Pushing the door open, Samuel crossed the threshold into a space he had never been permitted to see. He moved purposefully toward the large, ornate bed, gently setting the mistress down upon the mattress. The moment she was secure, instinct took over. Samuel stepped back swiftly, immediately lowering his eyes to the floor, adopting the submissive posture that survival in this world required. He waited to be dismissed.
But Eleanor did not dismiss him. She did not look away. Instead, she sat on the edge of the bed and studied him in the quiet light of the room. Her gaze held no malice, no authority, and no cruelty. It was, instead, the deeply human look of someone who had spent entirely too much time in isolation.
“Samuel,” she said, breaking the heavy silence. “Would you stay for a minute? I… I need help with something.”
Samuel froze in his tracks. This was entirely uncharted territory. Downstairs, the house was already buzzing with hushed, frantic whispers. The maids and butlers were exchanging terrified glances, wondering why the bedroom door had not immediately reopened, and fearing the deadly consequences that could rain down upon Samuel.
Inside the room, the atmosphere shifted. The wind outside had begun to pick up, rustling the heavy leaves against the windowpanes. The warm glow of the bedside lamp made the sprawling, opulent bedroom feel unexpectedly intimate, shrinking the vastness of the plantation into a small, private sphere. Eleanor gestured toward a small wooden table nearby.
“The doctor left some bandages on the table,” she explained gently. “Could you bring them here?”
“Yes, ma’am,” Samuel answered, his mind racing even as his actions remained smooth and controlled. He retrieved the cloth bandages and returned to the bed. Eleanor delicately lifted the hem of her heavy dress just enough to expose her injured ankle. Unsure but obedient, Samuel dropped to one knee upon the luxurious rug. He took the bandage and began to wrap her ankle with slow, meticulous care. His rough, working hands were remarkably steady, ensuring the cloth provided support without wrapping too tightly and causing pain.
Throughout the process, Eleanor simply watched him. “You are very careful,” she noted softly.
“Just doing what I was told, ma’am,” Samuel replied, his eyes stubbornly glued to his task, refusing to meet her gaze.
Silence stretched between them again, broken only by the low, distant rumble of thunder. A spring storm was rolling in across the southern plains. Once the ankle was securely bound, Samuel rose to his feet, eager to retreat to the safety of the kitchens or the stables.
“Samuel, wait,” Eleanor called out before he could turn the knob.
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