The upstairs of the Davenport manor is silent and empty when Ellen reaches the top of the staircase in search of additional blankets for Connor. Just like the other quiet rooms in the nearly vacant house, the floorboards creak loudly under her light footsteps as she moves along the corridor towards one of the closed doors. Inside, sunlight floods the room from a set of French doors that lead to a small balcony. Some bookshelves with weapons on them follow the walls and a small table next to an armchair in the middle of the room holds Connor's two guns, his tomahawk and a hunting knife. His bow and quiver lean against the nearest bookshelf. Someone must have gathered up his things from the ground outside and deposited them up here during all the commotion yesterday.
Ellen stands at the table and picks up the tomahawk that, until the events of the past day, always rested against Connor's hip whenever she saw him. It is heavy despite not having a solid blade like every other hatchet she'd seen. Only Connor's weapon would be as unique as the man who wields it. Ellen touches the tiny feather that hangs from a small, beaded cord tied around the middle of the handle. Dried blood stains it and she wonders if it came from Connor's grievous injury. A surge of anxiety for him washes over Ellen so she places the tomahawk down hastily and moves from the room to continue on her quest.
The next room she enters is clearly Connor's bedroom. It smells faintly of wood polished with bees wax and leather, the staleness and dust of a room left unused for an extended period of time. Since Mr. Davenport passed away, the house would stand empty whenever Connor would embark on his many travels. The manor had become a dependable resting place for the man who never seems to rest for more than a few fleeting moments… until now.
Items from his village dot the walls and decorate the horizontal surfaces within Connor's bedroom. A feathered hat with three large eagle feathers standing up from it, a necklace made from shells, some carved wooden items, weapons and a beautifully woven throw are displayed around the room prominently. It is more of his Indian heritage than he had ever shown in public and Ellen feels like an intruder in his private space. She moves quickly to his canopied bed and gathers up the small throw carefully to remove the much larger blanket below. Once the blanket is folded, Ellen carefully replaces the throw over the sheets just the way Connor had left it. She picks up the folded blanket and looks back into the room once before closing the door behind her.
Back downstairs, Ellen drapes the blanket over Connor's sleeping form. His body is wracked by shivers and sweat beads his brow. Taking up a soft rag from her basket, she dampens it with some of the water in a nearby ewer and carefully sits on the side of the bed to lean close and lay it over his forehead. He stirs and his breathing rate increases slightly. Ellen keeps a close eye on Connor's right hand where it rests on the pillow but it never moves more than a few subtle twitches of his fingers or a turn of his wrist.
Maria stops by later in the morning. Her cool composure from the night before slips away when she sees Connor tied to the bed and this time Ellen folds her daughter in her arms and softly strokes her back as she weeps.
"Mother, why is he tied up?"
"He's feverish. He doesn't know we're trying to help him and he's too strong to be left alone. He might hurt himself or someone else if he wakes up and thinks he is being attacked."
"But we can just tell him he's safe!"
"Oh, my sweet… He doesn't understand. His mind is addled from the fever."
"Will he always be like this?"
"No. Once the fever breaks he'll be himself again. We just need to wait it out." Maria steps back from Ellen and wipes her eyes as she looks at Connor.
"Can I talk to him?"
"Of course, my dear. How much he hears I couldn't say but it can't hurt. He might like to hear your voice; he's very fond of you. Just… be careful. Remember that he isn't himself."
"Connor would never hurt me."
"Of course he wouldn't. Not intentionally, Maria, but mind my words."
"Yes, mother." Maria sits carefully on the edge of the bed and looks at Connor. She is silent for a time until she turns to Ellen where she stands close by.
"What should I say?" she whispers.
"Whatever you want. Your well wishes, or tell him a story so he can have good dreams." Maria faces Connor again and moves the cloth so it doesn't cover his eyebrows. Her voice is halting when she finds it.
"Connor… Connor? It's me, Maria. It's me. I, um… I want you to feel better soon, alright?" Only the sound of Connor's breathing fills the room.
