Matilda's Freedom (4 page)

‘A picnic!’ she said as her neat white teeth bit into it.

Shaking his head in amusement, Kit walked off to fill up their tin cups. The time alone would give him an opportunity to cool his head and his body. He had to stop looking at Matilda as a potential bedmate and see her merely as a new companion to his sisters. It would be highly inappropriate for him to make any advances while she was under his protection, and his mother would undoubtedly pick up on his dalliance the moment they walked through the door. She had a nose for matters of the heart.

He bent down until he was level with the creek and filled up the cups. Then turned to walk back but stopped dead.

His mouth ran dry.

Bending right over, Matilda had the mare’s foot in her hand and was inspecting its shoe. Like a second skin, the supple material of her breeches stretched tight over her bottom.

Forget the
chahut
girls and their pantaloons and frilled petticoats.

‘Your water,’ he stuttered.

She sheathed the knife she’d been prying rocks out with and turned. ‘Thank you, Kit. I am quite thirsty. We should water the horses, too.’

‘Walk the mare down now, and I’ll follow as soon as I have had something to eat.’

‘It’s fine. I can manage them both.’ Matilda slipped the reins over each of the horses’ heads and led them down the bank to the river. Kit sank down onto the grass and rested his back against a tree trunk. He watched her go.

Capable and self-sufficient—she was going to fit in well at The Gate. Having her there would leave him time to concern himself with the new vineyard and organise the clearing of more land. If Hannah and Beth had learned to ride in his absence, they would particularly enjoy her company. His mother had decreed them too young to ride before he’d left, but without such a skill, they would be confined to walking the gardens around the house and no doubt be bored to death.

As Matilda began to amble back from the river with the horses, Kit stood up. He’d spent far too long admiring her and musing on the events of the last couple of days.

After the inactivity of their long journey, it was wonderful to be out in the fresh air again smelling the subtle scents of the Australian bush. He’d missed it, he realised with a wrench. They were a far cry from the streets of Paris and London; just as well, though, because his travelling days were over. It was now time to take responsibility and look after his mother and sisters. Like the hands of a clock coming full circle, his promise to his stepfather came back to him.

The words rang in his ears.

‘Welcome to the Wollombi Valley!’ An all-encompassing smile lit up Kit’s handsome features as he turned to her, his voice full of pride.

‘Are we at The Gate already?’

‘Not exactly, but we’re not far off. This is the beginning of the valley, and it stretches out for about twenty miles before us. It’s heavily wooded on the hillsides, but the valley floor is lush and is excellent farming land. We also have the luxury of a good water supply, which comes from Congewai Creek over there on your right.’

Matilda looked over to where Kit was pointing and saw a sparkling brook shaded by magnificent eucalypts. Healthy cattle were scattered about and roamed across the lush grazing land.

She felt a pang of regret settle in her breast. How her father would have loved this fertile little valley. Perhaps life would have been different if he had started off here and with something other than virgin bush and rocky outcrops. ‘Do you only run cattle on your property?’

‘Cattle, a few sheep, some wheat and a little bit of tobacco, but what I really want to do is specialise in wine. That’s the reason I was in Paris—that and the machinery at the exhibition. The French have made their mark on the wine industry, and I would like to see something similar happen here in Wollombi. As I’m sure you know, there have been grapes in the colony since the first fleet and some of the vineyards at Parramatta have been quite successful. Several people have managed to establish some quite reputable vineyards in the area.’

Matilda let out a long sigh. ‘You make me jealous. My parents and I could have never done anything like that. We were scratching a living from the dirt, and when the depression was finally over and life became easier, my mother and brother died. My father lost heart and was never the same after that.’

‘Didn’t you have anyone to help you?’

‘No. The land was granted to my mother. She was a free settler that my father—a Ticket of Leave convict—was assigned to. What little capital she had when she arrived dwindled during the depression. So, it was just my father helping us, with the occasional itinerant labourer being hired when we could afford it. I was their eldest child, so I started to work with my father from the moment I was old enough to be of any assistance. But then my mother died giving birth to my brother Jack. That’s one of the reasons I am so determined to keep the property—it’s all I have left of them.’ Matilda lifted her chin and shook her hair back from her face. ‘But enough of my woes—tell me about your sisters. What do they do? They obviously don’t have a tutor; otherwise, you wouldn’t need me.’

