Their knees had touched. Seven times.
Their hands had severed for even less.
And she had been insensible for the majority of it.
Phoebe wrapped her arms around her torso, quite convinced she was on the verge of expiring. Her left arm began to twitch and her chest tightened. Each symptom was manageable in intervals, but an ambush watered her eyes.
A knock, at the door, put a curtain to her dramedy. "Phoebe, yer grandma be waitin' fer ya."
Phoebe cleared her throat with a stentorian reply, "I'll be there promptly."
She was still, very much, breathing, but her skin was enflamed and she was trying to recall when she drank salt. Placing her hands to her cheeks, she hoped the bloodless phalanges would absorb the excessive pooling in her face. Her grandmother was waiting, and Phoebe seemed in no state to see her.
Her grandmother.
After the incident, Lucrecia decided she would like to show Phoebe her summer home. During the winter. When the lakes were frozen and the roads inaccessible. Perfect for slaughtering risible grandchildren.
Phoebe was left to consider nothing more plausible, given that Lucrecia had refused to touch on any subject pertaining to the day Phoebe had arrived on the verge of expiring. In fact, the call for Phoebe's company confounded the girl.
"She be in d'green'ouse."
Phoebe stiffened, realizing that Mima had no intention of leaving until Phoebe exited her private chamber. Then forcefully exhaled at the likelihood that Mima had eavesdropped on Phoebe's sudden onset of anemia. An easy feat compared to the silent upper-wing. The America Girl wasted no time to force the door open and squeeze past Mima.
Lucrecia was to be found where Mima claimed. The later opted out of joining in the summoning.
The elder aristocrat basked in the snowy sun. A mild contrast, to the luminosity, was made solely by the greenery and stone and marble base. Lucracia had been seated at a white, weaved table when she feebly lifted her head to acknowledge Phoebe.
Phoebe thought Lucracia looked older today.
"Might you join me?"
Phoebe had already begun making her way to the circular table, but nodded to emphasize her intentions. The diameter was narrow, and, given that Lucrecia's legs were established beneath it, Phoebe situated her own to the side of her chair.
"A little birdy informed me of your studies in Botony."
Phoebe swallowed, suddenly noticing how uneven her nails were of late. "I've read some on the matter, but 'studies' gives it too much justice."
"But it fascinates you?"
"Plants are fascinating." Phoebe dared a fleeting smile.
Lucrecia flexed the fingers of her right hand.
Phoebe was in the midst of examining a nearby fern when she had an epiphany. "Oh, you have a wonderful display."
"Thank you, dear." Lucracia turned from the fogged window to smile. "From a Botanist, I'll give that merit."
Phoebe considered correcting her, but she wasn't certain if the woman was truly unaware what defined a 'Botanist' or if she was merely giving a compliment without interest in the validity. So Phoebe simply laughed in appreciation.
"Actually, I called you here for a reason."
Phoebe went light headed.
"I had intended to bring this up earlier, but the move was so sudden that my attention was required on the particulars."
YOU ARE READING
Salvation of Ignorance
Historical FictionPhoebe has been encumbered with a task: finding a husband. Of course, it was a rather common expectation for a young woman of the early 1800s. However, Phoebe's husband-to-be had additional requirements. First, the man should be willing to give his...
