May ye be edified by how God continues to confound the wise and
change even the most hardened hearts.
This original tale of A Changed Heart puts Jane Austen and Lord Byron in Bath, England during a
period that both were known by facts of history to have visited. Jane visits for her health, and Byron for his renewal. In
1812 Bath was the place to be, and in this year Jane was 36 years old ~ and
recently diagnosed with Addison’s disease. With her opaque, failing
health Jane returns to Bath. History accounts Jane's demise at the age of 41, but not without this fictional
chance encounter with Lord Byron the rebel! My intent of heart is to feather
the foam of a squawking society that cannot be satiated with the mere facts of
Jane’s quiet existence. This 5,000 word short
story includes historical places that remain in existence today. A CHANGED HEART ~ It was the twenty second day of 1812 and sisters Jane and Cassandra were set upon celebrating a fresh year of promise.
Together these exuberant siblings enjoyed a carriage ride through the woods
from Chawton House, across the Avon gorge on a bridge that would fail all
mathematical principals yet supported the weight of thundering horses. In a
great measure their merriment was increased by their grand expectancy to
reunite with sister Lydia. The sun piercing the crisp cold of January simply added
to their delight in this long awaited return to Bath. With deliberate pursuit
of what news, good or bad they would gather, the horses clopped down Lilliput
Alley to arrive at their chosen destination. After departing Bath in 1805 when
their father George, the retired Rector of Stevenson passed, the surviving
family of mother and two spinster daughters
moved
into Brother Edward’s country estate near Canterbury. Both sisters were
absolutely ravenous for any sort of interesting conversation. It had been ten
elongated
years since Jane refused to accept the unbearable and unsuitable
affections of her rejected neighbor Harris Bigg-Wither. Sense and Sensibility
was recently published and with that an extra portion of income. Gossip bloomed
regarding her unknown pen. Her chosen anonymity produced a scandal among
growing fans and a bit of notoriety in the Austen manor. It was a welcomed
temporary lift to the entire family spirit as Jane's all consuming passion of
the written word had turned into such sweet fruit for all. However reclusive
and miserable Jane had become, she rebounded this day from being vertically
flattened by her comfortable, yet stifling country existence. She was
abnormally happy to greet this day with hope for the years
spawning ahead. Today was not going to be another stupid party with a
limit of six people. “No indeed”, Jane declared “we shall not need to utter a
single word of nonsense, and for this I am motivated beyond the acute disorder
of boredom.” The famous Spring Gardens drew a fashionable throng across the
river. The Bath Chronicle had advertised hot buttered buns and public readings
at Sally Lunn’s House, the very place of great attraction to which they had
reserved to be. With explicit purpose these Austen sisters had planned and
twittered about what to wear ever since Christmas Eve. They arrived just before
noon and were quickly engulfed in Lydia’s embrace! The reception of the three
sisters by the proprietor was exuberant and Jane dreaded any recognition that
may result from his great felicity. They were seated among the visiting
aristocrats at a requested back table. The
atmosphere chosen for this reunion was done
without a thought for economy as
Jane delighted in the opportunity of being generous towards her sisters. In
December Jane had written a note to the proprietor and asked him to pay
particular attention to the elegance of the table in which she and her sisters
would sit. This would provoke an apt expression of exceeding joy for Lydia
especially. Even in her maturity, Lydia was yet unabashedly Lydia and prone to
notice all accouterments's added in honor of her visit. A moistened cluster of
Pansies and Camellias tied together with
purple ribbon was the centerpiece atop
a white embroidered table cloth. The decor accentuated the rare joy of
benefiting from Lydia's way of abounding in vigor. For this particular New Year outing, the rich use
of color, the aroma and warmth from the baking ovens wasted nothing on the
elevated hopes for this memory making occasion. Jane was recently released from
her doctors restrictions, and so delighted to be out and wearing Cassandra’s
Christmas gift. A hand stitched white lace scarf that brightened the grey long
sleeved satin dress that fitted Jane's thin shoulders. Lydia had received a
letter from Cass that gave voice to her dire concern for Jane’s frail health.