"Remember that time you showed me around the Aquila and Mr. Faulkner's face turned as red as a cherry? He was so upset that you brought me on board and kept saying it was going to sink but then you told him he was a blustering old fool and he stomped onto the dock. I didn't laugh but I wanted to. I never told you that." Ellen smiles at her daughter and lightly covers her lips with her fingers while cupping her elbow with her other hand. Connor turns his head on the pillow and moves his arm as if to reach toward Maria. Ellen steps forward to block him but Maria takes his hand before she can get there.
"It's me, Connor. Do you remember that?"
"Maria!" Ellen whispers loudly to her daughter and gives her a meaningful look, reminding her to be cautious. Maria's tiny hand barely covers any of Connor's large one and all Ellen can picture is his strong grip closing on her and hurting her. His fingers do close on Maria's hand and Ellen is nauseous until he brings it closer to his face and he whispers in his sleep.
"Maria…?"
"Yes, it's me. I'm here. Mother's here as well." Maria says with enthusiasm. Ellen leans over and joins her hand with theirs.
"It's Ellen, Connor. You're not alone." Connor's eyes open and he peers at them.
"Connor! You're awake!" Maria gasps excitedly.
"Why are you here?" He looks around the room, confused.
"Achilles… where is the Old Man?" Maria draws back from Connor and covers her mouth with both hands. Ellen takes Connor's hand more fully and sits when Maria stands up abruptly and leaves the room, weeping.
"Mr. Davenport died a long time ago. You must remember the funeral. We were all there. You left a feather on his casket." Connor's eyes dart around the room.
"Ellen! Why would you say such things? Where is he?"
"Ssshhh. Just rest. You're unwell." She reaches for the cloth on Connor's forehead but he lifts his head and tries to sit up. His eyebrows draw together when he finds himself faced down by Ellen's frown.
"I cannot rest! Is he hurt?" Ellen shakes her head and pushes down on his chest when he tugs on the ropes holding his wrists.
"Untie me."
"No."
"Ellen, please."
"No! It's Dr. White's direction. Not until you're better."
"I am not sick."
"No? Then what's this?" Ellen stands and pulls the blankets off of Connor's right side, exposing his stained bandages and pointing angrily at them. He looks down his body and then up at Ellen, confused.
"What happened?"
"We were hoping you could answer that." Connor's breathing rate increases until he is nearly panting. He fights against the ropes and thrashes on the bed, grimacing in obvious pain.
"Stop that! Connor, stop! You're not going to get better if you keep fighting!" Ellen is almost shouting at him and Maria crouches in the doorway, crying. Ellen leaves the side of the bed and goes to her daughter, sitting down on the floor beside her and holding her while Connor struggles and screams unintelligible words. The bed shifts slightly on the floor and Ellen fears he really will tear his stitches out. As quickly as he had begun to fight, he falls limply to the bed and is once again unresponsive. Maria trembles and takes her hands from her face.
"Is he dead?" Ellen pulls her daughter's head over to her shoulder and kisses the top of it.
"No. He's just exhausted himself again."
"I can't see him like this… please excuse me." Maria climbs to her feet with Ellen's help and opens the door of the manor to dash outside. Ellen watches her run down the stairs and along the path, holding her skirts in one hand and covering her mouth with the other. Poor girl. She passes by Godfrey and Big Dave as they approach the manor. Godfrey says something, reaching for her arm and turning after her but she ignores him and continues on her way. Ellen straightens her shawl and smoothes her hair, hoping she doesn't look like a mess. She quickly covers Connor back up and tidies his blankets, taking a seat in her chair just as the men enter the manor. They shuffle into the room and stand bunched together just inside the doorway like two awkward giants. Ellen feels the need to explain.
"He had another… episode. It frightened Maria. He didn't remember that Mr. Davenport had passed and he fought his restraints. Again." They nod almost in unison. Big Dave turns his hands upward.
"We thought we might sit with him… give you a rest." Ellen is actually relieved at the thought of getting a breath of air. She should probably find Maria.
"Thank you, I will. He's tired himself out again. I'll send Diana or Dr. White over to check his stitches if I see either of them."
