A/N: As you may have judged by the title, this is an alternate ending to my story Two Hearts as One. As I was posting that story and reading various reviews and re-thinking my original direction, I felt the need and desire to write this alternate ending, mainly to have a situation where we were all spared so much angst, which I did not shy away from in the original story. So no matter if you are familiar or unfamiliar with the original story, I would highly recommend you go back and read the first seventeen chapters (to either acquaint or re-acquaint yourself with it - in fact, if you didn't read the original story, you will be totally lost reading this). This is the equivalent of chapter 18, and the first third of it or so is the same. For those of you faithful readers who read the original story when I first posted it several months ago, I'm sorry for making you wait so long for this alternate version of events in my already-alternate universe. Life got in the way and I was having a hard time motivating myself to finish this. Please forgive me. I hope you enjoy!

Frederick's presence in the house was a much-needed breath of fresh air. Aside from the joy they all felt at seeing one another after a long absence, he immediately set to making himself useful, his merry spirit infectious as he engaged his father in conversation and helped his sister with various tasks. He would hardly sit still, so eager was he to please his family whom he had not seen for so long. It was too late for him to see his mother the evening he arrived, but he spoke of his anticipated meeting with her with so much vigor, Margaret could not help feeling that his energy would somehow transfer to Mrs. Hale and make her well.

For her own part, Margaret was happy to find a sympathetic brother who only remembered, or professed to remember, the fond times they had shared so long ago in childhood. His solicitude and acts of kindness gave her much relief, and she looked forward to a lessening of her own burdens, as it was clear he was determined to take upon himself some of the cares she had carried. She could almost forget his danger in how happy he was to see them.

The next morning, however, brought back the old fears. Frederick's energy was tempered at the sight of his mother, and the change in him reminded Margaret that all was not well for them. While he sat quietly with Mrs. Hale for many hours, Margaret fretted over every strange and familiar noise. Dixon was true to her word and guarded the front door carefully, but Margaret worried perpetually that Frederick would still somehow be discovered.

Mrs. Hale was able to rouse herself a little when she awoke to find her son at her side. But it did not last long, frail and weak as she was. She said very little, and she smiled feebly. But at least she had this comfort; he was there, and she could depart the world knowing the man her child had become. This small consolation relieved much of her fidgetings for some time and gave Frederick a false hope that she could recover.

Margaret knew this hope well, but she also knew it could not be realized, which was confirmed to her by Dr. Donaldson when he made his visit.

"I am afraid, Miss Hale, that this state of tranquility will not endure for many days, nor even many hours. You will have to prepare yourself."

Margaret had already been prepared for many days, and she only squared her shoulders in response to his kindly instruction. The serenity and strength in her expression impressed to the good doctor once more of the remarkable young woman who carried this family. She thanked him for his visit and saw him out quietly.

Frederick had been concealed in his room during Dr. Donaldson's visit, and this precaution in conjunction with the doctor's words was enough to subdue all remaining cheer. Anxiety and fear combined with grief as the hours passed, as Mrs. Hale slowly became less and less sensible of her son's presence. Her family gathered around her as she slipped into unconsciousness, but she did not know it.

Before the next morning came, she was gone.

Frederick's collapse into anguish rivalled that of Mr. Hale's, so much so that any hopes Margaret had cherished of his help were done away instantly. Neither were to be consoled, which left her once again with the task of looking after her family. Thankfully Dixon had borne herself up tolerably, so Margaret was not entirely deserted in the wake of her mother's death, but even the faithful servant did not allow her much time to mourn. Dixon's kind words only reminded Margaret of her responsibilities and the arrangements to be made.

But how she longed for some time to give way to her own sorrow. Her father and brother were broken and allowed to remain in such a state, and she felt constricted by being forced to put her feelings aside. What good would even a half-hour's relief do for her! She yearned for such release, and it was now she wanted Mr. Thornton more than ever. His comforting strength and sympathy had been given to her so freely when she cried for Bessy; how much more did she need that strength now? He would not remind her of any duties, but let her weep; he would be the one to take on her burden of care. How she wanted him!

