Chapter 7


Disclaimer: Anything that belongs to Disney does not belong to me.


Lizzie averted her eyes. She couldn't bear to look anymore at this horrible apparition that was apparently her brother's captor. There was a long, protracted silence. Nothing happened; not even a whisper of fabric or creaking of floorboards to indicate any motion.

At last, she dared to look again, and bit back a gasp. The figure was but a few feet from her. Lizzie was not a particularly short woman, but he towered over her by at least six inches. Now that he was closer to her lamp, his eyes were no longer terrible, empty pits. They were simply eyes, the irises an odd shade of dark purplish gray that she had never seen before. He was looking at her without expression, as if waiting for her to judge him.

Lizzie inched sideways along the wall, away from that stare. He took a step after her, but she edged away further. "Stay away from me," she warned.

The eyes crinkled. "I will do you no harm, Miss Bellevue."

Such a statement stoked Lizzie's momentarily forgotten anger at this man. "No harm! What a ridiculous thing to say!"

"Why?"

Lizzie blinked. "Why? Do you mean, what harm is there in locking up an innocent man who was only sent to your doorstep to beg for supplies? If you have to ask, then you don't deserve to be told!"

There was a silence. At last, he said, very quietly, "I suppose I deserved that."

"That and more! If I thought it would do any good, I would…give you a clout on the head with this lamp!" Lizzie snapped.

"Lizzie!" Robert's voice said from the other side of the trapdoor.

The man in front of her actually smiled. "You are quite a formidable woman, Miss Bellevue."

Lizzie bit her tongue and said nothing. He was clearly not listening to anything she said. So she just glared, trembling slightly with rage and fear. There was another protracted silence. When she had calmed down a bit, Lizzie ventured, "Please, will you release him?"

The grey eyes flickered. "I'm afraid not, Miss Bellevue."

A hot tremor of anger ran through Lizzie again, but she controlled it—barely. "Why not?"

"I need him for something."

"What could you possibly need someone like him for? He's just a northern soldier from Pennsylvania. What interest could you, a man of the South, possibly have in him?"

"I fail to see how that's any business of yours."

Lizzie glared. "No business of mine? He is my only brother!"

Now he was avoiding her eyes entirely. "My apologies for the inconvenience."

"The inconvenience!?" Lizzie spluttered. There were so many ways that she wanted to respond to this that all of them rushed to her throat at once and nearly choked her. At last she said, very calmly and very deliberately, "Please. He and I are all each other has left in this world. And the army has great need of soldiers. Please release him."

"No." He turned away and walked through the nearest wall and into one of the adjoining rooms.

"Wait!" Lizzie wailed, throwing herself at the spot where he had vanished. "Wait, please!" She pounded her fists against the wall, despairing of ever freeing her brother.

"What is it?" a voice asked from beside her. Lizzie leapt backwards and nearly hit her head on the edge of the stairs. The man had walked back through the wall in a different place and was looking at her coolly out of those fathomless eyes again.

Lizzie steeled herself. "I'll take his place."

"You—what? You will?" The stranger seemed genuinely taken aback.

"Lizzie, no!" Robert shouted despairingly from behind the locked trapdoor. "Don't—"

"Robert, please listen. It's the only chance I have to get you out of there. The army needs men such as you; the Union needs you. The Daughters don't need me; there are plenty of them to take care of the soldiers." Lizzie's eyes filled, but she refused to let them spill over. She turned back to her brother's captor. "If I stay here in his place, then will you let him go free?"

He thought this over. "Yes. I will. But you must promise me something in return."

"Anything."

"You must never try to escape."

Lizzie thought this over. An escape had been in the back of her mind. But if she gave her word, then she would be bound to it. Their mother had impressed into both of her children the importance of keeping a promise. She would have no choice but to remain here in this desolate plantation…forever. Was that really what she wanted? But then she weighed her own life against her brother's. When it came down to it, he was the one thing that could induce her to give all for.

Setting her jaw, Lizzie swore the oath: "I promise. I shall never attempt to escape from here." Even to her own ears, it sounded grudging. But it was the best she could do. And now she was bound.

"Very well." He gave her a short nod. They stood there for another moment, sizing each other up as a general would a potential battle site. At last, he said, "The key is beneath the second step. Would you be so good as to release Master Bellevue?"

Immediately, Lizzie flew to the second step and palmed the key. Within moments Robert was free and descending the stairs like lightning.

