His Choice (The Selection)

Chapter Twenty Four

Wrote by firerose11

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"Merci," Abigail said, accepting a letter from the guard.

"I'm sorry. Is that bad news?" He asked.

We exchanged puzzled looks until realizing that he had mistaken the French word for "thank you" for mercy. Abigail swallowed a giggle.

"It's wonderful news. Thank you," she answered, managing to remain serious as he handed me a thin stack of letters.

I smiled. "Thank you."

Looking relieved, he nodded and moved on from the Women's Room. We waited until he was out of earshot to laugh.

"He doesn't understand French," she attempted to whisper, her giggles covering up half of the words. "Poor fellow. He looked like he was going to die from being the bearer of bad news."

"If one of us marries Charles, our first royal mission should be to educate the guards in the simple phrases of Spanish, French, Japanese, German, and so on," I managed. "Just think how mortified they would be when the foreign embassies came to visit."

She howled in laughter, earning some strange looks from the various other Selected scattered around the room. Once Abigail had managed to curb her laughter, she gestured to the letters I was still holding.

"Who are yours from?" She asked. "Mine is from my sisters."

I fanned through the pile. "I have one from my friend, one from my father, one from my maid, and one from my twin brothers."

A sigh escaped her, and she stared down at her lone envelope. "I wish my mother had time to write to me. I'd give anything to receive a letter just from her."

I watched her face flood with sadness for the first time since I had met her. "She just works so hard. I mean, she always has, but when I started taking dance lessons, she ended up taking in even more work."

"What does she do?" I said, seeing her eyes fill with shimmering tears.

"She's a seamstress. That's why I was so nervous on the first day, looking at what everyone else was wearing," she muttered. "I'm a girl whose mother works her fingers to the bone sewing dresses like the ones we're wearing, and I guess I felt more comfortable around something that reminded me of home.

"Then there was the rest of you. Some of the Selected are rich, famous, or both. Others come from a complete family, but I don't have any of those. I need the stipends that are coming from me being here, my family needs them, so I do my best to stay here for as long as possible."

At Abigail's words, I felt guilty. Here was a girl that I had judged based on appearances only when, truly, there was so much more to her. How many times had I worn fancy dresses and complained to Lily about one little mistake?

I had never thought of the people behind the scenes, weary parents, trying to scrape out a living for their families. The longer I spent here, the more I found out about the world I thought I knew.

I reached over and gave Abigail a hug, vowing to myself that I would find her mother. When I did, I would thank her for raising such a wonderful daughter.

"Thank you for telling me," I murmured. "You didn't have to."

She sniffled before wrapping her arms around me. "I know that you haven't lived in the circumstances that I have, but I feel like you truly understand what it's like. Ember, it's people like you who can make a difference.