Kit flashed her another smile. The sympathy she saw in his eyes wrapped around her like warm quilt—comforting and secure.

‘It’s a bit difficult to answer your question, for it’s been some time since I was home.’

‘Your sisters will be much older now and fast growing up.’

‘That’s the issue. My mother has been incapacitated since Barclay died and by all reports is confined to her bed. Bonnie does an admirable job, and as soon as we can sort things out, I expect she will go back to her old routine. She lives with her husband closer to the town.’

‘Is there a school in Wollombi? Do your sisters attend?’

Kit let out a bellow of laughter. ‘There is, but my mother would never permit Hannah and Beth to mix with the local children. She doesn’t believe that girls need an education beyond what a mother can provide. Mother is grooming them to become perfect society ladies.’

Fixing her eyes firmly on the path ahead, Matilda pressed her lips tightly together. It was not her place to disagree, but she couldn’t help but wonder if Hannah and Beth were happy about their education. What must they have been taught? Music and needlework sprang to mind, but that was nothing that had ever interested her.

She fondly remembered the evenings spent around the fire reading the precious books and papers that her mother had brought over from England—the family Bible, the huge leather-bound volume of the complete works of Shakespeare, the serialised novels of Charles Dickens, and the few precious copies of Punch that her father had so loved.

All those memories were ashes now. Matilda sighed loudly, brushing away a tear.

‘Not much further. Are you up for another canter, or are you too tired? The light’s fading, and the sooner we get there the better.’ The frisson of excitement in Kit’s voice brought her out of her doldrums and they were soon cantering down the well-marked road.

The trees cleared a little, and they approached a small wooden bridge built over a babbling brook. The clatter of the horses’ hooves as they crossed echoed in the stillness.

‘That’s Congewai Creek, our main water supply. It meets with Yango Creek and Wollombi Brook in town. That’s where our town gets its name—Wollombi means “meeting place of the waters”.’ Kit’s generous mouth widening into a smile. ‘Long before European settlement, Wollombi was a meeting place for the Aboriginal people. There are some amazing carvings and rock art in the caves nearby. Barclay knew the area like the back of his hand, and we spent a lot of time exploring.’

The road turned. ‘To your right,’ he shouted to her. ‘Welcome to The Gate.’

They swung into a narrow access trail that had a much better surface than the public road. Matilda slowed. ‘Are we on the property now?’

Kit nodded, and his dark eyes glistened with delight. ‘God, it’s good to be home. I had forgotten how much I missed the place.’

Their horse’s hooves reverberated on the hard-packed dirt as they rode through the hazy twilight. Matilda grasped the reins tighter and slowed her horse to a walk. She refused to be nervous and really had no need to be. Kit had proven to be a charming and considerate companion; the rest of his family would no doubt be equally welcoming.

Through the trees she glimpsed a roof, and as the road straightened, she gasped in awe. Matilda wasn’t sure what she had expected—possibly a slab or weatherboard construction like the farmhouse at home, but not this. Slowing the mare to a stop, she paused to appreciate the beautiful sandstone house before her as it basked in the evening light. Its wide, raised verandas cast cooling shadows on a row of double-glass doors set across its front. Beyond, there were a series of outhouses, cottages and what was obviously the kitchen.

A gangly young man with black eyes and tousled hair appeared as Kit pulled up beside her. Throwing his reins to the boy, Kit cuffed him affectionately across his dark head. ‘Jimmy. You’ve grown.’

‘Welcome home, Mr Christopher.’ Jimmy clasped the reins tightly, casting a dubious eye and a raised eyebrow at Matilda. While Kit mounted the veranda, making short work of its three sandstone steps, she dismounted and offered her reins to Jimmy.

‘You staying, too?’ the boy asked, scratching his head in confusion.

Offering her best smile, Matilda nodded, ‘Yes. Mr Christopher has employed me as a companion to his sisters.’ Was the boy going to take her reins or was she expected to look after her own horse?

‘Companion? Wonder what the missus will say about that.’

Kit turned from the veranda, ‘Come on, Matilda. I want to introduce you.’

