What Happened To Cousin Henry's Death?

I witnessed his fall from the crenellations – a swift end to a most miserable burden of loss, one so insufferably unalleviated for weeks. Before my eyes his bloody body laid broken upon the limestone steps. In such despair, I dropped my cases upon the depreciated tiles of the abbey and I ran to him. My disordered attempt to better him only produced a discomfort in his time of death. The first footmen were unseen – gone, and Henry, in his moment of infinite ache uttered nobly, “Cousin Albert, this house, it is only our family’s”.
This abbey had once more been torn asunder – naught by just the death of my cousin, the Lord of Dorchester, but the recent Lady Audrey mere weeks prior. I marched upon the grand hall and indeed I blamed his death upon
I would worry not of it until after my walk. I returned to the stairwell and after lighting a candelabra I climbed the cold stone steps toward the abbey roof. Atop the stairwell I discovered that the doorway onto the roof had been jammed with small wood splints and the hinges pasted with glue. I had now begun to ponder the equivocal nature of both the staff and of Cousin Henry’s death. How could Henry have had stiffened the doorway when it was so obviously sealed from inside? With the base of the candelabra, I smashed against the hinges until eventually they broke away from the frame. The door crashed to the gravel and stone rooftop and I promptly stepped outside. Immediately, I saw in the gravel the marks of men, not just Henry’s – a multiple of boot prints leading toward the front side of the abbey. I pursued the prints until, to my horror and dismay, the prints became a bloody trail. Near the forward crenellations of the abbey I observed the trail flow into a puddle where Henry had supposedly fallen.
“Lord Henry would have brought the fall of Dorchester” an old rough voice resounded from behind. I spun about to identify him whom I had heard talking in the corridor earlier.
“You! You are the estate manager, sir, what of this nonsense?” I
“I will not go easily, sir. Your disloyalty is abhorrent, this estate will always belong to my family!” I insisted. In fear and frustration, I grabbed him as he drew nearer and with a mighty burst of anger I shoved him toward the abbey front. Stumbling toward the crenellations, he attempted to gain his balance, as an extension of my hatred I struck him once more and he fell to the limestones below. “Dorchester is my families, and the men and women whom serve us are not at liberty to command us. In Henry’s name I will be the Lord of Dorchester and the staff will know their place - as rats in the basement” I