My dear brother,
I just had a terrible fright.
A servant found my stack of letters. I know not how. I had them well hid, but she found them. She asked me if I wanted a courier to deliver them.
I scolded her and told her that she was not to pry in my personal belongings. She bowed and curtsied and apologized and scurried away. I fear I said the wrong thing.
She will surely wonder why I reacted so. She will wonder what secrets those letters held. If she does not wonder at all, she clearly has no imagination. I hope she will not search for them again. I hope she will not speak of them to anyone.
Maybe I should stop writing.
This might be my last letter.
Your sister the Queen