Eli knew he was a horrible patient. He pushed himself, he pushed the staff, and he even pushed poor Nettie, who deserved it least of all. Finally, after a week in the hospital, they sent him home. His leg was still bandaged from his hip to his knee, and he was only allowed to move about in a wheeled chair, so he wouldn't be able to leave the second floor of the house. One more week, the quacks promised, and if there was still no sign of infection, they might, might remove some of the stitches and allow him to switch to crutches.
"Your mother has sent over a manservant for you," Nettie said as she wheeled him up to the doorstep. From there, VanCleve and his father's personal valet, Warren, carried him up the stairs and plunked him in his bed. Eli gestured for both of them to leave and they did.