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Hartley,
I know we spoke often of this day and I don’t think there’s anything I can say of the past 40 years that I haven’t already attempted to tell you innumerous times in the past, half-stated gratitude always interrupted with tactful and polite repudiations from you. I had always known this final letter could give me the perfect opportunity to finally express myself uninterrupted by you and unfettered by social graces, but I don’t feel the inclination to say aloud what has always been unsaid between us.

With my passing, I release you from your post and service to the Sinclair family and implore you to live the remainder of your years on your own terms, as scary and unfamiliar of a concept as that may be to you. Besides, I think a more junior valet would be better situated to meet the needs of young master Simon. To that end, if you wish you may stay on long enough to oversee the training and establishment of your successor in their post, but as soon as he or she has the lay of the land, my instructions for you to quit must be satisfied.