disoriented but unharmed on the Pilgrim’s Way yesterday morning. Mr. Henry Morgan spotted her while journeying to his work at Chilcomb Foundry. “I remembered the newspaper description of the missing wench and realised straightaway that this must be her,” Mr. Morgan said. “So I put my coat around her and took her to the police station.”
The girl could not account for her disappearance and seemed unwilling or unable to describe what had happened to her.
“It was like she was in a trance,” PC Morley reported. “But when her mother arrived and hugged her, Sarah began to scream—like she’d woken from a nightmare, wailing over and over,‘His eyes! His red eyes!’”
It has been suggested that Sarah might have fallen into the ditch and concussed herself, catching her throat on bramble thorns as she did so, which would account for the one or two scratches found there.
“We’re just thankful to have Sarah back, safe in the bosom of her family,” her weeping mother said. “I shall never let her out of my sight again.”
A NDREW AND J ANE E DWARDS
B LANCHARD H OUSE
P URFLEET
E SSEX
7TH O CTOBER 1918
Y OU ARE CORDIALLY INVITED TO B LANCHARD H OUSE FOR DINNER AND DANCING.
S ATURDAY THE 19TH O CTOBER, 7:30 P.M. UNTIL LATE.
RSVP
P.S. Dearest Mary, how pleased we would be if you could join us. We know it’s difficult for you to leave your father alone but do hope you may find a kind soul to sit with him, for we are sure anevening out would be a good tonic for you. Do please come!
Warmest wishes, Jane
Journal of
Mary Seward
8TH O CTOBER 1918
There was post waiting for me when I arrived home. As is my habit, I opened it at the dinner table. I recognised the grocer’s bill in its manila envelope. Father leaves such household matters to me entirely now. But the cream envelope that lay beside it was unusual. I receive so little personal correspondence these days, and I did not recognise the neat handwriting that spelled my name.
“It was delivered by hand,” Father told me as I glanced at it. His eyes were bright with interest. “Do open it, Mary. I’ve wondered what it contains since the boy brought it this afternoon.”
“What boy?” I asked suspiciously.
“Just some lad from the village,” Father replied. “I had Mrs. Frobisher give him a ha’penny for his trouble.”
I slowly slit open the envelope and drew out an invitation card to a dinner party at the Edwardses’. My appetite vanished. I had been rash to promise Father I would accept the next invitation I received.
Father must have seen the dismay on my face. “Not bad news, I hope?” he asked anxiously.
“An invitation to dinner,” I murmured.
“Excellent!” He brightened at once. “You’ll accept, of course.”
“I have not yet found anyone to sit with you,” I argued.
“Then you must do so,” he answered firmly. “Or I shall simply spend the evening alone, for I will not be used as an excuse for you to avoid the world.”
“I cannot leave you alone!” I gasped, alarmed at the very thought.
“Then what about asking that new nurse you mentioned?” Father insisted, undeterred. “She sounds like a good type.”
“Yes, she is,” I agreed reluctantly. He had found the perfect solution. Helen was trustworthy and reliable. And Father would likely enjoy her easygoing company. “Very well. I shall ask her,” I told him, feeling my mouth go dry as I spoke the words.
“Good girl,” Father said contentedly.
I gave him a weak smile.
She may have a prior engagement. She may decline, Ireassured myself as I pushed my remaining food around my plate.
I only hoped that would be the case.
L ATER
Father is long asleep now, and my candle burns low. Apprehension grips me like a vise. If Helen agrees to my request, I will have no option but to accept the Edwardses’ invitation. I cannot break my word to Father; he would be so disappointed in me.
I will have to face the darkness.
9TH O CTOBER 1918
What a long day it
The girl could not account for her disappearance and seemed unwilling or unable to describe what had happened to her.
“It was like she was in a trance,” PC Morley reported. “But when her mother arrived and hugged her, Sarah began to scream—like she’d woken from a nightmare, wailing over and over,‘His eyes! His red eyes!’”
It has been suggested that Sarah might have fallen into the ditch and concussed herself, catching her throat on bramble thorns as she did so, which would account for the one or two scratches found there.
“We’re just thankful to have Sarah back, safe in the bosom of her family,” her weeping mother said. “I shall never let her out of my sight again.”
A NDREW AND J ANE E DWARDS
B LANCHARD H OUSE
P URFLEET
E SSEX
7TH O CTOBER 1918
Y OU ARE CORDIALLY INVITED TO B LANCHARD H OUSE FOR DINNER AND DANCING.
S ATURDAY THE 19TH O CTOBER, 7:30 P.M. UNTIL LATE.
RSVP
P.S. Dearest Mary, how pleased we would be if you could join us. We know it’s difficult for you to leave your father alone but do hope you may find a kind soul to sit with him, for we are sure anevening out would be a good tonic for you. Do please come!
Warmest wishes, Jane
Journal of
Mary Seward
8TH O CTOBER 1918
There was post waiting for me when I arrived home. As is my habit, I opened it at the dinner table. I recognised the grocer’s bill in its manila envelope. Father leaves such household matters to me entirely now. But the cream envelope that lay beside it was unusual. I receive so little personal correspondence these days, and I did not recognise the neat handwriting that spelled my name.
“It was delivered by hand,” Father told me as I glanced at it. His eyes were bright with interest. “Do open it, Mary. I’ve wondered what it contains since the boy brought it this afternoon.”
“What boy?” I asked suspiciously.
“Just some lad from the village,” Father replied. “I had Mrs. Frobisher give him a ha’penny for his trouble.”
I slowly slit open the envelope and drew out an invitation card to a dinner party at the Edwardses’. My appetite vanished. I had been rash to promise Father I would accept the next invitation I received.
Father must have seen the dismay on my face. “Not bad news, I hope?” he asked anxiously.
“An invitation to dinner,” I murmured.
“Excellent!” He brightened at once. “You’ll accept, of course.”
“I have not yet found anyone to sit with you,” I argued.
“Then you must do so,” he answered firmly. “Or I shall simply spend the evening alone, for I will not be used as an excuse for you to avoid the world.”
“I cannot leave you alone!” I gasped, alarmed at the very thought.
“Then what about asking that new nurse you mentioned?” Father insisted, undeterred. “She sounds like a good type.”
“Yes, she is,” I agreed reluctantly. He had found the perfect solution. Helen was trustworthy and reliable. And Father would likely enjoy her easygoing company. “Very well. I shall ask her,” I told him, feeling my mouth go dry as I spoke the words.
“Good girl,” Father said contentedly.
I gave him a weak smile.
She may have a prior engagement. She may decline, Ireassured myself as I pushed my remaining food around my plate.
I only hoped that would be the case.
L ATER
Father is long asleep now, and my candle burns low. Apprehension grips me like a vise. If Helen agrees to my request, I will have no option but to accept the Edwardses’ invitation. I cannot break my word to Father; he would be so disappointed in me.
I will have to face the darkness.
9TH O CTOBER 1918
What a long day it
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