by Téa Cooper
‘Matilda’s outfit is perfectly acceptable, for she intends to ride after breakfast with the girls and ascertain their abilities. There is very little point in her changing her clothes beforehand.’ Kit moved the chair slightly, indicating Matilda should ignore his mother’s comment. She slipped into the same seat she had occupied the night before. ‘I presume you have no objection to the way I am dressed, Mother? Perhaps you would prefer us to eat in the kitchen?’
Hannah and Beth studied her every move as she sat down, their eyes bright with curiosity. Matilda resisted the temptation to squirm as Mrs Barclay’s beady gaze followed her. Instead, mindful of her plan to start a rapport with the family, she offered what she hoped was a conciliatory smile. Mrs Barclay, however, rolled her eyes and turned her full attention to her right, where her son was seated.
‘Have you given any more thought to our discussion last night, Kit?’
‘Which discussion was that?’ Kit said, his tone relaxed and non-committal.
‘Which discussion? Why, Kit, the most important discussion of all—your intended nuptials.’
Matilda chest constricted as she remembered Mrs Barclay’s comment about the patter of tiny feet.
Intended nuptials, indeed.
Her earlier thoughts flew out of the window on the morning breeze. Mrs Barclay was correct—she did have ideas above her station.
‘I hardly think intended nuptials are quite the way I would describe them, Mother.’
Matilda’s heart slowed as she stirred her tea and then absently spread a large portion of jam on the piece of bread and butter in front of her.
‘There is nothing wrong with being positive. I think the perfect solution would be for us to invite Eliza here to stay. I will write to the Ramsbottoms today.’
‘Are you sure you are well enough? Bonnie told me that previously you had been confined most days to your bed.’ Kit’s fingers drummed on the tabletop.
‘Darling, your return has breathed new life into this frail, old body.’
‘Hardly old, Mother. Now I am home and can take the responsibility from your shoulders, I am sure that you will find life much easier.’
The conversation ebbed and flowed across the table. Matilda made a show of eating, but with such a dry mouth, she found it almost impossible to swallow the bread.
‘Did you not say to me that you intended to return to Sydney and arrange for the shipment of your toys?’
‘Not toys, mother. But, yes, I did say I would return to Sydney once everything was under control here.’
‘Well, then that is the perfect opportunity. I will invite Eliza to the party I intend for Hannah’s fifteenth birthday. She may also wish to bring her mother, which I think would be suitable. So you will return to Sydney, organise your shipping needs, and escort Eliza and her mother back here—it is the ideal solution. This house has been in mourning for too long.
‘But, Mother, I …’ Kit’s voice trailed off. He shook his head and stared out at the large mulberry tree in the garden.
‘Don’t argue with me. It will be delightful for the girls to have something to look forward to and will give you the opportunity to put your plans into effect. The sooner your vineyard is sorted, the sooner you can look to your political career and our return to Sydney. The girls need to prepare for their entry into society, and I intend for Hannah to be presented to the governor, so it is important we look to the future and rekindle our connections in town.’
Kit took his time folding his napkin and then rose from the table, fully ignoring his mother’s comments. The tension in the room pressed heavily upon Matilda, made worse by the difference between their easy camaraderie during their ride and the unspoken discord at the table.
In an attempt to lighten the atmosphere, Matilda turned to the girls. ‘Would you like to ride this morning? The weather is still relatively cool, and it would give me the opportunity to assess your skills.’
Beth’s face broke into a delighted smile; Hannah turned to her mother for confirmation. Mrs Barclay gave a curt nod—obviously a sign of dismissal—and the two girls rose from the table.
‘We’ll go and change.’ Beth pulled a face behind her mother’s back and grinned at Kit. ‘Bonnie has found some breeches that belonged to you when you were little. I’m going to wear those.’
In a perfect imitation of her mother’s snort, Hannah lifted her pert little nose and said, ‘I will be wearing my riding habit.’
Kit assumed an apologetic expression. Matilda managed to control an urge to elbow him in the ribs because she knew if she did he would laugh. Instead, remembering her intention to soothe the situation, she stood. ‘I’ll meet you in the stables when you are ready, girls.’
