A Seaside Writing Retreat!

From September, writers and history lovers will have the opportunity to book a gorgeous Regency seaside villa in Lyme Regis for their writing retreats. Belmont, which once belonged to Mrs Eleanor Coade, has been renovated by the Landmark Trust and will be taking bookings from July.

Eleanor Coade was born in 1733 and built up a hugely successful business manufacturing Neo-classical statues, architectural decorations and garden ornaments. These were made from high quality stone and graced such buildings as the Royal Pavilion in Brighton and Carlton House in London. Latterly her business was by Royal appointment to George III and the Prince Regent.

Eleanor came from a line of successful businesswomen. Her grandmother Sarah Endmarch ran a textile business in Devon and her mother, also called Eleanor, ran a linen business in London. In contrast to the successful female entrepreneurs in the family, Eleanor’s father went bankrupt twice. She however, went from strength to strength, managing her own artificial stone factory in Lambeth. As a proponent of women’s rights she left sums of money to female friends in her will as well as to charities, stating that her friends’ husbands had no control over the money she had bequeathed.

Eleanor’s uncle gave her Belmont, a two-storey Georgian seaside villa built in 1774. It is lavishly

decorated with Coade stone from her own factories. After years of decay, the house has been painstakingly restored to feature its original elegant Georgian windows, a parlour with sea views and a first storey sitting room with an iron veranda accessed in the Georgian style via a sash window.

Eleanor was not the only famous resident of Lyme to live at Belmont House. John Fowles wrote and published The French Lieutenants Woman whilst living there. It was his wish that the house be restored so that other writers could stay there and be inspired!

Searching For Captain Wentworth - My New Book.

Sydney Gardens

Here's an extract from my new book which will be published in September - Searching For Captain Wentworth. Inspired by Jane Austen's Persuasion I've had a lot of fun writing this time travel book. It's a little different to my usual sequels, and is set both in the present and the past. Two of my favourite places in the whole world provide the setting - Bath and Lyme - I hope you enjoy this little taster!

On the day that the parcel arrived I didn’t really take much notice at first.

“Now, that’s what I call an interesting object,” my father said, putting the brown paper package before me on the kitchen table with a flourish. “It offers all sorts of possibilities from the exotic to the mundane.”

“Knowing my luck it’s more likely to be the latter,” I muttered under my breath, spearing the top of a boiled egg with my spoon to watch the golden yolk trickle in a glutinous trail down over the striped eggcup until it congealed in a pool on the blue plate. Aware that he was observing me closely I sensed his silent agitation as he waited for me to show some sign of interest.

“Full of mysterious promise is that parcel; I wonder what’s in it,” Dad persisted, watching me stab a toast soldier into the yolk until there was nothing left but porcelain egg white like the gleam of a fragile teacup. In an effort to appear uninterested he went to stand at the sink pretending to be busy. I heard him fill a bowl with steaming water knowing that I was being watched from the corner of his eye.

“Well, aren’t you going to open it?” he said at last, turning with a burst of curiosity.

I wasn’t in the mood. I couldn’t care less what was in the parcel, and I sighed before I could stop myself.

“Is anything wrong, love?” He put down the teacloth and the saucepan he was drying before sitting down on the chair next to mine. “You’re out of sorts, Sophie. Tell your old Dad. What’s the matter?”

Persuasion-Lyme Regis

The teacloth proved to be an object of fascination in that moment, as I avoided the answer, and his eyes, taking time to fold the fabric into a satisfying rectangle. Part of me was ashamed to be behaving like a petulant teenager; I was far too old for that, but the fact was I didn’t want to tell him everything because I knew that despite being truly sad for me, he would also be completely delighted, and I couldn’t stand the thought of seeing that in his face. The truth was that I’d had my heart irrevocably broken, smashed up like the brittle egg shell lying shattered in pieces on my plate. Everything I’d ever believed about Lucas, our relationship, and about our future together had finally been proved to be false. If I’m truthful, I’d always known that I would find myself sobbing into my breakfast one day, feeling bruised and abandoned. But, that it would come at such a spectacularly low point in my life I hadn’t fully considered. Actually, there were no more tears; I’d gone beyond the crying stage. I just felt completely numb. Telling my Dad who I knew would be pleased to be proved right about my philandering boyfriend was out of the question, so I blamed my mood on the horribly unsuccessful job interview of the day before, which was also true. All I had to do now was listen to murmurs of sympathy.

