A short note flutters into the salon:
Dear fellow pinkie-raised steepers of mystery and decorum,
Forgive my continued absence. I have been waylaid by a rather dreary case of illness, of what nature I know not. I only know that my corset is killing me every time I cough, um, not exactly delicately, into my handkerchief. Thankfully, I have managed to abstain from cursing the heavens thus far for these unfortunate circumstances, though I may have shook my fist a time or two. In between genteel coughing fits.
Thought of decorous discourse, proper adherence to feminine etiquette, and tea and scones of course sustain me. Along with the vehement denials of my wanton hussiness with Miss Dee. (Just, er, don't ask how I ended up with this current illness. But rest assured it was for a good cause, as I am now in proper petticoats and a corset that is shiny, properly laced. And tight. And itchy. But I digress.)
Until my return, may your scones be scrumptious and your tea not tepid,
Winks