Staring out across the paddocks and over the hills beyond, Matilda debated the conundrum she found herself in. Her position was tenuous—if she wanted to maintain the deeds to her family’s property, she would need a means of support while Mr Bainbridge found a lessee. At that point, she would be able to pay the taxes and not have to relinquish the deed.
As her only link to the past, she was determined to keep the land, no matter what. Her position at The Gate provided her with a roof over her head, and as uncomfortable as the situation with Mrs Barclay was, she intended to make the best of it. Nevertheless, Matilda longed for something more—commitment, a family, and perhaps even love. The words unfurled deep inside her and twisted in a painful knot. Even the curious relationship Kit shared with his mother was obviously grounded in love.
She pushed aside her thoughts. Wallowing in self-pity would not improve her situation, and she needed to make the best of the opportunities presented to her.
Chapter Eight
Kit moved to the dining room window, listening with half an ear to Beth’s excited chatter as she and Hannah left the room. As much as he cared for his mother’s opinion, he was now the head of the family and he would make the decisions. She had a tendency to fuss and panic.
With closed eyes, Mrs Barclay leaned back in her chair, fanning her face as though it was all too much to bear—and it wasn’t even hot yet.
‘How like a man,’ she said.
Kit sighed. He’d heard it all before.
‘If I leave it to you, I will never see my grandchildren, and my poor Barclay will be left without an heir. All his work and effort will have gone to waste.’
Through the window, Kit saw Matilda leaning against the fence beyond the garden. She had been so full of joy and laughter this morning, but by the time she had left the dining room, an air of misery had hung over her like a cloud. He held himself partially responsible. She seemingly couldn’t wait to get away from the house, which was hardly surprising when he considered how his mother had treated her.
‘Mother, I have paperwork to do. Please, excuse me.’ Piles of the wretched stuff covered the desk in Barclay’s office—his office now. He had returned to take care of the situation and would do exactly that, but first he needed a quick word with Matilda.
He threw down his napkin and rose from the table, ignoring his mother’s disappointed glance.
Kit quickly walked across the garden and stood by Matilda’s side. ‘I must apologise for my mother’s attitude. She is sick and frightened, and that is why she’s so keen to make plans. Barclay’s death has taken its toll, and she is determined to get things back on an even keel.’
Matilda tilted her head up against the light and peered at him. A sprinkling of freckles covered her nose like flakes of gold and highlighted the sun-kissed glow of her skin. She nodded.
‘I understand, Kit. It will take time for us to establish a satisfactory arrangement. Everything has happened in such a rush, so it is only to be expected.’ Her wide blue eyes had recovered their sparkle and met his with a mixture of defiance and amusement. ‘I think the girls are beginning to like the idea of having a companion. I am sure we will soon become fast friends, and then your mother will see my arrival was for the best.’
Matilda’s enthusiasm and joie de v
ivre were contagious and filled him with warmth. He wanted to touch her face and rest his fingers against the pulse faintly beating in her neck. As her mouth tilted with the beginnings of a smile, Kit gazed at her with regret. What he really wanted to do was cover her with kisses, yet that pleasure would have to wait until another day. Today, it would only inflame matters.
‘Matilda! Matilda!’ Hannah’s voice, far happier and more vibrant than it had been earlier, interrupted his thoughts. Kit pushed aside his yearning and reminded himself of the pile of mind-numbing paperwork awaiting him.
‘Yes, Hannah, I’m ready’. Matilda turned from him and walked off to meet his sisters. Feeling curiously bereft, he walked back into the shadowed hallway. It was as though the sun had gone behind a cloud.
Chapter Nine
Matilda relished the gentle routine of the days as they passed. She would take a ride before breakfast with Kit and then give riding lessons to the girls. Afterwards, they would gather for lunch; in the unnaturally warm autumn afternoons, they would spend their time lazing on the veranda reading or following the atlas of Kit’s trip and discussing the places they all wanted to visit. Kit would wander in or out occasionally and contribute to the conversation, but more often than not he spent his time locked in his study or with his mother. Matilda would have happily spent more time in Kit’s easy company, but she had to continually remind herself of her position within the household.
