Matilda's Freedom (14 page)

‘Matilda! Matilda!’ Beth’s voice echoed through the hallway the moment Matilda stepped onto the veranda. She peeled the sodden cape from her shoulders and pulled off her riding boots, replacing them with a pair of slippers she carried in her bag. The damp of the unceasing rain had crept into her very bones.

‘I’ll be there in a moment, Beth.’ She peered down the hallway. The door to Kit’s study was firmly closed, and Mrs Barclay was nowhere to be seen. Breathing a sigh of relief, she entered the sitting room.

‘Oh, Matilda, thank goodness you are here. Hannah and I have been searching all the old cupboards, and we have found some perfect costumes and props for our plays.’

The rain hammered against the window on the western side of the house and dripped off the eaves in a steady stream. A cloudy haze hung low, and all but obscured her view of the garden. The lavender hedges seemed to merge together into the grey-green gloom, and there wasn’t a rose in sight. She sighed heavily.

‘Have you heard one single word I have been saying to you?’

Matilda blinked rapidly and stared at Beth’s glowing face.

‘I’m sorry I was … I was miles away.’

‘Beth, leave Matilda alone. Come and show me what you have found.’

‘Hello, Hannah,’ Matilda said. ‘I’m sorry but I didn’t see you there.’

It was as though she was peering through a thick fog. The world was out of focus, blurred at the edges and undefined.

‘We missed you at breakfast and lunch. And dinner last night.’

‘I, err … I had … I ate with Bonnie.’ Her words stuck in her throat. Lying wasn’t something she was very good at, and she didn’t like to do it. Perhaps this was what Kit’s offer had brought her to—the beginning of a life of lies.

‘You missed Kit’s announcement,’ Beth said, ignoring the frown her sister threw at her.

‘Announcement?’ Her conversation skills appeared to be vanishing along with her integrity. She waved her hand in front of her face. ‘It’s very warm in here. Do you mind if I open one of the veranda doors?’

‘I’ll do it.’ Hannah stood and walked to the door. ‘It will have to be this side because of the way the rain is driving against the other side of the house.’

Matilda smiled her thanks as the door was pushed open, and she allowed Hannah to lead her to a chair.

‘Kit’s leaving for Sydney this afternoon. He’s going to get Eliza and her mother. They will be here in two weeks, so we have to practise the plays. We have so much to do.’

‘Beth, just sit down and read your part to yourself, and leave Matilda alone for a little while. She’s not feeling very well.’ Hannah’s words brought her back to the present, and she looked at the girl and smiled again. ‘Shall I call Bonnie and ask her for some tea?’

‘No, Hannah. I’m perfectly fine. I think it is just the weather. It is very oppressive, isn’t it?’

‘Just sit quietly for a moment. You’ll feel better.’

‘I feel better already. Beth, come and show me what you have found.’

Beth jumped to her feet and dragged a small trunk across the floor until it was at Matilda’s feet. Then she started to pull out a collection of black clothing.

She stood up and threw a cloak around her shoulders. ‘This is an evening cape. It will make the perfect garb for one of the witches.’ She twirled around and the cape fanned out around her. The scent of bergamot filled the air.

Closing her eyes, Matilda inhaled.

Kit
.

Her body warmed and she wriggled, trying to push aside the memory of him staring down at her, filling her. Sensations poured through her mind—their heated flesh, their intermingled breath, and the sense of oneness and belonging.

‘It must be Kit’s. It smells like him,’ said Beth, reaching down into the suitcase. ‘There’s another one here. That must have been Papa’s.’

Matilda stumbled to her feet. This was impossible. How was she going to pretend that she had no feelings for Kit when even his old clothes reeked of his very existence?

‘I think perhaps you are right, Hannah—I am not feeling very well. If you will excuse me, I might go back to my cottage and lie down.’ She bent down to retrieve her bag but knew as the door swung open that she had taken her leave too late.

‘Girls, I have come to say goodbye. I …’ Kit’s deep voice grated against every nerve in her body. ‘Good afternoon, Matilda.’

She stumbled to her feet and grasped the side of the chair. He was beside her in an instant, his warm hand cupping her elbow as he steadied her, but she shrugged him away. Then she took two steps back.

