Salvation of Ignorance

Chapter 11: She May Be Educated

 "I'm sorry for the inconvenience." Phoebe latched on to the subtext. "If there are any last arrangements to be made, I'd be more than happy to assist." 

"No need, everything is situated. However," Lucrecia placed a wooden box upon the table, "My back has been noncompliant for some time, and I've missed my morning walks in the greenhouse. I would appreciate a second eye." 

Phoebe's impatience and curiosity had her fingering the case before Lucracia had finished. But the last statement earned Phoebe's attention. "'A second eye'?" 

Lucracia leaned over to examine the success of her granddaughter's phalanges. "You're welcome to open it." 

She didn't need to repeat the permission. 

Inside the slender rectangular case was a bounded book of unprinted paper. Beneath was a layer of pencils, but not the ordinary charcoal pencils she'd become accustomed to. Instead, they were whole sawn graphite pencils. After the revolution, trades had been limited, which included graphite. The last time she had used one was after finding one in her father's office as a child. 

Phoebe stated the obvious, "These are drawing supplies." 

"I'd imagine so." 

"How did you know I can draw? Well, 'can draw', gives too much justice. But 'like to'? Or did you? These are drawing supplies, yes? Or am I to use them for something else?" Phoebe's grasp on the box had tightened in fear of them being cruelly reclaimed. 

Lucrecia smiled and even gave a laugh exempt from mockery. "I'm quite certain they are for art, but you're welcome to use them as you see fit. And I received the information from Mary after one of the maids informed me of finding charcoal on your dresses. I've been informed these may salvage your white dresses." 

The absence of 'your' before 'Mary' did not go unnoticed. 

But it was not enough to ease Phoebe's conscious. In fact, it had an adverse effect. Here she was receiving a gift and all she had given in return was trouble. 

Phoebe ran her hand across the polished oak. "Thank you, but I cannot accept them. I mean, I can take them off your hands and use them as you wish. But it would be wrong to accept them." 

Lucrecia speculated toward Phoebe. "And what if I wish for you to accept them?" 

"Why?" The question came abrasively before she could stop herself. She closed the case and place her hands in her lap. "I mean, you can, of course. And I'm not questioning your intention--well, partially, but not under the belief of them being ill-willed--but you should be displeased. I mean, I'm happy you're not, but a gift..." 

Phoebe sneaked a glance at the box, too fearful to directly catch Lucrecia's face. 

But she caught Lucrecia's nod and awaited the verdict. 

"I will admit, I am not," Lucrecia shrugged her lip at Phoebe, "pleased with the event. But I'm not upset with you." 

Phoebe nodded, but remained unsatisfied. 

"If anything, I'm upset with the gentleman who presented you--." 

"You are? But, why? Did you find anything wrong in his manners? He did help me, though. I shouldn't have been out alone, especially when unfamiliar with the weather. But what were you displeased with in his regard? Was it his manners?" 

Phoebe realized she was beginning to cycle the same inquiry and finally chose to sit back in her seat. 

Lucrecia extended an arm to Phoebe. "Come, you look too energized to sit. Help a brittle women enjoy her garden."