The Case of Hecate House

Chapter 8: Sensory Deprivation

"You will probably be aware, gentlemen" began Emily "that Dr Raddison is held to be something of an authority in matters pertaining to difficulties in bearing children." She looked downcast as she confessed "My husband and I have experienced just such... difficulties. I love him very much, and he me, and it has been a heavy source of sadness to me that I could not present him with this ultimate gift. One feels so very useless."

"You must not think so, my dear" Watson assured her. "There is no blame in these matters, and many couples undergo a long wait before being graced with children." I think only I could see the faint shadow of grief in his eyes, and presumed he must be thinking of himself and Mary; their own long wait, and how she would never see their child grow up, no more than they would grow old together as they had expected.

"It is kind of you to say so, Dr Watson. However, such feelings will intrude, and when George suggested consulting Dr Raddison, I agreed, although I was embarrassed at first."

"How did you come to hear of Dr Raddison?"

"Through Mr Astley, a friend of George's. He said he had seen me look unhappy when that horrible Mrs Amberside was asking me when I meant to start a family. He mentioned Dr Raddison privately to George. Now I wonder if poor Mr Astley may have been under Dr Raddison's spell as well. He has looked terribly worn for a long time, and he used to be so very gay and jolly. He and his wife had been married for almost eight years with no issue, so he said, then they started seeing Dr Raddison, and Mrs Astley was expecting within six months. At first, we thought nothing of it, but as another three months went by, and still nothing, George felt maybe we should give it a try. We arranged to see him at Hecate House, his clinic on the coast in Devonshire. He runs it like a hotel – one consults him in the clinical wing, but there is also a residential wing, as he says his couples should be allowed space. It is beautiful; most tastefully arranged, with all manner of exotic plants dotted around the place in pots, and statues, and lovely pictures.

"Dr Raddison seemed so very charming when we met him. Even now I can scarcely believe what an evil man he is. First, he suggested just settling in and walking about the little garden outside our rooms – all the suites have their own enclosed garden; he says it is protect the identity of other visitors. Our little sitting room looked out onto the sea.

"The next morning was our consultation. I was very nervous, and even George seemed ill at ease and kept clearing his throat in that way of his - " thinking of that way of George's seemed to overcome her for a moment, and she dabbed the handkerchief to her eyes. Recovering herself, she continued. "Dr Raddison had us sit upon a sofa together; he sat opposite us in an easy chair. He begun by asking us general questions; how long we had been married, how we had met, our hope for children. When we were at our ease, he led us over to the desk, and continued to ask us a great many questions. Some of them were very...personal... and at times I found them difficult to answer, but he coaxed so gently, and was so very kind yet matter-of-fact, I was able to continue. George was very red in the face, but he didn't lose his temper, and he answered his questions too."

"What sort of questions were you asked, Mrs Raddison?"

"Oh, all sorts of things. Let me think now. How we settled disagreements. How many servants we employed. Who undertook the housekeeping and paid the bills – several financial questions actually. Then, as I said, many things of a personal nature."

She was blushing scarlet now, and was I very grateful when Watson took it upon himself to direct the interview.

"My dear, I am sure this must be difficult and embarrassing for you, but any information you can give us may be of inestimable value. You are doing very well."

"Thank you doctor. I am sorry to be so silly. You see, he asked about certain... marital habits. How often we... you know. What age was I when I first started having my-my- monthlies, and how often I had them. Things like that. He asked George similar things. I didn't even know about some of the things he was talking about" she added innocently, and I was hard pressed not to blush or laugh. Watson, ever the professional, merely nodded gravely in affirmation.

"When the interviews together were concluded, Dr Raddison spoke to us both separately, and he asked us more questions, some similar, some different. I can scarcely remember them now, so much has happened since. I remember he asked me my greatest fear, and what I would do if I was not married to George. What I would do if I disagreed with something George wanted to do – as if I would ever presume so" she added virtuously, in all seriousness.

"Dr Raddison said he then needed some time to collate his information. He sent us back to our apartments, then called us back later the next day. Again he spoke to us together and separately. He told us that he thought much of our trouble was 'sensory mismatch'. He used a number of long words I did not really understand to describe this, but it sounded most impressive. He also explained that our habits may not be conducive to conceiving, and suggested a schedule for us. He also gave me a strong-tasting cordial, which made me feel most relaxed, and told me to keep drinking it, until we were scheduled to... um... have marital relations. He said we should keep to separate rooms in the meantime, and he told my husband he must avoid 'emulating Onam', I think were his words. I remember because my husband flushed so much, and coughed and spluttered. Is it something shocking, doctor?"

