Chapter TwelveThe peculiar carriage rattled and bumped and creaked for what felt like an age. Then someone tugged at my skirts, and I burrowed desperately into the silk nest. A hand reached down and squeezed my ankle. I recognised Matilda’s smooth palm and realised she was signalling me to come out of hiding.
She half-guided, half-pulled me out. I emerged panting, and knew my hair was ruined. Luckily, my daily wrestles with the Hotham children had taught me to keep my composure despite such trials. ‘What happened? Where are we?’
‘None other than Collins Street,’ Matilda announced happily. ‘Home of the great and the greater still, and a school of Venus or two, just to balance it out.’
I saw sandstone walls on three sides. ‘This is Collins Street?’
‘No,’ said Matilda, pointing at the far