‘Matilda’s not feeling very well,’ Hannah said, filling the unnatural silence in the room. ‘She is going to lie down.’

Kit’s hand was back on her elbow, the pad of his thumb tenderly stroking the soft skin of her inner arm with tiny, circular movements. Her breath caught and she swayed slightly.

‘Hannah, ask Bonnie to send some tea to the guest room. It is far too wet for Matilda to walk back to her cottage, and she will get a chill. Come with me. I’ll walk you there.’

Matilda hadn’t the energy or the strength to argue, and she allowed him to lead her from the room.

In the dim light of the hallway, she glanced at his face. Grim lines bracketed his mouth. ‘Christopher, I can manage.’

‘Kit.’ His voice was harsh. The grip on her elbow intensified.

‘I am perfectly all right. It is just the weather.’

‘You’re not “perfectly all right”. For once, just do what is best.’

Do what is best? What was best?
Last night, she thought she’d known. And
he
certainly didn’t know what was best for her.

She wrenched her arm free. ‘It is best I take responsibility for myself. I have decided my position here is untenable, so I am going to leave.’

The silence was palpable. The walls of the hallway closed in on her, and she reached for the door handle, although whether to support herself or simply to get out of the intimate darkness she wasn’t sure. The bedroom door swung open, and she stumbled into the room. He didn’t stop; he was right behind her, the heat of his body at her back. She crossed to the window and threw it open, leaning out into the rain and sucking in great gasps of air.

‘Matilda, you can’t—I need you.’ His words hung in the air.

Slowly, she turned around. She wanted to see his face. He would tell her that he had changed his mind and that everything would stay the same, just as it had been for the few last weeks.

‘I need you to look after the girls while I go to Sydney to get Eliza.’

Her heart stuttered painfully, and it took all the strength Matilda could muster to turn away. She covered her chest with the palm of her hand, willing her heart to settle. As she breathed in the damp air from the garden, she found herself counting the drops as they fell from the veranda roof in a steady stream.

Do I get more foolish every day? What has this man done to me? Why don’t I understand?

‘Please, Matilda, will you at least stay until I return? We will talk again then and come to some arrangement.’

Arrangement?
No, they would not be coming to any
arrangement
.

Matilda concentrated for a moment longer on the rain and then shivered. ‘How long will you be away?’ she asked the open window.

‘Two weeks, at least.’

‘I will stay for two weeks. Two weeks only.’ It was her turn to make arrangements now. Two weeks would give her time enough to organise her thoughts, to decide what she would do and where she would go. She had already lost everything she had ever had, but he would not take this one last thing from her.

She would keep her dignity; she would take control. She would be the person who decided. Not fate, not God, not Kit or his mother—none would tell her what to do any more.

A cool calm came over her. It reminded her of the moment she had left the farm. It was a final goodbye.

Matilda inclined her head.

‘Thank you,’ he said.

She knew he was smiling at her. She knew exactly how his lips would curve and indent slightly at the side of his mouth so there was no need to look at him. His face was forever branded on her soul.

A gentle knock on the door broke the silence between them. ‘I have some tea for Matilda.’

She turned to the door. ‘Thank you, Bonnie. Please put it on the bedside table. Mr Christopher is leaving now.’ Then she looked at him. Kit nodded just once.

‘Goodbye. I will see you when I return from Sydney.’

Kit left the room. She clasped her hands and pressed them hard against her stomach. The shaking would pass in a moment. And so would her foolishness.

Matilda sat on the edge of the small chair by the window, her feet lying flat on the floor and her back straight. As she sipped her tea, the warmth of the liquid chased away the chill that had settled in her bones, and gradually her breathing eased.

In a strange way, she was calmer now than when she’d first arrived at The Gate. Since that first moment at the dinner table in Sydney, she had been living on a knife-edge of excitement. Every facet of her life had seemed so much brighter and so much sharper. The sun had blazed, and the days had been a cascade of colour, emotion and pleasure. Now she felt calm—duller and emptier, but calm.

She placed the teacup carefully back on the tray and stood up, smoothing back her hair and skirt. Then she picked up the tray, quietly closed the door behind her, and took it to the kitchen.

‘Thank you for the tea, Bonnie. It was just what I needed.’