Lydia’s discovery of such news gave priority to her certain attendance. The
provocation that led to this celebratory moment was unbeknownst to Jane. With
such extreme happiness
over this New Year reunion, Cass was pleased that Jane’s
countenance had notably improved. From the hand painted menu, Jane ordered a
selection of sweets for the reunion; tea, three hot buns, lemon curd,
Devon-shire cream and strawberries. After the customary etiquette of time, the
tea was poured by attending staff into the beautifully ornate tea cups. With
spoons quietly swirling, Jane’s eyes widened with a shock. Her confounded expression led
Lydia and Cassandra to join in Jane’s directed gaze. A pin drop would have
sliced the silence that enraptured all three sisters. Suddenly the group focus
was on whose voice they were hearing. Could they trust their ears? What was
being publicly read was from Sense and Sensibility. A portion had been
reproduced and circulated in the Bath Chronicle. But it was not just that Jane
was the author of this enlightened novel, but rather who was reading it! To
Jane it was indeed a
rather disturbing misfortune to be so honored by such an
undesirable reader.
Simultaneously the Austen sisters recognized the one reading as England's very
own Lord Byron! Jane would have hoped to find a noted scholar giving voice to
her articulated large truths, but as it is, she was completely vexed by the
audacity of the infamously impetuous Lord Byron! He read while brandishing his
arms and with a chuckle he read what Edward Ferrars spoke to the impressionable
young Marianne. Jane was instantly filled with illegitimate thoughts as her
words slithered through the lips of this most offensive person. Her eyes froze
upon Byron’s smiling mouth as he read. With growing consternation brewing she
thought "Fate has
been unkind that this man, of all men should read my heartfelt works with such
a grinning smirk!" Lydia was lit up with such pride that she was ready to
applaud had Jane not constrained her. Byron’s eyes glanced over at their table.
Jane shifted in her chair and lowered her eyes to dissuade any polite
conversation. Byron ended his animated reading and sat down with a crowded
table of mostly female admirers. Cassandra and Lydia both acknowledged verbally
how lovely of Lord Byron to choose to not read any of the many verses he had
written, but to select Jane's. The two chortled on with hilarity mixed in their
volume and soon resumed in reminiscent conversation. Jane bowed out of their
silly theories of
why Lord Byron had chosen Sense and Sensibility out of all
the books ever published. Jane was understood by family to resist any
extroverted nonsense and was left undisturbed by her company to sit silently
musing about the history
of Bath. The name came
about from the legend of Prince Bladud. The tale is that the Prince caught
leprosy and was banned from the court and forced to look after pigs. Like the
pigs, Prince Bladud was instructed to wallow in hot mud and was then found to
be cured of his decaying skin. After being crowned King, he founded the city
and named it Bath. Jane’s mind was steeped in poor opinion, she judged Lord
Byron entirely on what others had said. Her mortification's erupted with a
selfish wish that
Lord Byron's skin would suddenly crawl as if diseased and
cause him to cease reading. That he might wallow in remorse for his degrading
illicit affairs. Cassandra was attentive to Jane and acutely aware of her
sister’s anguished look as Lord Byron gave animated voice to her writing. With
resignation and a lowered tone, Jane turned and bitterly complained in a whisper
"He may pen verses that cause women to faint at his feet, but his good
looks cannot recover his unrepentant reputation. It grieves me to think of how
his opinion of my work clashes against the blemish of his undone moral
character!" Cassandra quietly pleaded "Oh Jane, I agree he is not the
'Byronic hero' that his accusers claim. I perceive him to be a melancholy man
who broods about perhaps a misery of some unknown unforgivable event in his
past. His heart shows pure in his poetry, and his music. His delight in your
wit brings him a measure of joy, and for this we must see that your pen has
fulfilled its purpose in him." Jane could barely be attentive to her
sister's supposition when Lord Byron approached their table. It was Jane’s
forthright intention to remain unapproachable. She began to fidget uncontrollably
whispering to Lydia's ear "Oh
what shall I do, I
simply cannot speak to this man whose reputation is ruined
by his confirmed promiscuity!” Byron was a hero to many women, but not Jane!
His romantic poetry was in a style that she could not fully comprehend as such
passion for another had not been her friend. The fame of his scandalous private
life was described by one contemporary as “mad, bad and dangerous to know”.