The sun is farther beyond its zenith than Ellen had realized. She had spent much of the day by Connor's side and had neglected her own needs. Her stomach rumbles loudly and she makes a brief stop at the inn to have a bite to eat and inform Corrine of the latest news. After, she heads for where she is fairly certain she will find Maria. Prudence answers the door and by the look on her face, Ellen knows she surmised correctly. She follows Prudence into her living room and Maria is curled in a soft chair holding Hunter across her lap. The baby is asleep and Maria appears to be as well. Ellen and Prudence sit at the table together. When Ellen briefly covers her face with her hands, Prudence touches her arm lightly.
"She'll be alright. She told me what happened. We're all worried about him but the young ones just don't deal with it the same." Ellen nods and takes Prudence's hand.
"Thank you for being here for her. I couldn't leave Connor… I couldn't leave him… alone."
"Don't you worry about that. We're all in this together, aren't we?" Ellen heaves a sigh and nods again.
"Listen to me, Ellen. I can see what this is doing to you. Don't let your feelings for him override your common sense. We don't know how long this'll last. You've got a certain look in your eyes and you won't be doing anybody good… not you, not your girl, not Connor, if you wear yourself out right from the start." Ellen sucks in her breath, holding in a quiet sob. Prudence tightens her hand in Ellen's.
"We'll take turns sitting with him. It's not all on your shoulders just because you love him."
"Prudence… Is it that obvious?" Prudence tilts her head and smiles at Ellen.
"It's obvious to me but that's because I already know. You're not the talk of the town, I assure you."
"Mother?" Ellen looks over at Maria and gets up to cross the room and sit in the chair next to her daughter's.
"Yes, my dear? Are you feeling better?" Ellen strokes Maria's soft cheek and smiles at her. Maria nods and is quiet. Ellen looks down at Hunter sleeping hard in Maria's lap. She touches her finger to the boy's little hand and he grasps it tightly in his sleep. She is startled at Maria's next words.
"Are you in love with Connor?" When Ellen doesn't respond, she continues.
"I've heard you talking to Myriam and Prudence before. And I heard you just now…." Ellen sighs and is unable to find any words.
"It's alright, mother. I feel safe with him around. Not like with father." The change in her tone when she speaks of Quincent is startling.
"My dear, I… He…" Ellen turns her face away and looks desperately at Prudence. Prudence merely raises an eyebrow at her. Ellen takes her meaning. Maria isn't a little girl anymore.
"Yes. I've had… feelings for him for a long time."
"Will you marry him?"
"I doubt it. He doesn't know my heart and he's never given me any indication that he feels the same. So. That is how it remains. And… he's somewhat younger than I…"
"You should tell him how you feel." Ellen gasps and Prudence covers her mouth in a quiet laugh.
"That would be very inappropriate and forward of me to do such a thing! What ever gave you that idea?" Maria seems to become frustrated.
"Why shouldn't you speak up? Being a quiet, prim lady didn't win you a good man with father, did it? And if Connor gets better you're just going to let him decide for you? Without even telling him how you feel?" Maria scoops Hunter up in her arms and clutches him tightly to her chest before bringing him to Prudence and walking outside onto the porch. Ellen follows her out.
"Young lady, get back here. Don't you dare blame me for what happened between your father and me! I was too young to know what to look for and he didn't exactly tell me he would hit me! Maria!" Ellen grabs her daughter's arm and she spins to face her. They stand facing each other on Prudence's porch, breathing hard and their expressions a mirror image of one another. Maria presses her lips together and pulls her arm away.
"Connor would never hit you! He wouldn't yell or throw things… And I would never hear you crying again! That's what I remember most, mother. You. Crying when you thought I couldn't hear because of what father did. Can't you see I just want you to be happy? That I just want us to be happy?" Ellen's face softens under her daughter's righteous ire and her heart breaks for what she had had to endure for so long. She reaches toward her daughter.
"Oh, my love. My sweet baby girl..." Maria flings herself into Ellen's arms and weeps loudly for the second time in one day.
