Dear Readers, this is an alternative ending to "Secrets"... But this is an Elizabeth/Richard Fitzwilliam alternative ending, with an HEA. No, no, WAIT WAIT WAIT! Before you stop reading and close the page angrily, let me say two things:

- I really loved writing this part, and I'm kind of proud of it, so I hope you give it a chance

- I am writing a new Elizabeth/Darcy HEA story in this universe, where all the characters are younger - same world, completely different plot. In short, I adore this universe and I cannot seem to let go.

But now, back to Richard and Elizabeth... It will be a two parter.

Warning: Dark themes, and especially dark sexual themes ahead...

&P&

Fairy tale

« … and it's because you are sweet on Lady Darcy, Knight Richard," grumbled Molly, the kitchen maid, when Richard cancelled for the second time their scheduled meeting near the stable, where Molly generally had her back against the stone, her skirt around her waist and her thighs around Richard's hips. "That is why you are neglecting me."

"Hold your tongue, woman!" Richard was horrified. This was, of course, the most false and ridiculous slander.

"Your lord and cousin's wife – you should be ashamed of yourself", Molly continued bitterly. "Lady Darcy is too good for you. You deserve the likes of me, not the likes of her, I say."

It was a good thing Richard only hit women in the direst of circumstances, or Molly would have resumed her kitchen duties with a black eye.

"I am the son of an Earl", he spat. "You, Molly, are… no one. Nothing. And she – Lady Darcy – with all the respect I have for my liege's wife, she is born only the second daughter of a mere country squire."

"Lady Darcy is educated and refined," Molly said. "And so clever. You… Your own father did not even want you."

So ended the great passion between Knight Richard, of House Fitzwilliam, and Molly the kitchen maid. Let it be known that the story ends well, at least for Molly, because when she went to the Goddess fountain to pray a month after the breakup, she felt refreshed and consoled, and a child ran to her and gave her an apple, and told her, "you will meet happiness in flour and sugar."

Molly knew how to recognize an oracle when she heard one. So when the head cook hired a new pastry chef in Pemberley's kitchens, Molly wore her low cut cotton dress even when it was cold, and bent over the table at just the right moments.

Three months after Molly was married. She was very happy, and ate a lot of cakes.

Richard was not happy.

Molly was lying, of course. A lying liar who lies. Women, and their crazy, silly… repugnant ideas! Of course he was not sweet on Elizabeth – on Lady Darcy – on his lord and liege's wife.

Richard would never dare raise his eyes to her – not because Elizabeth Darcy, née Bennett, was superior to him, in any way; not that he was not worthy of her, what a preposterous thought! Of course he was good enough. No, Richard would never look at Lord Fitzwilliam Darcy's wife because Richard was Fitzwilliam's friend, his trusted vassal, his faithful ally.

Richard loved his cousin. He had always loved Fitzwilliam, since the Earl of Matlock, Richard's father, had sent his second born to Pemberley, at the tender age of eight. The Earl had never liked Richard, on this at least Molly had spoken the truth. Richard never knew why. He only knew his father's kind words were always for Richard's eldest brother, or his sweet baby sister. Richard only got spiteful looks and reproaches, and when an alliance was made for some reason between Darcy's father and the Earl, and Richard was exiled from home and sent to live and serve at Pemberley instead, he was relieved, as young as he was.

Richard remembered when he arrived at Pemberley and saw Fitzwilliam Darcy for the first time. Fitzwilliam was an eleven year old boy, tall and proud, with kind eyes. He had embraced his young cousin and said, very formally, "Richard, I welcome you. We do not know each other, it is true, but I will give you my friendship and my love, if you give me yours."

Richard did.

They grew up together, the four of them… Young Lord Darcy, already serious, already the responsible one, Charles, of House Bingley, with his cheerfulness, his bravery and romantic philosophies, Wickham and his reptilian smiles, and Richard – who kept an eye on Wickham.

Richard was the one to warn Lord Darcy when Wickham plotted to murder him. Darcy and Richard stopped Wickham's attempt to take Pemberley, but then Wickham took his revenge on Georgiana, and they were too late to save the young girl's virtue and peace of mind.

So two years later Richard slit Wickham's throat in a hut in the middle of the Gerudo desert, where the coward had fled.