Lydia retorted "Oh Jane, calm yourself and take pleasure in the
moment." Byron had recently published the first two cantos of Childe
Harold's Pilgrimage and Jane was not one of his adoring socialites! She gave
him due credit for speaking effectively in the House of Lords on important
liberal themes, however, his hectic love-affair with his half sister Augusta was disgusting! Jane’s brother Henry did not
lead Jane away from the truth, but with great affection and respect for her
intellect, he wisely chose to simply empower her with the facts of what was
noteworthy in
England. Jane had the privilege to read about the romantic style
now in demand, however, a plunder of gushing words to describe gothic
architecture and nature's perfect landscape was a bore to Jane. She refused to
write to please the latest fashionable obsession to read paragraphs filled with
adverbs to depict a simple fallen leaf. The fascination of England over Byron's
life and style of pen was indeed not shared by Jane. With his worthless
character so widely in print, how is it that her text would be so tarnished by
his tongue! Jane had procured a
quiver of dark facts about a man named Lord Byron from a Lady Beckham, wife of
the local magistrate. No mercy was seen through the eyes of the law, but Byron
was seen by His Creator with through the eyes of grace. From a house filled
with the discussion of law, Lady Beckham felt obliged to share love less words
that drifted in from England. Jane held this one opinion of man above Gods and
in so doing she could not conceive
that any good could be held in the person of Lord Byron. Having ascertained
steadfast knowledge of his affairs, Jane was absolutely incensed that this
tragedy should land on her happiest day! Lord
Byron unaware of Jane's personal rebellion
against him, stood at their table, bowed, clicked his heels and with a wave of
a gentleman’s arm said "Miss Austen, your appearance is far lovelier than
a flower in bloom. It is indeed my genuine honor to meet the woman that shall
most certainly cause any man of intelligence to open the contents of his
heart." Altogether astonished at his grace and manner, Jane felt a flush
of conviction spreading to her cheeks. The spirit of repulsion had been
suddenly banished. Humbled by his sincerity, she questioned "What
brings one as notable as you to Bath when London brims with praise for your
work?" Byron then spoke "It would have been bold of me to suppose that
on my birthday I should be gifted with the
presence of such an accomplished
woman. Therefore I must advance to request your forgiveness for my lack of
social reserve in my cavalier approach. As destiny happens to surprise us with
occasional sweetness, I am compelled to reveal this genuine truth. Having just
refreshed myself with the wit and content of your heart, and having hoped that
I would someday meet the humble writer who wishes to remain anonymous, without
presumption of course, that you are indeed that very artist ~ I am compelled to
agree with the whispers in England that a woman, indeed a brilliant poetess
penned Sensibly the Sense found in the verses I just read. If you are indeed
the author, your secret is safe with me and I am further bold to ask that if we
are contemporaries, might we enjoy a literary conversation over tea whilst I am
in town?" Jane hesitated as Lydia inserted “Yes, yes Jane wrote what you
have read and she has been writing many wondrous works since before she
attended the Abbey School in reading.” With that horrifying thrust of truth,
Jane could not offer any ignorance to who wrote what Byron just read and her
eyes blazed across the table at Lydia!
Silence hovered like a thick blanket of
fog and Lord Byron was correct in his perception that Lydia’s innocent
enthusiasm had caused Jane to fluster with a visible chagrin. The kismet of
their meeting had quickly dissolved and with the fastidious aplomb of a
gentleman, Byron said “I stutter in the presence of such humility for it is a
lesson that I am hard learning. Might you be assured that your anonymity shall
be reverently respected Miss Austen. My time in Bath will be short as I have
been invited to Lake Geneva with Percy Shelley. So if I should be so fortunate
to cross your path again, it would be considered my full portion to speak more
completely of your inspirations. Thank
you for giving me the gift of your time on my birthday. Miss Austen and ladies
I bid you good day.” Byron left their table yet his stunning words swarmed
through each lady in attendance. Lydia burst into tears at the thought of
having vexed Jane when the afternoon had been so full of promise. “Dearest
Jane, I am miserably sorry for having ruined our day with
my impetuous
behavior. I humbly acknowledge that I disrespected your desire to remain anonymous,
and I admit that my pride for your accomplishment simply erased any ability to
control my tongue. I beg for your pardon my sweet Jane.” Jane remained quiet in
a state of violent shock by what had just occurred. She usually was quick to
recover with a bit of wicked wit, but somehow she sat unready to speak a word.