He gripped her arms in both of his, holding her close. "I don't agree to this, Lizzie. I refuse to. I have guardianship over you—"

"You lost that when I came of age, remember?" Lizzie reminded him in an undertone to match his, "And besides, what could you do? I have given my word. I must stay."

"Quite right, Miss Bellevue," her new captor agreed. He stood far too close to the pair of them for comfort. "I have your word on the matter. And now, Master Robert, if you will step down to the kitchen with me, I'll have Lilah fit you out with a few things for your General Sherman. That is what you came for, isn't it?" The cruel irony of this was lost on neither of the Bellevues. Both of them clenched their jaws in precisely the same way and contained their tempers. Robert gave Lizzie one last despairing look before he and the other man vanished down the stairs.

"Wait!" Lizzie called after them. Both turned to look at her, Robert hopeful, the stranger wary. Lizzie came to the top of the stairs. She held out her still-burning lamp to her brother. "Take this with you back to camp. Think of me whenever you light it."

Robert climbed the stairs again to take the lamp from her. "Thank you, sister," he said formally, kissing each cheek like a gallant courtier of old. "I shall think of you, as you say." Leaning close to her ear, he whispered, "And I'll come back for you. You have my word on it."

Lizzie started to try to dissuade him of this, but he was already gone, carrying the lamp light away from her. She was alone. It took only a few moments before she was stiffly huddled on the top step, her head buried in her arms. She sat like that in silence, without tears, until her captor returned for her alone. Robert was gone for good.

Even without hearing it, she knew he was there, waiting for her. He had to be. Lizzie refused to look and see if she was correct. She did not even want to think. However, she had never been one to remain in denial of facts for long. As it had been with the deaths of her parents, Lizzie unwillingly began to come to terms with it and attempt to live around it.

She looked up. As she had expected, the dark shape of her captor was there waiting for her at the foot of the stairs. Once again, his eyes gave away nothing; they were deeply in shadow. "I thought you were crying," he remarked frankly when she stood and brushed off her skirt. "I thought it might be best not to disturb you until you were more composed and prepared to see your room."

"I wasn't—my room?" Lizzie enquired, not certain she had heard correctly.

"Yes, of course. You didn't expect me to leave you in the attic, did you? It wouldn't be chivalrous at all. My servants have informed me that I was raised far better than to treat a lady with such disrespect. Follow me, please."

"But I'm not—"

He sighed. "Unless of course you would rather remain in the attic? That could easily be accommodated as well, should that be your preference."

Lizzie wanted very much to say yes, she would, if only because she wanted to see as little of him as possible, but the polite side of her mind restrained her. She walked slowly down the steps to join him.

He smiled again; it seemed almost in spite of himself. Gesturing elaborately with his hand, he led her down the hall.

"This will be your room." He indicated one of the doors to the decorated suites she had poked her nose into earlier. Hand shaking, Lizzie turned the elaborate brass knob and pushed open the door. The room, what she could see of it in the dark, was quite beautiful. Much nicer than anything she had ever dreamed of calling her own. Still, Lizzie closed her heart and refused to love it. She was a prisoner here; nothing could change that. She swallowed, and stepped inside with a cool "Thank you." She was pleased to hear that her voice was not trembling as much as her heart.

"No trouble at all, Miss. Now, I shall expect you downstairs in a half-hour's time once you've had the chance to freshen up and put on some…nicer…clothes."

She spun to face him. "What for?"

He blinked, once again seeming surprised by the hostility of her voice and posture. "Why, merely for supper."

"I've already eaten," she said coldly.

"It's not an option, girl. I expect to see you downstairs, in appropriate clothing, in precisely thirty minutes." And without another word, he walked away down the hall.

Lizzie mouthed wordlessly after him in inarticulate fury for a few moments before closing her door and wandering over to sit on the crocheted bedcover. Well, one thing was now very certain, Lord-whoever-you-believe-yourself-to-be, she thought. If it's a war of the wills you wish for, it's a war you'll get. And I don't intend to lose.


Author's Note: Sorry this one has taken so long to get out. It's been through several drafts until I got it where I wanted it, finally. I have to admit I was a little surprised at the lack of reviews for the previous chapter, but I understand that this is a very busy time of the year for everyone (myself included). Thanks very much to bellamegs for her faithful reviews.

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