“I knew there was something, I could just tell,” he said, as he folded me into the warmth of his strong arms. “Don’t worry, Sophie, it’ll all turn out for the best. Besides, there’s a reason you didn’t get the job, it wasn’t meant to be, and I’ve always said, the right thing will come along just when it should. Be patient, time will tell.”

Dear Dad, that’s his answer to everything. Fate will play its hand. According to him, we cannot escape our destiny nor should we try. Still, it was nice to hear some sympathy even if I didn’t subscribe to his ideas about providence and divine intervention.

It wasn’t just the fact that Lucas and I had come to the end of what was inevitably going to happen anyway, I knew I had to face up to some uncomfortable facts. To be a writer had been my ambition since leaving university, but the manuscripts I’d sent out had always come back, the fat brown envelopes dropping back through the letterbox with the most depressing sound in the world. I’d had a few articles published, seen my name in print, and earned the princely sum in six years of what amounted to most people’s idea of a six month salary. Yesterday had been my first attempt into the world of work and a ‘proper job’. I hadn’t got it. So, what was I going to do now? I had no idea.

Steps up to Beechen Cliff, Bath

“Aren’t you going to open it?” Dad persisted, nodding at the package and producing a pair of scissors that he’d obviously had at the ready.

In a way, the thought of the parcel did cheer me up. I’ve always loved getting presents through the post, but I couldn’t see how this could possibly be anything that might improve the sense of hopelessness that was filling every thought in my mind, every pore of my being. I cut through the string and the brown paper layers wound round with so much sellotape that I’d almost lost the will to finish opening it before I managed to extract the most exquisite object I’ve ever received. It was a rosewood box inlaid with mother of pearl fashioned into simple scrolls and arabesques into the lid and along its sides. There was a small key in the lock, which on turning clicked satisfactorily to release the mechanism that secured it. When I look back now, I must admit I was immediately intrigued. The box was like no other I have ever seen or held since, and as it opened, the shades of the past seemed to whisper something in my ear as the heady fragrance of orange blossom and frangipani, rose from within its depths. Inside, I found a set of keys bound together with a blue striped ribbon, and a letter.

Jane Austen's House, Bath

Carhampton Dando

Somerset

Dear Sophie,

How are you, my dear? I hope you are well! Your father’s last letter gave me all your news and I’m very pleased to hear that you are still writing!

I hope the box that you have opened will prove useful to you. There is nothing like a fresh place for inspiration and it crossed my mind that you might enjoy a break from your London life, so I am enclosing a set of keys to the house that my father’s family have owned in Bath since it was built, which is for far more years than I can remember. Your Grandmother and I spent our summer holidays there from school before travelling to the seaside in Dorset and Wales. Later on, we used to take your mother as a little girl and I think she enjoyed these visits very much until she was quite grown up, just before she met your father and the pleasures of Bath did not have such a hold.  

Unfortunately, the entire house is no longer at your disposal as it was divided up when my father wanted to lease out the lower floors. You will have the run of the upper floors, however, and I believe there is only one tenant now on the ground floor. It is some time since anyone in the family stayed in the house, and I’m afraid to tell you that there is not much in the way of modern conveniences, but I hope that this will not trouble you too much.

The location is particularly pleasing being next door to Jane Austen’s house in Sydney Place, a situation very well positioned for the gardens across the road and a five minute level walk to the shops. Do you know Jane Austen’s books? I think you would enjoy them.

