Tucked away in the sleepy English village of Chawton is a modest red-brick cottage with ivy climbing the walls and roses blooming by the window. At first glance, it seems like just another picturesque home from a Jane Austen novel. And that’s exactly what it is—because this house wasn’t just her inspiration. It was her reality.

Imagine standing at the edge of a vast, shifting sea of sand. The air is thick with salt, the wind tugs at your jacket, and then—rising like a mirage out of the misty tideflats—you see it: a medieval island crowned with a dramatic abbey that seems almost too magical to be real.