by Téa Cooper
‘Yes, Mother, I shall stay—you will have your man around the house.’
‘And maybe the patter of tiny feet in the not-too-distant future?’
Matilda closed her eyes and rested her back against the wall, willing her breathing to slow before stepping across into the sitting room. It was empty. Hannah and Beth had obviously paid scant attention to their mother’s suggestion and disappeared.
She exhaled loudly and turned to walk back to her room, pondering the conversation she had just overheard. Obviously Mrs Barclay intended to see her son settled back into the family home and married. A little spike of jealousy coursed through her at the thought of Kit wedded to a proper lady, someone quite unlike herself.
Bone-weary, she pushed her ridiculous fantasies away. It was hard enough to put one foot in front of the other, never mind trying to contemplate the future and her impossible dreams. The thought of a comfortable bed and clean linen was the reality she would embrace for the time being.
Kit turned to his mother. ‘I would hate for you to tire yourself. What is this important matter we must discuss? Can it not wait until tomorrow? Matilda and I are both exhausted after our trip, and I would like to ensure she is comfortable.’
‘And I, my darling, would like to ensure that—now you are finally home—we have everything moving along satisfactorily.’
His mother had aged a good deal in the last three years. It had shocked him. Her face was thinner now, and the skin drawn over her high cheekbones looked stretched like parchment.
She spread her thin, veined hands towards him in a gesture of affection. He leaned across the table and took them. The brittle fragility of her fingers also disturbed him.
‘Mother, you mustn’t worry yourself.’ He patted her hand; it was cool beneath his touch. ‘Now I am home, you can simply concentrate on getting your strength back. I will worry about the property, and Matilda will care for the girls.’
‘There is one more thing you seem to have forgotten. Time is running away from us. Barclay’s death brought that point home to me.’ His mother dabbed the corner of her eye with a small, embroidered handkerchief. ‘We must think to the future. Did you have time while you were in Sydney to call on the Ramsbottoms?’
Kit stifled a groan, knowing exactly what his mother was about to say. ‘No, Mother, I didn’t. I was intent only on getting back here to see you.’ Perhaps with a bit of fancy footwork he could divert the conversation because he absolutely did not wish to discuss the Ramsbottoms. ‘The ship docked, and I spent my only evening dining with the Bainbridges,’ he continued. ‘I made use of my cabin that night and left the following evening with Matilda for Morpeth. I came straight here the moment I arrived. In fact, I have been coming home since the moment I received news of Barclay’s death.’
‘But you had time to arrange for Matilda to accompany you.’
‘That was simply good fortune and coincidence. The arrangement suited everyone concerned, and I believed she was well-matched to life at The Gate. She appears at home on the land, and is a confident and self-reliant horse woman.’
‘I have been so out of touch. It was such a shock, such a shock.’ The lace handkerchief waved around his mother’s eyes, and Kit made what he hoped were sympathetic noises.
Barclay’s death must have struck her hard. As much as Hannah and Beth had grown in the last three years he had been away, his mother had shrunk. The vibrant, determined woman he had farewelled was a shadow of the past, and it seemed that grief had swallowed every inch of warmth she’d once possessed.
‘The Ramsbottoms, then. You didn’t have time?
‘No, Mother, I didn’t.’
‘Oh, darling, that is such a shame because before my poor Barclay died they visited several times. Eliza is a delightful girl, and her father has become immensely influential. I’m surprised Richard Bainbridge didn’t mention him. I have a plan and have had plenty of time to consider it while I have been confined to my bed.’
‘Yes, Mother.’ He placed his glass on the table and stretched out his legs. As much as he cared for her, and no matter how happy he was to be home, he had forgotten this aspect of his life. Kit stifled a yawn; he wanted nothing more than to fall into bed and sleep. Hopefully, Matilda had all she needed. He had intended to wish her a good night, but at this rate, he wouldn’t be going anywhere.
‘Please forgive my bluntness, Mother, but I am very tired. It has been an extremely long few days, and I’d like nothing more than to excuse myself and retire.’
