"I have not insulted you yet, Dr. Wells," she ground out, "but surely I can. It's quite alright for you to make me feel bad about my own situation, but Lord help it if someone doses you with the same, bitter medicine!" She threw up her hands, "You act as if you have been nothing but kind to me, good sir, when you haven't always been! There are times when you are downright awful! But even still, aside from the mistakes I have made since moving under your roof, which I confessed about, I have done everything you have asked of me! I've scraped and cleaned and ruined my fingers, and I have been loyal to you! It doesn't even matter if you were the one who the letter was written for or not, sir, you could get into trouble for the words on that paper. Would you rather I had left it on the floor for someone else to find? One of your patients, perhaps? Do you think I am the only one who would jump to conclusions?"

Tristan opened his bag and shoved the letter in, just to have something to do with his body. But his eyes flashed up at her when she said he could be awful. When?! Did she even understand that scraping and cleaning was literally her job! He had treated her kinder than most employers would! And yet she...

He closed his bag, his eyes on his hands moving. "Nobody goes up in that study, Pippa, but you and I, and there is nothing illegal about owning this letter. Both parties are dead and out of the law's reach." He looked up. "I have gone out of my way to help you. I hired you when no one else would, and I have done more than most employers would to make you comfortable. And I haven't sacked you even now that you're pregnant. It's not my fault if you do not understand what to expect of the life of a working girl. But I will not have you making accusations or lecture me like that. Take it back!"

She stared at him incredulously, angry tears tracking down her cheeks. "There is nothing to take back," she said in a choked voice. "I did what I did and said what I said because I care about you deeply. You've been kind, yes, but you've also been cruel without realizing it," then she paused and then her thoughts shifted to the day he'd had Dou-- Lord Gordon over. He'd almost acted jealous... As if he had anything to be jealous of. Pippa lifted her chin a little and he would be able to see that understanding dawn in her eyes even more so.

"Oh... Oh, Dr. Wells..." she whispered and backed away a step... Then she turned toward the door, suddenly numb. She wanted to be anywhere but there. "I take it back," she said, wanting to put distance between the two of them, not because she was disgusted by the revelation; she wasn't, but because she wanted to pretend the letter was never found.

Tristan opened his mouth, but the changing expression on her face halted him. He closed his mouth and watched her suspiciously. Then when her attitude suddenly changed and she stepped back, he worried that she was going to faint. "Sit down, Pippa," he said. The words didn't come out kind, but his voice had also lost most of its hostility. It was a simple instruction.

"I-I-I'm s-s-sorry. Please forget this ever happened. I... Sorry..." He told her to sit but she didn't, she stumbled toward the door and started to flee the room.

Pippa's altered approach should satisfy him. And it did. Except that it was so sudden, he couldn't fathom what had brought it on and he worried she had lost her mind. "Pippa!" He followed her.

She whirled to face him and bumped back against the wall of the hallway, shooting him a look of panic. "Please, I implore you... For the love of God, sir, just let let be, it was an honest mistake!" She had eyes as wide as saucers by that point and she looked ready to fall over herself.

Tristan stepped back when he saw the look on her face and held up his hand. "Alright..." he said emphatically, trying to calm her. "I'm sorry I shouted at you. You needn't be afraid of me... We'll never mention it again."

Afraid? Is that what she conveyed? Oh, that wouldn't do. She seemed to calm herself down and she sighed, "I am sorry. I truly am. I ought not to have jumped to conclusions and I should have just brought you that without looking at it. It was none of my business." She looked away. "I just... worried for you, that's all. I meant no harm." But the road to hell was paved with good intentions, wasn't it?

Tristan held up both his hands now, trying to calm the maid down - or perhaps himself. "Alright.... Alright. Look..." He didn't know what he wanted to say. He didn't understand the change of attitude, his own heart was still racing, he was sure he was still trembling, and he needed to think and process all that had just happened. And probably cry.

He put his hands to his temples and closed his eyes. "I overreacted too. Let's just drop it alright?" It was dangerous to leave her here. Perhaps she was so upset she'd faint again. Or perhaps she'd run off and tell someone. But he couldn't stay here in her company right now.

"'scuse me," he suddenly muttered. He passed her quickly and moved up the stairs two steps at a time, ignored Douglas' man, entered his study and closed the door behind him. Resting his back against the door, he put his hands over his face and inhaled deeply.