"I will. I promise." She meant it too, though grateful for his acquiescence. She managed a halfhearted smile and said, "Thank you."

Tristan nodded. He paused for a moment and gazed at her. His hands rested on the back of the chair. He felt bad over his initial reaction yesterday. Though she had broken the rules and had put him in a difficult position, probably more than she realized, he of all people should have understood the fragile state of mind that lay behind her actions. For a moment he looked as if he was about to say something. What he finally said was: "Alright." And he went downstairs.

"Alright, agreed," she said softly. She shifted to lie back down for the moment, more to appease him than anything. She gave a sheepish look his way and then sighed, "I'll have a bath before anything, that will surely help. I'll have his Lordship's man do the work as you said, though I feel strange asking for that kind of help." She was never ill, that was the thing about it that got to her the most... And when she was ill? She tended to be someone who just couldn't lie still for a moment.

Before she knew it though, she had drifted back off into a light slumber, failing to realize how tired she was. After he left her, she slept for another half an hour, then got up and had a bath readied.

Much later, after her bath, she set about her day, doing the light chores. She was one for a tidy house, so her work was simple enough as she kept on top of the chores to the best of her ability, even to the degree of compulsive. Tristan certainly didn't have to worry about his home being grimy at all.

She was humming when she entered the library to dust. She saw the slip of paper in the corner of her eye and honed in on it, then she moved to check and see whether it was something that needed to be tucked back away. She opened the letter only part way, not wanting to pry, but then something made her give pause. She quickly folded the letter and tucked it into the hidden pocket of her skirt, intending on simply just giving the thing to Tristan sight unseen.

As the day wore on, she found herself forgetting about the letter... She forgot to slip it back to him. She decided a nap was in order, for she was easily tired it seemed. Pippa went to lie down, though the sound of paper reminded her. The girl reached for the letter and moved to the window to let some light in, then peered down at the object in her hand. Flattening her lips, she opened the letter fully and started to read, again, intending only to read just enough to discern it's importance.

Dear Achilles,

Forgive me. I know I may have seemed cold when we parted, and I am sorry for hurting your feelings. You were right. Of course you were. I still love you, and I long for your company even more now that we are parted. You are my dearest friend; no Diomede or Iphis could ever offer the friendship we’ve shared or know us as intimately as we have known one another.

Of course you were right. I am aching, dying, wishing I could continue to always be at your side. But we are no longer boys, but men, and men have duties. This Troy may kill us, but to war we must go. This patch of earth that I am to be buried in seems to have lost all its former beauty and sweetness, for parting me from you. But I must surrender my body to this war, Achilles, as I know you eventually will. Duty calls. If you cannot understand me, at least forgive me.

May our ashes be mixed together, that we may be one again and can no longer be taken apart. You are my very core. But for this life, forgive me, and stay my friend.

Patroklos

She didn't mean to actually read it... But the more her eyes scanned the document, the redder her face got with anger and dismay... It wasn't for the fact that a man was writing to a man about... about that... but it was the fact that one should not cast stones in a glass house... and he had. She was utterly scandalized by the contents of that letter and she furiously folded it and placed it back into her pocket. For a moment, she paced back and forth, trying not to chew on the side of her thumb.

Oh, he would be angry that she found the stupid letter, that was for certain, but that couldn't be helped. Not that she cared to know his business to begin with, it was still a slap in the face that he had a similar affair to her, only his involved something that could easily get him into trouble.

Now, she didn't want him to be in trouble, and he certainly didn't owe her an explanation, but he did owe her a big fat apology for judging her the way he had when he clearly had a clandestine love affair he was harboring himself. Her anger boiled over and she stopped pacing. "That... scoundrel! That... that rogue! How could he?!"

She pressed her lips together and went to the kitchen to make tea despite being told not to cook. She needed a cup to fortify herself before she did something stupid and played her cards wrong. And when the tea was done, she sat there at the table, sipping and nibbling thoughtfully upon some of yesterday's bread and some jam, not that she was hungry.

