Tobi sat on the edge of her seat as her father squeezed her hand. "I think this is the place." The cab drew to a stop and they got out of it. Tobi had a basketful of things for Pippa, namely some things to keep her occupied including art supplies. She hoped her best friend was alright. They reached the door and her father rapped upon it, glancing over to his anxious daughter as they waited for soneone yo answer. "I am very glad for you both that you may see her today." She nodded and squeezed as well.

It was Tristan who opened the door. He had sent Pippa up already with tea and biscuits. It wasn't fancy, but then, neither was Pippa's last clean dress, and neither was the drawing room, which hadn't been dusted in a few days, nor his collar, which had a coal smudge on it from cleaning and lighting the fireplace the drawing room just now. Unfortunately, he was quite unaware of the latter.

"Miss Zimmermann, welcome," he greeted. But it wasn't her female companion she had brought, and although Tristan was glad not to welcome her, the presence gentleman, Mr. Zimmermann no doubt, made him more anxious than he already was. Their world and his had no business mingling. Was there etiquette at all to govern hosting ones social superior, when the visit was forced by necessity and formal acquaintance to be avoided? He didn't dare extend a hand but bowed his head to the gentleman - "Welcome, sir." - and decided to leave the decision of an introduction to Miss Zimmermann or the gentleman.

He stepped aside and opened the door wider. "May I take your hat and coats?" The absence of a maid to perform these duties only increased their social disparity. How had he gotten himself into this mess?

Mister Zimmerman nodded kindly and said, "Much obliged," as he passed on coats and the gentleman's hat. Tobi wore her hair in a gentle bun and no hat at all to pass on. She had been too excited and forgotten.

The man looked around and took note of the lack of housekeeping, but not because it was anything bad. It made him appreciate the man more for his work.

"Doctor Wells.... How is she?" Tobi couldn't help but ask.

At least neither of them made it more awkward. The gentleman was civil and Miss Zimmermann seemed too concerned about Pippa to probably even consider the social pickle.

"Much better since learning of the most recent developments," he replied while he took their things and put them away. "But I must insist you tread carefully." His voice was low. He did not want Pippa to hear him, but he also felt that a warning was due, especially now that there was a third party. He trusted Miss Zimmermann to handle Pippa's predicament with compassion. He wasn't too certain about Mr. Zimmermann.

He wasn't too certain Mr. Zimmermann wouldn't jump to conclusions either. Tristan's gun was back in his desk drawer. He now regretted removing the bullet.

"It's not my place to tell you any more, but she's suffered enough as it is and her nerves are in a delicate state. So be gentle on her. This way."

He led them upstairs. The door to the drawing room was open. It was on the good side of the building, with two tall windows looking out on Flowergate below. The furniture was comfortable and in a good state, but the room was otherwise modest. It lacked the elaborate decoration and clutter so common in drawing rooms where ladies received their visitors. The lack of an Angel in the House was only one explanation, however, for the apparent austerity. More than a few items that had previously graced Tristan's shelves and mantlepiece now graced the local pawnshop's window.

Tristan gestured for the guests to go in. "Please go through. She's in here. If you need anything, I'm right across." And he gestured at the door of his study.

"Please do stay with us... I am sure that Miss Danes will want you to speak on her behalf for things we might not understand," said Mister Zimmerman, and then he would stand and so would his daughter, pausing to wait for Tris to follow but his daughter almost ran toward where Pippa was.

The two women embraced tightly and they were both moved to tears. Upon spying the roundness of Pippa's belly, Mister Zimmerman's lips drew a line across his face. He was not jumping to conclusions other than empathy for her situation.

He remained silent and did not stop his daughter from interacting with a woman who could be seen as a blight for a pregnancy out of wedlock.

Assuming Tris followed, the older man would turn to him and murmur, "I am assuming somebody took advantage of her grief." He was not unkind about it, worry etched in his brow.

Tristan hesitated, but then nodded and followed them in. It was his own house, but he felt like he was invading a private space.

He watched the gentleman's expression change as he noticed Pippa's belly and Tristan felt his stomach tie into a knot with anxiety, both for himself and for Pippa. But when Mr. Zimmermann spoke, he relaxed. There was compassion under the anger, a perceptiveness to the young woman's vulnerability and the tragedy of the situation, that put Tristan's fears to rest. He gave the slightest nod, his eyes communicating the sad truth more fully than the gesture.

"Have a seat," he said quietly. He did not want to say more and interrupt the girls' emotional reunion.

Pippa hugged her friend and cried the same way she had with Tristan and Tobi gently rubbed her back before pulling away to look at Pippa. "You are safe now, that it what matters," she said softly while the girl nodded in return. Her father sat where indicated and Tobi sat with Pippa.

"Perhaps you can shed some light on this, Dr. Wells... Where is the bastard that touched her?" Pippa went red and answered for herself. "He was a sailor, I doubt I shall see him again... He tried to have me marry his partner." She gave a grimace because it was not her proudest moment.

"I see," he said, his voice rightfully angry. He wanted Tristan to fill in whatever she couldn't as she looked very overwhelmed. "How far along do you think she is?"

Tristan down sat as well, only to be startled by Mr. Zimmermann's colourful language in the presence of two young ladies. New money or just American? he wondered quietly. Pippa blushed but answered before he had recovered. American, then.

Pippa's consequent silence drew him back to the grave matter at hand. "Five and a half months," he said quietly. "He and his partner were gone before I even found out about it, but from the sound of it, neither of them would have done much good sticking around." He was reluctant to bring up Mr. Blacke. He still hoped for a more suitable solution now that Pippa had been found. "What's done is done. Miss Danes is not to be blamed. She was in a delicate state of mind and was preyed upon. I should have done more to protect her from such encounters." His lungs felt rather full. "I'm sorry," he told the gentleman who seemed to have a fatherly interest in the former maid.