‘Just put it down over there. I’ll worry about it later. I’m in a bit of a hurry.’ For the first time, the capable woman she so admired looked flustered and out of sorts.

‘Is everything all right?’

‘I have to go home now. Will is away, and with all the rain the creek is rising. I have to move the stock and the feed up to higher ground in case it doesn’t stop. Our house is above the flood level, but the barns and storage sheds aren’t.’

‘Can I help in any way?’ It was the least she could do for Bonnie, who she now counted as a friend. And even if she hadn’t, the woman had been so kind to her. Matilda owed her more than she could ever repay.

‘I’ve left a cold dinner for Mrs Barclay and the girls. Could you make sure they know? Jem and Jimmy will keep everything under control here. My house is down next to the Mill Pond, so if you have an hour or two to spare, an extra pair of hands wouldn’t go amiss.’

‘Leave it to me. You go, and I’ll sort out everything here. Afterwards, I’ll change my clothes and come and see if you need any help.’

As Matilda rode past the Mill Pond, she saw that the water level there had risen considerably. The runoff from the surrounding hills had spilled down the steep incline and filled the valley. Although not torrential, the incessant rain that had been falling for the past two days had begun to take its toll.

Bonnie and Will’s cottage came into sight as she rounded a bend in the road. It was on a slight hill that was tucked away just behind the Mill Pond and was probably safe from the rising water. However, with Will away, she understood Bonnie’s concern.

She tethered her horse close to the house. Then she made her way down the hill to the barn, where the rising waters were already lapping against the split timber walls.

‘Bonnie. It’s me, Matilda. I’m here to see if you need any help.’

‘We’re nearly done—just the last few bags of tobacco and some bailed hay. I’m putting it all in the house, as it’s the highest and driest spot on the property.’

Matilda grasped the hay Bonnie passed to her and lugged it back up the hill. There was no comparison between The Gate and Bonnie’s little cottage, and yet a feeling of peace and serenity seemed to emanate from the place. She could understand why Bonnie was so adamant about returning home every night.

After three more trips, they had emptied the barn. Matilda slumped down on the chair on the veranda and wiped her wet hair back from her face.

‘The Mill Pond’s still rising. I’ve been marking it against the wall of the mill, and I can’t see a break in the clouds anywhere. The sky’s just an unrelieved grey as far as the eye can see.’ Bonnie’s face was red from her exertions.

‘Apparently, there hasn’t been rain like this for a while. It’s set in, and I’d say the brook and the creek will be over their banks before tonight. Even if it does stop raining, the water levels will continue to rise.’

‘Thank you for all your help, Matilda. An extra pair of hands makes such a difference, and with Will being away—’

Matilda interrupted her. ‘I need your help too, Bonnie. I have decided that I will be leaving The Gate and that I must return home.’ Bonnie peered intently at her, standing very still. She rushed on. ‘Mr Christopher has asked me to stay until he and Eliza get back from Sydney in two weeks. There is a coach that I can take along the Great North Road that leads to Sydney, isn’t there?’

‘You can take one from Wollombi to St Albans, and then another from the Settlers Arms Inn to Windsor. The coach leaves from the middle of town, and if you like, Will can arrange the trip for you. I am sure there will be a party of travellers you could join. Have you decided exactly what day you are going to leave?’

‘Not as yet. I have promised Mr Christopher I will remain until he returns from Sydney with his wife-to-be.’ Her voice caught and the sympathetic look on Bonnie’s face was more than she could stand. Tears—so close to the surface—spilled down her cheeks, and she leaned into Bonnie’s warm embrace.

‘So you have fallen in love with him.’ It wasn’t a question.

She nodded and gave a sniff.

‘And has he fallen in love with you?’

‘No. He says he must marry Eliza because he owes it to his family, and to Barclay.’

And because I am not good enough. I am inferior.

‘I am no better than one of his dancing girls,’ Matilda continued. ‘I can offer him nothing. No contacts, no social standing, no money—just myself and an infertile tract of land west of the ranges. It is not enough.’

‘Hmmm. If the stories around the town are right, then he and his mother do owe Barclay much. Men find it difficult to listen to their heart. For someone as upstanding as Mr Christopher, he will find it doubly difficult.’