fixing up the castle a little, because she had pointed out that parts seemed a little decrepit and I am sad to say I agree. But, with some time and effort, this place should be as good as new. As new as a castle this old can be, anyway.
That is the old news. Onto the new news.
Gwen has had her baby: a rosy-cheeked little girl named Anwen. I am her godfather. And, yes, I know what you’re thinking: that ought to end terribly. It likely will. But she is adorable, Ianto. I couldn’t say no.
Tommy has decided he would like to enlist. Miss Sato, Owen, and I… well, we’re all holding onto him for as long as we can, delaying it as much as possible. None of us want to lose him to the war.
Christ, Ianto. I miss you.
Your worried "Jacklynn"
P.S. If Tommy does join, and if he somehow ends up anywhere near you—take care of him. I’ve given him the same instructions for you.
Forget worried. I’m downright terrified now.
Ianto, where are you? Are you getting these at all? Can you just let me know, so I stop being so frightened all of the time?
Please be safe. I don’t know what I’d do without you.
Stay with me, please.
Don’t go. Don’t leave me.