‘How selfish of me! Of course, you must be tired. We’ll discuss it all tomorrow. I have so many plans, Kit, and it is so lovely to have you home.’
Kit pushed the dining room door open and walked out on to the veranda. He pulled a cigarillo from his inside pocket, lit it and looked up at the sky. The moon hung like a ripe melon in the inky blackness, casting a sufficient enough glow to illuminate the trees and gardens clearly. Even the tedium of attending to his mother’s wishes could not diffuse the pleasure of being home.
His fingers trailed along the timber balustrade, breathing in the night scent of the roses as it mixed with wafts of lavender. A gentle breeze was blowing and brought with it the tantalising smell of tomorrow’s bread from the kitchen. The distant stamping and whickering of the horses in the stable added to his ease.
As Kit rounded the corner of the veranda, the movement of the curtains across the open doors caught his attention.
The guest room.
Gazing into that light, he could see Matilda’s silhouette framed within the doorway—it was the loveliest sight imaginable. He called her name softly and was rewarded by the sound of her footsteps moving towards the veranda.
‘Good night, Kit, and thank you for everything. I really enjoyed the ride today.’ Her voice carried low and sweet across the fragrant night air.
He took two steps closer.
‘Please do not come any closer, Kit. I am not suitably attired.’
Kit imagined the pink flush tingeing her cheeks. As she stepped back into the room, a sharp insistent tug of desire shot through him, and he debated the delightful possibility of enticing her out into the moonlight. She would undoubtedly be attired only in her chemise. ‘I intend to ride out early in the morning and check the stock. Would you join me? It will give me an opportunity to show you some of the property before you begin lessons with the girls.’
‘I’d love to, Kit.’
‘I’ll meet you at the stables then—until tomorrow. Sleep well, Matilda.’
Impressed by his self-restraint, Kit headed to his own room. So she had enjoyed her ride to Wollombi. He had, too, and had not felt so free and easy for a long while.
Matilda was a delightful companion. Apart from her obvious good looks, she seemed intelligent and curious, and there was very little she wasn’t interested in. He’d brought her to The Gate as a companion for the girls and not for himself, but somehow he envied them.
Chapter Seven
The dawn light filtered through the curtains and dappled across the quilt on the bed. Matilda stretched luxuriously against the feather pillows and sat up. After the best night’s sleep she’d had in many weeks, her mind was awake and racing at the prospects of the day. Throwing back the covers, she leapt up and stripped off her nightclothes, replacing them with her shirt and breeches. Then she pulled her hair into a tight braid.
Not wanting to disturb the rest of the house, she left the room through the veranda doors and made her way to the stables. The smell of fresh hay and the gentle whickers of satisfied horses were there to greet her.
‘Morning, Miss.’ The young Aborigine’s eyes flicked quickly over her form. His attitude appeared to have change overnight. ‘Beautiful day and just the ticket for a ride. I’m saddling them up as Mr Christopher requested last night. He’ll be along in a moment, so make yourself at home.’ She gave him a friendly smile and wandered back outside.
Matilda’s concerns of the night before receded in the early morning sunshine. De
spite her rather dubious welcome from Mrs Barclay and Hannah, the rest of the household were willing to treat her with kindness and respect. Surely, once she established her position everything would settle down. It must have been a horrible shock to Mrs Barclay when Kit had turned up with an unknown female in tow. Matilda decided she would do all she could to smooth the path.
Though Bonnie seemed to be well in control of everything, perhaps Matilda could help around the house, or even in the garden. And then there were also the girls’ lessons to look forward to.
She sucked in a great breath of morning air. She felt pleased to be away from Sydney and the smelly stinking boat that had transported them up the coast. As she loudly exhaled, she leaned over the rail fence and gazed at the mountain range.
‘That was too big a sigh for such a pretty girl on a beautiful morning like this.’
Kit’s rich brown voice sent a shiver of delight down her spine. ‘Oh, no, it was a sigh of pleasure, not despair. This spot, cradled in the hills like it is, is beautiful. It conveys a sense of security and freedom.’