"I'm sorry, mama! I was impudent." Ellen catches sight of Prudence in the doorway, cradling her sleeping son on her chest. They smile at each other and Prudence shuts the door as Ellen and Maria walk with their arms around each other toward their home. On their way, Ellen spots Diana as she is walking towards them on the same path. When they get close, Ellen reports to her the events of the morning.
"Alright, I'll go take a look at the poor lad. Thanks for tellin' me." Maria squeezes her mother's waist tighter and they continue on to their home.
That night, Ellen is once again restless. The words of her daughter ring in her ears. She finds herself profoundly affected by the girl's thought provoking opinion. Why shouldn't she make her feelings known, in private, to Connor? They are both adults… Granted, she is a bit older than him but it's not like she could be his mother. He isn't old enough to be Maria's father but that wouldn't stop him from being a father figure to her. The longer she thinks on it, the more she feels compelled to speak of it with him. Her heart sinks in her chest at her next consideration. What if he doesn't recover from this? He could die never knowing how she has felt for much of the past two years she has known him.
In the small hours of very early morning, Ellen finally gets up and dresses. She tiptoes to Maria's room and lays her hand on her daughter's shoulder to wake her.
"What is it, mama?" Maria asks, sleepily.
"I can't sleep, dear. I'm going to go check on Connor."
"Do you want me to go with you? It's dark and you shouldn't walk alone."
"I'll be fine. I just wanted you to know where I am. And… I think there are some things I should tell him."
"Oh. Mother… I hope he can understand."
"I hope so too." Ellen whispers, as she kisses her daughter's tousled hair and then taps the tip of her nose like she used to when she was just a toddler. Maria lies back with a smile and Ellen pulls the blankets up over her.
"I love you, sweetheart."
"I love you too." Ellen quietly leaves her daughter's room and shuts the door. She ties her shawl over her shoulders and lights a lantern to illuminate her path through the town.
The night is quiet except for the rustling of the trees in the breeze. It isn't far from sunrise and the air is cool but not cold, yet Ellen reaches to her shawl and tugs it up closer to her neck. A fluttering in her stomach makes her steps irregular but she knows telling Connor how she feels is the right thing to do.
There is a light in the kitchen window of the Manor when it comes into sight between the trees. Ellen knocks lightly on the door and then opens it a tiny bit to peek her head in. To her surprise, Catherine, Godfrey's wife, meets her at the door of the kitchen. The smell of something cooking wafts over to her and Catherine holds a wooden spoon in her hand.
"What brings ya here, Ellen? Yer basket's still by the chair if ya need it."
"I couldn't sleep. What are you making?"
"I'm just heatin' up the broth ya brought with ya yesterday. The lad hasn't had anathin' to eat yet and that isn't goin' ta help him at all."
"Is he awake, then?"
"He's in an' out. I think his fever's finally breakin'. Diana's sure we'll know one way or the other within the next few hours."
"I'll go sit with him and help you give the broth to him if he wakes."
"Alright, dear. Be warned, though, he's startin' to get a little ripe, if ya know what I mean. The boy needs a bath somethin' fierce with all that sweatin he's doin'." To her surprise, Ellen laughs. Connor needing a bath is the least of her worries at the moment.
Connor is sleeping somewhat peacefully when Ellen enters the room. He isn't shivering and when she lightly touches his face, his skin isn't nearly as fiery as before. Ellen sits on the edge of the bed and leans forward, surreptitiously sniffing the air near Connor's neck. He smells like a sweaty, sick person who needs a bath, that's all. It's far from the worst Ellen has smelled on a man before. At least he doesn't smell of alcohol anymore, as the massive quantity they had forced into him two days ago had finally stopped seeping from his pores at some point during the day. That alone had made Ellen want to gag, for often her husband had reeked similarly after a night of drinking and brawling. When he would come home he would continue his violence, forcing himself on her and striking her mercilessly if she resisted. Ellen sighs at the remembrance. All she will allow herself to do is hope for Connor to escape his fever. Baby steps. Anything more and she fears she will only be setting herself up for disappointment.
The water in the ewer near the bed had been refilled so Ellen takes the basin out from under it, fills it with some of the water and drops a fresh cloth in it. She returns to Connor's side and lightly touches his cheek.