‘I am indescribably hot,’ Beth complained, wiping the palm of her hand across her forehead.
Hannah tossed her head. ‘I expect it is because you insisted on dressing in those ridiculous breeches all day. You would be much cooler in a dress.’
‘Nonsense.’ Beth lifted herself from her seat on the veranda and stood next to her sister’s chair, tilting her chin. ‘You wear breeches.’
‘I admit I do wear them now for riding. I can see the sense in it, but I do not lounge around all day in men’s clothing. Ladies’ attire is cooler.’
Beth stepped closer and ran her finger across her sister’s damp forehead. ‘You are just as hot as I am,’ she said triumphantly. ‘It has nothing to do with clothing, just the temperature,’
‘Stop complaining. There’s not very much either of us can do about it, other than go and lie down in a shady room.’
Matilda agreed with Hannah—the heat was getting to them all. The unexpected burst of warmth lay trapped in the valley; it was still and humid, and felt more like the middle of summer. If she had been at home, she would have sneaked away to the bend in the river for a swim, or maybe caught a fish or two and brought it home to cook over the fire with her father. Then they’d sit in the cool of the evening and eat on the veranda in peace and quiet and with comfortable company. No stuffy drawing room, napkins or silverware.
‘Why don’t we go down to the creek for a swim?’ The words were out of her mouth before she’d thought of the consequences, and it was too late to take them back.
‘A swim?’ Beth’s voice reached a ridiculously high pitch as she leaped to her feet, the nagging annoyance of the heat forgotten in her excitement. ‘I’ve never been swimming!’ She jumped up and down in front of her sister. ‘Come on, Hannah. What do you think? Just imagine the cool water. Oh! It would be bliss.’
‘I don’t think Mother or Kit would allow it,’ said Hannah.
‘Well, we don’t have to tell them. We can just go down there.’ Beth’s hands landed on her hips. ‘We don’t have to swim properly, just paddle our feet in the water. Oh, Hannah, come on. It will be fun.’
Temptation blossomed in Hannah’s eyes and in the half-hidden grin on her face. ‘We mustn’t tell Mama, or Kit.’
‘In that case I don’t think we should go,’ Matilda said, striving to be responsible.
‘Mama is resting and would hate it if we disturbed her, and Kit is locked in his study with his accounts.’ Beth jiggled around on the sandstone veranda, her eyes sparkling with excitement. ‘We could tell them afterwards, and then we wouldn’t have been irresponsible.’
The hopeful look on Beth’s face proved to be Matilda’s undoing. After all, Kit had told her she was accountable for the girls’ wellbeing during the day.
She made a snap decision. ‘We’ll ride over to the creek. We won’t swim, but we will dangle our feet in the water and see if we can find a suitable swimming hole for another time.’
Feeling pleased with her sensible compromise, she stood up and brushed her damp hands on her breeches. ‘Hannah, you’ll need to go and change if you would like to come with us. You’ll chafe your legs if you ride astride in a dress.’
‘Of course I’m coming with you.’ Hannah flew through the doors and headed for the bedroom she and Beth shared. ‘I’ll see you in the stables.’
‘Jimmy?’
‘Yes, Miss Matilda. I’m here.’
‘We’re going down to the creek to see if we can find a suitable swimming hole, so we need you to resaddle the horses. I was also wondering if you had any stockmen’s hats around that we could borrow. The girls need to keep their faces out of the sun.’
He crooked his finger and led Matilda around to the tack room. Then he pointed to a row of hats hanging on nails.
‘Take your pick. Mrs Barclay will be thrilled to know the girls are keeping the sun off their faces,’ Jimmy said with a wink.
Matilda clamped a broad-brimmed felt hat down hard on her head and picked out two cabbage palm hats for the two girls. Then she wandered out to the small yard, where their horses were grazing under the shade of the trees.
Beth was already there. As she mounted, Matilda passed her up a hat. ‘Put this on; otherwise, you’ll end up with a nose the colour of one of Bonnie’s strawberries.’
