To his surprise, the door opened, and Pippa stood in the doorway, dressed and looking slightly better than earlier that morning, he thought. Slightly. Still, she looked miserable. She sounded miserable. Was she speaking of Penelope leaving? Had Pippa heard her?

He wanted to tell her to get back into bed. He preferred talking things through with her while she was in a safe space. But she already moved to the stairs, and Tristan remembered what his sister had told him about letting Pippa make her own decisions. He had been making a lot of decisions for her. He wanted to do so again right now. What if her legs gave way and she fell? What if she fatigued herself and her mind went into a state again? But he followed her without argument, staying close enough behind to grab her arm if he needed to. She made it down in one piece.

“Pippa…” Miss Danes, she was now, “… you needn’t do that anymore,” he said quietly, when she began to make tea. He walked over and gently touched her arm to nudge her in the direction of the bench. “Let me do that. Please sit down. We need to talk.”