"But what if I like this? Do you not know that I longed for purpose other than the expectation to choose a beau for his class and not for love? And this... It makes me feel better to do something besides pick new gowns and stabbing my finger whilst plying a needle and thread to embroidery. This..." She paused and swept her hand toward the nearly immaculate kitchen if it had not been for Nel's departure.

"This is where I am happiest even with little else to feel grateful for. I don't want to be an ornament or a bird in a gilded cage. I want to be Pippa.."

"Happiest?" This strange confession and the lack of response to the revelation that Pippa's pursuer had been caught, made him wonder whether she had fully recovered from her temporary lapse into insanity. "But you'll still be free to lead an active life, a simple life even, should you choose to do so. Only you can work for yourself, rather than working for a grouchy old bastard."

"You might be grouchy but you have cause to be... You and I are... Alike in some ways." It did not register for her that he spoke of the arrest. Not at first.

When it did register, she still said nothing of it. It needed time for her to think on it. She bit her lip for a moment, "If I have all of my family's money and property... That means I can possibly arrange for my factory to import more to England. I... I don't think I can go back for now. Things have been so hard to figure out."

Were they alike? Tristan had never looked at it that way, but now that he did, it did explain a lot. Like why he was feeling like his father when talking to Pippa - except his father had never lost his temper. When Tristan was Pippa's age, he had thought he knew what was right for him and had hated his father for steering him away from what he now understood to be a road to destitution and misery. In the same way, he had labored to keep Pippa from decisions that would ruin her life, but the girl was headstrong and would get angry. They could both feel passionately about matters. But her wellbeing had been his object throughout it all, and now that he was about to lose her... it really did feel like he was losing his daughter.

There was little comfort in her idea of staying in England. How could the association continue? "There is time to figure those things out," he comforted. "You have enough information to process as it is. Though we shall have to think of a narrative soon. For now, let's make sure you get all the facts. Miss Zimmermann should be able to tell you how it stands with your family fortune and who of your old circle can be trusted with the truth."

She took a deep breath and let it out slowly. She wasn't sure he understood what she meant by them being alike... She knew she could trust him with her life, so she lifted her chin a little. "I want to... Give you disclosure before she arrives... Dr. Wells, I love her... The same way as in your letter. I have longed to see her so much that it hurt." Her voice was soft as she outright spoke of being in love. "I have wanted to tell you but I wasn't sure how to bring it up without her presence. I also didn't think I would ever see her again..."

When she began to speak, he thought it was the result of all that Pippa had gone through in such short succession. It was only natural that she should latch on to this one person who offered her hope and attach to her every affectionate feeling she was capable of, especially while her mind was probably still somewhat feeble. He had seen the same process in patients who had believed themselves in love with him, solely for offering them a kind word in their distress. He did not think much of it.

But as she continued and confessed that she had wanted to tell him before, he understood that this was more than a temporary fancy. He was surprised but not shocked. Most of all, he was terrified.

"Pippa, that letter was a misunderstanding, please stop bringing it up," he said quickly as he suddenly felt hot underneath his tie. Soon the young lady would be under public scrutiny, as would he by association. And Pippa's mental state was still delicate. What if she blabbed? The cruel newspaper headlines and images presented themselves to his mind's eye as vividly as half a year ago. "You can't just go around implying things like that. But if you feel that way, then you cannot marry Mr. Blacke."

He still refused to be honest. She was no fool though and he would be able to see her expression indicating she did not believe him... In fact, her expression went from calm to sad, and then sad to angry. Who was he trying to fool? "If that is what you wish to tell yourself, then far he it for me to stop you... But you are a man. You can do much more than I could regardless. I cannot. I am a woman who is expected to marry and have my child in wedlock as its the proper thing to do. John... Mister Blacke can decide for himself if he wants to stay with this arrangement. In my world, a proper woman marries before children come. In my world, a woman has less choice than a woman who is considered poor, and we have to do everything we can to keep ourselves free of scandal. I cannot be with the person I love most in this world and you very well know it, and I have to do what is proper... Not for my sake, for the baby. He knows I am not in love with him, I barely know him to be able to discern if I love him but with time, I could. I do feel attraction for him or I would never have agreed..." And then she lowered her head into her hands, trying hard not to start crying once again. She had thought she could trust him and was starting to wonder why if he could not be honest where it counted. His baldfaced lie hurt her and she didn't have to tell him, for it was written in her eyes very clearly.

For some time now, Tristan had wondered how he could ever have been such an arse to Pippa. The girl meant well. She was all alone. He should have been kinder to her. Shouldn't have lost his temper so often. While she was sick and while she was talking about the loss of her family, it was almost unimaginable that he should have ever been anything but a compassionate friend.

"If that is what you wish to tell yourself, then far be it for me to stop you..."

And then the monster roared its head. Who the hell was she, to pry into the most intimate parts of his being? To demand he'd divulge secrets he wouldn't share with his own family! What right had she to ask that he'd bare his soul, just because she chose to show hers? It was this type of disregard for his privacy and comfort that enraged him. The same disregard his sister had displayed repeatedly. God, no wonder they got along so well! Tristan's hand balled to a fist in his lap.

Oh yes, she had it harder as a woman in this situation! Foolish child! What did she know? If the nature of her feelings for her friend ever became public, her sex and age would protect her. It was not a crime for her. And who cared about a youthful misstep? Yes, there'd be gossip and raised eyebrows at two schoolgirls being all too affectionate. Some might find the idea amusing. Some gentleman no doubt would find it titillating. But that would be all. The folly of two schoolgirls. Had she any idea of what could happen to him if she blabbed?

He wanted to walk away and lock himself in his practice to brood. Instead, he forced his hand to relax. She was right, she was pregnant, and that was a hurdle. And he should remember that her mind was that of a pregnant woman. Clearly she wasn't all there. He sat by her side stiffly.

"You need not decide now." Was the most compassionate thing he could utter when she bent over in what looked like a new crying fit.

She could tell she hit a nerve just by observation and her anger boiled over. She was shaking with rage, palpably at that. The next thing she said was said softly but spoke volumes... "I thought I could come to you with something I would not wish others to know, that you, of all people, would understand and empathize with. My apologies." And with that, she stood and took the remainders of the mess to the sink.

She continued to shake, everything she had endured since her nightmare situation began, the anger she felt for the man who took her innocence and then disappeared, the anger for the man who took her family, and the anger she felt toward Tris was only the last of the straws for her.

A whistling noise started to fill her ears along with her heart beating a hard tattoo against her ribs. The color had drained from her face, her face taking on a gray tinge. She was going to faint, it felt like. But she was angry and didn't even want to look at him for him to see just how badly it affected her.

She was breathing shallow breaths as she sought to steady her nerves. She braced herself against the sink, hands white knuckling whilst she did. Then she simply started toward the door, not caring if he followed, not caring about his potential worry, not caring that she was close to sliding herself to the floor. She was angry enough that words were failing her. Tears started to blind her and she used the closest wall to keep herself upright even as she stumbled blindly and dizzily toward her room.

That stung.

He was still reeling while she stood over the sink and he did not observe her body language. But when she walked away, his doctor's senses kicked in. He got up quickly and hurried after her. "Stop!" Before she reached the stairs, his hands were firmly on her shoulders, guiding her back in the direction of the bench. "You'll faint. Sit down." It was not a request.