Creative Coupling - Lord Byron and the White Lady

Debi of Easel & Quill has set a challenge for Valentine’s Day of ‘Creative Coupling& Bleeding Hearts’ the idea being to take two characters whether from life, fiction or film/tv etc. and say who, why and how they met and became a couple. This is my offering.

Lord Byron and the White Lady of Newstead.

The Who

Lord Bryon had sold lovely Newstead to his old school friend Thomas Wildman and traveled far to Greece where he met his mortal end. His body returned home to England but burial at Westminster Abbey was refused due to what was termed by some as his ‘questionable morality’. His mortal remains eventually found a resting place in the local parish church of St. Mary Magdalene but mortal remains are never as strong in will as those of spirit, soul and heart and his heart had always intended it should return and reside at Newstead Abbey once more. He had years previously  build a magnificent tomb in Newstead grounds to his most beloved of dogs, the Newfoundland Boatswain with the intention they would eventually be reunited in death once again and buried together. The body did not make the return journey but his heart and soul did and once more Byron wandered his beloved Newstead grounds in Spirit. 

The Lady in White as she was to become known because of her fondness for wearing light coloured clothing was named in life as Sophie Hyatt, a very shy young lady who being born deaf and unable to speak was nervous of people and had a habit of diving into nearby cover to hide as strangers approached. She found a life in books and words, both giving her new worlds to escape too and was often to be seen carrying a slate upon which to write her own words. Though loving his poems she never met Byron in life, moving close to Newstead to live on the farm of a relative after he had already sold the Abbey and moved to Greece but she struck up a friendship with the Wildman family who became fond of the young girl, allowed her to wander the Abbey grounds and often she was to be scene in the distance wandering the glorious gardens with the dog Byron had to leave behind, accompanying her. Unable to support herself she lived a rather perilous existence relying on the good will of relatives, when the kindly farmer who’d took her in died she was once more force to move on in the hope of finding further help but tragedy struck as she set off for Nottingham and not hearing the Drayman’s warning she was struck by the horse and cart and died outside the Black Boy pub. It was an added sadness that her journey was unnecessary as the Wildman’s had already decided to offer her a home in the grounds of their estate. Her body was buried locally but her heart and spirit returned to where it had known happiness and can still occasionally be seen to this very day wandering the Abbey grounds along the path now known as the White Lady’s Walk.

The Meeting

Byron was happy to be home once more and at least in spirit he no longer had the responsibilities of maintaining of the estate, never something he was good at, or huge debts hanging over his head, he was happy to see his friend Thomas was looking after the estate well. He was overjoyed to once more be reunited with his best childhood friend the large and ever faithful Boatswain. Still an air of melancholy did descend on his spirit, his soul still poured forth new words and poems but without anyone to share them with the words seem empty of meaning and were lost to the world. One morning he began his daily leisurely stroll of the garden but caught the quickest glimpse of another shadow spirit diving into cover of the shrubbery as he neared, was this another soul with which he could converse? This occurred for six days in a row but whenever he neared the spot there was no sign of another, either mortal or spirit. On the seventh day he rose early from his slumbers and waited at the spot of disappearance, he did not wait long before the shy spirit of Sophie made its present but seeing her root of vanishing blocked she became rather flummoxed as to what to do. Boatswain once more came to his master’s aid in spirit as he always did in life and wandered up to the lady in white with a friendly wagging tail and a head that just needed to be patted and stroked. The ice was broken and as so often happens in life, a friendship and love was born over a dog who brought two souls together. 

The Happy Ever After Conclusion. 

Now the White Lady no longer wanders alone on her walks and Byron’s spirit is no longer melancholy. They wander together in their eternal walks of the grounds, weaving new works of words between them, lost to the world but shared between those two, laughing and whispering of things the mortal world has no sense of.  In their wake the ever faithfully spirit of Boatswain follows his master and new mistress. 

Quest for the Black Rose.

A thoughtful Ria checked in to her hotel, she so missed her own beloved rose garden yet she knew she’d left it in safe hands and now she’d started the search for her most wished for rose, the rare true black rose, she could not turn back. It was a quest she'd always dreamed about and now a small inheritance had turned it into reality. Her first point of call had been to visit Kew after gaining permission to view their private library, several books there had talked of the 'True Black' growing in the land of the shortest daylight hours. Taking out her old leather atlas she tried to ponder her next journey. She’d talked to a few people on her way back to the hotel and there seemed a mixture of opinion on which country had the shortest daylight hours. The general consensus was that she should head north and Iceland seemed to be the first obvious choice for her next destination.

As she stepped off her flight in Iceland, the chill air swirled around and Ria was glad she’d treated herself to new warm coat. Settling down in her small but chic hotel room in Reykjavik she tried to decide where she should be begin her search, thinking maybe the first stop should be the botanical gardens in the city. She flipped through the local paper she’d picked up and her eyes opened wide as she turned the page and a photo of what looked to be the blackest of roses appeared, she could feel her heart picking up it’s beat as she read under the photo of the ‘Midnight Rose’ native to Iceland and one park in particular Hellisgeroi Park in the town of Hafnarfjorour. Her mind quickly revised its plans. This was the place she needed to visit.

A tour of the gardens was just about to start as she arrived the next morning and excitedly she joined in the group of fellow garden enthusiasts. The gardens were truly delightful with many hidden lava grottoes around hidden corners, each turn of the meandering paths produced new treasures and views to remember. Their guide was in full flow talking of it’s many gems, 

“....and now we come to the gardens most treasured blooms the midnight rose, said to have been grown by the hidden people and wights of this land long before humans settled here.” 