I sincerely hope it will prove to be an inspiration for your writing and that you will enjoy as much fun as your namesake in Sydney Place. There was another Sophia Elliot who lived in the house once upon a time, and as a youngster, I remember reading her journal. Anyway, my dear, I know it would have pleased my dear sister, and indeed, her beloved daughter, to think that you might be able to enjoy a little holiday in the famous spa town. Have fun!   

Yours ever,

Great Aunt Elizabeth.

Jane Austen in Bath

I put the letter down and gave my Father a look that told him I wanted the truth.

“What have you been up to?” I asked quietly, “Exactly what have you been telling Great Aunt Elizabeth?”

His ears instantly tinged with pink as he admitted what I already suspected. “I’m worried about you Sophie, you’ve been moping about this house for too long. I admit, I did write and tell her what you’d been doing, but it was her suggestion that you go to Bath. To be honest, I’d forgotten there was a house, although your mother used to talk about it sometimes. Listen, I’ve a little money set aside. I want you to use it, and I know your Mum would have liked you to make the most of a trip to Bath. You could write that novel that you’re always saying you haven’t got time to do. What do you say?”

I couldn’t be cross with him. Anyway, it was a brilliant idea, and so generous of him. Besides, what else was I going to do? I didn’t want to hang around the house feeling completely depressed, or go out and experience the misery of bumping into Lucas and Lily in Camden High Street confirming the fact that they were seeing one another. I didn’t want that above everything else. At that moment I wanted to believe in all Dad’s nonsense about fate and destiny. To be as far away from London as I could get seemed a great idea, and Bath was a place I’d wanted to visit for a long time. In fact, ever since I’d read about it in Persuasion.

My favourite book has always been Jane Austen’s Persuasion and it’s been the comfort blanket of my life, which I know sounds a bit dramatic, but if ever I’m feeling fed up it’s my novel of choice. What I’ve always done when I can’t face the world is to retreat into its pages and spend some time with Captain Wentworth. Oh, I know how that sounds, and every one of my friends thinks I’m completely mad, but the truth is that Frederick Wentworth is my idea of the perfect hero, and let’s be honest, the idea of a man in uniform goes a long way to help numb those real twenty-first century feelings. 

© Jane Odiwe

Persuasion, the Cobb and Louisa Musgrove

I've been to Lyme Regis very recently - I always love going because I know it is a place that Jane Austen visited often and really took to her heart.

...the principal street almost hurrying into the water, the walk to the Cobb, skirting round the pleasant little bay, which in the season is animated with bathing-machines and company; the Cobb itself, its old wonders and new improvements, with the very beautiful line of cliffs stretching out to the east of the town, are what the stranger's eye will seek; and a very strange stranger it must be, who does not see charms in the immediate environs of Lyme, to make him wish to know it better. The scenes in its neighbourhood, Charmouth, with its high grounds and extensive sweeps of country, and still more its sweet, retired bay, backed by dark cliffs, where fragments of low rock among the sands make it the happiest spot for watching the flow of the tide, for sitting in unwearied contemplation; the woody varieties of the cheerful village of Up Lyme; and, above all, Pinny, with its green chasms between romantic rocks, where the scattered forest-trees and orchards of luxuriant growth declare that many a generation must have passed away since the first partial falling of the cliff prepared the ground for such a state, where a scene so wonderful and so lovely is exhibited, as may more than equal any of the resembling scenes of the far-famed Isle of Wight: these places must be visited, and visited again to make the worth of Lyme understood..

Part of Jane's book Persuasion was inspired by the town - the dramatic turn of events when Louisa Musgrove jumps from the Cobb is a turning point in the book for our heroine Anne Elliot.