But he could not come to her now. With Frederick's arrival, she had been understandably diverted from her decision to confess her feelings to her father, occupied as she was by Frederick's presence and now by all the duties she had to perform. It would only be selfish of her to force her confession upon her father while he grieved, so there was no hope of being able to divulge their secret to Mr. Thornton. And the more time that passed from her desperate resolution, the more she lost her nerve. Perhaps to tell Mr. Thornton of Frederick would be foolish, after all. She had not given the idea enough thought. And now she was simply too busy to devote any time to the idea, to decide once and for all what was the right course to take.

In any case, no matter what she felt, she knew she had little right to distract her father, so they had to continue concealing her brother. Frederick's violent cries were hard enough to disguise from the next-door neighbors, who may hear him through the thin walls. If Mr. Thornton were to enter the house, it would be impossible to hide Frederick in his crazed state. Margaret must remain alone until he took hold of himself. No one could be allowed in the house until then.

Mr. Hale's grief was not loud or violent, but silent and withdrawn. Margaret made many attempts to speak to him about funeral arrangements, but he would only reply with a shake of his head. It was only as she was leaving the room that he muttered, "Mr. Bell . . . my groomsman . . . he will make arrangements." So writing to Mr. Bell was added to the business Margaret had to attend to.

It was not until the next day that Frederick was able to rouse himself at all. Margaret was relieved that he had recovered enough to at least want to be of use to her, but she was so worn and exhausted, she found she could care little. She had put herself through so much work and toil with little regard to her own melancholy in the last twenty-four hours, that his sympathetic attendance on her felt too late. But she would take advantage of his half-renewed energy so she could rest. Any sleep she had tried the previous night had done nothing to give her any refreshment, and she soon fell asleep on the sofa after he had persuaded her to put her feet up.

She was awakened by the sound of the door-bell. A glance at the clock informed her that she had not closed her eyes more than half an hour previous, and her first feeling was one of disappointment at not being able to rest longer. However, she was also curious about who may be calling at such a time; any shop people or other tradesmen they did business with came much earlier in the morning, and Mary would not have come to the front door if summoned. Margaret groggily moved to the window to see if she could glimpse who stood at their door before Dixon sent them away. Her view was awkward and slightly obstructed, but she quickly snapped into alertness at recognizing a familiar figure.

No matter the pain Margaret had been enduring the last few days, her heart leapt at seeing even a little of him. She immediately moved away from the window as she heard Dixon open the door. She did not wait to hear what inquiries he made or any answer Dixon gave him before she reached the landing and called, "Please show Mr. Thornton into the study, Dixon. I will fetch Father."

He was still mainly hidden from her view as he had not entered the house, but Margaret could see Dixon clearly. Indeed, her expression would have been difficult for anyone to miss, for she turned to give Margaret a forbidding and incredulous glare at such a request. Margaret was sure she was confounded by the risk Margaret was taking by allowing Mr. Thornton in the house, but Margaret was in no mood to turn him away. Her father must be glad of his company, and she was longing to see him.

Before Dixon could make any veiled objections to her order, Margaret turned and sped to her mother's room, where Mr. Hale sat in silent and lonely vigil. It was only as she entered the hallowed space that she slowed her movements and forced her voice to be calm and quiet. "Father?" she touched his shoulder delicately. He barely turned his head, but his audible intake of breath was enough to acknowledge her. "Mr. Thornton is downstairs. I'm sure he wishes to see you."

Mr. Hale now looked up. "Oh, Margaret, I do not know if I can see him. Or anybody."

"Please, Father," she remonstrated gently. "He is your friend, and I know he would wish to pay his respects to you. He was so kind to Mama, you know. Please go down and speak to him. His company will do you good, I'm sure."

She was relieved that he gave no further protest to her urgings, for she was sure she could not keep herself composed for much longer, a desperate scheme mounting in her mind. Her father rose languidly from his chair and briefly touched his dead wife's hand. The gesture sobered Margaret's growing anxiety, and she followed his example before they both left the room. Her father moved slowly, grief and remorse taking their toll on his weak spirit, and Margaret was obliged to support him with her arm as they walked down the stairs.

