Chapter 5

"Luh…Lancelot and uh…um… " Foyle stammered, blushing a vivid red. He was thankful that Caroline had the decency to look down and blush also.

"Uh, yesss, quite," Foyle was finally able to say. He arched one eyebrow and struggled for something else to say. While he was excited and pleased about spending the day with Caroline, he was quite disconcerted—to say the least—by how it had come about.

"Well then, what shall we do?"

Caroline too had gathered her wits by now and she looked at him with her pale, almond-shaped eyes. Exotic, thought Christopher, and so very beautiful, even though she's so tired…

"Yes, well, there's a chapel service at 9:30…" She trailed off.

"No," Foyle replied, "I'd prefer someplace where we may talk. You said I'm not to leave the hospital?"

She nodded. He went on, "Well, we can't stay here. Perhaps we might have a look around the old place?"

After they had looked in at the makeshift chapel, the operating room, the nurses' room, and the smaller, more masculine quarters for the doctors, they stopped in a long-unused classroom filled with the morning sun. They stood at the tall windows and gazed out at the beginning of a glorious day.

Although their tour had not taken long, it had made Foyle a bit tired. "Shall we sit for a moment?" he asked.

She sat to one side of the deep ledge of the window and he sat in the opposite corner, their knees almost touching.

Nurse Devereaux could see the hints of fatigue in his noble face, a face she was learning to know so well. I hope this isn't too wearing for him. Oh how I want to spend this time with him! But I must remember my duties as a nurse.

They sat in comfortable silence until the strains of a hymn reached them. Foyle looked up at Caroline and was once again struck by her peculiar, almost hypnotic eyes.

"Are you usually here on Sunday?"

Caroline studied the wooden floors intently.

"No, not usually. You see, Charles is away this weekend. If he weren't away, I would at this moment be seated in the places reserved for the family in the church on the estate." She paused, then continued, "Charles would be giving me disapproving glances at how I was dressed, or something I'd said to one of the ladies as we entered or—anything, really."

Foyle watched her, hating the anguish he could see in her face.

"My husband already would have discoursed over breakfast on my failings at the dinner party we had hosted the night before. Trivial things, like laughing too much or too loudly. His opinion that I didn't talk enough to Mr Spencer, or spent far too much time with Mrs Jones. The food wasn't right, the flowers…"

She looked up at him and said vehemently, "I hate it. I hate it all."

"What made… was there a time when you were happy—with him?"

"Yes, I was happy enough before we were married. He seemed charming, and I imagined the life of a gentleman's wife would be fun and exciting." She paused and took a laboured breath. "After we were married, it all changed.

"He wants to bend me to his will, to break me. I know as a wife I must bow to my husband's wishes… but I expected more of a… partnership. Two people journeying through life as one—united in common causes and friendship." She gave Christopher a part-sad, part-sardonic little smile. "Romantic nonsense, yes?"

"No, not at all. I see marriage that way, indeed. My parents are—" he stopped, pain clouding his face, and softly corrected himself, "were…"

Caroline, wanting to divert his thoughts, quickly spoke. "Yes, my parents, also. They were never long at cross-purposes. My mother, of course, usually gave way to my father, but occasionally… well, a few things were important to her. The point is that they worked it out, always. It's not that way with Charles. Sometimes it seems the more I give in, the more he demands and criticises."

She went on quietly, "I used to try standing up to him, demanding my due. But he had such a strong, almost violent reaction that now I just try to do as he wishes."

She looked up and said, "This sounds so pathetic, so common… I didn't mean to tell you all this. You must think I'm a fool."

He regarded her wordlessly, but with such a gentle gaze that she knew whatever he eventually said would not be disapproving.

Foyle said after a long silence, "No, I don't think you're a fool. You are a lovely lady in a very bad situation, and I fear for your safety.

"And" —here again he hesitated for quite a long time— "because I've come to care for you, it saddens and concerns me." His eyes met hers, then he quickly looked away.

Caroline placed her left hand on Christopher's right, which was resting between them.

"Thank you, Christopher. I've come to care about you, too."

Her touch sent shivers through his body. This was not a medical touch; this was the affectionate touch of a wonderful, attractive woman.

A married woman! He fiercely reminded himself.

"What about you? What of the life and loves of Christopher Foyle?"

Caroline looked at him earnestly. Foyle was always reluctant to talk about himself, but he realised that she needed to turn the conversation away from her problems.

"I was in love once. Or at least I thought I was." He glanced at her. "Now, I'm not so sure. I did ask her to marry me. Elizabeth. I was quite smitten; wanted desperately to marry her."

An odd look crossed his face—regret? bitterness? He continued, "Her father wouldn't allow it. I was just a policeman's son, and not worthy of his daughter. She married a barrister instead."

Caroline gave him a sympathetic smile. They both were silent after so many revelations. As the quiet comfortably lengthened, Foyle leant his head back against the corner of the window. Caroline watched as his eyes grew heavy and fell shut. Soon she heard the even breaths of sleep. I've worn him out, poor dear.

Christopher Foyle awoke with a snort. Did I drop off in the middle of a sentence? Where is Caroline? He glanced sheepishly around the classroom. Written on the large slate blackboard in her perfect penmanship was, "CF, don't go anywhere, I'll be back shortly. —CD".

In a few minutes Foyle heard footsteps from down the hall. Caroline very quietly entered the room, carrying a box. When she saw that he was awake she smiled and said, "Good morning! I hope your nap has refreshed you and given you an appetite. I think I put together a nice luncheon. The sun is on the south side of the building, and there's a nice little courtyard there with a table and chairs. Shall we?"

Earlier, after Christopher had dozed off, Caroline had sat quietly, just watching him sleep. His face was beautiful in repose. Since no one, especially not he, could see her looking at him, she did so unreservedly. She thought about what she had admitted to him this morning.

He was so easy to talk to; he listened so carefully. It was a way of listening that she had only noticed in older people. He listened, but you didn't feel self-conscious about what you were saying, even when he occasionally asked a question.

Maybe I shouldn't have told him about Charles. What was the point? What can he do about your unhappy life? What do you want from Christopher? She sighed.

Christopher was in a deep sleep. It was almost midday. The cook, Mrs Whitney, seemed to favour her; maybe she could provide a picnic lunch.

So now she was back, carrying a variety of treats from Mrs Whitney's larder. Seeing Christopher's face light up when she entered made her giddy.

This is what I want from him, this feeling of happiness and contentment and—she shied away even in her mind from this thought—love. It didn't matter that these feelings couldn't last; while she was with him, she was happy.

TBC...