RAINSWORTH ESTATE

PROLOGUE

When John opened the curtains that morning he didn’t expect to encounter the lifeless body of his master. 

Just like every morning the butler had risen early to walk the dog before he readied the coffee and fetched the paper, which he would read first before folding and rolling it carefully back into its original state afterwards while enjoying his own breakfast in peace. Up to date to the happenings of the world he would then set the plate for mr. Rainsworth, preparing breakfast with tea, juice and the master’s favourite scramble and the previously read newspaper along with a pen. Climbing up the stairs John would then set the plate near the dresser of his employer’s room, not bothering to knock or to speak as the man knew he wouldn’t wake anyone or interrupt something as he headed for the heavyset curtains that blocked out the light in the room. It was then that something terrible quiet was revealed. 

The man laid on his made bed unmoving, dressed in his favourite suit and on top of his sheets as if he was merely taking a short nap. On his still chest a sealed envelope laid, hands carefully folded over the thick creamy paper. The butler knew for a fact that mr. Rainsworth had not gone to bed in this fashion, having helped the elderly dress into his nightgown the night before. 

Everything about the scene looked deliberate, planned, laid-out and John was sure that it was, which was why he seemed so unsurprised by the whole scene. With a placid expression the butler turned away on his heels, calmly tick-tacking away down the hall to a certain phone that had never been touched in his years of service. Picking up the horn he turned a number and waited for two seconds for the landline to click through. 

“Rainsworth estate, August thirteenth, half past seven am.” he spoke evenly, though the tremble of his eye suggested something else. “Send them out,” was all he ordered before hanging up. Raising his eyes towards the mirror that hung above the phone, John stared before running his hand over his face as if he was trying to wipe something off. Bracing himself the butler straightened up, turned on his heels and click-clacked down the hallway in an elegant stride back into the room of his master where he drew the curtains shut again, dooming the chamber into darkness one last time. 

That day several express letters were sent out. Dressed in a heavy cream envelope and sealed with wax they were rushed in discretion and urgency where they sought out their respective addressee. Conan Seymour Rainsworth had died, but that was by no means the end of the tale. The actions that followed set into motion a whole new story, one that involved the deadman as well. 

THE LETTER

Dearest reader,

Forgive me for addressing you so impersonally. This might be caused by the fact that as of the moment of writing I’m not yet aware of your name, or am likely never going to find out for a variety of reasons. However, know that the letter found you correctly if you are holding it in hands and reading these lines. I’m confident in at least this much. 

Upon receiving this letter I, Conan Seymour Rainsworth, have already passed. Whether you knew me or not is of no matter as I have known and chosen you in a relation that you will discover soon. As bequeathed per my will you are one of the receivers of my inheritance. A fortune much sought after, accompanied with an adventure only dreamt of. A fortune and adventure you may take part in should you accept the offer I will make you in a bit. 

Following my orders a chain of actions will be set in motion upon the encounter of my lifeless body. One of which is the delivery of this letter to you. Whether this letter will find you a day after my death, or even a year is of no matter. The offer I make still stands as long as the estate remains to be mine, which it still might be as long as the news of my death hasn’t reached the world outside. 

To collect your share of the inheritance I invite you to the Rainsworth estate, a proper address and directions can be found on the back of the letter. It is there that you shall bear witness to the rest of the adventure that I have promised you along with your inheritance. Should you decide not to come then it shall be assumed that you are relinquishing your claim on the inheritance and miss out on this grand adventure that is to follow.

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Farewell dearest reader, for I will have passed by the time you hold this in hands.

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Sincerely,

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Conan Seymour Rainsworth