They had been walking for about twenty minutes when things grew into a companionable silence. She'd told him a few more things about her, but it soon became apparent that she wasn't feeling well again and she looked like she was about to fall asleep just walking. It took them another twenty minutes or so for them to round the corner to the street that led to Tristan's home.

When they were in front of the door, she turned to him, clasping her hands in front of her, basket handle tucked into her elbow. "Thank you for everything today, Mr. Blacke," she gave a slight smile.

John had lost track of most time this evening. He was enjoying the walk and the company. He walked along the streets with pippa from his childhood. He hasn't missed the place. It hadn't changed and John knew that.

He looked when Pippa spoke, "you can stop that for a start" he teased "im nothing special. I'm a run of the mill fella who works hard and wants a better future" he looked into pippas eyes "will I see you tomorrow?"

Tristan worried whenever Pippa went out these days. Ever since she had told him about this man apparently out to murder her, he was secretly keeping track of where she went and how long she was gone for. He still hoped that all of this was in her head, some kind of paranoia brought on by the shock of losing her family. But he couldn’t take any risks. And with Douglas’ man not there to watch her when she went out, he felt even more responsible to keep an eye out.

As such, when she was not back five minutes after the time he had estimated, he was already starting to worry. He was downstairs in his practice, preparing medicine, but all the time he was listening carefully for the sound of the back door opening. It didn’t come. Ten minutes. Should he go looking for her? No, he was being overbearing now. Maybe the bridge was open.

The doorbell rang. Tristan put his work down, strode over to the door, opened it…

It wasn’t Pippa, but a younger servant girl, asking him to come to an address uphill on St. Hilda’s Terrace where her a child lay dying. No time to write Pippa a note. He grabbed his bag with the most essential medicine and tools and hurried after the girl.

Chickenpox. The little boy had chickenpox with a mild fever.

After spending a good twenty minutes assuring the anxious young mother that the child was fine, that it was certainly not the bubonic plague (for the love of God) brought on by the homeless person whom the servants had found sleeping on their doorstep last night, and that it was enough to give the child some simple pills to lower the fever, plenty of fluids and put mittens on his hands to keep him from scratching – no his “handsome little face” would not be maimed forever –, he managed to leave. God have mercy. At least the rich paid him in money rather than barter. If he had to eat one more egg…

It wasn’t until he was close to home that he remembered Pippa and quickened his step. The home was quiet and deserted. His stomach sank. By now she should nearly be done preparing dinner. This wasn’t like her. Something was wrong.

Was it too early to go to the police? He put his bag down and went straight back outside, walked around the town looking for her, returned home in the hopes of finding her there at last…

That’s when he went to the police. Did he know how understaffed they were? They couldn’t just go looking for maids who missing for an hour, probably having a tumble with a fisherman in the Cragg to supplement her income. Tristan looked at the big-bellied policeman indignant, but he knew better than to make a stink. Instead he begged and told PC Wood that he had reason to believe the girl was in danger.

Trying to explain that was even more frustrating. After a lot of questions he struggled to answer, and Tristan feeling the humiliation by the incredulous looks the policeman gave him, PC Wood promised they’d send someone over – “later”, no doubt to get rid of him for now. He thanked PC Wood through gritted teeth and returned home, anxious to find Pippa there.

Still no sign of her. After checking every room, he half expected a stir outside, when people would hear and spread the news that a body had been found on Whitby Sands. Maybe that was where he should look. He returned downstairs, opened the door, and…

“Pippa!” There was relief in his voice. “Are you alright!?” He looked at the young man who accompanied her, then back at the maid. “Where have you been?” Relief now made way for accusation.

"Oh, I am sorry, Dr. Wells," she said sincerely, "I went to the market and thought I would go look for Viktre one last time before I let it go to rest. I know I shouldn't have. I got sick while I was there and this man helped me. He was trying to make sure I got home alright. We also lost track of time from talking." She definitely did not look like she had been thoroughly seduced. she looked tired in a different way. "This is John Blacke and I was hoping to introduce him to you in the morning when we've had a chance to talk."

She glanced over toward John for a moment. The look wasn't one of someone smitten with someone else. It was a tired glance, really.

John looked to Pippa before his gaze went to Tristan. He paused for a moment and returned to looking at pippa "im glad you got home safe, but I must be getting back to my own accommodation, I need to get some items sorted before returning to York and my Regiments recruiting depot"

He wiped his chin "it was nice spending time with you. I will be free again tomorrow if you'd like to meet up and continue our chats?"

So here's what he was supposed to wrap his head around: He had been searching all over town, embarrassed himself before the police and had mentally prepared himself to find her dead, all because she had to trust another complete stranger and 'forgot time'!?

"I see."

He was livid, really, but this 'John Blacke', who got a judgmental look from Tristan - soldier too, of course he bloody was - seemed to be taking his leave, and so he decided to put off the lecture. Instead, he stepped aside, so that Pippa could come into the house.

She looked to Tristan and saw the expression on his face when she observed his glance toward John. She hesitated, oh god. Could she not do anything right? Pippa bit her lip and was silent for a long moment before nodding to both men and slipping inside. She doffed her cloak and slowly put it on the peg after leaving the two. She sighed and did what she knew she must, heading toward the kitchen to put the kettle on. She had a feeling of impending doom at the moment. If looks could have killed, it would have been the one Tristan had given.

John walked along the street, he lost himself in his thoughts and began to think about how to fix his life. The article had tried to ruin him but pippa had come into his life. They both deserved better. The both deserved to change their lives and move forward & why not do it together.

The healing of his wounds caused him slight discomfort and he groaned. He knew it wouldn't be long before he was back in the barracks dealing with the military way of life once again.

Once John was out of sight of the street he found a bench and sat down. He stared into the distance trying to get his thoughts in order

At least that nod Pippa gave was enough for the soldier to scram. Perhaps Tristan should have thanked the lad for looking after his maid when she was sick. He probably would have. If he hadn't brought her back hours after the event because they had lost time 'talking'.

Tristan closed the door, turned on his heel and made his way to the kitchen with a grim face.

Pippa had been sick though. She was all sorts of vulnerable, and pregnant on top of that. First things first. "Are you still feeling sick?" he asked pragmatically from the doorway where he halted.

"No. Mister Blacke had me sit down for a time and we talked," she murmured as she continued to work on the tea. She started to set a couple of cups out to be filled, the bells and whistles of the things he liked in his tea for him to choose from, and some of the scones were moved to warm up near the tea and was ready to be put on the plate as well as soon as the tea was ready. She did all of that silently before setting the items down on the table before even speaking again, so he had plenty of time to speak between her words if he chose to fill the silence at all. "And then because I felt myself light of head after being ill, he provided a meal for me. We would have probably lost more time talking, but I realized that I had made an error in timekeeping. But if anything, I've decided it's no longer worth it with me going to look for the fisherman. He's gone." She gave a shrug, calm as could be, dispassionate when speaking of the man who took her innocence.

She filled his cup then, and then hers before looking toward her soon to be former employer. "I am sorry to have worried you, I was only trying to come up with a solution to this predicament I am in and I let the time get away from me. I should have sent word the moment I was ill. It was irresponsible of me and there is no excuse." With that, she set things down and stepped back for him to seat himself if he desired.