About twenty miles from Kings Lynn in Norfolk and five or so from the little town of Fakenham, there stands a magnificent seventeenth-century stately home, called Raynham Hall. It is the seat of the Marquesses of Townshend. For almost three hundred years the spectre of a lady dressed in brown has been seen in the house, she has been sketched and photographed and even shot at.
It all began with a strange young woman, Dorothy Walpole, Dorothy's father was a Member of Parliament and her brother, Sir Robert Walpole, became Prime Minister - the first there ever was in 1721. When Dorothy was a young girl her father (also named Robert) was made guardian of a thirteen-year-old viscount, Charles Townshend, a young nobleman who was himself later to be a politition.

Charles Townshend and Dorothy Walpole liked each other at once, their liking grew to fondness and finally, in their late teens, fondness grew into love. When Dorothy's father was asked by the two young people for permission to marry, he firmly forbade the match. What would people think, her father said if he was to allow the marriage when he was Charles Townsends guardian, although there was nothing legal to prevent it. People would think it was arranged so that the Walpoles could get their hands on the Townshend money and land, he thought, and no argument from his daughter or from Charles would change his mind. It would not do, he said, for a family so much in the public eye as the Walpoles to lay themselves open to criticism, no matter how ill-founded in truth, so the marriage was certainly not to be. Resigned to his fate, young Charles threw himself into his work and two years later married a daughter of Baron Pelham of Laughton.

Dorothy was not so easily settled and her disappointment rankled within her. Obey her father she must, and she had no power to prevent Charles from trying to make the best of his life by marrying someone else. She had no public work to occupy mind and salve the wound of her lost true love, and so she did the only thing she could and aimed to distract herself with parties, entertainment, the companionship of wealthy people who had little else to do but spend their money.

Eventually she went to Paris and while out of her father and brothers sight, she began to socialise with who was thought to be not a very gentlemanly gentleman , a man called Lord Wharton. Very soon, Dorothy was living with him, and they were the talk of Paris. Rumours began circulating in London about the life they lived together; but no one let the Walpoles know what was being said.

Then suddenly, in 1711 Charles Townshend's wife died. As soon as news of this reached Dorothy she returned to Raynham. This time she ignored the need to ask permission to marry, and so one year after his wifes death Charles and Dorothy were married, and were blissfully happy; they were wealthy, important within society, and powerful. Everything seemed that they would now be happy for the rest of their lives. But it was not to be. Those who are wealthy are also envied, and those who are powerful make enemies. Charles had his share of both. What no one would tell the Walpoles, was now told to Charles Townshend. Did he know about his new wife's behaviour in Paris? Hadn't he heard of the affair with Lord Wharton? To Charles this was like poison in his mind, a poison that contaminated his reason and instantly it killed his love for Dorothy, and he swore that he would have nothing more to do with his wife. Keep her, the law said he must, but he no longer needed to see or speak to her. Dorothy was confined to her rooms at Raynham, was not allowed out, nor to have visitors.

Banished by her husband, the only man she had ever truly loved, and secluded from her friends, she lived for a further ten years and died in 1726. The records say she died of smallpox, a disease prevailent then, but there is another more sinister story. The gossip said that Dorothy had not died from the plague or even a broken heart but from a broken neck, sustained from when she fell down the great oak staircase of Raynham Hall - a tumble not by accident but by a deliberate push.

So was Dorothy Townshend murdered? We shall never really know, but if she was murdered being that divorce was out of the question, then Charles Townshend would have had no trouble in covering it up, as a friend of royalty and high ranking members of Government, having the cause of death on the certificate as a common illness would have been no great problem to him.

Whatever the truth may be, Dorothy did not rest peacefully in her grave. The accounts of her hauntings are numerous and well documented, here are a few.
In 1786 the Townshends were made marquesses and Raynham Hall became a meeting place for the most notable people of that time. On one occasion King George the Fourth came to stay, very liitle frightened him but Dorothy's ghost certainly did. He awoke in the middle of the night to see a figure standing by his bed dressed in brown with dishevlled hair and was very pale. That he found a lady in his room was not unusual but usually he invited them first. He apparently took one look at her and fled the room. He rounded up all the household in the hall and announced ' I will not stay another hour in this accursed house, for tonight I have seen that which I hope to God I may never see again.'

If ghosts have a sense of humour then Dorothy was certainly laughing; this was the revenge she must have looked for. No one who wished to remain in the social circle would offend King George, and he felt offended. The gamekeepers were ordered to stand nightly watch, along with some of Townshend's friends that night as most people believed someone had been playing a joke on the King.

Two men kept guard outside and a further two patrolled the house but never witnessed anything unusual that night, but on the third night Dorothy appeared and walked down a corridor. They stood riveted to the spot, terrified. Except one. He walked boldly up to the spectre and stood firmly in its path, Dorothy's ghost walked on and passed right through him, disapearing at the end of the passage.

