James' new crutches looked positively indestructible as their long arcs gleamed a rich, polished brown in the morning light that streamed in through the windows of the Hutch office.
Brooks must have made an impression on the men in carpentry, as they'd used the English oak we normally reserve for the more massive, heavy wear-and-tear chairs and cabinets.
I ran my hand over the sleek surfaces. The men had done a truly excellent job.
"Pritchard!"
"Miss?"
"Has Davis been informed of his good fortune yet?" I pointed towards the crutches.
Pritchard shook his head. "They jus-st arrived. Haven't had t-time to send a message."
I looked at my wristlet. It was early enough yet, James might still be in the Infirmary having his breakfast. Like a child at Christmas, I suddenly couldn't wait to him to have them. Heaving them onto my shoulders, I shouted to Prichard that I'd be back shortly and manoeuvred my way out carefully of the house.
Just as I'd guessed, most of the men were still bent over their breakfast bowls as I came clattering in the door of the Infirmary, setting my load down and wiping a few stray strands of hair out of my face.
"Good morning, Miss Olivia! What a lovely sight so early in the morning," Hammond cried, his mouth still full of porridge.
"Watch it," growled Sykes, as he rose to his feet, making a few quick swipes over his moustache to clean it. "Good morning, Miss Altringham. How canna we help ye?"
Many of the men had turned their sleep-pale faces towards me like a battalion of curious search lights, making me realise this might not have been the best of ideas. When did I ever come here, and this early in the morning? They were certainly wondering what was so important.
"Davis, where is he? I've got a surprise for him." I said, nodding my good mornings to the closest men. There was no taking my leave now, I was stuck in for the entire chucker.
Sykes turned and bellowed down the length of the Infirmary "DAVIS! Get yerself up here, ye've got a visitor!"
At the far end of the hall, James' figure rose, bowl still in hand. The search lights swivelled towards him as he slowly set it down and made his way towards us.
"Don't keep the lady waiting, lad! She's got more important business to attend to than the likes o' ye!" Sykes added before setting himself down again and making a show of minding his own business.
It occurred to me for about the hundredth time that Sykes was a godsend. No wonder the men respected him and treated him as their unofficial lead officer, even if he preferred to spend most of his time tending flowers and tomatoes. He knew when to interfere and when to avert his eyes, when to know what was going on and when to be ignorant of it.
James seemed to increase his pace nominally, his head angled in hesitant skepticism and eyeing with a hint of warning. I couldn't blame him for disliking the attention, but what did he think I was there for? To publicly dress him down in front of everyone?
Some of the men began to lose interest and return to their food, others craned their necks not to miss a moment of this unusual scene.
As James drew close, I could see what I'd taken to be a warning look was in fact a dense storm brewing behind his grey eyes.
I patted the crutches. "Two new legs for Lieutenant Davis. Just delivered." I smiled at him, but my smile wasn't returned and I let it slowly melt from my face. Whatever devilment did he think I was here for?
"Why?" His tone was flat and unmoved.
"Why? Because you obviously need a new pair, that's why. We can't have you going around on just one. You know that the doctor said." I separated the crutches and held them out at about the distance of his arms.
He made no move to take them, but let his eyes travel down their length and back up again, finally coming to rest on my face.
"What do I have to do for them?"
"Oh, for heaven's sake! Will you simply take them and stop being such a nettle? If they displease you and you'd rather hobble around on that filthy stick you've got now, be my guest. But I'm not in the habit of letting any man here ruin his health even more, unless he absolute insists."
I didn't want to antagonise him, and certainly not in front of all the men, but his blatant rejection of the crutches was beginning to grate. All I wanted was for him to have what he needed and be happy. What was so hard to understand about that? This wasn't charity, this was a necessity. He need these.
Once again, the ghost of a smile passed under the surface of his features and disappeared like a ripple on a lake.
Was he somehow enjoying this? Was he? Was this all a bit of play acting on his part intended to fluster me, make me annoyed enough with him to pick him up and hurl him all the way back to Staffordshire? The thought made me want to turn right round and leave him where he stood.
Suddenly, Sykes was there taking the left crutch out of my hand.
