Riley Rochester Investigates
Death of a Footman
Wendy Soliman
Riley Rochester Investigates
Death of a Footman
Copyright © Wendy Soliman 2020
Edited by Perry Iles
Cover design by Clockwork Art
This e-Book is a work of fiction. While references may be made to actual places or events, the names, characters, incidents, and locations contained are from the author’s imagination and are not a resemblance of actual living or dead persons, business, or events. Any similarities are coincidental.
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The Author – Wendy Soliman
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Prologue
London: Summer 1872
The sun beat down on Riley Rochester’s bare head as he swung his six-month old son in the air, making him giggle. He watched his wife Amelia as she wandered the length of the extensive garden in the Bromley manor house they had almost made up their minds to purchase. This was a second and more protracted visit, and so far everything at Ashdown had exceeded their recollections. The garden was meticulously tended, a riot of colour with heavy-headed flowers spilling petals over manicured lawns as they swayed in a gentle breeze. The lawn itself was shaded by a maple tree, and the sun filtered through its leafy canopy, dappling the grass below as birds flitted through its branches, chirping to one another like a flock of gossiping housewives.
‘I can just imagine you and the prune settled on a blanket beneath that tree while I’m slaving away at Scotland Yard,’ Riley said, grinning at his wife’s exuberant expression as she rejoined him and took Simon from his arms.
‘You mustn’t call Simon the prune anymore,’ she chided. ‘He will soon be old enough to understand and it will confuse him.’
‘It’s a sign of affection.’ Riley ruffled his son’s hair. ‘Anyway, do you really like the house? There are others we can look at.’
‘No, my mind is quite made up. This will be perfect for us.’
‘You think we shall be happy settled here as a family?’ He focused his gaze at Amelia’s abdomen, although signs of her condition were not yet apparent.
‘How could we not be?’ She glanced at a magnificent magnolia in full bloom, giving off a heady perfume, and at something mauve spilling over an old wall. Its identity was a mystery to Riley. ‘The air is so clean and fresh, especially when compared to London in the middle of summer, with its noxious smells and its crowded streets.’ Bruno, the scruffy mongrel that had adopted Riley a few months ago, bounded up to them, his jaws dripping water following his investigation of the stream that ran along the bottom of the garden. He wagged his tail and barked, making them laugh. ‘You see? Bruno likes the idea of more freedom too. And I absolutely love the house.’
They both looked up at the old manor with its weathered Cotswold stone walls partially covered in wisteria, its gently sloping roofs and mishmash of chimney stacks. A short gravel driveway flanked by flower beds led to a modest entrance with stone steps to double oak front doors protected by a canopy supported by slender pillars. The property had been vacant for some time and although the grounds had been maintained, the interior had been neglected, which is why the price was so reasonable, Riley had been reliably informed by the agent.
They were neither of them deterred by the need for a little renovation, especially not when they left the musty interior for the first time and stepped through double doors that led directly from the south-facing drawing room onto a wide terrace and from there into the fabulously secluded gardens. There were several acres of paddocks that went with the property, as well as a stable block and barns, an orchard and woodland.
‘What is that ramshackle building?’ Amelia asked, pointing to a structure that was partially hidden from view by the encroaching treeline.
‘It was a steward’s cottage back when the estate was much larger. A lot of the land was sold off in separate parcels, I gather. Anyway, the place isn’t big enough to need a steward anymore, and the man who tends the grounds lives in the village.’
‘We should have it renovated, perhaps as a summer cottage that you can retreat to when the family gets too boisterous.’
‘I cannot imagine ever wanting to be away from you.’ Riley smiled at his wife and tweaked Simon’s nose. The baby gave a toothy grin and kicked his legs.
‘I shall remind you of that when this latest one keeps us up all night, grizzling and generally misbehaving.’ Amelia placed a protective hand over her abdomen.
‘I’ll take my chances. Anyway, if you are sure about the house then I shall close with the agent,’ Riley said, indicating the individual who stood in the hallway, waiting for their final decision.
‘Are you sure we can afford it, Riley?’ Amelia asked, looking anxious. ‘There is so much that needs to be done.’
‘Certainly we can. With good fortune, we can sign the deeds within the month and be settled here well in advance of your next confinement. In the meantime, we can decide what renovations would best suit us and I will arrange for them to be carried out. Stout can supervise, leaving you and Olivia free to purchase whatever furniture you think we shall need.’ He