How Watson contrived to maintain his countenance I do not know, but he managed it with aplomb. "It may have been a little shocking to your husband. It is an indulgence partaken of by many men, perfectly natural, but I do not think it is necessary to mention the details. It is not generally mentioned in polite society." To my relief Emily nodded and did not ask for elucidation, but continued with her story.

"Dr Raddison told us we should benefit from returning to Hecate House in ten days, to stay for four days. We carried out his instructions to the letter. When we returned, he explained to me that he felt the brain was perfectly capable of stopping the process of conception, or helping it, and told me I should concentrate on my task of making my womb hospitable to a baby. He said it was likely that I was becoming distracted by extraneous events, and that sensory deprivation would help me meditate. He gave me some little plugs made of wax to place in my ears, and told me I must shut my eyes tight when I was with George, so I did not become distracted..." her face creased with anguish and fury at this point, and she sobbed into her handkerchief ... "how can I have been so stupid! I cannot believe I was not suspicious at this point. Gentlemen, you must pardon me, for indeed I am aware I have been the greatest ninnyhammer that ever lived to be so taken in!"

I had a nasty suspicion I knew what had happened next, and poor Emily confirmed it. "We used a different room on the second night. It was a pretty room, strongly scented with roses. I was obedient, and closed my eyes tight, and concentrated on making a baby. The man then withdrew from the chamber, and I counted to five hundred as Dr Raddison had instructed, before opening my eyes.

"The next two nights, I was back in the first room, and it seemed the same again. George and I returned home feeling very hopeful. We were disappointed on this occasion, but we returned again the next month and tried again. The routine was the same.

"Soon after our return to London, I realised Papa-in-Law had been introduced to Dr Raddison, and he came to stay with us. I was so uncomfortable! I could not help thinking of the topics we had discussed, and I could hardly meet his eye. However, he seemed to be most kind and discreet, and never mentioned anything but the most unexceptional commonplaces. Imagine my puzzlement when I received a letter from him one morning at breakfast, asking me to cancel my trip to Greenwich, and to meet him in confidence when the others were out of the house. The letter instructed me to burn it when I was finished with it. Its tone was most insistent, and claimed to be regarding a subject of great importance. I did as he instructed; I did not even tell dear George."

My stomach was clenched as great tears resumed their course freely down her cheeks. Her voice was husky and trembling as she continued. "I met the villain in the morning room. He first confirmed that I was alone. He then spoke to me in the most horrible, insolent manner, as if he was so sympathetic, as if he was my friend. He said he regretted the financial necessity that had driven him to the step he was about to take, and reassured me that no possibility of illegitimacy would result from it. He then pulled four photographs from an envelope in his pocket. I nearly fainted at the sight of them. Oh God! I cannot bear to think of it! I am so ashamed"

For some minutes she was unable to continue, as she was wracked by a storm of sobbing, and Watson and I both applied ourselves to soothing her, our eyes meeting over her shaking shoulders, our expressions grim as we silently acknowledged with each other the appalling inevitability of what was to happen next.

"My dear, take your time. Please do not be ashamed. If one thing is clear to me, it is that you are an innocent."

"Innocent! Oh, that is rich! That is exactly what I am not!" and she started laughing hysterically, before recollecting herself. "Forgive me, gentlemen. I scarcely know what I am saying any longer. You see, these photographs were of...myself. Myself, and ... another man, unfamiliar to me, but of a similar build to George. My eyes were tightly closed, but I was still easily recognisable. In two photographs he had only a moustache, but in the next two he had a goatee, so it was evidently two separate occasions. He was aware of the camera, it seemed. I need hardly say I was not. The room I recognised as the rose scented chamber at Hecate House. And myself and this stranger were engaged in ... an intimate activity that only a husband and wife should ever engage in. Dr Raddison was asking for five thousand pounds for them, or he would show them to my husband, and expose me ... as an adulteress."


What a bounder of the first order! Poor innocent duped Emily; I hope Holmes and Watson can help her. Thank you for reading – and please please review! My review table has been a little empty of late, and I am trying to survive on the crumbs.