"Connor." He takes a deep breath and the muscles in his neck tense and relax momentarily as if he would turn or lift his head but then he lies still.
"Connor… It's Ellen." She rests her right hand on his chest and strokes his cheek softly with the other.
"Catherine is making something for you to eat. We need you to wake up and eat so you can get well." Her voice falls to a whisper and a surge of emotions fill her up until she almost can't speak.
"I need you to get well, Connor. I need you to… Please. You're the only person in this cursed world I care about besides Maria." Ellen can't stop talking. A flood of the words she is choking on come from her in a rushed whisper, emptying her heart and leaving her weak and with tears pooling in her eyes.
"You saved us, you know, that day when Maria took you to our house in New York. And you saved us again when Quincent came here. I owe you everything for that and… I care for you. Not because of what you did but who you are. I feel like I still don't know you… seeing how hurt you are from whatever it is you do when you aren't here in Davenport…I know you're fighting for something… something good. You're a good person and nothing else matters to me." Ellen nods as if reassuring herself, leans down and rests her forehead on Connor's chest just below his chin. She continues to stroke his cheek and the side of his neck with her fingers as some of her tears fall from her eyes onto his blanket. She sits back up and wipes her cheeks on her shoulders, sniffing back her running nose.
"But in some ways I feel like I must have known you forever. I think… you're the only one who might understand me completely. You've known hurt before. I can see it in your eyes and the way you care. You want to make things better for people. Only someone who has been hurt in the past… badly, deeply… would work at that as hard as you do. My husband… he was wicked, truly wicked. He hurt not only me but a lot of other people. Maria escaped his wrath. Sometimes it was because I took her beatings for her and other times it was because she knew to get out before he could find her, but God, Connor. I've never told anyone that before. Of everyone in the world… you're the only one I can tell because I think you're the only one who could really understand. And that's why I care. It's why I… I love you." She leans forward and kisses his forehead just above his eyebrows.
"I just wanted you to know… in case the worst happens. But I have faith in you. You're strong and you will get better. You have to. You have to." Ellen slides her hand off of Connor's chest and takes his left hand where it rests on his stomach. She sits back and takes it in both of her hands, raises it up as far as his restraints allow, kisses his palm and presses it to her cheek.
"Oh, dearie." Ellen jumps and lowers Connor's hand from her face. Catherine is leaning on the door frame with a bowl of the broth and a spoon in her hands.
"He's gonna' get better, you'll see." She smiles in a motherly way and Ellen finds herself relieved that she must have only heard that last of what she said to Connor.
"Let's see if we can't get some o' this broth in him and then we can wash him up a little." Catherine nods toward the basin Ellen had filled. She places the bowl and spoon on the nearby table and leans over Connor.
"Rise and shine, lad, I've got some soup for ya." Catherine reaches to Connor's shoulder and shakes it. He mumbles something and turns his head farther away.
"Now don't ya be angerin' me, ya hear? Yer gonna' wake up and drink some a this soup or I'm gonna tan yer hide." Connor's eyes open and he turns his head toward Catherine.
"Ah! Works every time with me boys. Can't be coddlin' him like a babe, even if he acts like one." Connor looks over at Ellen and then down at where she still holds his hand. Their eyes meet. He is more aware than he has been and Ellen drops her head, breaking eye contact with him and subtly moving as if to let go of his hand. He tightens his grip on her and she meets his eyes once again. He squints at her strangely and looks back at Catherine.
"Are ya gonna' eat what we give ya, or what?" Connor nods and the two women help him sit up slightly. Ellen goes to the other side of the bed and rearranges his pillows to keep him propped up. He tries to hide his discomfort from them but he grimaces until he is settled in a half sitting, half lying down position. Catherine sits on one side of him with the soup and Ellen sits near his head with a cloth napkin. Connor forgets his wrists are tied several times and tries to take the spoon from Catherine. He is quiet and more like himself, much to Ellen's obvious relief. He is clearly embarrassed that they are feeding him and even more so when Ellen wipes his chin. She tries to distract him from his embarrassment.