"He cannot stay long," Mr. Hale murmured as they neared the bottom. "Frederick should not have to stay hidden. I hope his visit is short."

Margaret did not share in this hope, and her anxiety only increased at her father's words and the sight of Dixon outside the study door. Her displeasure was obvious, but Margaret did not bother steeling herself against a good scolding, sure she would not be able to attend to any reproofs Dixon was preparing. She was too preoccupied by the rash impulse she was giving way to. She let go of her father's arm when they reached the door, letting him go in alone. As much as she wanted to see Mr. Thornton, she needed to do one more thing before seeing him.

Ignoring Dixon's hiss of "What are you doing, Miss Margaret?" she strode to her brother's bedroom door. No doubt he had retreated there at the sound of the bell. She knocked quickly, fearful that she would lose her nerve if she slowed down for even a moment. She heard Dixon behind her, still hissing in alarm, sure as she must be that the young miss had lost her head. Frederick soon opened the door and gave her a sincere if confused smile.

"What is it, Margaret? I thought I heard the bell. Is it already safe for me to emerge from my cave?" His joking manner did little to relieve Margaret's agitated state, but she replied, "Yes, all is safe, Fred. Will you come with me to see Father? He's in the study."

Dixon gasped behind her, but Margaret would not look at her as she resolutely took hold of Frederick's hand. It did not even register in her mind that he had given no answer to her question before pulling him along the hall. Dixon whispered fierce objections, hoping to penetrate Margaret's feigned deafness, and Frederick became increasingly confused and hesitant. Fortunately for Margaret, the walk down the hall was short and they were soon at the study door.

Suddenly, everything was happening at once. Understanding dawned on Frederick as he finally deciphered Dixon's flurried whispers and heard another man's voice in the study. "Margaret, what are you doing?" he protested as Margaret reached for the handle. Dixon lunged for Margaret's wrist as she pushed the door open, hoping to halt her action, but it was too late. The light from the room streamed into the hall, and now Frederick tried to pull out of Margaret's grip and escape, but her hold was like a vice, and he was soon exposed to view. Mr. Hale jumped out of his chair, exclaiming, "Margaret! What have you done?" Dixon turned away, her head in her hands, ashamed and astounded at Margaret's betrayal. But Margaret, despite the hold she had on her brother, kept her eyes fixed on the man who was now rising from his chair, confusion marring his brow, slight suspicion and wonder creeping into his eyes at the sight of a stranger behind her.

In the commotion of Frederick's struggle and Mr. Hale's exclamation, Margaret had not been able to speak. But as Frederick attempted to wrench himself out of her grip, pulling her backward and asking what she was thinking, she begged insistently, "No, Fred, please! Please listen!" She took hold of him with her other hand to force him to stay. "It is all right! Please!"

"No, it is not all right!" he declared angrily. Mr. Hale was still spluttering in fright and Dixon now joined in the battle to disengage Margaret's hand from Frederick. Mr. Thornton stepped closer, wanting to assist her but completely ignorant of how to do so.

Finally she cried out, giving one last forceful tug, "Fred, this is Mr. Thornton."

Somehow her simple words silenced all. Frederick ceased his struggles and Dixon fell back nearly in a swoon. Mr. Hale stood stock-still, a brief terror engulfing his previous grief. Margaret relaxed her grip and dropped her hands to her sides, looking back and forth among these men she loved. There was everything to say, but with such a wild beginning, how would she find the words? She cast her gaze onto Mr. Thornton, who seemed to pierce her with his eyes, full of question and confusion. She could only hope he saw her pure intentions as she faced Mr. Hale.

"I am sorry, Father. I did not mean to cause such a scene." Mr. Hale still looked at her with his shocked expression, his silence effectively berating her for such a foolish act. "I know what we agreed to do. I know I promised. But . . ." she gathered her strength. "Mr. Thornton has proved himself a loyal friend to us many times over. He deserves our trust." She paused. "He deserves to know about Fred."

