Yeah, I'm not going to drag this out, lol.
I have twiddled with history/facts just a little, as I needed to make it fit the story.
And this is where you truly see Isabella shine!
There is no cure for smallpox, but the most important breakthrough in fighting the disease was the development of vaccination. This involved giving a patient a weakened version of cowpox - a disease related to smallpox.
This created a temporary immunity to smallpox and saved the lives of millions of people worldwide. Smallpox may be complicated by secondary bacterial skin infection, corneal scarring, keratitis, arthritis, osteomyelitis, bronchitis, pneumonitis, pulmonary oedema and encephalitis.
Jenner, a physician, and scientist noticed that milkmaids generally didn't develop smallpox, a disfiguring and sometimes deadly disease. He guessed it was because they sometimes caught cowpox, a related disease that only caused mild illness in people.
To test his theory, Jenner scraped pus from what were thought to be cowpox lesions on the hands of a milkmaid into the arm of an 8-year-old boy, and later exposed the boy to smallpox pus. Jenner was right; the boy was protected.
For decades the practice of using scabs or pus from lesions on cows or on recently vaccinated people was how smallpox vaccination took place.
But it was never clear if Jenner's original source material was cowpox. He himself suggested it might have been horsepox, which can infect cows.
…
Isabella Swan
Nothing more was said as I jumped up, kissed the children on their heads, and followed Esme out of the room.
She pulled us into a room that I found out to be hers and Carlisle's bed-chamber.
"I know you have ridden, and ridden bareback also, but how are you opposed to wearing trousers? I fear that I have not ridden a horse bareback in a long time, but haste is needed of us and a dress will hamper out time, I fear," she muttered as she walked over to a dresser and pulled out several articles of Carlisle's clothing, trousers included.
"I ride well, and clothing does not affect me, hand them here," I said firmly holding out my hand for the first pair of trousers.
"Esme, it would not do you well to be with Edward, you know this," I stressed.
"And I will do worse if I was not by my son's side, this you know," And with her reply, we fell quiet.
We helped each other rid ourselves of our dresses and corsets and pulled on the trousers.
What a novelty!
Shirts came on next, and then some warmer clothing over the top.
I felt extremely uncomfortable in them all, but I knew we had to get to Edward fast and sitting in pretty dresses in a carriage would not make that happen.
As soon as we were dressed, we ran down the stairs and met Carlisle by the door, his eyes widening a little.
"I have sent word by express for the doctors to go to the house, and for Alexandrina to be informed. We need to hurry," Carlisle said as he ushered us out of the back of the house toward the stables.
"Are you comfortable on a horse, Isabella?" he asked as the stables came into view.
"Yes, Sir, but I prefer to ride without tack," I replied out of breath as I kept up with his pace.
"Richard, remove the saddle and reins!" he shouted out to the member of staff. He was quick to do as he was told, and I took in the beauty that I was going to ride.
She must have been at least seventeen hands and was a dapple grey.
Beautiful.
She gave a small neigh and a snort before Carlisle helped me up onto her and I knew that we would be great companions during the ride to town.
"How long will it take us, Carlisle?" I asked while he helped Esme onto her own horse.
She looked heartbroken and I could tell that he was fighting his own emotions.
Myself? I was fighting hard, too, extremely hard, but I knew a long time ago that emotions could hinder what was going on around you and you had to pay particular care in your thoughts when a situation was quick to spiral.
I needed to stay strong, for the pair of them if I had to, and not let my mind run away with me.
"We can make it in a little over two hours if we ride hard. Can you do that, Isabella?" he asked in reply.
"Of course, I can." I smiled, or tried to, and then we were off.
A Lord, a Lady, and a farm girl.
Two riding bareback.
Two women wearing men's clothes to town!
…
We made the journey in good time, and a little after seven in the evening we stopped our poor beasts outside the front of the house much to the dismay of the neighbors and people walking past us.
I let Esme and Carlisle walk ahead of me and I took the horses around the back to the small stable set up that Edward had at the rear of the house.
Not ten minutes later I walked into the house and the steward showed me to an antechamber off of Edward's bed chamber where his parents sat with him.
I did not know how long I sat there waiting for news, but the longer it was, the more restless and upset I became.
After what felt like an age the door opened and a tall man with not a kind look about him walked out of the room and glared at me.
"What are you doing here?" he asked briskly as I stood.
I had no idea who he was, and no doubt he knew nothing of me.
"Isabella Swan, Sir. How is he? How is Edward?" I asked gently, but the man continued to glare at me.
"Why do I have to inform you? I know not how you are connected to this family, but Edward is gravely ill and needs to be left alone," he hissed and looked toward the door.
I took a step back from him, flinching from his body.
"I live on a farm on their property, Sir, but I rode here with the family," I replied unsure of how much to tell him. "Does he have a fever yet? Is he delirious?" I asked, fear creeping in.
"And what does a farm girl know of these things?" he asked with a sneer.
I had had enough, and my pleasantries seemed to be useless with this man.
"I know a great deal, so do not take that tone with me," I all but growled while channeling my fear into something else as he stood in front of me. "He needs to be chilled if he has a fever, and he needs alcohol if he is delirious. Are you doing those things to help him?" I asked not caring for my bitter tone.
"How dare you order me about like some high and mighty woman. I am a physician to the Queen!" He glared at me further, but I would not be scared by him.
I had dealt with worse, and I could deal with him.
"Well congratulations, kind Sir. What would you wish for — a medal or a chest to pin it on?" I hissed making sure that he heard my sarcasm.
"I suggest you leave this room at once and leave this business to the professionals, young girl. I will not have some farm girl walk about like she owns the place. You should learn to know your place," he retaliated.
