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The Honeymoon	By : HagenRenaker Category: 1 through F > Foyle's War Views: 2430 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 1
Disclaimer: I don't own Foyle's War nor do I make any money off of it.

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A/N
Hi, everyone. Sorry for the long delay, but I think you’ll enjoy these chapters. Thanks to a dear friend and talented writer who contributed a great deal to this one.

Finishing her dessert, Helen Magnussen happened to catch the exchange of glances between DCS Foyle and his wife and wondered if she had been too hasty in concluding that this was a case of gold-digger with a delusional older man.

Resigned to not sitting near Christopher, at least Sam could do what she could to learn more about “their” castle.

“Can anyone tell me more about Craiggary’s history? We toured it today…”

“Oh, my, yes,” said a great bushy-bearded gentleman with a cheery red face, who sat across and down one seat from Sam. “There is a legend. Didn’t the tour leader tell you?”

Sam blushed. “Well, we rather wandered away during the tour to look round for ourselves.”

The commissioner smiled understandingly, and though the older man made no comment, there was a twinkle in his eye.

“Laird Robert Craiggary lived there. He was the last of a storied family who had lived in the castle for generations, but beyond the life of a gentleman, he was a poet and writer. He did not make a great success of it, but some of his poems were published, I believe.”

Sam nodded, but did not reveal that she and her husband had probably read one of Craiggary’s works that very day.

“He had no heir, so the castle went to The Crown when he died in 1850.”

“He hadn’t any family left at all?”

“Craiggary fell in love with a woman—Nancy McEnerey—whose family would not let her marry him, as he was considerably older than she.”

Sam’s eyes became very large. The young sergeant was regarding her curiously.

“But he was the only love Nancy fancied—she threw herself from one of the windows, and the legend is that she haunted the castle from then on…

“Robert never got over her, so he is alleged to haunt it, too. But the story is, the ghosts cannot find each other—one tends to haunt the upper floors while the other is only seen near the entrance.”

Sam breathed, “How romantic. So very sad!” She made a mental note to find out all she could the next day about the fanciful tale, even if it meant visiting the University of Edinburgh’s Library or asking residents of the nearest cottages about it for most of the day.

***

Christopher did not have a great deal to drink as the evening wore on, and though the conversations were interesting enough, and the company pleasant, he was already insatiably dreaming of holding his wife in his arms again.

He thought the meal would never end.

Foyle was already hoping that, once the war was over, he might arrange to retire from the Hastings force and make a trip to America to take care of Howard Paige. But he wanted to stay long enough that they might get a chance to travel in the huge country and get to know several of its different aspects.

“Would you like to journey some time to the New World?”

The two of them walked around the courtyard of the commissioner’s grand house, breathing in a little fresh air before the time when the men and women would be separated, another convention of the English dinner party they both would have preferred to avoid.

“Oh, yes! I know it all from the films,” she told him glibly. “That they’ve cowboys and gangsters and sophisticated New Yorkers and ‘movie’ stars with flawless teeth…”

“Ah, yes, Clark Gable ‘movies’.”

He chuckled and she was warmed by her ability to bring him laughter. She stopped suddenly and he turned, looking at her curiously but happily. She did not speak except with her wide, dark eyes, which were filled with wonder at her good fortune in being married to this admirable yet modest man, who also was so kind and gentle and passionate. More than anything in the world she wanted to make him happier than she was used to seeing him. And it was clear to her that nothing would make him as happy as her happiness, doing whatever she wanted to do. How could it have converged to be any more ideal?

Somehow this message was conveyed by her expression; his grew serious and tender as he pulled her against him and kissed her, softly at first, but then with a growing strength of feeling destined to shock anyone walking outside at that moment.

Christopher and Sam pulled apart abruptly as someone indeed noisily exited the house.

“I can’t believe the gall of that Lester Henderson!”

It was the shrill-voiced woman from earlier. Sam and Foyle exchanged a glance as the woman caught sight of them and stopped suddenly, mid-stride and mid-breath.

She quickly took them in, and with a discernable twinkle in her eye, drawled, “My goooodness, it’s Mr Foyle and his luuuv –ly daughter.”

There was silence for a few seconds; then all three laughed until they were gasping for breath.

When she could at last speak, Mrs Magnussen introduced herself and said, “I must sincerely apologise for my rudeness earlier. I apologise to you, although I am the one who must live with continually putting my foot in my mouth. Everywhere I go! You would think that I would eventually learn.”

She said this all with such a jolly smile that the newlyweds could only smile and nod their acceptance of her apology.

“Now, you must tell all. How long have you been married? Only two days?! Heavens! What are you doing at this dinner party?”

Foyle finally managed to get most of a sentence in, “Yes, well, Sam wanted to dress up…”

“Oh yes, doesn’t she indeed look lovely?”

Foyle nodded, gazing at his bride and quietly said, “ Yes, she does.”

The bride added wistfully, “I did want to dress up… and see you in evening dress, but now…”

The longing in both their eyes was evident even to someone too vain to wear her spectacles.

Sam and Christopher broke their gaze with some embarrassment. For a moment not a thing was said.

Helen Magnussen suddenly broke the silence, “Well, it’s just terrible!”

Foyle and Sam looked at each other in shock. Christopher stammered as Sam’s countenance grew dark and stormy.

“Yes, it’s terrible – really too bad that your young wife has come down with such a terrible headache.”

Sam and Christopher now looked confusedly at each other as Mrs Magnussen steamed on, “Yes, I will be glad to make your apologies to our host and hostess. I hope you’ll be feeling better soon, Mrs Foyle. I’ll leave you now.

“Mr Foyle, I really think you should get your wife back to your accommodations as soon as possible. It was very nice meeting you both and I certainly hope our paths will cross again.” With that and a smirk Helen Magnussen swept out of the courtyard and into the house.

The newlyweds looked at each other with their mouths agape. Their fits of giggles turned in time to kisses, until Foyle pulled back.

He cocked his eyebrow, dipped his knees slightly and said, “I suppose I should get you back to our accommodations so you may rest.”
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The Honeymoon