As befits any English country hotel worth its finest gourmet sea-salt, Alvaston Hall boasts more than its share of myth and legend. Stories abound of ancient cockfighting in the Cheshire Barn (today a feather free coffee shop) and of course, that time-honoured phenomenon, the resident ghost.
As house spirits go, this one’s the fine single malt. Wrongly convinced of a fire, the young wife of a past owner died after throwing herself from an upstairs window, her distraught husband promptly joining her by drowning himself in the nearby River Weaver. Seems that only one of the dearly departed chose to hang around as an earthbound spook. But which? Perhaps the ghost’s gorgeous Victorian wedding-dress provides the clue.