Lydia became excessively more distraught in Jane's hushed state.
Compassionately Cassandra quietly
offered her sister a look of encouragement. It was a nod of approval for
her surprising maturity in the admission of her uncontrolled tottering. Jane
seemed to suddenly come back to a dimension of consciousness from the distant
place her mind had wondered. With a warmth in her tone, the elder sister Jane
looked at Lydia and proclaimed "The afternoon is yet young and it need not
be cut short on a sour note. I shall seek no excuse for your bold assertion of
truth, and it is I that must seek your merciful forgiveness. Let us return to
joy and dismiss any further conjectures
regarding Lord Byron knowing that I
wrote Sense and Sensibility. " Ahhh, whom is leading who? Jane possessed a
winsome nature which allowed her to devote her observations and responses to
any witnessed social guffaws as merely a source of inspiration to be noted with
fanciful embellishment and either etched or scratched from a page. With a
renewed light filled heart Jane continued "Let us delight in the fact that
we have met Lord Byron and rest assured Lydia that your exuberant personality
is something that I have always and will continue to admire. We shall all gain
valuable insights from what has transpired this day. My spirit was forthrightly
admonished most accurately for the rage I held towards Lord Byron without a
single idea of how much my judgment must have grieved God as my witness. Are we not all called to
forgive and we have been forgiven? Come then let us amuse ourselves with what
else is worthy of our attention and accept that not one of us is above needing
a bit of coaching away from any gloating or thought of superiority. My personal
lesson this day is to offer more grace instead of disdain. Oh my dear
ever radiant Lydia, may the ever present
joy you carry ~ be instantly
contagious as we are obliged to enjoy this glorious day! We came together to
spoil ourselves with the fruits of our lessons in labor. I am the proud sister of two
amazing women of such grace that it doth far surpass my capacity to grasp the
love God has lavished upon one so unworthy! " A more noble recitation of
the value contained in a self reproof could not have been better stated. Cass
gushed with glee for the end of the tension at the table and each one served
themselves a heaping spoon of berries and cream. An unequaled magnitude of
happiness was the joint lullaby that rocked all to sleep. As they did when they
were young, all three slept together tucked between luxurious silk sheets in
their shared garden suite at the Apsley House Hotel.
Awakened by Lydia's giggling, it
was a shared bliss to explore Bath's exquisite gardens. Cass, Lydia and Jane
engaged in a joyful frolic of ring around the Posey, just as they once did as
little girls. Jane began to sing
as she brushed her hair and Cass played the
piano while the fire crackled. Before getting dressed and assuming proper
composure for breakfast, the three spent time delighting in the coincidence of
Lord Byron's personal introduction and earnest praise of Jane's pen. Such
providence was a sure sign that 1812 would continue to be a year of tremendous
surprise. Raised in the country the ladies insisted on a brisk morning walk
before tea. Bundled up in jackets and bonnets they took a jaunt across the
green to the camellia garden. Jane let loose with a fanciful bird call
and indulged
her imagination that this pleasure would have wings that would take her through
the entire winter. The ever demure Cass also afforded herself a skip in her
walk and a tune in her hum while Lydia shrieked over the finery of each new
blossom that seized her gaze. As Jane turned the corner around a carved hedge
she came face to face with none other than Lord Byron. Her nose red and running
from the bitter cold was quickly wiped with an embroidered hanky tucked in her
sleeve. "Good morning Miss Austen" His greeting was chipper and again
she felt that her tongue had been swallowed. Jane was absolutely exasperated by
her inability to hide her annoyance
of being rendered utterly speechless in this man’s presence. As if she were a school girl,
her eyes darted away from his as they sought another focus that would not give
the one on looking a chance to
peer into her soul. Time seemed to have been
suspended as her troubled mind tumbled over what words would become sensible in
response to his obvious delight in having encountered her again. Peering round
the hedge to see if her sisters were coming, her gaze then settled on his face
as she greeted "Good morning Lord Byron, and what a surprise to happen
upon you so early in the morning. My sisters and I found our chambers at Apsley
House most agreeable and I so hope that your stay has been equally
congenial." Just then Cassandra and Lydia approached from behind the
immense hedge and were equally startled to look upon the ever captivating Lord
Byron. Lydia never pinched for clever words quickly exerted "My Lord what
a lovely jolt of good fortune to chance
upon seeing you twice within so short
of hours. Is not this
morning a bounty of benefit to have the favor of your presence while strolling
in the garden! Come Cassandra, since we have all been formally introduced, it
is certainly socially acceptable to allow these contemporaries to engage in a
conversation that would literally be above our heads. Jane we will not be far
ahead, and do not worry Lord Byron, we shall also keep this accidental meeting
treasured as a family secret." Jane stood confounded by her sisters
offering that she would be available for such a extemporaneous meeting. Lord
Byron noted Jane's surprise and accepted the option with grace as he offered
"Jane if you find it within your schedule, and if it is not too
objectionable, might we sit briefly and enjoy a fortuitous exchange?" With
consideration for her recent lesson on
grace, with the utmost elegance she
extended her gloved hand to accept the arm he most handsomely extended. They
walked together in silence at a dignified pace towards the garden bench.
