Episode 32
Lady Lilyburn: The White Lady of Kinneil House
Alright, folks, get ready to dive into the eerie halls of Kinneil House, where history and hauntings collide like two old pals at a bar! We’re talking about the one and only Lady Lilyburn, the ghost who’s been hanging around this Scottish estate long enough to earn herself a reputation. Picture this: a grand house with sealed upper floors, creaky stairs that lead to nowhere, and the unmistakable feeling that someone—or something—is always watching you. Lady Lilyburn’s story is a wild mix of nobility, tragedy, and a dash of mystery that’ll keep you guessing. Whether she took a leap of faith or was given a little nudge, her spirit refuses to part ways with Kinneil, and trust me, you’ll want to stick around for all the spooky details!
Takeaways:
- Kinneil House, a Scottish estate, is filled with centuries of history and chilling ghost stories.
- The ghost of Lady Lilyburn haunts Kinneil, a spirit linked to deep sorrow and tragedy.
- Visitors report eerie experiences in Kinneil, like cold spots and the sensation of being watched.
- Maria Edgeworth's firsthand account of Lady Lilyburn adds a layer of authenticity to the ghost's tale.
- The house's architecture includes sealed doors and staircases leading nowhere, enhancing its mysterious vibe.
- Kinneil House is a hotspot for ghost enthusiasts, making it a must-visit for thrill-seekers.
Transcript
Welcome to Bitesized Folklore.
I'm Jodie and today we are heading to the crumbling halls and hollow stairwells of a Scottish house that's been home to nobles, rebels and one enduring ghost. A house where the upper floors are sealed. The wind whistles through ruined wings and boots echo down the stone stairs when no one is there.
This is the story of Lady Lilyburn, the White lady of Kinneil House. Kinneil House stands just outside, outside Bo'ness, Scotland. A grand estate with hundreds of years of history and just as many secrets.
It began life in the 15th century, passed through generations of the powerful Hamilton family, and was expanded, fortified and rebuilt over centuries. Its west wing boasts rare 16th century murals, hidden for centuries behind plaster art that survived political upheaval, fire and abandonment.
But Kneel is a place of strange proportions. Staircases that lead nowhere. Sealed doors, rooms without purpose. When you walk its halls, especially after dark, you don't feel lost.
You feel watched. It's no wonder that ghosts are said to linger there. And one ghost more than any other. Lady Lilyburn.
the written word. In June of:She was greeted not at the front entrance, but by a carriage detour through the stables and strange back passageways. She was led inside by a short faced old butler, through old pal passages and staircases until she reached a warm fire and candlelight.
The welcome was friendly, but the house itself was unsettling. Her room had four black doors, one locked. The others opened into narrow closets and beyond them, a black staircase that led to the upper floors.
Empty, ruined garrets, untouched and unused. It was there she was told that Lady Lilyburn lived and died. They say she was a noblewoman, proud, maybe reckless.
Some say she was grieving a child or a lost love. Others say she was simply mad.
One night, without a word, she climbed to the topmost part of the house, up those twisting stairs to the windblown garrets. And then she fell. Or jumped. Or as the darker version goes, she was pushed.
Whatever the truth, she plunged from the upper window, past the ancient walls, toward the sea cliffs below. Her body was shattered on the rocks, but her spirit rose. It didn't take long before the servants began to speak.
Not of a woman in mourning, but of boots. Heavy, deliberate walking boots, heard through the halls, long after midnight.
Up the stairs, through the corridors, stomping across bedchambers and behind locked doors.
One maid fled the house entirely, claiming she woke to see a tall woman in white standing over her, dripping wet, boots still on, her hair matted against her pale face. Sometimes she's heard before she's seen a dragging sound followed by a knock. And sometimes she flies. Maria Edgeworth recorded it all in a letter.
In her letter, she wrote, there are plenty of ghosts at Camille, but one in particular, Lady Lilyburn, is often seen all in white and with white wings fluttering on the top of the castle from whence she leaps into the sea. White wings, like a fallen angel or something far more ancient and strange.
From the high turrets, she throws herself outward toward the sea, toward the cliffs, but never hits the ground. She vanishes. And then it starts again. What's chilling is how specific the details are. Maria's account wasn't a ghost story she overheard in a pub.
She was a guest in the house. She was told about the ghost by her host, Mrs. Stewart, who offered it almost casually. There are plenty of ghosts, if you want one.
That's how ordinary it was expected, even. And while many ghosts fade from history, Lady Lilyburn remains to this day.
Visitors have reported white figures in the windows, cold spots in the garret rooms, and a sense undeniable that someone is just walking one step behind them. She is what all good ghosts are. Not just frightening, but grieving. Not just seen, but felt.
And Kinneil House, with its hollowed rooms and locked black doors, feels like the perfect place for a spirit that doesn't want to rest. So if you find yourself near Bo'ness and the sun is sinking behind the Firth of Forth, look up to the rooftops of Kinneil.
If you see a woman in white arms stretched wide, don't look away. She doesn't always fall. Sometimes she watches. Thank you for listening to bite sized folklore.
If you enjoy haunted tales from the edges of history, please follow the show, leave a review and share it with someone who keeps their attic doors shut, even when it's empty.
