He should have thought of doing this before, but he had been too wary of the staff and the prying ways of the other whores. It made his chest ache now to think of the letters he had destroyed, and the messages of courage and strength and love that he could never again get back – but he couldn’t bear to do it again.<br/><br/>He could save, if not all the letters she sent, then just small fragments. He should take just the most bland of the lines, the least incriminating. Bare of emotion. If the notes did escape his possession, then they would not be too damning.<br/><br/>‘Too damning’ – as if consorting with a male whore was a minor transgression for a lady of Society. No, he must hide they came from Ellen at all. Her hand and scent... they could be used against her in court.<br/><br/>With great care, Atticus copied the last letter, though missing out mention of family, which left it a scrap at most.<br/><br/>Only when that was done, he settled to write a response.<br/><br/><em>My Sweetest Bloom,<br/><br/>It anguishes me to hear your loss of standing, the cruelty of your father. I wish, my darling, that I could be near you in your hour of need. I desire nothing but your – and the babe’s – safety and comfort. Nothing else matters.<br/><br/>I am grateful that you have been given shelter, though it sees you diminished. I wait for your next, and I am anxious for it – to know you are well, to know how beautiful and fairfaced the child is, to know you are happy... <br/><br/>Each day, the money in that account increases. Each day is another towards your freedom from charity. <br/><br/>Write again soon, my sweet flower.<br/>Louis X  <br/></em>