Reckoning by Kate Cary

was in very capable hands.
    I let myself out, glancing warily around the shadowed garden. If only it had been a summer evening, the sun still keeping the darkness at bay. Summoning up all my courage, I stepped out into the night.
    Closing the garden gate behind me, I set off down the tree-lined lane, my gaze fixed firmly ahead. The Edwardses’ home, Blanchard House, was scarcely half a mile away. It was impossible to justify ordering a cab for such a short distance. My hosts would have thought me mad.
    I kept on reminding myself that I was in Purfleet, far from the horrors I had witnessed, and though every nerve in my body tingled with fear, I forced myself to keep walking, taking some comfort from the lighted windows beyond thegardens I passed. The rustling of the windblown trees did nothing to relieve the eerie emptiness of the lane, however. Was everyone safely inside but me?
    At last, I turned a corner and saw the lights of Blanchard House ahead. My pace quickened. Then suddenly, something gleamed in the darkness up ahead of me. Two golden orbs. There was no mistaking them this time. A pair of eyes! Peering at me in the darkness!
    I wanted to shriek, but my throat tightened in terror. My heart pounded until I thought it would crack open.
    And then the creature sprang forward, landing deftly on the path in front of me.
    I gasped—and then the creature mewed.
    It was a cat, I realised. Just a cat. It had been staring down at me from a nearby garden wall. It twitched its tail at me before it scampered off.
    Infuriated at my own ridiculous timidity, I marched on, more determined than ever not to be conquered by my over-active imagination. Still, I put my hand to my throat and fingered the comforting shape of my crucifix and its companion vial of holy water beneath my lace collar.
    The garden path at Blanchard House was lit with paper lanterns that swung in the breeze, and bright light streamed from the windows. I saw people gathered beyond them and heard voices drifting from the house, talking and laughing. I hurried up the path and rang the doorbell with more thana little urgency, longing to be inside too, away from the darkness.
    I’d written only a tentative reply to Jane’s invitation, fearful of committing myself, saying I would attend the party only if Father were well enough. When Jane opened the door to me, she smiled with delight.
    “Mary, you came after all!” she exclaimed.
    “Yes,” I breathed, feeling weak with relief as I crossed the threshold.
    The interior behind her was awash with light and noise. Gentlemen in tuxedos and ladies in their best silks and taffetas milled around the room. Candles, placed seemingly everywhere, gave the place a cheerful yet sophisticated glow. At last, I felt a little rush of anticipation at meeting Jane’s chatting, smiling guests. For a moment I felt part of the normal world, safe from my anxieties.
    “Would you like to see Grace before I introduce you to some of our guests?” Jane offered as she took my coat.
    I nodded eagerly.
    Jane led me upstairs to Grace’s nursery. “She’s sleeping, but it won’t disturb her if we peek,” she whispered.
    The cosy room was gently lit by a night-light. I approached the cot and gazed down at Grace, sleeping soundly, her sweet round face illuminated by the soft light. She looked an angel, with her halo of dark, silky curls, sweeping black lashes, and rosy cheeks. I reached down andtucked her blanket around her warm little body, resting my hand lightly on her chest so that I could feel her breathing.
    “She’ll sleep right through,” Jane promised. “And I’ll tell her tomorrow you looked in on her. But for now, I want you to concentrate on enjoying yourself, Mary. It doesn’t matter if you don’t know anybody—I shall introduce you.”
    She led me out, leaving the nursery door ajar behind us, and I followed her downstairs.
    I felt a quiver of anxiety at the thought of meeting new people, but I had come this far and was