"Do you remember anything from the past two days?" Connor looks over at her and nods, meeting her eyes once again with that strange expression on his face. Ellen faces her hands where she is restlessly folding the napkin and only looks at him from the sides of her eyes.
"Some things… feel like a dream. I do not know what was real."
"Ya caused quite the commotion when ya came home, lad." Connor faces Catherine and his lips shift slightly as he appears to be attempting to remember.
"I was hurt. Worse than I thought I was. I remember… Dr. White and pain… so many voices. And someone was crying." He faces Ellen and his eyes open wide.
"Maria! Maria was crying." Ellen nods.
"That was yesterday." Connor starts to raise his hand to his head but is pulled up short by his restraints. He turns his wrist and frowns at the ropes attached to him.
"Did… Did I hurt anyone?" Catherine places her hand on Connor's wrist and lowers it down to the bed.
"It doesn' matter, dear."
"But it does matter!"
"Shhh. Don' be gettin' yerself all flustered. Norris isn' holdin' it against ya. Ya broke his finger is all. He'll be jus' fine. He's already usin it to get free ale at the inn, the scallywag!" Catherine stops any further protest from Connor by spooning more soup up and bringing it to his mouth. He obediently eats it but the distressed look doesn't leave his features. Ellen tries to smile at him whenever he looks over at her in an attempt to set him at ease. When he finishes the meal to Catherine's satisfaction, she stands and sets the bowl aside. She rests her hands on her ample hips and tilts her head as she looks down at Connor.
"Now ya need a bath. An' don' be fightin' us 'bout it. Yer stinkin' like a pig sty!" A look of horror crosses Connor's face and Ellen touches his bare arm lightly.
"It's not quite that bad." To hide her laugh from him, she gets off the bed and crouches down to untie the rope that holds his left wrist. Connor raises it up and moves it in a circle to loosen up his joint. The rope trails over the bed as he does.
"Ya better stay on yer best behavior with that hand untied." Catherine says with a gesture of her arm toward Connor. Ellen moves to the foot of the bed and unties the two ropes holding his ankles.
"And yer feet…" Catherine crosses her arms and frowns at Ellen then.
"We can't let him stay in dirty sheets if he's clean." Catherine harrumphs at her and pulls the covers down. Connor takes in a sharp breath when he sees his stomach wrapped up. He reaches his left hand over and touches the bandages carefully, sliding a finger under to lift them up and peek underneath. Catherine slaps his arm away.
"I'll tie ya back up, I will!" A look of real concern fills Connor's eyes and he meekly settles his hand back. Ellen rounds the bed and reaches her hands toward Connor. Catherine helps him swing his legs off the side of the bed while he uses Ellen to sit up, pushing with is right arm still tied to the bed.
At first, Connor tries to avoid using Ellen to sit up but when he finds himself unable to accomplish even that on his own, he grasps Ellen's hands tightly and she pulls him to a sitting position. He breathes heavily and waits for the spinning to fade away. It does for the most part but he is rather disconcerted by how disoriented and weak he feels and by how much it hurt just to get up.
"Tha's it! There." Catherine says encouragingly to him when he curls his toes on the cool floorboards beneath his feet. He brings his hand to his forehead and closes his eyes when another wave of dizziness overtakes him. Catherine and Ellen both hold him by his shoulders and upper arms and he is grateful for their support.
"Maybe we shouldn't have sat you up…" Ellen says quietly to Connor.
"No. I will be alright. I do not want to offend anyone with my smell…" Connor looks over at Catherine with a grimace on his lips and she tsks and reaches for his last rope, untying it and then reaching to the wash basin. The water is cool and he quietly gasps when the wet washcloth touches his skin. Ellen and Catherine work as quickly as they can, taking turns supporting Connor and bathing him until his upper body is clean. He is quiet and stoic about the process. It's obvious he isn't happy about having to let others see to his personal hygiene but he had already discovered how very useless he is at the moment.
Ellen climbs onto the other side of the bed and washes his back and shoulders. She quietly admires his muscular physique, feeling her face heating and turning crimson as she runs her hand and the cloth over his wet skin. It shines, dark and coppery in the light of the lanterns and the rising sun coming in from the windows. She tips Connor's head back and wets his crest of remaining hair, running her fingers through it and lamenting the loss of his characteristic little braid that used to hang beside his face. Catherine hands Ellen a towel and she uses it to dry his hair and the rest of him.
