The Headless Lady of Bovey House

At the crumbling edges of Bovey Tracey, where ivy clutches stone and time forgets its own passing, Bovey House stands as more than just an old manor , it is a vessel for whispers and shadows, and none more chilling than the Headless Lady in her blue silk frock. Born of blood, betrayal, or misfortune, her story has long blurred into legend, but her presence remains sharp as ever, gliding soundlessly through the house’s darkened halls, a hollow neck where her face should be, and an ache for justice that the grave could never silence.