Feeling ever so slightly pained by the obligation thrust upon her repentant
heart, she was hesitant to admit that Byron's charm was having its impact and
she simply chose to acquiesce. Byron placed his woolen scarf to soak the dew
from the bench. He then assisted Jane as she descended to sit. Sitting aside
her he gave careful respect for a ladies requirement for a decent distance.
After a lush moment of silence they both began to speak at the same time.
Giggling softly Jane composed "You have delivered me unsolicited
appreciation for what has been anonymously published of my writing. Coming from
a man of such magnified influence on society, it took me a bit of time to
receive the full measure of your most genuine manner. I therefore must acknowledge your professional recognition
with a rather delayed and reflected honor. Your evaluation was extremely
favorable and with that said I must confess that though your style differs, in
your poetic verses, I am fairly charged to accept perceptions that would not be
mine." Byron's gaze upon her while she spoke was fixed upon her
particularly honest and refreshing pure candor. In his fame he has known many a
person who would struggle to flank him with praise for works that he himself
believed to be unworthy. His earnest fascination for her plain speaking
encouraged him to be likewise. "May
I consider you a friend Miss Jane?" She looked at him quizzically "I
would be
honored to name you among my small orchestra of friends. I shall
consider you the sweet violin that accompanies the delicate keys of my sister's
piano" Byron was smiling wide when he professed " Then Jane it is
with unsurpassed respect that I feel compelled to now speak apt words that
would encourage you to continue to write as a mirror of great value for the
generations to come. My poetry is to be figured out, to be interpreted by some
as folly, and others as romance, but your insights within relationships has
been a grand lesson for me. Your brightness and humor holds in it great promise
as a writer of important substance." Jane
sat blushing as she had not been so encouraged by anyone quite so eloquently.
She was accustomed to her beloved
Cassandra's partial praise, but this was from a person who had no association
or occasion to gain. Lord Byron halted his desire to further persuade Jane of
the tremendous clout with which her words had impaled upon him. He leveraged
the moment by
adding "I have much more to say to you, more than you can
now seem to bear." It was wise to hold his words to a few as he was
certain by her expressions that she grappled with the minimum of what he so
ardently desired to confess. "Until the spirit of revelation is fully
surrendered to, none of us can comprehend how deeply the written word can
minister to the hidden brokenness of a human heart." Jane was struck with
the duplicity of his public persona and the words he was now speaking to her.
It was as if God Himself had introduced him to her for such a time as this. In
her fragile state of health, the family excursions to the seaside of Sidmouth,
Dawlish and Lyme Regis were intentional to refresh Jane's weakened condition. She concluded that God had a
ripping sense of humor that He would use Lord Byron to teach and uplift her to
a height that was precisely heavenly. His gallantry with her erased all
previous inclinations regarding his character. She was reminded in their silent
walk through the garden of a conversation she had enjoyed with her father, a
member of the clergy, charged to pray for all people, the saved and especially
the lost. Her sister Cassandra had readily perceived that Lord Byron’s lack of
parenting and disconnect from the faith caused him to write from his darkness.
