The Beekeeper's Apprentice - Laurie R. King [27]
“You may know,” she began, “that my husband and I bought the manor house four years ago. We had been living in America before the war, but Richard—my husband—had always wanted to come home. He was very fortunate with several of his investments, and we came to England in 1913 to look for a house. We saw the manor house here, fell in love with its possibilities, and bought it just before the war started. Of course, with all the shortages and the men off in Europe it has been slow work doing the renovations, but one wing is now quite livable.
“At any rate, about a year ago my husband became ill for a few days. At first it seemed nothing serious, merely an upset stomach, but it progressed until he was curled up in his bed, bathed in sweat, and groaning horribly. The doctors could find no cause, and I could see they were beginning to despair, when the fever finally broke and he went to sleep. In a week he had fully recovered, or so we thought.
“Since then he has had ten episodes similar to the first, though none as bad. Each one begins with a chill sweat, and proceeds through cramps and delirium, and finally a pitch of fever and a deep sleep. On the first night he cannot bear to have me with him, but a few days later he is restored to himself, until the next time. The doctors were baffled, and suggested poison, but we always eat the same foods. I watch it be-ing cooked. It is not poison but an illness.
“Now, I know what you’re thinking, Mr. Holmes.” Holmes raised an eyebrow at this statement. “You’re wondering why I’m asking you about a medical problem. Mr. Holmes, I have come to believe it is not a medical problem. We have consulted specialists here and on the Continent. We even made an appointment with Dr. Freud, thinking it might be of mental origin. They all throw up their hands, with the ex-ception of Dr. Freud, who seemed to think that it was the physical manifestation of my husband’s guilt over marrying a woman twenty years younger than himself. I ask you, have you ever heard such twad-dle?” she asked indignantly. We seriously shook our heads in sympathy.
Holmes spoke from the depths of his chair.
“Mrs. Barker, please tell us why you do not believe your husband’s illness to be simply a medical problem.”
“Mr. Holmes, Miss Russell, I will not insult you by making you swear that what I next say goes no further than this room. I decided before I came here that you would have to know, and that your discre-tion in the matter was a certain thing. My husband is an advisor to the government of England, Mr. Holmes. He does not inform me of the details of his work, but I could hardly miss such activities when they are under my nose. It is also the reason why the telephone line runs such a distance from the village exchange. Your own telephone, Mr. Holmes, is available because the Prime Minister needs to be able to reach my husband at any time. Everyone assumes the line comes this way because we were willing to spend the money for it, I know, but it was not our idea, I assure you.”
“Mrs. Barker, the fact that your husband is a government advisor and the fact that he periodically becomes ill are not necessarily related.”
“Perhaps not, but I have noticed a very odd thing. My husband’s illnesses always correspond with a particular weather phenomenon: It is always during a period of considerable clarity, never during fog or rain. It came to my attention six weeks ago, in the first week of March, I believe it was, following that long period of rain and snow we had. It finally cleared,