The tenant of Wilde Hill (ONE)

The new tenant of Wilde Hill was immediately under the suspicion of insanity.
Five years before there had been a horrible murder; a whole family, the two parents and daughter, were all slaughtered by an enraged servant who had been fired (for looking at the daughter a little too frequently) the week before. The man had been caught a few days later, in a nearby town, and hung on a tree outside by a mob of townsfolk, making for the fourth ghost. Wilde Hill had been left barren for five years, a place of pranks and abandoned for kids to be dared to stay in fear of these ghosts. No one knew for sure if they wanted to believe what everyone said, being that there were ghosts in the Manor, but no one said they didn’t.
Therefore, the new tenant, a Mr. Robert Browning, was believed to be insane. No one else would rent the home, let alone buy it.
Mr. Robert Browning was far from being insane, but he did not mind if the townspeople thought of him to be a little off his rocker, as the children would just leave him alone. And if he encouraged the idea a little bit, he could not be judged for he enjoyed his peace and quiet.
Wilde Hill was a vast ground that included a harsh backdrop of staggering cliffs (Cowen Heights), with a dainty bridge (Ponden Bridge) that crossed over a lovely stream that flowed in front of the house to off-set the once-nicely graveled drive. Since Mr. Browning did not own a car, he was not too worried over the overgrown driveway, but the fact that vines had grown over the door bothered his allergies and his neat nature.
Mr. Browning, in fact, was not the only one being watched by the small following of townspeople; he had a small, sickly boy with him. The boy’s name was Acton Brontë, the son of Mr. Browning’s deceased sister. He was pale and underfed and almost immediately unnoticed by even Mr. Browning as they entered through the gates and up the walk to the front doors of the huge home.
The gravel crunched under Mr. Browning’s once-polished black, leather shoes and his cane, used mostly for show, made a curious third print on the ground that looked very like a three-legged dog the boy had once seen from his bedroom window back in Town.
Mr. Browning stared up at the huge house with a smile on his face, pleased with his purchase. He would fix up the large home with no fear, dismissing any idea of ghosts so that he could sell up the estate at a tidy profit.
It was unfortunate that he did not know he was going to die.