CHAPTER TWO
"A Call to Arms"
"Stolen?" Repeated Tabby, her eyes wide with shock, "never!"
"It has! It says here!" Dotty poked the paper with her finger, "I'm gonna have to go explain to Mr Waterhouse myself. "
"But how? You don't have a carriage!" Tabby pointed out helpfully.
"I'll take one of the horses off Sugden's."
"You sure about this, Dotty?"
"Sure as I'll ever be." Dotty slammed the door shut on the office and hurried off to Sugden's Farm. The family who resided there were only too happy to help. They allowed Dotty to take their fine racer horse which had originally belonged to the family up at Home Farm and Dotty set off on her journey.
She took a break in Hotten and allowed the horse some time to recuperate before taking on the long road to Leeds.
There was nothing unseemly about a country girl riding about the streets, but Dotty knew she had to make the right impression on Mr Waterhouse. She dismounted and dragged the horse by the reins through the city, looking around for Waterhouse Holdings.
"Ey!" She called to a footman who was basking outside a pub, "Waterhouse Holdings?"
He looked her up and down with an air of disgust, "down the street turn left, but I must ask, what business have you with Mr Waterhouse?"
"That's none of yours." Dotty snapped and dragged the horse around the corner out of sight of the footman. She saw it then, the fine red brick building that rose up with a pointed roof and delicate arched windows. It exuded grandeur and commanded respect from every angle. It was the perfect situation for someone like Mr Waterhouse, Dotty thought.
She tied the horse to a post and approached the office. Pete and Ross were nowhere to be seen, but, knowing them, Dotty reminded herself, they were probably in the pub.
Dotty knocked politely, assuming her best ladylike manner and waited.
"Hello." A stocky man stood before her. He was rugged looking in a distinguished sort of way, with a square jaw and mysterious, soulful eyes. He wore a valet's uniform of black tailcoat, fine tie, white shirt, plain waistcoat with a pocket watch attached with a set of plain trousers and polished shoes. His skin was slightly darkened, as though he had done his share of labour and yet he was looking at Dotty with interest that could only be expressed as warmth.
"Pardon me, sir. I'm Dotty Dingle. Mr Waterhouse made a request for a carriage. I have received a telegram informing me it has been stolen."
"Miss Dingle. Please come in." He stepped back to allow Dotty to enter the building, which was as it was on the outside. Expensively furnished with a fine wooden staircase and shiny tiled floors.
"I can't apologise enough for this." Dotty gabbled, struggling to keep with the valet's pace as they climbed the stairs.
"Mr Waterhouse will see you." Was the valet's only reply.
"Is he angry?"
The valet ignored her comment and came to a halt outside an oak door bearing the inscription: T.C Waterhouse.
The valet knocked and held the door closed with one hand as he approached his master, who was far younger than he was and far more finely clothed.
"Mr Waterhouse, there is a Miss Dingle to see you."
"Thank you. I will see her." Came a smooth reply. Dotty tensed. How could she have thought that it was a good idea? Her eyes ran over her hands, checking them for dirt. Did she smell of farmland? She sniffed.
"Mr Waterhouse will see you, now." The valet had appeared again. Dotty jumped and pinched her skirts, lifting them slightly to enter the office.
Mr Waterhouse cast an appreciative glance over her, a smile curling at his thin lips. Yes, she was just as Forster had described. Common as muck, just like her mother. What decent woman would dream of turning up unannounced to a man's office without invitation? Especially in such a ragged state. Perhaps, he thought, those are the only clothes she has? He had not expected her to look so attractive in feature, however. Those eyes of hers. They were exquisite. She looked so nervous and yet, he could tell that she was fiercely independent.
"Would you care for a drink? You must be tired after your journey? Forster, organise some refreshment for Miss Dingle, would you?" He snapped back into focus.
"What would Miss Dingle like?" Forster asked.
"Champagne." The young gentleman cut over her, "the bottle in the cellar, Forster."
"I'd rather coffee, thank you."
"As you wish. Forster." He nodded to the valet, who promptly left.
"So, where is Mr Waterhouse, please?" Dotty asked.
"Mr Waterhouse is here."
"You are Mr Waterhouse?" Dotty struggled to contain her surprise.
"You seem surprised."
"I am."
Their eyes were fixed on each other.
"Am I to presume that you were expecting someone much older? Someone who perhaps is rather full bodied, with puffy features and a gluttonous roll?"
Dotty froze. He was a fine looking gentleman, too, she noted. Far younger than she had expected, he could only be in his early twenties. He was dressed in a tailored frock coat, with a neat cravat at his throat, a starched white collar and a gold waistcoat. A handkerchief poked from his chest pocket and he stared back at her with intensity from an oval shaped face, his large green eyes soft.
The young Mr Waterhouse laughed. It was a sharp laugh, which could be easily misinterpreted, but there was something discerning about him that assured Dotty. He smirked and beckoned Forster in, who placed a tray of coffee on the desk in front of his master.
"I'm sorry for coming here like this, but I got a message that the carriage I lent you had been stolen. I'll arrange for another, of course. No expense." She added.
"Your one and only carriage, by all accounts has indeed been stolen, with little hope that it shall be found. How am I able to trust in you when I know absolutely nothing about whether you are telling me the truth?" Mr Waterhouse continued.
"The carriage will be found, you have my word, sir. As to the finances, I have made provision for such a situation." She bluffed, hoping that she sounded convincing. All the while Mr Waterhouse kept that smug expression on his face.
"I admire your gall, but sadly I have already consulted with another supplier to ensure that I am adequately covered for my journey. I thank you for your pains in travelling here today." He seemed to be enjoying himself rather too much.
"What do you do, if I may ask, Mr Waterhouse?" Dotty could feel the heat creeping into her cheeks.
Mr Waterhouse glanced briefly at his valet before answering, "I? I arrange the sale of property, from the continents to residences in London."
"So, in a way, you and I work in a similar fashion." Dotty persisted, "we both require payment upfront for the services we offer."
"What service do you offer if you have no carriage?" Mr Waterhouse's eyes twinkled. Dotty set her chin.
"I may have no service to offer, but I don't have to buy my acquaintances as you surely do."
Mr Waterhouse's eyes widened along with his smile. What a thing for a woman to say. Yet he admired it, admired her for her feistiness.
Dotty braced herself. Surely a gentleman of his standing would dismiss her on the spot for speaking so boldly.
"I believe our business is concluded. Show Miss Dingle out, please, Forster."
Dotty gave him a condescending look before leaving the room, as Forster kept his eyes on his young master, as though challenging him to follow her.
This had been their first encounter and as far as Dotty was concerned, she hoped that they would not continue. She could not bear to look at that smug face again. How on earth would she explain it to her mother on her return?