Still silence, but Mr. Hale's expression was finally not so rigid. Margaret hoped that he remembered his initial pleasure at the idea of confiding in Mr. Thornton. Perhaps he would forgive her impetuous action. She turned back to Frederick, who still lingered in the doorway. "I want him to know."

His anger had lessened, as well, to a sort of frustrated wariness. He looked a little closer at Mr. Thornton, who alone had remained silent, but who was entirely perplexed. Margaret did not follow Frederick's gaze, but turned back to her father, ready to plead her case more fully. But his next words rendered her unspoken entreaty unnecessary.

"You may as well come in, Fred. We have gone too far now for concealment. Which was no doubt your aim, Margaret," he said mildly, but a little wearily. Frederick stepped further into the study, leaving the door open behind him, as though still wanting a means of escape.

"John," Mr. Hale continued once Frederick had come closer. "Allow me to introduce Frederick Hale. My son."

Whatever Mr. Thornton had been expecting, this was not it. He had been ready to extend his hand, but dropped it at Mr. Hale's final words. "My son." He was thunderstruck at such a revelation. Now it was his turn to look back and forth among the family, not entirely sure they weren't playing him for a fool. For why wouldn't Mr. Hale tell him he had a son? Why wouldn't Margaret tell him she had a brother? But any skepticism on his part was done away at Margaret's look, a pleading half-smile on her lips as she silently asked him to believe it. He was no less astounded, however.

"Your son?" he finally asked. "I . . . I am . . . astonished!" This word was simply not enough to fully express his shock.

The deed done, Frederick stepped forward in determination. "It is true, Mr. Thornton. Under normal circumstances, I would not hesitate to say I am glad to make your acquaintance, but these are not normal circumstances. In fact, they are most odd." At this, he cast an accusing glare at his sister, but she did not flinch. "However," he said, turning back to Mr. Thornton, "if my sister vouches for your loyalty and friendship, I suppose you may be trusted. And if that is the case, I am glad to know you." He stuck out his hand rather awkwardly, but Mr. Thornton was quick to take it.

"I am glad to know you, as well, Mr. Hale. But I must confess my confusion. I had no idea of your existence until this moment."

"I imagine so. My family has found it prudent to not speak of me since –"

"Oh, please, may we not go up to drawing room?" Margaret interjected. "Then perhaps we may all sit and try to be comfortable?"

"Yes, yes," Mr. Hale agreed, eager for the tension to dissipate and a pause to help them dissemble. "Let us go there, and then we may explain ourselves." He moved from his chair with alacrity, an example they all followed. Mr. Thornton could not help overhearing Frederick whisper to Margaret, "I certainly hope you know what you're doing." She dropped her head at this remark, but she used the opportunity to look back and give Mr. Thornton a smile. He returned it readily, reassured by her look that although he was all bewilderment now, that would not last much longer.

Dixon had been hovering at the door during the whole exchange, and as they all moved to the stairs, she took Margaret's arm firmly and held her back. "I hope you are happy, Miss," she spoke low and disapproving. "Not only have you unthinkingly put Master Frederick in danger, you have put the whole house in uproar all while the mistress lies upstairs!"

Margaret did not quail, but only stood the straighter. "I am sorry, Dixon, for disturbing the peace of the house. I promise it will not happen again. But I did what I thought right, and I ask you not to question me or my actions. Now if you would bring us some tea, I'm sure that would be most helpful in restoring some tranquility."

She bore herself away imperiously, leaving Dixon wondering in her wake. She made a note to herself to give Dixon a more sincere apology later, for she knew Dixon only had the family's best interests to heart. She had not intended to upset the house in such a fashion, and she did regret that she had caused such tumult, especially in light of her mother's body lying upstairs. However, she could not regret that Mr. Thornton would now know the truth, that she would not be forced to lie to him. She certainly could not profess her love to him in the presence of her father and brother, but she was that much closer to confessing all.