Tristan had returned from a home visit and gone upstairs to look for Pippa. He had only found Dougas' man, who informed her that the young lady was in the kitchen. So Tristan made his way downstairs again, still carrying his bag. "I hope ye weren't planning on cooking? That wasn't part of the deal," he said lightly as he entered. "How are you feeling?"

She stuck the tip of her tongue against the inside of her cheek, then licked her teeth as he entered the kitchen. Without looking up at him, with eyebrows raised and a strange calm, she sipped her tea. It was good tea, indeed. Pippa set the cup on the saucer and started to smear jam across the crust of bread. Clicking her tongue, she finally looked at him and set the food down, dusted her fingers of crumbs, then stood and turned toward him.

"Oh, it's you," she said. "I would like to return something to you." She paused and produced the letter, holding the folded sheaf up only briefly, before she quickly slapped the object, not hard, but firmly enough, against his hand. That was indication enough that she had read it and he needn't even ask. Then she breezed passed him, head held high in a dignified manner. She retrieved a cup and saucer for him, as well as a spoon, and she moved to set it, also firmly, onto the table.

Then she whirled around on him, seething. "You're the closest thing I have to family right now, so I say this with all the care in the world, but you... would tell me that -I- play a dangerous game... while you, yourself, play with fire by keeping such literature as you have in your hand," she said this with a hissed whisper so only he could hear. "You ought to be more careful. Had I not found it on the floor when I was cleaning, had I not gotten worried enough to want to make sure you hadn't dropped something important... I didn't even mean to read it myself! But someone else could have found this, doctor, and you would be in some trouble."

[CW: Homophobia; reference to racism]

His eyebrows knitted together as he watched Pippa quietly sip her tea and set the cup down as if she hadn't heard him. Had the events of the previous day or the head injury tipped her into insanity? When she did acknowledge him, it only confused him more. What did she - ?

No! His stomach lurched. A shiver went through his body and left his knees weak and his heart racing. His face darkened. She had only lifted the sheaf for a moment, but he was almost certain he knew the letter by its handwriting.

As Pippa's words suddenly rained down on him, he opened the letter and glanced down at it. He felt sick. This bloody letter could become final ruin besides first heartbreak. Wilde had the audacity to be Irish. Tristan knew he himself could count on even less sympathy. He could feel his blood pulsing through his body while he pictured himself locked in a cell, humiliated in court before friends, his business and reputation and dreams ruined forever.

He clenched the letter tightly in his first. His entire body seemed to pulse with terror. He dashed for the only exit: breaking her. Terror turned to fury. He slammed the letter down on the table with force. "You have some nerve, insulting me and talking like that, after what I've done for you!" he shouted. "How dare you go through my things! How dare you lecture me about things you don't even understand! I'm an alienist! I treat people who are ill! Yes those people as well, but I keep it hidden, so as not to upset the delicate sensitivities of ignorant people like yourself! This letter... was given to me, shown to me by a patient before he died! I kept it, because it helps me understand! Can I not keep my own things in my own house, or do I need your permission!?"

Her heart felt a squeeze and a little bit of pain when he turned it around on her like it was her fault the paper had been found. She dropped her mouth open in obvious indignation, then her eyes welled up with tears and there was a genuine look of hurt that flickered across her face. Her lips wobbled. "I found it on the floor. I did NOT go through your belongings. I would NEVER go through your things! How could you even think that?" Her voice broke.

Pippa looked away from him then, wanting to be sick. She didn't believe him when he said it was a letter to someone else... Who would give a precious keepsake away like that? She tilted her head and spit out, "You needn't worry about me telling everyone. If that was the case, I wouldn't have given you the letter back, don't you think? And just because I am a woman or a regular person, doesn't mean I don't understand!" She paused, shaking with her anger toward him.

"I understand more than you think I do! Those who live in glass houses ought not to cast stones, Dr. Wells."

Her tears did not move him. In fact, he wanted to see them. He wanted her to take back her words. But she didn't. "How dare you! I already told you, you misunderstood, yet you continue to insult me? I ought to -," No he shouldn't. Last time someone had tried that, he had landed himself behind bars. He grabbed the letter. "You won't speak to me like that again!"