"I may be just a young farm girl, Sir, but maybe you would like to know where my place is. That man in there — the one who has his mother weeping over him — is my future husband, and if Alexandrina was to know how you were speaking to me not only would she have your reputation, but your head. Yes, I am a farm girl. I do not deserve any special treatments but let me tell you this. As a poor farm girl, I am the only one who is immune to smallpox, so I suggest you step aside and let me attend to my patient while you gawp about like a fish out of water. Good day, Sir," I finished with a glare of my own, and pushed passed him.
As soon as I opened the door I was hit with a wave of heat from the fireplace, and I felt faint instantly.
"Carlisle, douse the fire and open the windows. It is too hot for him — infection will set in," I whispered as I finally took a glance at Edward.
He was lying on his back in the center of the bed looking extremely pale and weak, sweat pouring from him while his lips moved, but no sound came out. I thanked God that he was asleep and would not suffer so much through this.
Carlisle gave a weak look to Esme, and she nodded.
As soon as he had her confirmation, he set about to cool the air and I turned to the other person in the room.
"I need a pint of clean, warm water and some cream of tartar. Also, I need some milk, rolled oats, and squares of muslin," I said firmly.
"Might I ask why, young lady?" the older gentleman asked softly as he stood up to meet me.
"Because I am going to get him well, and that is what I need," I replied turning my head to Edward.
The spots were all about him, even down to his arms.
"He is too far gone, Madam. It is in God's hands, and the best you can do is pray for his soul," he replied sadly.
"I would sooner fight for his life than pray for his soul, so would you mind bringing what I need?" I said thickly, but with a firm tone before I walked over to the bed and poured some water from Edward's jug into a bowl.
"Esme, I need you to gently dab the sweat from his skin, the salt from it can sting and blister the skin further, but do not use too much, we need the skin to dry out also," I said gently as I handed her the bowl and small cloth.
It was hard to see her so broken, but at my instruction she was quick to do as I asked.
Hope ignited in her eyes.
"The man you just dismissed was Edward's personal doctor, Isabella. While I understand that you do things different in the country, please do not ignite the doctor's temper," Carlisle said with a smile, and I giggled a little.
"If he was Edward's doctor, then who was the man who met me outside, because I think he will hate me for life, and make my name a very bad one in town." I smiled.
"That was his protégé, and physician to Alexandrina." Carlisle winked at me.
"I knew that much, he told me — quite pompously, I should add. He will not like me. Now, would you be loathed if I took these heavy covers off of Edward? He needs to cool down and cannot do that if he is so heavily weighed down by all of this," I said as I pointed to the thick blankets.
"Isabella, do as you wish. He is undressed underneath though," Esme said with a sad look in her eyes.
"Then maybe Carlisle will cover just that place with a cloth, or shirt?" I requested mutely, and he did while I turned my back.
When he was done, I helped him fold down the blankets just as the doctor came back into the room.
I could not contain the gasp at the number of spots on Edward, and the fear crept back in at how bad it looked for him.
I remembered once that there were a few cases near the village and how people talked of the disease, but to see it in such a fullness . . . I was scared.
"Can you please dissolve one ounce of the tartar in a pint of tepid water?" I asked the doctor who shocked me by agreeing and getting to work.
"Once it has cooled, we need to have Edward sip the concoction if possible, it will help with the spots in his mouth and throat. That is what is the worst; if he has them there, they can hinder breathing," I said almost to myself as I took the rolled oats and placed them in the center of the muslin square.
"Esme, do you have a ribbon?" I asked, and she handed me one from somewhere in the room a minute later.
I tied the oats in the square and then proceeded to dip the package into the milk.
"The milk softens the oats, and then we have to dab the skin. It helps dry out the spots and forms a crust on them, helping to heal. If they do not heal quickly enough, he will scratch them, and infection will set in. It is always the infection that can be fatal, not the disease itself." I said as I got to work myself.
…
Hours had passed since we had arrived at the house, and I'd started to help Edward heal.
Because he would.
He would heal, and he would pull through this illness.
He was strong and healthy — he had to pull through.
The doctors came and went muttering cures and potions and debating on what next to do, but I refused to let them do anything.
The first doctor that I had met also came back into the room and started to question bleeding and leeches to rid the body, and he was lucky that I did not throw the bowl of milk at him — or worse. No one would cut him open or let him bleed through the use of leeches. It would only kill him quicker and they would have to get through me before getting to him.
The second doctor pulled the first from the room, and I was finally left in peace.
What most people did not know, was that while Edward was in this stage, he was almost over the worst of it. The disease had to have been in his body for at least two to three weeks before the spots appeared and if we could stave off infection, he would pull through. He would be weak for some time and of course, still be contagious until the spots had scabbed over, but he would pull through.
By the early hours of the morning, Edward's body had started to stir, and he was murmuring incoherent words as his body healed slowly.
I let out a slow breath and looked towards both Esme and Carlisle.
They were both asleep in chairs on the other side of Edward's bed, and they looked beyond exhausted, even in their sleep. You could still see the lines of worry on their faces, and they were not truly resting. Even in their sleep, they worried for their son.
"Shh, it is okay, Edward," I cooed when he started to whimper in his sleep, and I was quick to wipe his head with the cool cloth.
"Is-isa," he murmured quietly into the dark room.
"I'm here, Edward. I'm here and you're going to fine," I said tearfully when his head gently leaned into my touch.
"Love-," he croaked softly, and I hoped to God that he was not going to say what I thought he was.
"No, Edward. Not here, not now," I begged as I felt hot tears sting my cheeks.
Not like this.
"You."
The line; I would sooner fight for his life than pray for his soul, came courteously from Cranford, an amazing BBC adaptation. It is one of the most powerful quotes I've ever heard and with how my family's health has been this last couple of years, it's not far from my mind.
Edward is up next xxx