"Don't be an fool, Davis. Take what's given to ye and say thank you. Yer among friends here and Miss Altringham only wants what's best for ye."
James stared at him for a moment as if he were ready to get into a tussle, but then took the crutch and placed it under this left arm.
"Now the other one".
James hesitated, looking down at his 'leg'. Even though I was irritated, I could imagine it would be difficult for him to part with something that had made up so much of his identity for so long.
Sykes had no such kind thoughts.
"Well? Are ye going to make us wait all day for ye?"
For a long moment, I thought James was going to do just that. But then he pressed his lips together and awkwardly made the exchange. Sykes passed the old crutch to me and I set it against the wall.
"Now, outside ye git and see if they've made 'em the right height. Go on. Don't keep good men from their work with yer dainty sensitivities."
James drew a deep breath and began to head for the door. I nodded at Sykes to show him I'd take it from there. He nodded back and returned to his breakfast.
Outside, James moved along the flat terrace with surprising speed. At the end of the paving stones, he made an awkward turn and came back almost at a run. Was he working off anger, or attempting to impress me?
"How do they feel?"
He nodded, but didn't look at me. "They'll work just fine."
He made another round, but when he got to the end of the terrace he suddenly stopped. Something a ways off had attracted his attention, and I walked down to stand next to him and see what it was.
Two figures had emerged from the forest on the far side of the back lawn and were making their way towards the main house. Carter and Montgomery.
"Is that him? The one who attacked you?" James asked. His voice was still toneless but there was an icy undercurrent to it.
"Leave off, James. The poor man was having an episode. He's done nothing wrong."
"He's got his full kit with him. Why? He's not moving into the house, is he?"
It was true. Even from this distance, I could see Montgomery was carrying a full army knapsack on his back.
"There's been trouble in the forest and he can't stay there. Shall we try some stairs to see --"
James turned on his crutches to face me. "So you're bringing him into the house? Where he'll have more episodes and possibly hurt you again?"
"He didn't hurt me the first time, and he's got problems you know nothing about. Leave off."
"He doesn't know where your room is, does he?"
"No, of course not! Why. . . why would you think he did?" My voice was icy now.
"You seem very protective of him, if you don't mind my saying. And now you're bringing him right into your own home where you can fawn over him the minute a spot of trouble arises. Seems clear as glass to me."
I had a bad feeling about where this conversation as going, but like an idiot, I simply barrelled on.
"Exactly what are you inferring?"
"I'm not inferring anything. I'm saying you haven't exactly been sleeping alone for the last five years, I'm sure. Is he your current or your next? God knows how many of these men have been between your legs, since I --."
My right hand flew out and slapped him hard across the face before I could stop myself.
My stomach churned and I felt weak on my feet, as I clamped my hand over my mouth in shock at my own actions. But almost as quickly, hot anger overtook me and I snarled at him.
"Take that back. Take that back this instant. You have no idea what you meant to me and you still don't. If you are upset about that poor man, it's only your jealousy and damnable pride speaking! When you left you took what I felt with you and I've not been able --"
"Don't you go telling me now you cared one wink for me because you didn't! You threw me away. You don't throw away things you love." A red flush was rising on his face, not only from my slap but from the anger that was clearly boiling up to the surface.
"How the hell do you know what I love and what I don't! And how dare you assume you know my mind! I'm not one of your cheap London tarts, you know, after anything in trousers! How was I supposed to tell you what I felt if I didn't even --"
We had become loud, and it was only too late that I registered the sound of approaching boots on stone.
"Davis! Step back before I punch ye back!"
The shock of Sykes bellowing at such close range made both of us jump and guiltily take a step back from each other like children caught being naughty.
"It's alright, Sykes. Everything is fine," I said, holding out my hand in a calming gesture. "Davis and I were simply having a discussion."
"That's no what it looked like." Sykes stood rooted to the ground and glaring like a provoked and dangerous bull at James, daring him to make a move forward. James looked away, setting his gaze on the main house and working his jaw in frustration.
I saw no way to continue, we were both too worked up. This all was going so terribly, terribly wrong.
I asked Sykes to accompany James back into the Infirmary and get him set up with work detail for the day. Then I set back over the lawn without saying goodbye, feeling like spilt pudding all the way.