forces were pathetically ill equipped to fend off the
Duke of Hereford’s forces. He readily agreed to the restitution.
“So it was that a terrible union was forged. The mad Lady Jane and the bitterly angry
Sir Mortimer. They despised each other from the beginning, and at the wedding Lady
Jane had to be bound and gagged while the priest performed the ceremony. On their
wedding night Lady Jane attempted to stab her husband and things only worsened from
there.
“Sir Mortimer soon resorted to beating her too, but he always stopped short of killing
her. It made no difference; she would recover from her beatings and set out to drive
him mad. She gave away his favorite horse, set his dogs loose on the moors, filled
his bed with snakes and leeches, and attacked him with any object she could get her
hands on. He resorted to locking her away in the south section of this castle, walling
up most of the doors and windows, and leaving her in near total isolation. But that
didn’t seem to stop her. Somehow she managed to find a way out and torture him relentlessly.
Her goal, they say, was to drive Sir Mortimer mad.
“By all accounts she succeeded. The Duke of Lennox went quite insane, insisting his
residence at the south end of the castle was haunted by evil spirits that also inhabited
the moat. During the years he ruled here, some of his closest friends and advisers
were found drowned in the moat. Even his own aunt fell victim.”
“It was Lady Jane, wasn’t it?” I asked. “She drowned them all.”
“Most likely,” Arthur replied. “There are documented accounts of Lady Jane being seen
swimming in the moat on warm summer days, taunting her husband, who would have her
hauled out and sealed up in the south wing again. She was obviously a strong swimmer,
something quite unheard of for a noble in those days.”
“So what happened to him? The duke, I mean. Did she kill her husband too?”
Arthur shrugged. “His fate is unknown. One morning he could not be found anywhere
within the castle or on the surrounding grounds. Some say he was drowned by his wife,
and his body was never recovered. Others say that he finally went mad, wandered out
onto the moors during the wet season, and succumbed to the cold. The moors would have
swallowed his body quite quickly if that were the case. There is even a local legend
that says that the duke’s spirit haunts the moors near the lake. They call him the
Desperate Duke, and it’s said that anyone he appears to will be the next victim of
the Grim Widow.”
“The Grim Widow?” I repeated. “Is that what they call Lady Jane’s ghost?”
“It is,” Mr. Crunn confirmed. “After her husband’s death, the castle reverted to the
duke’s cousin, Sir William Mortimer, who preferred the south of France over cold,
drizzly Penbigh. He wanted nothing to do with Kidwellah or his cousin’s mad wife,
so she was left to terrorize the castle staff until they all but abandoned it. She
died in 1589, and in all probability she died of starvation as the remaining staff
eventually stopped feeding her after two members of their ranks were also found floating
in the moat.”
“If Lady Jane was suspected of killing people, especially the duke’s friends and family,
why didn’t any of the other nobles step in?” Gopher asked.
“Lady Jane had powerful friends,” Arthur told us. “She was a first cousin to Queen
Elizabeth, and they had played together as children. Elizabeth was the only person
able to keep Lady Jane calm and somewhat stable until Jane’s madness completely overtook
her.
“Before Jane was married to Sir Mortimer, Elizabeth spent some time in the Tower of
London, a courtesy granted to her by her sister, Queen Mary. It was Jane who convinced
her powerful father to support the effort to free Elizabeth, and Elizabeth never forgot
the kindness. Once she became queen, she all but looked the other way as Jane
Duke of Hereford’s forces. He readily agreed to the restitution.
“So it was that a terrible union was forged. The mad Lady Jane and the bitterly angry
Sir Mortimer. They despised each other from the beginning, and at the wedding Lady
Jane had to be bound and gagged while the priest performed the ceremony. On their
wedding night Lady Jane attempted to stab her husband and things only worsened from
there.
“Sir Mortimer soon resorted to beating her too, but he always stopped short of killing
her. It made no difference; she would recover from her beatings and set out to drive
him mad. She gave away his favorite horse, set his dogs loose on the moors, filled
his bed with snakes and leeches, and attacked him with any object she could get her
hands on. He resorted to locking her away in the south section of this castle, walling
up most of the doors and windows, and leaving her in near total isolation. But that
didn’t seem to stop her. Somehow she managed to find a way out and torture him relentlessly.
Her goal, they say, was to drive Sir Mortimer mad.
“By all accounts she succeeded. The Duke of Lennox went quite insane, insisting his
residence at the south end of the castle was haunted by evil spirits that also inhabited
the moat. During the years he ruled here, some of his closest friends and advisers
were found drowned in the moat. Even his own aunt fell victim.”
“It was Lady Jane, wasn’t it?” I asked. “She drowned them all.”
“Most likely,” Arthur replied. “There are documented accounts of Lady Jane being seen
swimming in the moat on warm summer days, taunting her husband, who would have her
hauled out and sealed up in the south wing again. She was obviously a strong swimmer,
something quite unheard of for a noble in those days.”
“So what happened to him? The duke, I mean. Did she kill her husband too?”
Arthur shrugged. “His fate is unknown. One morning he could not be found anywhere
within the castle or on the surrounding grounds. Some say he was drowned by his wife,
and his body was never recovered. Others say that he finally went mad, wandered out
onto the moors during the wet season, and succumbed to the cold. The moors would have
swallowed his body quite quickly if that were the case. There is even a local legend
that says that the duke’s spirit haunts the moors near the lake. They call him the
Desperate Duke, and it’s said that anyone he appears to will be the next victim of
the Grim Widow.”
“The Grim Widow?” I repeated. “Is that what they call Lady Jane’s ghost?”
“It is,” Mr. Crunn confirmed. “After her husband’s death, the castle reverted to the
duke’s cousin, Sir William Mortimer, who preferred the south of France over cold,
drizzly Penbigh. He wanted nothing to do with Kidwellah or his cousin’s mad wife,
so she was left to terrorize the castle staff until they all but abandoned it. She
died in 1589, and in all probability she died of starvation as the remaining staff
eventually stopped feeding her after two members of their ranks were also found floating
in the moat.”
“If Lady Jane was suspected of killing people, especially the duke’s friends and family,
why didn’t any of the other nobles step in?” Gopher asked.
“Lady Jane had powerful friends,” Arthur told us. “She was a first cousin to Queen
Elizabeth, and they had played together as children. Elizabeth was the only person
able to keep Lady Jane calm and somewhat stable until Jane’s madness completely overtook
her.
“Before Jane was married to Sir Mortimer, Elizabeth spent some time in the Tower of
London, a courtesy granted to her by her sister, Queen Mary. It was Jane who convinced
her powerful father to support the effort to free Elizabeth, and Elizabeth never forgot
the kindness. Once she became queen, she all but looked the other way as Jane
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