Seymour - In Byrons Wake

Also by Miranda Seymour

Non-fiction
Mary Shelley
Robert Graves: Life on the Edge
Chaplins Girl
The Bugatti Queen
Noble Endeavours
In My Fathers House
Otteline Morrell
A Brief History of Thyme, and Other Herbs
A Ring of Conspirators

Fiction
Carrying On
The Reluctant Devil
The Telling
Count Manfred
The Goddess
The Stones of Maggiare
Daughter of Shadows
Medea

Childrens
Mumtaz the Magical Cat
The Vampire of Verdonia
Pierre and the Pamplemousse

IN
BYRONS
WAKE

THE TURBULENT LIVES OF BYRONS
WIFE AND DAUGHTER:
ANNABELLA MILBANKE AND ADA LOVELACE

Miranda Seymour

PEGASUS BOOKS

NEW YORK LONDON

I N B YRONS W AKE

Pegasus Books, Ltd.
148 West 37th Street, 13 th Floor
New York, NY 10018

Copyright 2018 by Miranda Seymour

First Pegasus Books hardcover edition November 2018

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in whole
or in part without written permission from the publisher, except by reviewers who may
quote brief excerpts in connection with a review in a newspaper, magazine, or electronic
publication; nor may any part of this book be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system,
or transmitted in any form or by any means electronic, mechanical, photocopying,
recording, or other, without written permission from the publisher.

ISBN: 978-1-68177-872-3

ISBN: 978-1-68177-936-2 (e-book)

Distributed by W.W. Norton & Company, Inc.

In memory of Peter Cochran, who was so kind to all
those of us who benefited from his work in the world of
Byronic studies. And to the future of Talia and Shira, two
of Ada Lovelaces youngest and most loyal admirers.

CONTENTS

(1761-92)

The year is 1799, almost the dawn of a new century, but this is presently of less interest than the fact that she, Miss Annabella Milbanke, is posing for her portrait to John Hoppner, one of Englands most celebrated artists.

It was her own decision to wear the white dancing dress, bound high above the waist with a blue satin sash, short-sleeved to show how elegantly she holds her arms. Annabella dances extremely well. Her mother declares that her minuet steps are perfection and Mr Watts, the dancing master, declares that he has never seen such strength in a childs ankles. He is quite right; that is why Annabella finds it so easy to hold her pose on the dais, stepping forward as if to greet the world.

It was also her own idea that Mr Hoppner should paint rocks behind her, and the sea, as if she were skipping along the beach below their country home in the faraway north of England. But mostly, when she is alone on the beach at Seaham, it is not dancing that preoccupies Annabella. She likes to make up stories: it is so interesting to picture herself as a brave soldier in the pass at Thermopylae, or comforting a prisoner in his lonely dungeon ...

Head up, my angel, her mother instructs from the stiff gilt chair where she sits in watchful attendance. Think of your pas grave in the minuet. Hold your body straight as a little queen.

She feels like a little queen, the centre of attention as Mr Hoppner bobs out from behind his easel to praise her for her patience. He has a long pale face with no hint of a smile. She cant decide whether he is interesting enough to become a chosen friend.

Shall we visit Great Aunt Mary later? asks Annabella. I want to read her one of my new poems.

Her mother darts a look at Mr Hoppner. Shes such a clever little creature.

Indeed! says Mr Hoppner. A most remarkable infant.

Im not an infant! Im seven years of age! The smile undoes the pompous phrasing, bringing such dimples into the round and rosy cheeks that the adoring old lady (she must be nearing fifty) jumps up and runs forward to embrace her proud-backed, blue- eyed daughter. Its a charming scene, reflects Hoppner. Perhaps mother and child would have formed a better subject. But time is pressing on and the artist is growing weary of Lady Milbankes chatter.

Discreetly, Mr Hoppner rattles the oily brushes in his jar. Sighing, Judith Milbanke resumes her seat.

She is so very coaxing, she murmurs by way of apology.

Indeed. He hesitates. And you have others like her, madam?

We did! the child interrupts. But Sophys leaving to get married. And now I must remember to write to her as Lady Tamworth. I shall write to her every week!

But Lady Milbanke has folded her hands across her stomach, almost as if to ward off a blow.

Sophy Curzon is her cousin. My poor late sisters daughter has always lived with us. But Annabella Anne Isabella, I should say, since she bears the names both of a royal lady and our dear friend, Mrs Baker of Elemore Hall is our only child. And born on Ascension Day! Her father and I are much blessed.

And so, the child sweetly adds, am I.

Completed and framed, Hoppners portrait of Miss Milbanke was despatched to Seaham Hall, perched high on the cliffs of County Durham, above the German Ocean. Here, the new painting was hung alongside the 1778 portrait by Joshua Reynolds (one of his best) of Annabellas newly married father, Sir Ralph Milbanke, dark- browed and kind-eyed, all ready to burst out with one of those silly jokes for which a loving daughter could never find the heart to tease him. Flanking it was the sharp-nosed profile of Annabellas mother, Judith Noel, posed in the fiercely fashionable convention of the time (the portrait was painted in 1784, six years after Judiths marriage), hair powdered and plucked up into a pyramid of ruffles and bows, a black waist ribbon stressing the anguish of her childless frame.

Looking at the three family members together, an entire generation might seem to have been skipped. And so it has been. Awaited for fifteen long years, it is no wonder that Annabella, born at last on 17 May 1792, can do as she pleases with her adoring parents. The result is already peeping through in Hoppners portrait. Everything about this child her steadfast stare; the poised way she stands; the tilt of a determined chin speaks of a formidable and, so far, well-founded confidence. The world, little Miss Milbanke seems to assume, lies at her feet.

(1792-1810)

From 1792 on, Judith Milbankes letters to her family and friends dwelt upon a single theme: the wonder that was her daughter, Annabella. Never in the history of mankind had a mother been blessed with such a flawless little creature! Happy someday would be the winner of such a bride! Visiting grand neighbours with Sophy and Annabella (when Miss Milbanke was still only fifteen months old), Judith took less interest in a park newly landscaped by Humphry Repton than in the fact that the Earl and Countess of Fitzwilliams son quite doated [sic] on Annabella. Lord Milton, aged just seven, seemed a most eligible candidate for her hand. Having seen Miss naked, Judith raunchily joked to her broadminded aunt, Mary Noel, therefore he can tell whether he will like her or no.

Travelling on to stay with other old friends from earlier, Yorkshire days, before the Milbankes moved east to Seaham, Judith complacently reported how the county folk flocked in to see their Annabella as if she had been something miraculous. On 20 April 1794, as little Miss neared her second birthday, the proud mother was happy to credit her offspring as Governess in Chief of Papa, Mama & the whole Family.