Laying Ghosts in Ilsington

In the shadowed lanes of Ilsington, where Dartmoor’s wild edge meets the winding River Lemon, one house has long whispered of the dead. The death of Eleanor Taverner, a sharp-tongued widow whose funeral sparked an eerie defiance from the very horses meant to carry her to rest, marked the beginning of a haunting that would ripple through decades. Though a clergyman’s blessing eased her passage to the grave, her spirit never truly left the stone walls she once called home. Chains clatter, shadows stir, and on storm-lit nights, Ilsington remembers—a ghost laid, but never at peace.