There was too much wind to make the high part of the new Cobb pleasant for the ladies, and they agreed to get down the steps to the lower, and all were contented to pass quietly and carefully down the steep flight, excepting Louisa: she must be jumped down them by Captain Wentworth. In all their walks he had had to jump her from the stiles; the sensation was delightful to her. The hardness of the pavement for her feet made him less willing upon the present occasion; he did it, however. She was safely down, and instantly to shew her enjoyment, ran up the steps to be jumped down again. He advised her against it, thought the jar too great; but no, he reasoned and talked in vain, she smiled and said, "I am determined I will": he put out his hands; she was too precipitate by half a second, she fell on the pavement on the Lower Cobb, and was taken up lifeless! There was no wound, no blood, no visible bruise; but her eyes were closed, she breathed not, her face was like death. The horror of that moment to all who stood around!

Far from running up these steps myself I found it quite terrifying - descending from the top is the scariest way down especially when there is a gale howling! Walking along the top of the Cobb is exhilarating but even in fine weather there seems to be a good chance of getting blown off - not for the faint hearted!

Jane Odiwe

Illustration by Philip Gough

Jane Austen in Lyme

Summer is almost upon us though perhaps you wouldn't know it by the rainy weather at present! Regency seaside resorts became very popular in the late 1700's/ early 1800's. Jane Austen loved Lyme Regis and even used the town in her book Persuasion. Here are a couple of extracts from a letter she sent to her sister Cassandra on Friday, September 14th 1804. ...I continue quite well; in proof of which I have bathed again this morning. It was absolutely necessary that I should have the little fever and indisposition which I had: it has been all the fashion this week in Lyme...The ball last night was pleasant, but not full for Thursday. My father staid contentedly till half-past nine (we went a little after eight), and then walked home with James and a lanthorn, though I believe the lanthorn was not lit, as the moon was up, but sometimes this lanthorn may be a great convenience to him. My mother and I staid about an hour later. Nobody asked me the two first dances; the next two I danced with Mr. Crawford, and had I chosen to stay longer might have danced with Mr. Granville, Mrs. Granville's son, whom my dear friend Miss A. offered to introduce to me, or with a new odd-looking man who had been eyeing me for some time, and at last, without any introduction, asked me if I meant to dance again. I think he must be Irish by his ease, and because I imagine him to belong to the honbl. B.'s, who are the son, and son's wife of an Irish viscount, bold queer-looking people, just fit to be quality at Lyme.

I think the following description from Persuasion sums up Jane's own feelings about the place. She rarely used description of this sort to such an extent. Anne Elliot travels to Lyme with her sister Mary and husband Charles, his sisters, Henrietta and Louisa, and the hero of the book Captain Wentworth.

After securing accommodations, and ordering a dinner at one of the inns, the next thing to be done was unquestionably to walk directly down to the sea. They were come too late in the year for any amusement or variety which Lyme as a public place, might offer. The rooms were shut up, the lodgers almost all gone, scarcely any family but of the residents left; and as there is nothing to admire in the buildings themselves, the remarkable situation of the town, the principal street almost hurrying into the water, the walk to the Cobb, skirting round the pleasant little bay, which in the season is animated with bathing-machines and company; the Cobb itself, its old wonders and new improvements, with the very beautiful line of cliffs stretching out to the east of the town, are what the stranger's eye will seek; and a very strange stranger it must be, who does not see charms in the immediate environs of Lyme, to make him wish to know it better. The scenes in its neighbourhood, Charmouth, with its high grounds and extensive sweeps of country, and still more its sweet, retired bay, backed by dark cliffs, where fragments of low rock among the sands make it the happiest spot for watching the flow of the tide, for sitting in unwearied contemplation; the woody varieties of the cheerful village of Up Lyme; and, above all, Pinny, with its green chasms between romantic rocks, where the scattered forest-trees and orchards of luxuriant growth declare that many a generation must have passed away since the first partial falling of the cliff prepared the ground for such a state, where a scene so wonderful and so lovely is exhibited, as may more than equal any of the resembling scenes of the far-famed Isle of Wight: these places must be visited, and visited again to make the worth of Lyme understood.

If you go to Lyme you will be pleased to see that it has not changed much since Jane Austen's day. Many of the buildings have survived from that time and the little town has a Regency air.