Ria could hardly contain her excitement as she edged nearer to the flowers the guide was pointing to, only for her joy to slowly ebb away as she got ever closer, the rose was undoubtedly beautiful but sadly not that black elusive treasure she sought. Its stunning colour up close was unmistakably the darkest of blues. A fellow tour companion must have heard her heartfelt sigh “Do you not like the rose?” she turned to find herself staring in to the bluest of eyes and finding her breath caught once more, she felt herself blushing and though some explanation was called for.

“No the rose is indeed beautiful” but still her words couldn't hide her disappointment and her new companion ushered her to a nearby stone seat and the tour slowly moved forward without them. She started to tell of her quest to find the blackest of roses, but now sadly the trail seem to have disappeared on her and it looked like she would have to go home without achieving her dream.

Those blue eyes looked thoughtful as they gazed at her, “my dear dreams should always be followed and I too enjoy the search for those things of rare beauty, I have heard that the true black rose only grows in the hottest of climates and once belonged to the oldest of civilizations, I leave tomorrow on business in the land of the Pharaohs, will you not join me and see if those rumours I’ve heard are true?"

This is my part of a story I wrote for a fiction circle where someone starts a story off and gives a prompt at the end for the next person to carry on with and so it goes on, around the circle till the story is complete.

Alice Returns Home

Alice heart gave a little skip of delight as she drove though the wrought iron gates of Summerbee Manor. It had been a long journey going from the glittering city, through the industrial lands and finally entering the far Northlands. Though traffic hadn’t been bad to be fair, then again most preferred to travel in the opposite direction away from the Northlands and most as fast as they could travel.

 As she trundled down the long road which gave up tantalising views of the house and grounds with each twist and turn of direction, the thought once again occurred to her that Summerbee probably wasn’t the best name for such a house, yet it always felt like home. It would be so good to meet up with her sisters again too sup tea and catch up with all their gossip. Life was being good to her, the new endeavour in catering for the space liners was getting rave reviews but travelling from planet to planet left little time for close family gatherings or indeed socialising in general. As she finally turned into the drive, Humprey her grandfather’s old batman came out, alerted to her arrival via the chattering of the roof top gargoyles. They really were the supreme of watch guards

.

“Morn Miss. Alice, I’ll take the bags” Taking hold of the two small cases. “Travelling light I see”

Alice started to say she could manage but then seeing the look on Humprey’s face changed it to “Aye Humps, travelling gets you into the habit”

A rare smile spread across his face “not sure that’s a habit your sister Liberty ever acquired” 

Returning the smile and raising it to a giggle, “Well Liberty likes to be prepared for every eventuality and occasion. Has she arrived yet?”

“No, we got a telegram to say she’d be arriving via airship later” Glancing at the rooftops he bellowed at the still chattering gargs. “It’s Alice you crazy muts” nodding in their direction “They are fretting because they saw Mercia leave earlier, she’ll be back in a couple of hours, a dragon pup’s been found in one of the new mine openings, she’s gone to rescue it.”

Knowing how little Mercia took notice of time as a tangible element Alice mentally noted that it may be quite late tonight before her oldest sister eventually made it home. “and Ivy have you heard…”

“No Miss” cutting Alice off midstream of sentence. “but then young Ivy’s often away with the wee folk in more ways than one, I’m sure she’ll turn up, but how or when is anyone’s guess. Mercia’s left you sumat to eat in the kitchen, if you’re hungry, though I’ll expect you’ll be wanting to be on your way out again soon”

Alice’s eyes twinkled, her grand tea party reunion with her sisters looked like it would have to wait a while longer but there was one fellow she knew would be about, “Where is he?”

“Out in the woods, he was so excited and grinning fit to burst when he heard you were on your way. I let him out to let off a bit of steam, he’s not above terrorising the young dragons you know when he’s feeling mischievous.” With that Humps turned and ambled off through the stout wooden doors. 

Instead of following Alice turned and her walk slowly turned into a run, food could wait, old friends could not. Leaving home is always hard but even more so when you have to leave your beloved pets behind. Alice knew well the pain of loss and separation, first of her little white rabbit and then her best friend who without rhyme or reason suddenly gave up his profitable hat business and declaring himself sane (against all medical advice) and was last seen heading to the glittering city, with it was said, the intentions of joining the banking industry, a very sorry tale indeed. One dear devoted friend remained though, much as she wished she could take him traveling with her Alice know the kindest thing really was for him to remain here in the secure and secluded grounds of the manor. 

As the wood grew narrower and darker Alice’s footsteps gradually slowed, not from fear, for what was there to fear? She glance into the dark branches she knew he would see her first. Then she saw the first flash, whether from the dazzling razor sharp teeth or the blade like claws was hard to tell. She held her arms wide open and in a second she was almost thrown back by the force of the furry lump now filling her arms and purring like a steam engine. Few people knew that Cheshire’s were one of the largest and most deadly breed of Gargoyles. They were also exceptionally loyal to those they loved. 

Thanks for reading my little story and 

visiting me as part of 

Vanessa of a fanciful twist Mad Tea Party.  

I hope you'll call again. 

Pictures were sourced from Pinterest, sadly I could find any further credit for them, if anyone knows please let me know, thank you.