‘I’m glad you approve. In front of you lies the Broken Back Range and behind us is Mount Corrabare. The whole area has been home to the Awabakal and Darkinjung aboriginal tribes for thousands of years. These hillsides are full of the caves and aboriginal paintings I was telling you about.’
‘No wonder I feel so safe. This area has been called home by many different people for a long time.’
‘I hope you will come to call it home too, Matilda.’ His face broke into a grin that highlighted his straight white teeth, and her heart hitched. She might only have the position of companion at the moment, but she wouldn’t be averse to something rather more permanent. That thought shocked her.
‘Here’s Jimmy with our horses. Let me help you.’
On the tip of her tongue were the words to decline Kit’s offer and mount unaided as she always did, but when he moved closer and linked his hands for her to step up on, she didn’t refuse. Resting one hand on his shoulder, she stepped onto his clasped hands and swung into the saddle.
With Kit’s head now level with her thighs, she thought for one foolish moment he might drop a kiss on her knee. She had an overwhelming urge to run her fingers through his wavy hair. Instead, he smiled up at her, and Matilda wished he had refrained. Her heart gave a little start; he was just too charming.
He was dressed far more casually than she had seen him before—a loose shirt, a checkered waistcoat that he’d failed to button, and fawn breeches—and she couldn’t help but appreciated the sight of him swinging into the saddle. He settled himself effortlessly on the enormous black stallion. Matilda thought the two made quite a handsome pair.
‘These are magnificent animals,’ she said, running her hand down the neck of the buckskin mare. She hoped that Kit hadn’t observed her bluntly appraising him.
‘Dungarvan stock, best in the colony. They send quite a few of them to India for the army, and we’ve had their bloodlines for years now. The stud hit a bit of a bad patch through the depression and afterwards, but Roscomon’s got it back on track now. You’d know all about that from Bainbridge’s niece and her husband.’
‘Oh, yes—you mean Lily. But I didn’t know about the horses. Richard Bainbridge was an acquaintance of my father’s, and he and Emily were kind enough to offer me accommodation. I lost everything in the fire, so when I arrived in Sydney I only had my travelling clothes and my riding gear. So, they gave me some of Lily’s clothes.’
The words were out of her mouth before she realised what she had said, and a cold wash of dread filled her as she waited for the inevitable questions. It wasn’t that she had anything to hide, but the prospect of telling the story of her father’s accident and the resulting fire still made her blood run cold. She fingered her mother’s love token, searching for reassurance.
Kit must have sensed her discomfort because he said, ‘I’m sorry. I don’t expect you to talk about it unless you want to.’
Matilda breathed a sigh of relief, nodding as Kit’s dark eyes gazed at her. She had not picked him as a sensitive man, seeing as him more as a leader who expected everyone to fall into step behind him.
‘I don’t mind talking about it, and you and your mother have every right to know my background since you have offered me a position. You can’t rely entirely on Emily and Richard’s recommendation. But let’s not spoil this beautiful morning with my family’s sorry tale.’
Kit nodded in agreement. ‘Are you up for a canter?’ The hint of a smile on his full lips seemed to offer an unspoken challenge, and she felt the thrill of anticipation.
‘The trees clear at the top here, so we can cross to the back fence there. It doesn’t hit the boundary of the property, but we call it the back fence because it’s as far as we have cleared. Also, the cattle generally run here.’
The trees thinned. Matilda gasped in surprise at the sight of the herd of shiny black cattle grazing peacefully in the lush grass. The creek, edged with white-flowering tea trees, meandered its way through the paddock. The tableau was idyllic and so different from the barren terrain where she and her family had tried to eke out a living.
‘Race.’ The words flew over his shoulder as he spurred his stallion into a gallop. Never one to resist a challenge, Matilda was soon racing along right behind him as they galloped neck-and-neck across the creek flats. The rhythmic pounding of their horse’s hooves on the grass reverberated in her chest, and her breath caught. She rose up in her stirrups and yelled her enthusiasm.