It was night. The desert was cold. Wickham was sleeping. Richard woke him up, not because he wanted a fair fight – Richard was not the type to take any unnecessary risks, and he did not care about fair play – no, it was so he could look Wickham in the eye while he was holding him down.

"This, is from Lady Georgiana," Richard said, stabbing Wickham in the balls. "This," he added, stabbing the left thigh and viciously twisting the blade, "is from me. And this," he concluded, slowly burying his knife in Wickham's throat, "is from Lord Darcy."

Richard slit Wickham's throat, and looked as the villain's blood was leisurely eaten by the sand.

&P&

When Richard came back from the desert, Lord Darcy had wed Elizabeth Bennett, who seemed quite the adventuress, in both sense of the terms.

Elizabeth's past was shady, she had no money, mediocre family connections, and was not even that pretty. At first, Richard wondered if his cousin had been taken in – enchanted maybe – yes, enchantments, they existed, people said, even if Richard had never seen one with his own eyes. He wondered if it would be a good idea to slit Elizabeth's throat too, in her bed, one day, to free his cousin.

But no. Lord and Lady Darcy were happy – seemed so, at least. Lady Elizabeth Darcy was clever, a little too much, for a woman. Richard accompanied her when she walked the mountains' paths – she liked to walk – to protect her, was the official story. The truth was, Richard wanted to see what she was about.

But no, again, there was nothing wrong there – Lady Darcy was loyal – she was kind too, to her husband, to his friends, toward everybody in Pemberley, even the lowest of servant. Richard kept an eye on her still. He taught her to fight. Lady Darcy was definitely not a natural, but Richard liked laughing with her about her mistakes – when the sun would catch in her hair, in the courtyard, it was a pretty sight – and Elizabeth had a way to thank him, after their sessions, with such a radiant smile – they talked a lot, they joked – but there was no ambiguity there – no, not at all.

That was why when Molly said those ugly things, Richard was so mad.

Sure, Richard had conversations with Elizabeth that he could not have with anybody else – with no other woman, at least. That was Elizabeth's father's fault, he had educated her like a man, it was unnatural, Richard thought. Too much knowledge made women's brains a little twisted. But still Richard imagined Elizabeth as a little girl, struggling on ancient texts, and the idea, the image – it made him smile.

But – again – no. Molly was crazy. She was jealous. Of him, and of Lady Darcy's accomplishments. Not Molly's fault; jealousy was in women's blood. They could not help it, as intelligence and humor were men's prerogatives, no blame to the women really, it was just as the Creators had devised humanity.

Life

Then Lord Darcy was told by the Creators to go and fight the monster on Madorna Mountain. He left. Lady Darcy went after him, clad in men's clothes, her traveler sword in hand.

She came back, alone. Richard learned, through her very worried maid, that Elizabeth had dressed herself in black – she had gone in her room, and would not receive anybody.

Richard went in anyway.

"What happened?" he asked, dread in his heart.

"Oh, Richard," Elizabeth whispered – and began to sob. She told him how she had found her husband's dead body on a rocky trail – he had not even made it to the west pass. Lord Darcy had been ambushed by Guardians. "He tried to fight," Elizabeth explained, "He should just have fled, but… There were three of them… and…" Her voice faltered. "When I arrived, his body was already cold."

Richard blanched, his knees went weak, and he had to sit down.

Richard cried later, much later, when there was nobody to see him – men did not cry – but he could not help it, alone in one of the narrow, secondary stairs, surrounded by walls of black stone. Then Richard swore – he swore to himself – he would be loyal still. He could not be loyal to Lord Darcy anymore, but he could be loyal to what Lord Darcy loved the most.

To Pemberley. To the land. To the people.

Richard would protect them.

Elizabeth - Lady Darcy - kept to her room. Richard went to talk to Henry Tilney, Darcy's constable. Together they decided to keep the news of their lord's death under wraps for a while. This was the time for Richard to speak to the people he trusted the most, to surround himself with allies, and get rid of the problematic vassals. He sent some of them away, and even had one of them killed – the man had been an accomplice of Wickham, at the time, but Lord Darcy had refused to punish him because of lack of proof – Richard felt there was proof enough.

After five days, the coast was clear.