Beth rammed it down on her head and looked up from under the brim at Matilda. ‘How do I look?’
‘Very practical.’
‘Good,’ Beth mumbled and fidgeted in the saddle. ‘I wish Hannah would hurry up.’
‘She’s coming now.’
Hannah was almost running down the path to the stables, throwing in a few, high-spirited skips along the way. In the few weeks since Matilda’s arrival, she’d turned from a pale, indeterminate sop into someone completely different. Matilda realised that change was nowhere more evident than in the clothes she’d chosen to wear. Dressed in her riding clothes—a pair of blue breeches and a white shirt Bonnie had found for her amongst Kit’s childhood possessions—she was animated and fun. But once back in her lawn dress—all ribbons, bows and petticoats—she immediately reverted to a childlike replica of her mother.
Matilda handed her the hat. ‘Put this on. We don’t want you getting burned and it is very hot this afternoon.’
Hannah turned the hat in her hand and looked dubiously at the inside. ‘Whose is it?’
‘I borrowed it from the stable along with the others.’
‘Oh, I don’t know. Mother would—’
‘It’s very practical,’ piped up Beth. ‘Your nose will look like one of Bonnie’s strawberries if you don’t wear it.’
Matilda stifled a laugh. If imitation was the sincerest form of flattery, she had just been paid a huge compliment.
Hannah clamped the hat on her head and pulled a face. ‘It smells.’
‘Only of horses. Come on, let’s go. I’m tired of waiting.’ Beth wheeled her pony around with a skill that belied her experience and raced ahead. Matilda waited for Hannah to mount and then followed her down the track to the open paddock.
Once clear of the trees, both girls flew across the paddock. They wouldn’t have won any prizes in a competition, but at least now they were enjoying themselves and were not restricted to the immediate area around the house. Bonnie reckoned there had been a huge increase in their appetites, and that their skin was clearer.
Matilda could see that their eyes now had a sparkle almost rivalling their brother’s attentive gaze. If nothing else, she had taught them the delights of fresh air and exercise.
As they neared the creek, t
he trees increased in number, and they were soon at the edge of the water. Beth slid down the bank and stood there, kicking the shallow water with the toes of her boots, while Hannah stared hesitantly about as though she wasn’t really sure what she should do next. Matilda’s heart went out to them. How many simple pleasures had they forfeited in their short lives?
She tethered the horses, and then sat down and removed her riding boots. The raucous call of a kookaburra broke the awed silence. It seemed to be mocking her compassionate thoughts. Beth and Hannah had led a more privileged life than she, but no matter how much that jackass bird laughed at her, she couldn’t help but appreciate the freedoms she’d enjoyed.
‘Beth! Don’t you dare take your boots off.’
Matilda swung around, expecting to see Mrs Barclay standing on the edge of the bank. Her error became obvious as she saw Hannah’s white face and the horrified stare she was directing at her sister. Beth was struggling to remove her boots.
‘There might be snakes or spiders,’ Hannah said, shuddering, ‘or any manner of dangerous creatures. Or worse,’ her voice dropped to a whisper, ‘we might be watched by the stockmen.’
Unable to contain her mirth, Matilda’s laughter rang out. ‘I’m sure we are quite safe by the water’s edge of this sandy bank. It’s only in the long grass that some creature might be hiding.’ Hannah, her eyes widening with fright, skittered down the bank and ended up right next to Matilda.
‘It’ll be all right, Hannah. You don’t have to take your boots off if you don’t want to. Just sit down here in the shade. It’s much cooler here with the breeze blowing across the water.’
Hannah sat down on a rock, her back poker straight and her hands clasped in her lap.
‘Come on, Matilda, hurry up! I want to paddle my feet in the water,’ Beth cried out, hopping up and down, unable to contain her excitement. Matilda left her boots with Hannah and picked her way across the shallow water to Beth.
Sitting loosely in the saddle, Kit let his legs hang free of the stirrups and allowed the horse to amble at its own pace. The shadows cast along the track by the eucalyptus trees were taking the edge off the afternoon heat. What had ever possessed him to agree to leave this place?