As they neared a majestic gum tree standing guard over a bend in the creek, Kit slowed and let out a victorious whoop.
‘I can’t tell you what a pleasure it is to gallop freely across the open countryside. I missed it so much while I was away.’
‘It’s beautiful, Kit. The land is so verdant, and the cattle look wonderfully healthy.’
‘Such are the delights of the Wollombi Valley. The valley floor is made up of rich alluvial soil that has been washed down from the hillsides over hundreds of years. We get quite heavy rains and the odd flood or two where the creeks meet, but it’s those floods that make the valley as fertile as it is. We can grow wheat here, and there’s a flourmill in Wollombi now, so we’ve become much less dependent on Sydney for basic supplies. Having water on hand and fertile soil makes all the difference.’
‘Where are you going to plant your vineyard?’ Matilda asked, shading her eyes from the sun as she looked from side-to-side, taking in the lay of the land.
‘Over there,’ Kit said, as he leaned closer. She was enveloped in his scent of bergamot and musk and was close enough to see his eyes turn an even darker shade of brown. His voice was low as he continued, ‘Oddly enough, the vines do better on the poorer soil, but there is an ideal spot in the foothills. I’ll show you where another day, though.’
Matilda swayed slightly in the saddle, wanting to lean in even closer to him. She felt so peculiar, as if they were having two conversations—one with their voices, the other with their bodies.
Swallowing loudly, she tried to drag her mind away from the man. ‘This would be an ideal area to bring the girls riding while they gain some confidence. Will your mother mind?’
‘I can’t see why she should. It’s an excellent idea.’ Kit straightened up. ‘Let’s ride up to the creek and then follow it back to the house.’
Matilda nodded, and they rode on together across the open country until they’d again reached the fast-running creek. The clear water sparkled, and Matilda was certain she’d be able to spot a platypus or two in its dappled shadows, but that was something for another day. Today, she simply wanted to get a feel for the place.
Despite the amount of time Matilda had spent in Kit’s company over the last few days, his contrary nature still fascinated her. His obvious love of the land showed in his eyes and had from the moment they had first entered the valley, but why then had he spent so much time overseas? Was it as simple as he had said—for an education, a des
ire to travel, and to see the Paris exhibition?
Although his behaviour last night had been impeccable—that of a gentleman—the tension in the air between them had been palpable. Today, the same undercurrent punctuated their every exchange. Regardless of her present circumstances, Matilda would find it nigh on impossible to resist his advances and—the traitorous thought slipped into her mind again—he would make a wonderful husband.
Kit pushed open the door to the house and stood back to allow Matilda entry into the cool dark passageway. She straightened her shirt and ran her fingers over her hair, tightening her braid. Silence greeted them. The door to the dining room stood open.
‘Mother usually breakfasts in bed, and I am sure today will be no different,’ Kit said as they reached the dining room.
‘I love to ride in the morning, and being out in the fresh air always makes me hungry. I am absolutely ravenous.’ Gazing up at his attractive face, she felt her stomach lurch.
‘Then we will make a habit of it.’ He stopped and stepped aside so she could enter the first. She turned and grinned at him over her shoulder. His consideration and gentlemanly nature made her feel valued.
‘I thought Matilda was to be employed as a companion for the girls, not for your private amusement.’ The caustic tones washed over her, pushing away the morning’s pleasure in one fell swoop. ‘You don’t want to give her ideas above her station.’
‘Good morning, Mother.’ Kit dropped a kiss on her cheek and ignored the stinging comment.
He walked around the table and held the chair out for Matilda. Her morning greeting to the old woman died on her lips as Mrs Barclay continued. ‘And perhaps, Matilda, you should think about getting changed before you appear in my presence dressed like a lackey.’
Speechless, Matilda stood behind the chair like an errant schoolgirl incapable of framing a response. The woman hadn’t been excited to see her yesterday, but in the harsh light of morning, it seemed Mrs Barclay was intent on causing more of a scene. She threw a panicked glance at Kit.
