EVELYN
At dinner, we finally saw Mrs. Porter. She looked awful. Her usual condescending flair was gone, and she seemed deflated—like someone had let the air out of her superiority. Still, to her credit, she dutifully assigned us our evening chores before delivering the news that was supposed to rouse our spirits.
The Luna Selection was set to begin next week, and there would be six candidates: two from the Fox family, two from the Maddens, one from Hart, and one from Crawford.
As soon as she left, the maids burst into excited chatter. Everyone wanted to guess which of the Ladies would win the King’s affection, which one preferred her tea with milk or lemon, which one might favor a soft-spoken maid over a chatty one. The usual dreaming – of being chosen as a personal attendant for one o
