Lorna Doone (2000) is a stunning period drama that explores love, virtue, and the power of forgiveness. John Ridd, a young man shaped by tragedy, falls for Lorna, a gentlewoman caught between loyalty to her violent family and her own desires. Through their trials, the story highlights strength of character, moral courage, and the ideals of honor and compassion, creating a timeless tale of human goodness in the face of cruelty.

I remember the incident well. I sat on the couch one afternoon, watching Lorna Doone on A&E. I had never read the book and knew nothing about the story, but was (and still am) all about the costume dramas. (Can I hear an Amen?) It came to a crucial scene right before a commercial break. As often happens at the worst moments of my life, my dad walked in and sat down to watch about forty seconds before that thing happened. Those of you who have seen Lorna Doone know what I’m talking about. The big twist right before the end. I sat there with my jaw on the floor, and my father said, “That’s a hell of an ending.” I laugh about it to this day.

Fortunately, the story didn’t end on that scene. It continued onward. But every time I rewatch it, that enters my head and I smile. It’s true. Lorna Doone is a hell of a story. The 2000 film adaptation differs from the book, but is one of my favorite costume dramas. In its shocking opening, young John Ridd witnesses his father’s murder by the notorious outlaw family, the Doone clan. He doesn’t know who fired the bullet that takes his beloved father away, but he remembers Carver’s face. And he wants revenge. A few days later, his mother (one of the strongest women I’ve ever seen) finds him practicing shooting in the barn. Her words slap good sense into him. Does she need to lose him too? Killing only brings on more killing, John Ridd. Rise above it. In an act of courage, she marches into the Doone Valley to confront Sir Ensor Doone with her husband’s murder and demand restitution. He pays her enough to make up for her financial loss, but she can never recover from the wrench in her heart. And to her loved ones.

Around the same time, John has an accident and winds up washed downstream. He almost drowns, but a pretty girl drags him up onto the shore. They share a quiet, fun moment together, before she hears Carver’s voice in the distance and bids him to make haste for home. Many years later, John comes upon her again. Her name is Lorna, and he becomes infatuated with her beauty. But she is a Doone, destined to marry her cousin Carver, and become “queen of this little den of violence.” John tries to hate her, but cannot. His heart overrules his head. He’s drawn back to her again, and through his love for her, unravels a sinister story of rivalry, abduction, and murder that plays out against Carver’s obsession with the idea of ‘possessing’ Lorna. In his own words, “If I cannot have you, no one else will!”

If you want no spoilers, stop here, because I’m about to reveal what I love most about this story, and it involves a few spoilers. The tale is one of a sweet and innocent, good-hearted young woman caught between two very different men—one who loves her so much he endangers his own life (and the lives of his mother and sisters) to rescue her from a life of forced marriage to her abusive cousin. The other one is Carver, a violent, unstable young man who sees her as a possession. When charm and persuasion do not warm her up to him, he tries force.

Carver’s obsessive preoccupation for her lasts through the loss of his own family, when he sides with the Duke of Monmouth in the Rebellion of 1685. The king’s men invade his valley and kill everyone they find, but Carver flees the scene. John thinks they have seen the last of him until he turns up at their wedding and shoots Lorna. (Cue my father’s horrified reaction and me hanging on the edge of my seat.)

Throughout the story, John has been a virtuous man. A chivalrous man. He started out as an angry boy who learned from his mother’s words to hold fast to courage and goodness and became an honorable man who loves Lorna even though his sisters are incredulous that he could forgive her family for their father’s murder. “Lorna isn’t like them,” he gruffly asserts. Because she isn’t. Lorna is all goodness and sweetness and caught up in circumstances beyond her control. Lorna has every reason to hate Carver, but she won’t allow John to kill him when he has the chance. Carver has invaded the farm, set fire to their barn, and shot through the windows of the house with his goons to recover her. But she pulls John’s hand away from the trigger and pleads with him not to do this, not to kill anyone. She wants him to be different from the men who have raised her, and he is.

Infuriated and heartbroken, believing his brand new wife is dead, John chases his enemy through the woods. Their violent brawl ends with Carver falling into a sinkhole. With a raw, guttural outcry of angry grief, John attempts to save his life, to be the man Lorna has fallen in love with. But Carver pushes him away, stubbornly and proudly refusing his help. He would rather die than let John save him.

But John still tried.

That shook me then, and it inspires me now, because it’s rarely a theme you see in fiction. A lot of stories revolve around revenge, of recovering what is theirs or of forcing the villain to atone for his sins. I enjoy those stories too, but this is the first time I’ve encountered a man so good he tries to save the life of the man who shot his wife. That’s unfathomable. It’s idealistic. It’s virtue played out not only in word, but in action. It’s the embodiment of my Christian faith to learn to forgive those who have wronged you. As John proves with his painful cry, as he realizes what he must do, what he feels compelled to do, save the life of the man who has taken everything from him, it is never easy. But it is the path to goodness.

Throughout history, stories have been about higher ideals. This one is no different. John and Lorna are almost unbelievably “good,” but that is the point. Some stories inspire you. Lorna Doone was written when authors wrote characters who aspired to divine traits; the characters are a little unrealistic in their goodness, because they inspire the reader to strive for their best self. They embody the virtues their writer most admires. It’s a theme I carry over into my books, that of someone facing a hard choice to forgive, to take the higher road, to embrace the freedom that comes from doing what is right, even if it is difficult. This beautiful little film is where it started. It planted a seed in my teenage soul that continues to grow and flourish, hoping goodness still exists. That it is worth fighting for. And something to believe in.

Lorna lived that day. She awoke to find the man she loved and married beside her bed. A man who chose the high road. A man who, in the end, was not a murderer.

Written for the Valentine’s Day Period Drama Blog Party.

About the Author: Charity Bishop writes historical fiction, historical fantasy, and suspense novels that explores the darkness in human hearts, and the light that refuses to be extinguished. Discover her books.