CHAPTER FOUR
"A Lady's Privilege"
Dotty emerged from the office with an expression of pure astonishment. Her cheeks were red, yet there was no offending mark on her bodice, nor crease in her skirt to declare impropriety. Foster had attended, if only to spare the blushes of Miss Dingle.
"The apprentices are settled, sir." He advised his master, glancing at Dotty.
"Very good. Send them to Luncheon, won't you, Foster?"
"As you wish, sir." He nodded, "Miss Dingle."
Dotty nodded awkwardly. She could not begin to transpire what had just occurred between herself and Mr Waterhouse, however she knew that what she had seen in his eyes was true. Theirs was a passionate venture, but how could she be sure of her intentions, or his intentions? She had the children to consider, didn't she? Or could she be allowed the right to such illicit passion to pursue with Mr Waterhouse?
It was a decision she made from her heart, the choice to trust in Mr Waterhouse, despite her own family's misgivings on the subject. She was very aware of her loyalty to them as much as to him. Would they approve of Mr Waterhouse, or Tom, as he had insisted she call him?
The oldest businessman in the village, Mr Pollard, had certainly been keen to make his acquaintance upon his first arrival into the village.
Like Tom, he had spent years building an empire and slightly resented the way that other people were so successful.
However Tom had not yet made the acquaintance of Dotty's mother, a prospect, he had confessed was daunting to him as he was an orphan. Dotty had been sympathetic and arranged for them to meet, only for Tom to be taken ill. The arrangement had aroused suspicion from Charity, however he was soon recovered and Dotty rearranged the meeting. They were to meet at Dotty's humble cottage, where a spread of cakes and jellies had been laid upon the table (now fixed by Dotty's father, Cain) along with sandwiches and a bottle of her aunt's home made lemonade. It was a meagre feast by Tom's exacting standards; for he was used to grand dinner parties where meat and pudding were plentiful. Dotty set to arranging the table and put on her best clothes for the occasion, insisting that her mother do the same.
"Is he here yet?" Charity poked her head downstairs. Her hair was tousled from the attempt she had made to fix it upon her head and the laces trailed from her corset. She was barely dressed in her everyday gown and yet Dotty's Mr Waterhouse was expected imminently.
"Not yet," Dotty admitted, "but he will be."
"Hmm." Charity began to hum a tune, as though mocking her daughter's faith in Tom.
"He will be here."
There came a knock on the door and Dotty greeted Tom with eagerness, ushering him into the cramped lounge to greet her mother, who had managed to slip past her daughter without being seen.
"Tom Waterhouse, pleased to meet you. Charity, isn't it?"
"Only by name, yes." Charity retorted, "so, this is your attach…"
"Mam."
"I am your daughter's 'attachment', yes. But you may be assured, that I have your daughter's best interests at heart."
"Oh, don't give me that. How on earth could you possibly afford a Hansom, all this money you've lavished on her…you're barely a lad." Charity scoffed.
"I inherited some and I built the rest of it myself." He held on tight to Dotty's hand.
"Very fortunate, I'm sure."
"If you consider being an orphan an advantage?" Tom cast his eyes to the floor.
"Oh." Charity retracted, at once sincere, "I am sorry."
"Not at all." He squeezed Dotty's hand, "so, do I have your permission to court your daughter, formally?"
"Consider it a work in progress, Mr Waterhouse." Charity replied. Dotty heaved a sigh of relief.
The meeting done, the courtship resumed on a more formal standing. Dotty was invited to share in the knowledge of running a business, as Tom arranged for Foster to set up a desk in his office for her to learn about his work and she was allowed the expenses of travelling back and forth to Hotten and Leeds to Tom's offices.
There had been rumours circulating the villages about the possibility of new roads and houses being built yet these had all been dismissed by the councils of the county, who assured their panicked residents that no such plans were in place.
Tom, however, knew that the rumours were true and it gave him a great deal of satisfaction to know that he was the only one who had access to this information. His office in Leeds had been shut temporarily in favour of the office in Hotten, where he was working closely with the council to arrange the plans for the new roads. It wasn't his usual project, but he feigned enthusiasm at the conferences and dinners with only one thing on his mind.
Dotty. Try as he might, he could not free himself from the overwhelming yearning to see her. Her children, Sarah and young Jack had accepted him into their fold without question. Whilst he was too young to claim to be their father, he provided them with the security and privileges that Dotty aspired to give them herself and she was grateful for that.
She arrived at his offices on the dot of nine each morning, books in hand, ready to learn from his own experience. He allowed her to take the books home in the evenings after they had dined together, usually in the smartest restaurants, but sometimes in the humble offerings of a local public house.
Dotty didn't make any comment on any of their excursions, however Tom soon became aware of just how clever she was and that allowing her the knowledge of his work could be dangerous, both to him and his reputation as a successful businessman.
His generosity was not limited to Dotty however. He lavished Dotty's children with expensive gifts, arranged for them to attend lessons on subjects that were to their interest and within a month of properly courting their mother, he had purchased the humble cottage for Dotty and had paid the doctor's fees for her invalid daughter Sarah.
After years of struggling to pay the charges for the most menial of medical ailments and their subsequent remedies, Dotty was relieved to know that she could depend upon Mr Waterhouse, her own Mr Waterhouse to provide for her. It had not been her intention, but she had become so familiar with him that it was impossible to know how she could possibly expect to make do on her own without his input.
This was not to say that she did not appreciate that the income he kindly shared with her could be withdrawn at any moment, but she was so certain of her love and devotion to Mr Waterhouse that she barely noticed that he had come to own her as his very own living doll.