It was curious to Jane that the wit of her pen had been so meaningful that he
would pour out such praise of something she did not write with the intention of
converting a soul. Feeling a freedom to speak with honesty she confessed
"Among my few friends and shrinking family it would be considered an
indecent crush between us if it were known that we are sitting alone sharing
such transparent words. Ashamed as I should be to admit that my first impression of you was rather severe and unjust, I
now perceive you with a worthy extraordinary esteem. Not entirely based on your
kindness shown towards me, but having more to do with my own conviction for
having judged you at all" Byron was tested to also recite his compulsory
penchant to discover who wrote the stirring words that he had chosen to read
publicly in several places before Bath. “Miss Austen it was my choice to
unmercifully badger my publisher to research and reveal just who was the lady
genius behind what my heart believes to be a legacy, a gift to all who at some
point
find themselves questioning the meaning of life. The content of Sense and
Sensibility is profound as it does not ridicule, but it was written to enlighten. My initial shock was to learn that it was written by a woman,
and the most astonishing revelation was that she is a woman who is the daughter
of a clergyman. I read about love, emptiness and pain that is laced with
forbearance. My depraved self-indulgence has never been delayed or as
controlled as your words. My attempts to fill the emptiness of my souls cry for
love, fame or money has not met with contentment or sensibility. My questions
to why was I born, or why I was chosen to live out the title as Lord Byron have
yet to be answered. Having met many statesmen, and after many debates with
esteemed writers, I was moved to take steps to meet and speak to Jane Austen
before I depart this plane. Escaping my past is impossible; however, I do have
hope in a future that includes people of your dignity and character. My
confession to you
Miss Austen is that I came to Bath in hopes that we would
somehow come to this very open and honest communication." Jane was
surprised by the clarity he gleaned from something she wrote to simply
entertain, but she was not surprised at how God could use anything to draw the
lost back to Himself. After soothing him with a look of sincere compassion Jane
smiled and shared “My dear brother Byron it has been remarkable to witness my
own transformation during our brief yet divine interface. My lessons have been
great last night and again today. What I am not is a saint. I therefore must
encourage you to trust that God has a plan for you just as He planned that you
would read something and seek comfort from something new. Indeed our lifestyles
may differ, however my lifelong lesson is to be quick to listen, slow to speak and slow to become angry. Without my Father talking to
me about God, left to myself, my life would be full of what the world would
perceive as unforgivable. When I heard you reading my words last evening I was filled with pride and prejudice.
We each seek to know that somehow our work,
our life, our being alive has in some measure benefited someone, somewhere in
some small way. Sitting here now with the man known to the world as the bad,
mad and dangerous boy ~ because of grace issued unto me, I see you in the light of truth. I was blinded and deceived, but I now perceive thee correctly. I shall treasure our friendship forever, and NOT because
you protest that my words have inspired you, but because you Lord Byron have
inspired me to write more truly about poor judgment. To write as transparently as you have spoken. My pride had a desperate need to be broken
and thoroughly undone, so I thank God for our chance encounter. For
all the friends that I have had while alive, for all the silly parties that I
have attended, this conversation we are now engaged in has been the most
fulfilling of my lifetime. Might I call you simply brother Byron?” His response
was immediate “Yes, sister Jane, I would like that very much.” Lydia came into
view and waved them towards the lake where Cassandra was engaged in teasing the
geese. Jane then was prompted to inquire “Brother Byron, please accept this
most wonderful invitation to join the Austen sisters for some frivolity this
afternoon! Also, I was wondering if you would be so kind as to grace us with
your fame for a surprise birthday lunch for our beloved brother? If delighting
your poor sister is something that brings you joy, then might I also request
that you would read to your adoring family some of your prose?” Byron beamed
“It is indeed a dreadful sin to have such
an indecent crush on your sister!” They both laughed and soon stood beside the
lake skipping rocks across the still water. Lydia’s childlike laughter and
Cassandra’s sweet humming added the distinct sense that 1812 was bound to be a
great year filled with a joy that will surpass every understanding. After a
time they raced back to the hotel where Jane would tell eager ears that the
conclusion of her titillating odyssey this afternoon was that the Austen family
had acquired a rather dashing new brother in Lord Byron! (END OF STORY but not the fascination of
Jane Austen) This story was submitted to the Austen Fan 2011 Contest hosted on the Republic of Pemberly website and published on Valentine’s Day 2011.
