Matilda's Freedom Read Free

and thank you Emily for a delightful evening.’
    Then Kit bowed, taking Matilda’s hand and touching his lips to it. Her skin ached as a rush of warm anticipation circled in her stomach. ‘Goodnight, Kit.’
    Not only were Matilda’s immediate problems solved, but she rather thought she might enjoy spending more time with the delightful Mr Matcham.

Chapter Three
    Foul black smoke billowed from the contraption’s chimneystack. As Matilda covered her ears in a vain attempt to blot out the crashing of the engines, a ferocious gust of wind whipped across the foreshore and threatened to steal her bonnet away. With her coat over one arm, she snatched at the bonnet’s ribbons and only managed to hold on to it by clasping it close to her chest. The ragamuffin holding her bag hopped from foot-to-foot and appeared as overcome by all the commotion as she was.
    Matilda turned slowly and gazed across the quay. Warehouses loomed like sentinels on the other side of the busy, dusty road running parallel to the waterfront. Turning her back on them, she gazed in awe—high, impressive buildings overlooked smaller dwellings that were nestled higgledy-piggledy across the rocky cliff face.
    The last time Matilda had seen Kit he had been conversing with a gnarled, old man. He’d told her to stay right where she was until he returned. She had no intention of going anywhere but the thought of skipping the steamer and travelling the Great North Road on horseback appealed. Still, they were apparently in a great hurry, and this steam contraption— Fenella, the nameplate proclaimed—promised to cut at least three days off the usual trip.
    The combination of sails, a chimneystack, and the two, huge paddle wheels clamped on either side of her made the steamboat wallowing before her look ungainly, like an overfed turkey. The square-riggers, with their perfectly furled sails and sparkling brass work, danced like debutantes in the harbour around her. Yet Fenella was apparently so fast they would be in Newcastle in six hours and up the river to Morpeth in only two more. Matilda found that hard to believe.
    The sea-smell of the harbour and the odour of dead fish had caught in her throat, making her eyes water. She longed for the fresh scent of the bush and of home. The ports were noisy and busy—sailors and passengers were disembarking and embarking, cargo was being loaded or carted away, and there were even policeman stationed here and there. They idly watched the hustle and the bustle around them as the locals went about their business.
    Last night, she had been excited about the prospect of her new position, but now it was becoming a reality, she felt less sure. The intimacy of the candlelight and her almost visceral response to Mr Matcham had lulled her into a false sense of security. Now she wondered if she had done the right thing.
    Matilda flinched, grasping her belongings tighter as a hand touched the small of her back. Warm breath tickled her ear. She shivered.
    ‘Good news and bad, I’m afraid.’‘Kit leaned in close and spoke above the din. ‘There aren’t any private cabins, but there is a small forecabin for ladies. Personally, I’d rather be above decks in the air. It’s very warm down there, and there’s a vile smell of oil and smoke from the engine. Which would you prefer?’ he asked.
    ‘I have no idea. This is a new experience for me. It all seems so very noisy and busy, so I think I’d rather be in the fresh air as long as it’s not too cold.’
    Kit nodded and turned away. There was a loose elegance about him, and he looked comfortable amongst the hustle and bustle of the quayside. For a man who was used to mixing with all manner of people—from princes to dancing girls—the excitement of the quay must have appeared commonplace. Today, Matilda felt every inch the country cousin, and she ruefully supposed that she was. This was only her second visit to Sydney, and she wasn’t keen to return.
    ‘Let’s go aboard.