Of course Darcy's heir should inherit Pemberley... but there was no heir. Lord Darcy had no children. Lady Georgiana and her new husband had no son, maybe that would change, but waiting was not an option. There was Richard's eldest brother, of course. The first born of the Earl of Matlock. It made Richard sick just thinking about it. His brother with his vanity and his incompetence. He would destroy everything.

No. Richard was the only one able to protect Pemberley. But it would be a coup, so he had to act smart, and fast.

Henry Tilney was a clever man. "You have to take a wife," he told Richard during a discussion in Darcy's study. "A man, alone, who takes control of the land, he's an usurpator. The same man, with a wife – he's a bloodline," Tilney explained. "He will want peace and prosperity – for his children – that is what people will think."

"I am not marrying Anne," Richard protested.

Anne was Darcy's cousin, rich, but sickly and extremely unpleasant.

Tilney laughed. "No. But you have to marry someone."

The answer was obvious.

&P&

You know how they say "a flash of realization"? For Richard, it was more of a lightning bolt. A huge flash of white light in his brain. Everything became clear at the same moment, when Tilney pronounced Elizabeth's name.

Of course Richard should wed her.

And of course Molly had been right. Right from the beginning.

Richard was perfectly calm in Tilney's company, inside he was staggered. Later, he sat down in the same black stone, spiral stair. It was a narrow passage that nobody was using anymore, the perfect place to think.

So, he loved her – it all was obvious now - Richard had loved Elizabeth Darcy for months, maybe a year. Maybe even more. In Richard's soul, guilt, fear, ambition, passion. Marrying her was the clever move. It was the right union – it would give Pemberley a sense of continuity, of legitimacy. Richard could even say Lord Darcy ordered the marriage before he left, in case of his death – if Elizabeth supported the lie, nobody would dare doubt it. And – the idea that Richard could hold her, touch her, fuck her. The idea that she would look at him with this light in her eyes, kiss him, laugh with him, for him. The idea that he had those wrong, evil, traitorous thoughts for a long time – that he was betraying his cousin in his heart – unknowingly – what would have had happened, Richard wondered, if Lord Darcy had lived? Maybe Richard would never have realized – maybe it would have stayed a secret even from his own mind.

Burning embers.

Now it was a goddamn fire.

&P&

Richard went directly into Elizabeth's bedroom. He told her about the marriage. She was sitting on the bed, clad in black. Listening.
When he was finished, she touched her forehead, then rubbed her hands, as if she was cold.

"What are my other options?" she asked.

"You could stay here as a widow, of course. You would be comfortable, respected, but useless. You could also go back to your family. Or live with your sister."

"I could leave again," Elizabeth breathed. "Walk the world."

Richard nodded. "You could." Everything was in suspense. Everything was hanging to her answer. Now that he had seen his life with her – images of the future unrolling when he was sitting on the black stone steps – Richard could not see anything else.

(She is too good for you, Molly had said.)

"But the world is empty," Elizabeth continued. "And I would be useless too." She took her head in her hands, massaged her forehead, again. "Here I could…"

She hesitated. Then she looked directly into Richard's eyes. "If you married me, you would marry a virgin."

"What?"

Elizabeth told him the truth, about the relationship she had with Lord Darcy. How he loved her but she did not – or did, but realized it too late – how she never went to him, in the marital bed. How he died alone before she could pour her heart to him. Before she could make it right. Her voice so tense. Close to tears, all the time, but never giving in.

"You said you would kill me if I ever broke Lord Darcy's heart, Richard," she concluded. "See, you should have."

So that what was on Elizabeth's face, Richard understood. Not only pain, but guilt. Even deeper than his. More acid. Eating her.

"I am not as chivalrous as my cousin," Richard stated. "I would come to your bed."

She laughed. It was bitter. "Knowing you, I never expected otherwise."

"We are in agreement then." Richard looked at her – and he should not have. Because what he was feeling at that moment – raging passion – Elizabeth saw. He perceived the change in her countenance – the realization darting through her with the speed of an arrow. Her astonishment. Her comprehension. Her view of him brutally shifting, like his had an hour ago.

Damn it all. He should not have showed his hand – but it was done.

Richard stood up. He gestured toward the bed. "Shall we seal the deal now?"

Elizabeth turned pale. She hesitated. Then: "Very well."

So she was punishing herself by laying with him. And he was feeling like a traitor and a felon.

What a great couple they would make.

(To be continued!)