Tristan nodded quietly. He thought for a moment and then said: "Perhaps try to go to bed." It was hard to say whether being alone would do her well or would do her harm, but if she would manage to sleep, that might make things easier for her to process afterwards. "I could bring you some hot milk if you like?"

The thought of milk made her stomach churn and she got a little green in the face. She shook her head and grimaced, "No, but thank you. Perhaps I can brew some tea... with a little peppermint." That was another thing... her cooking had improved greatly in the time she had been working for him. In fact, she had turned out a lovely dinner the night before that was only slightly overcooked, not burnt though. But the gravy she had made had helped with the dryness of the chicken.

"I don't want to inconvenience you any more than I already have." She gave a flat smile and only briefly. But she looked exhausted.

"You're not inconveniencing me," said Tristan. A glaring lie. In fact, as the gravity of situation began to really dawn on him, he started to realize just how much it inconvenienced him. He would need to speak to Douglas.

Still, the last thing he wanted was to upset Pippa even more. She looked ready to lose her mind. "I think I'll have some as well. I'll come down with you." If only because he wanted to keep an eye on her. He went downstairs, into the kitchen and sat down at the kitchen table, his eyes on Pippa to observe her state.

Pippa bit into her lower lip and looked away, a gesture indicative of her knowledge to the contrary but she was polite enough not to point that out to the good doctor. There was no way it was anything but an inconvenience to him, that was for sure and certain. She gave a nod at his next words.

When in the kitchen, she operated on memory, it seemed, for she looked on with practically unseeing eyes... First, she lit the fire in the stove with an ease of familiarity, then she moved to ready things... kettle... fill said kettle... place on the stove. In the meantime, he would probably notice the way she had arranged things in the kitchen in a way that not only made sense, but clean to the point of obsession. The point was, she didn't even have to look to grab any of the ingredients involved in making the tea.

She started to hum softly, a pretty tune. While she had the stove lit, she decided not to waste it on just tea. That was set on the back burner while she made crumpets from memory, cleaning up as she went along.

Tristan quietly watched her work. The machine like quality of it disturbed him more than if she had been disorganised. Once that machine-like state would end... He resolved not to leave the house until Douglas' man arrived, and he was grateful for his friend's generosity. It was clear that Pippa was not herself and he dreaded to think what might happen if she was left alone.

He'd just have to find a moment to rush to his study and put his books and papers away. He couldn't have Pippa, or worse, Douglas' man, walk in and find the material by accident. He'd quickly stuff them in the locked cupboard and organize them later.

He turned his attention back to Pippa. She was working on crumpets now without orders, like she was lost in her own world. At least the work seemed to keep her calm for now. She should be alright between now and two minutes. "I'll be back in a moment," he announced. He hurried up the stairs as fast as he could without running, entered the study, opened the locked cupboard and swept up a pile of books and papers.

She nodded jerkily as he rushed off, glad for the silence for the moment while he was away from the kitchen. It gave her a chance to plate the scones and steep the tea. She set a jar of jam, one of her own purchases at the market, onto the table along with the scones, some butter, the tea, sugar, cream, and a jar of honey that she also paid for. The smell of the mint permeated through the air along with the scent of the scones.

And then she began to clean furiously, scrubbing needlessly at one of the counters when the mess had been cleaned up as she went.

Tristan crammed all the books and papers into the cupboard. In his hurry, he did not see the letter he brushed off the table while he picked up the last pile. By the time he had safely locked the cabinet door on the compromising hoard, it had slipped under the bookcase and only its corner stuck out like a seductive invitation to an inquisitive visitor. Tristan certainly did not see it. He closed his door and rushed down the stairs.

When he entered the kitchen he was glad to see that Pippa was alright. Physically at least. But her excessive cleaning caused him such concern that he stopped before reaching the table and watched her. "It's already clean, Pippa," he said softly.

The movement of her hand slowed and she stared at him for a moment whilst registering what he said. Then she looked back down and frowned. The girl then rinsed the rag, squeezed the water out and then neatly draped it over the sink to dry. "Sorry," she said in a ragged sounding voice. She washed her hands and then dried them before moving to serve his tea and hers and sitting down. She did not add anything but a splash of cream to hers and let him deal with his own stuff this time, not being rude but rather, her hands were shaking a bit and she had almost sloshed tea out of his cup and hers. The crumpets were almost perfect, slightly too brown but nowhere near burnt.

Tristan ignored his tea and he barely noticed the food, for he was still observing Pippa with a deep frown on his forehead. Poor thing. He was no longer angry with her for rash conduct while under his employment. Doubtlessly, the anger would come back in some degree. But for now, all he could feel was pity and a desire to ease her pain. She had been very foolish, certainly. But so many young men did exactly the same and never faced any consequences. It wasn't fair that a girl who had made a misjudgment in a moment of grief and loneliness should face such severe consequences.

"Pippa," he said, trying to get through to her. "We'll find a solution. Whether that... man" - he had been about to say a different word - "takes responsibility or not. It won't be easy, but it will be alright."

"Hmm?" she queried without looking up at first, then her movement stopped and she furrowed her brow slightly. "Oh..." She said almost too softly for him to hear. Her eyes slowly lifted and found his face. She audibly swallowed. "I think I'll lie down now," she whispered, then, as if she went numb, she shuffled back a few steps, head tilting forward until her chin met her chest, dropped the rag and wavered. "Doctor Wells," she mumbled, "I don't fee..." And the world went dark. Again.