Catherine points to the laces of his pants.
"May I? We might as well get ya completely clean." Connor looks up at her, utterly embarrassed. Catherine crosses her arms and tsks at his discomfiture.
"Darlin, I've raised two boys. Three, if ya coun' me husband an' four if ya coun' Diana's. You ain' got nothin' I haven' seen before." Connor hangs his head and sighs. He reaches for his own laces and unties them slowly. Ellen rounds the bed to his side again and lifts the crumpled sheet that had once covered him. She drapes it over his legs, covering his hands and leaning close to bring the edges of it around his waist. He looks up at her, his eyes showing true gratitude from between the wet sections of hair that hang down from his head. Ellen smiles and takes his upper arm when he finishes untying his laces.
"Do you think you can stand up?" She asks him. He nods and brings his arm around her shoulders. Ellen moves in closer and positions herself so he can lean on her as Catherine takes a supportive position at his right shoulder. He holds the sheet low on his stomach with his right hand as Ellen and Catherine tug his pants down from his hips. He is clearly grateful to be seated again. Connor closes his eyes and just tries to keep himself steady while they wash his legs and feet.
"Alright, then, if ya can promise not t' fall on the floor, we'll jus step out an' look for some linens and some clean clothes for ya. That way ya can have some privacy for a minute." Catherine bustles out and Ellen rinses a cloth in the basin for Connor and hands it to him. He takes it slowly.
"I'll be right outside the door if you need anything. I don't imagine Catherine will be gone long so you'd best be done before she comes back or she'll do it for you." Ellen can't help smiling at the look of stunned horror that crosses Connor's face yet again. She shuts the door most of the way and stands outside, listening for any sounds of Connor falling onto the floor or bed. As Catherine comes down the stairs a few minutes later, Ellen quietly knocks on the door.
"Come in." Connor calls to her. He is self consciously pulling the sheet over his legs and it seems as if he is too embarrassed to look at her. Catherine makes him stand twice more. The first time is to scrub the backs of his legs and buttocks, giving him a saucy smack just because she can.
"Catherine! Do you have to make it worse for him? He isn't one of your boys misbehaving!"
"No, but arses don' stay this nice forever!" Ellen gives Connor a sympathetic look and he shakes his head with his eyes closed.
The second and final time he has to stand is when they help him into a clean pair of loose fitting pants and swap the sheets out. Connor is visibly exhausted by all the movement and when the two women help him down to rest he almost immediately closes his eyes. They tuck him in and Catherine gathers the linens that need washing up and takes them outside. Ellen kneels beside his bed and lifts the rope attached to his right wrist in her hands.
"I'm sorry, Connor, but I have to retie these… It's for your own safety." Connor places his hand on her wrist and stops her.
"No. It is for your safety. Thank you." Ellen smiles and ties the ropes so he can have both his hands by his sides and can bend his knees a little. He watches her silently as she makes her way around the bed. She returns to his side and he turns his head to look at her. A section of his damp hair is resting over his cheek so she reaches up and smoothes it back.
"You should rest. I can see how tired we made you."
"I am tired but I feel much better now that I am clean. Be honest with me… do I smell bad?" Ellen laughs and shakes her head at his genuine concern.
"No. You smell good now."
"Thank you." Ellen pats his chest.
"You're welcome. Now rest." She starts to get up.
"You work hard to help people, Ellen." His comment could have sounded innocent if not for what she had said to him when she thought he was sleeping. She drops down beside him again and looks at him sharply, wrapping her arms around herself in a hug. Connor lifts his hand from the bed and touches her fingers on her arm, looking directly into her eyes. He bends his elbow further and barely grazes her chin with his fingertips before the rope stops him. Ellen takes his hand in both of hers and bends her head so her lips are pressed against the backs of his fingers. He closes his eyes. It doesn't take long for Connor's breathing to even out into the deeper respiration of sleep.