In 1835 the brown lady chose Christmas for an haunting when Raynham Hall was full of guests. Late one night two guests, Colonel Loftus and a man named Hawkins, saw the ghost standing outside the then Lady Townsend's room. Loftus ran towards the ghost, which then disapeared at the end of the passage. She was, however back again the next night. Once again seen on the grand staircase - a favourite place she was seen and possibly the place of her death. Later describing what he had seen the witness said: it was a stately woman dressed in rich brown brocade and a coif - a cap like head dress that covered the back and sides of the head. All this was unremarkable but what frightened him and other witnesses was that, as he said, 'although her features were clearly defined, where her eyes should have been, there was nothing but dark hollows.' The ghost had not finished for the night, as another guest learned next morning when, after hearing of the tale concerning a ghost he asked Lord Townshend, whether he believed the Hall was indeed haunted by a ghost, 'I am forced to believe it,' Lord Townshend told him, 'for she came into my room last night.' The Christmas merrymaking died early that year. First the Colonel left and then Lord Townshend, after that a succession of guests were sobered by the encounters with an eyeless ghost, until the party broke up early and all the visitors returned home.

A well known childrens author of the time, Captain Frederick Marryat, who lived at the nearby Langham Manor, heard of the happenings and convinced it was either someone playing tricks or that smugglers were responsible he therefore was invited to stay at the Hall, determined to cut the rumours short. After many years at sea, he now wrote boys adventure stories, Children of the New Forest,being the most notable. He insisted on being given the most haunted room to sleep in - the same room, in fact, where a portrait of Dorothy hung.

For sometime nothing occured. Then one night, after talking till late with Lord Townshends two nephews, Marryat went to his room and when down to his underwear two men knocked at the door and insisted he solve an argument that had broken out. Marryat agreed, taking his pistol with him saying 'its for the ghost.' With the dispute later solved the two nephews escorted Marryat back to his room, also joking 'just in case we see this ghost'. Dorothy didn't seem to like being the subject of a joke for it soon turned sour.

The passage between the rooms was a long one and since it was now into the early hours of the morning the lights were out. The three men carrying a lamp were suprised to see a lady approach them on this particular corridor as women were not expected to be seen here, this area was reserved for bachelors. She must have lost her way they thought and marryet wearing just his underwear. They pushed open the nearest door and waited for the lady to leave. Instead she stopped at the doorway and looked directly at the men. The mens embarrassment soon turned to fear when they looked at the face of the 'straying' lady and found that she perfectly resembled the portrait hanging in the haunted bedroom. Marryatt without thinking lunged forward with his pistol and fired. The bullet passed through her and hit the door opposite. The sceptical Marryat doubted no more. He could find no explanation for his experience and left the Hall convinced that whatever caused the brown lady's appearances, it was certainly not the work smugglers.

A ghost with all the features of a human being - except the eyes! every account speaks of the empty eye sockets, and strangly enough they appeared elsewhere. For many years until it was sold in 1904, there hung at Raynham Hall a painting of Dorothy. In daylight it seemed ordinary enough, but by candle light the whole picture seemed to change. The face took on a malicious stare and when looked at from a certain angle what in daylight were large beautiful eyes now looked dark sockets for eyes.

Little more was heard from the brown lady for many years but in November 1926 she again was seen on the great oak staircase by the Marquess of Townshend - who at the time was only a boy - and a friend of his. The newspapers got to know of it and the boys were interviewed by the journalists. They gave a description of what they saw and again it matched the the lady in painting, which they had not seen because it was sold at auction more than twenty years before.

On the afternoon of September 1936 a photographer, Mr Shira, being assisted by a Mr Provand, he was busily taking pictures of various parts of the house at the request of Lady Townshend. While setting up the camera, Mr Provand had taken one exposure and was putting a new plate into the camera when Mr Shira saw a vapoury form on the stairs. Taken aback, he looked on astonished as it gathered shape to become the shape of a woman in a long flowing gown. Once formed she began to come down the stairs towards the two men. Mr Provand, still busy with his camera, had not seen any of this. Mr Shira shouted to him to expose the plate quickly and photograph the stairs. The flash went off and with that the ghost vanished.

When the plate was processed a cloudy form was clearly on the stairs, resembling the form of a person as described. One interesting thing about this sighting was that in each of her appearences, Lady Dorothy's unhappy spirit was seen always dressed in brown brocade. In this account she was seen wearing what would seem to have been her wedding gown with not a sombre coif but long flowing veil. Was it therefore Dorothy as she was in happier times, the happiest day of her life when she married the only man she had ever truly loved and had done so since childhood, a man who was to turn so cruelly against her, shutting her up in a few lonely rooms in that large and beautiful house.