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“Whatever do you mean?”
“It were Mr. Wallace at the shop who told me ’bout the fellow. Dr. Edward Jenner, ’is name is. Accordin’ t’ Mr. Wallace, Dr. Jenner’s makin’ quite a stir with some new treatment. ’E seems t’ think that the milkmaids don’t get smallpox ’cos they’ve ’ad cowpox, an’ ’e’s set out t’ prove it.”
“How?”
“Well, it sounds right odd, but by all accounts, ’e took some o’ the puss from inside a milkmaid’s cowpox blister an’ scratched it onto the skin of a young lad. The lad became ill with cowpox soon after. But cowpox don’t keep a young ’un down fer long, so ’e was over it within a few days. This Dr. Jenner waited a bit an’ then exposed the lad t’ someone with smallpox.” Giles scratched his head. “Right brave o’ the lad, if ya ask me.”
“Not to mention his parents,” Benedict said.
“Aye. That too.”
“What happened? Did the boy become ill?”
“No,” Giles said. “That’s the miracle of it all. If the stories are t’ be believed, ’e never did come down with smallpox.”
As much as Benedict wanted it to be true, it seemed a far-flung hope. “I think it will take more than one boy’s good fortune to convince other physicians of this miracle cure—let alone an entire population.”
“I daresay.” Giles shrugged. “Maybe we’ll ’ear somethin’ new afore too long, ’specially since Berkeley’s not so far away.”
Benedict certainly hoped that was the case. Particularly if the results of the country doctor’s experimentation proved promising. “Let me know if you do,” he said.
The clatter of hooves interrupted their conversation. Benedict turned to see John emerge through the door of the stables with Saxon at his side. The horse snorted and tugged at the lead rope, undoubtedly desiring something more than a circuit around the yard. Benedict understood the feeling. Today, a long, hard ride would be good for both him and his horse.
“I’m grateful for your report, Giles,” he said. “I shall return for the afternoon milking.”
His cowman gave an accepting nod. “Very good, m’lord.”
* * *
The wooden rocking chair creaked in a steady rhythm, and the baby in Caroline’s arms smiled in his sleep. She smiled in response. What a difference a few days and some nutritious food had made to the Simkins household.
“He’s perfect, Hester,” she said.
“’E is, ain’t ’e?” Hester’s wan look had been replaced with a rosy glow. “Now that ’e’s eatin’ better, ’e’s sleepin’ better as well.”
“And that means you’re sleeping better,” Caroline surmised.
“I can’t believe th’ difference. When I got up yesterday, fer th’ first time since Robbie was born, I felt like maybe I could cope.”
“You’re doing far more than coping,” Caroline said. “You are dressed and ready for company, and the house is as neat as a pin.”
“I’m not sure if plaitin’ me ’air real quick counts fer bein’ ready fer company, but I was right glad I was out o’ me shift when the vicar came t’ th’ door.”
Caroline smiled. Her father had purposely delayed his visit until early afternoon to give the Simkinses a little extra time to prepare for the day. It had obviously been a wise decision.
From upstairs, the sound of Jim Simkins’s laughter reached her. Caroline’s father was with him, and although Jim was still nursing an injured leg, according to Hester, the swelling had subsided considerably. If nothing more, the fact that he was feeling well enough to laugh was reassuring.
Caroline’s father had a gift for bringing reassurance, hope, and comfort to his parishioners. It was one of the reasons Caroline had always enjoyed going with him when he visited members of his congregation. She’d been especially grateful when he’d invited her to go with him to the Simkinses’ house today. Not only had she desperately needed a distraction from her tormenting thoughts, but she’d also been anxious to know how her friend was faring. To see Hester and her baby so improved was the best possible balm to Caroline’s aching heart.
“What news can ya share with me?” Hester asked. “I feel as though I’ve been trapped indoors fer weeks.”
Caroline understood the feeling. This was her first outing since she’d returned to the vicarage from Farwell Farm in a state of complete panic. Since then, she’d watched Meg with a vigilance that bordered on obsession, but up until now, the little girl had shown no sign of rash or fever. Indeed, Meg’s youthful energy had yet to waver in the slightest, and she’d been most put out by Caroline’s firm directive that she not set foot outside the house. Boredom had set in almost immediately, and it was only because Nora had persuaded Meg to make knotted bread rolls this afternoon that Caroline had been able to escape without her.
“Mr. Rowe has smallpox.” It was all Caroline had been able to think of for four days, and the words slipped out before she could call them back.
Shock filled Hester’s eyes. “Mercy. That’s th’ worst possible news.”
“It is.”
