This tale uses the historic spelling of Knaresdale.
Knaresdale Hall, about four and a half miles south-west from Haltwhistle, anciently the seat and manor of the Pratts, has the reputation of being haunted. The Laird of Knaresdale, a more than middle aged man, married, against her inclination, but with the consent of her parents, a lady of great wealth and beauty. She was of course, several years his junior.
The beauty tolerated her husband but soon became attached to his nephew, a strapping young fellow just out of his teens. Together with his sister, a year or younger than himself, they were under their uncle’s guardianship and formed part of the family at the hall.
An illicit affair began! All was well until they were surprised one day by the laird’s niece, who, horror struck at what she saw, ran away and hid herself in her room. Terrified at the thought of her brother being banished, she resolved to say nothing to her uncle but take the first opportunity of remonstrating with her infatuated brother. However, the guilty pair could have no assurance that the young lady would act such a prudent part; and so, fearful of exposure, they determined to silence her.
It was a night fitting for the deed. Amid the thick and moonless gloom the storm raged wildly. At the height of the storm the laird was roused by his wife who directed his attention to a fearful din caused by an open door at the rear of the hall. She suggested his niece should be sent to try to close it. The poor girl wrapped herself in a cloak and left her apartment. Shivering with cold and pelted with the pitiless rain, she walked the dreary passage and was about to attempt to close the door when she spotted her brother standing next to an old pond. The wicked man hastily grabbed his sister and plunged her into its murky depths.
The laird, anxious for the safety of his niece and alarmed by the length of her absence, left his bed in search of her, but to no avail. On returning, his wife persuaded him that she must have entered the hall during his absence and retired unseen. Satisfied with this explanation, he once again settled down to sleep, but was soon disturbed by the howling of one of his dogs. Starting up in fear, he beheld his niece standing by the kitchen fire, wringing water from her long hair. He spoke, but at the sound of his voice, the apparition vanished.
What became of the guilty brother? The murderer of his sister! Nobody knows…. As for the laird’s wife, she fell deadly sick of a brain fever, became delirious, and in her incoherent ravings, babbled about the fateful night. The pond was dragged and the body discovered; but nobody could tell how the calamity had occurred. The laird’s faithless spouse died, raving mad.
A ghost, it is said, was afterwards seen to glide from the back door of the hall to the fatal pond on the anniversary night of the murder. Some unseen agency would also burst the door wide open, however strongly it may have been barred. The sound of it clashing on its rusty hinges creating an eerie echo. Those who heard it generally found that before long, the unhallowed sound boded them no good! However, as time drew on the ghost vanished while the door that once behaved so abominably was either blocked up or learned better manners!