She stretched out her hand. Jimmy rather begrudgingly took the reins and sauntered off towards the stables, but she caught the look he threw over his shoulder as he departed—surprise mixed with bewilderment. It did little to ease her feeling of trepidation.

‘I’m here.’ Kit’s loud call echoed along the veranda and onwards through the open doorway.

A woman appeared on the veranda, beaming and wiping her hands on a large white apron. ‘Mr Christopher! How wonderful to see you.’ When she smiled there was such warmth in her welcome that Matilda felt her fears ease.

‘Bonnie!’ Kit threw his arms around the woman. ‘It’s so good to see you. How is Mother?’

‘She’s resting right now, but I’m sure she’s impatient to see you.’

Kit turned as Matilda walked up the steps and spread his arm out to indicate the smiling woman. ‘Matilda, this is Bonnie. She’s our housekeeper and is worth her weight in gold. She’s a mine of information about everything that goes on in Wollombi, and if you catch her with some spare time, ask her to tell you the story of how she ran away with a bunch of bushrangers. It’s Hannah and Beth’s favourite bedtime story, or it was before I left.’

Bonnie’s face grew flushed. She glanced at Matilda, an eyebrow raised and her eyes sparkling with promise. After the stableboy’s confusing glances, Matilda relished the feel of instant connection with the friendly woman.

‘Speaking of Hannah and Beth—where are they?’

‘In the sitting room waiting to receive you.’

‘Goodness gracious.
Waiting to receive me
? Why aren’t they here, waiting to throw their arms around their older brother? I’ve been away for three years. You’d think they’d be excited at the prospect of my return.’

Matilda caught the speculative look in Bonnie’s eyes and wondered if perhaps there was more to the situation than Kit realised. Still, she felt herself being swept along by his enthusiasm.

‘Come along, Matilda. I’ll introduce you to your charges. Bonnie, will you tell my mother we’ve arrived and ask her if we may come up?’

Matilda followed Kit as he strode down the veranda to the two open doors looking out over the formal garden. Roses bloomed there, and the little paths winding through it were edged with trimmed lavender.

She breathed in the scent of the flowers. Flowerbeds! And not a vegetable in sight. Imagine having enough water to grow flowers. Her mother would have loved them.

‘Hannah? Beth? Where are you? You’re not supposed to be playing hide and seek with me. I’ve been away for too long.’ It was obvious from his tone and the unrestrained joy in his voice that Kit had missed his two little sisters.

Stepping into the room, Matilda blinked. Her eyes took a moment get used to the dimmed interior.

There was a rustle of material. Kit had stopped dead in his tracks, and Matilda had almost run into him as she’d walked in. ‘Goodness gracious me, but you have both grown.’

The taller of the two girls walked towards Kit, her limp hand outstretched. ‘Hello, Christopher.’ Matilda watched as he reached out to take her hand, but changed his mind and tried to pull her into an embrace. As the girl quickly stepped back, Kit’s shoulders tightened.

‘Allow me to introduce, Beth.’ Her high-pitched, tremulous voice reminded Matilda of a lyrebird singing in the early morning.

‘For goodness sake! I know Beth when I see her, Hannah. It’s been three years, but do you think I wouldn’t recognise you both? You silly minxes … come and give me a hug, the both of you.’

‘I don’t really think it is appropriate now that we’re grown up, Christopher.’

‘Nonsense,’ he said, pulling their two stiff bodies toward him and trying for an all-embracing hug. The girls would have nothing to do with it. Their rigid shoulders and straight backs spoke volumes, and Matilda watched as Kit sadly dropped his arms and stepped away.

‘Well, girls. We
are
all grown up, I see.’

‘Indeed, Christopher. We’ve left childhood behind us, so you have to treat as young ladies now.’

‘That’s what mother says,’ Beth interjected, the first inkling of spirit Matilda had seen from the two.

She smiled and caught the girl’s eye, and decided to take matters into her own hands. She stepped forward and held out her hand.

‘Hello. I’m Matilda.’ Beth moved towards her, but her sister restrained her with a hand on her arm, letting out a small groan of disapproval.

‘Who is this, Christopher? And why in heaven’s name is she dressed like that?’