1883, Baycliff, an isolated English village on the Irish Profusion. Two women's affection becomes passion. Cynara, a sculptor, alone, befriends Byron, a guest who's Paris in unhappiness. They go horses, talk, act a stress chess, and exchanging tenderness. Byron inspires Cynara as she sculpts, Cynara becomes Byron's reflect as she writes. Then each imagines expressing physical passion to the other, Cynara's visions in black and white, Byron's in color. Their touches remain brief. Does respectability detain them back? What energy muscle down any last barriers to their expressions of love?