Capítulo 14: Chapter 14
The townsfolk all nodded and murmured their agreement. Georgie had no doubt Mr. Dewey had told the story a hundred times over in the pub. It was likely embellished a bit with each telling, as well.
Lord Weir made an impatient gesture with one long-fingered hand. "A lad's imaginings and canny bits of misdirection."
Georgie had to suppress a shudder as she wondered what that strong, smooth hand would feel like caressing her skin. The church grew suddenly warmer and she pressed her knees together beneath her skirt to hide her body's totally inappropriate reaction.
His lordship shook his head. "I see you're not to be swayed. I'll match the bride-price, as has been the tradition. But I insist on the right to approve the choice of girl."
The Lord Mayor tipped his chin in acquiescence. "Very well, my lord." Then he turned his hard, dark eyes on the citizens crowded into the pews. "Does anyone have a daughter they wish to offer?"
There was a general murmur among the crowd, but no hands were raised.
"Very well. A ward, or servant then, who would be willing?"
Again, there was no response.
"The law of the village states that if no volunteer comes forth, a general lottery is to be held - " The mayor broke off as someone interrupted.
"I think one of the Burns girls should go," offered a familiar voice.
Thank you Mrs. Jones, Georgie thought bitterly as she saw her supposed housekeeper's pinched face look coldly around the room. "They've nowhere to go, and no money. Nothing but a burden on the village, otherwise."
"These would be the daughters of the late vicar?" his lordship inquired.
Georgie stood, refusing to be talked about as if she wasn't there. "Yes, my lord."
"Good day, Miss Burns." A smile flitted momentarily across his lips. "My condolences on the loss of your father. And what say you on the subject of this nonsense?"
"While it is true that my family finds ourselves in somewhat desperate straits, I can assure you - all of you - " she glared at Mrs. Jones, "that neither of my sisters is presently for sale."
Lord Weir's intense grey eyes flashed with what might have been humour. "Very well, then. Does anyone have any other suggestions?"
There were more murmurs and head-shaking until the mayor cleared his throat and spoke from the pulpit. "In that case, I shall require that every maiden above the age of sixteen be present in the village square tomorrow for the lottery. If anyone is not present, she will be chosen by default. Miss Burns, that includes yourself and Miss Charlotte. Now if there is no further discussion..."
Georgie gulped. A lottery? At fifteen, Ella would be safe, but both Georgie and seventeen-year-old Lottie would be subject to it.
"Aye, like there are any maidens left in the village," one old woman near Georgie chortled. "Every girl in town knew the sacrifice was coming, and jumped the fire with her beau last Beltane. Going to be a bevy of infants come February."
That bit of information dramatically changed the probable outcome of tomorrow's lottery. Georgie and Lottie hadn't known. Could they be the only virgins left in Draigmor? Even if they weren't, she didn't trust anyone in this town not to manipulate the outcome so she or Lottie was chosen. She couldn't lose Lottie, and if she herself was taken, there'd be no one to care for the children. Lord Weir had a sister, or so she'd heard through village gossip. Surely he'd understand that her siblings needed her. Although...
"Wait." She barely heard herself call out. An idea began to form in her mind, but it was so improbable, she could hardly bring herself to articulate it.
"Miss Burns?" Lord Weir raised one dark eyebrow.
"You're really going to allow this - this - travesty?" He seemed like such a rational man.
He shrugged, those broad shoulders rippling beneath his superfine coat. "It is part of the village charter - an agreement one of my ancestors signed centuries ago. If the villagers insist, then all I can do is offer my assistance to the family of the girl."
Unbelievable. Georgie's plan was a tenuous one at best, but it was the only road she could see out of a bad situation. So much of it would depend on his lordship. She sensed, somehow, that he was a man of honour. That honour might well be her family's only chance. She swallowed hard and looked up at his lordship, gazing straight into his remarkable eyes. "I will volunteer to be the sacrifice - under certain conditions."
The room went utterly silent. Georgie could practically hear the dust motes falling onto the stone floor.
Spine ramrod straight to keep herself from collapsing, she continued, "My lord, I would like you to personally take guardianship of my three younger siblings, treating them as if they were kin. That includes arranging a university education for Richard and London seasons for the girls. If you will agree to this, then I will agree to be your sacrifice. The wergild, as you so accurately called it, can be used to assure their futures."
"I'd be willing..." Squire Partridge interjected.
"No." Georgie glared the squire, then turned her gaze back to Lord Weir. "Another condition, my lord. You must promise that they will never be forced to wed against their wishes. And I want the entire agreement in writing."
She swore she saw a smile twitch at the corners of the earl's lips. "I believe that can be arranged before tomorrow."
Georgie swallowed again to force back the terror. It wouldn't do to show fear, not in front of the villagers. "One final condition, and this one is for the lot of you. If I come down from the cliff safe and sound, you will take it as proof that there is no dragon, and you will stop this sacrifice nonsense, once and for all."
"Excellent," Lord Weir agreed, over the din of muttering townsfolk. "I heartily concur. Should you return safely, I will take you, along with my new wards, to my sister's home in London. Does that meet with your approval?"
It was more than she had ever hoped or dreamed. She bit her lip and nodded.
Lord Weir turned to the mayor and squire. "Gentlemen. If she does return unharmed, will you agree to amend the charter?"
"But the token..." the squire sputtered.
"We will," the mayor acceded, with a nasty look at the squire.
"Very well." Lord Weir cast a stern glance around the room. "Miss Burns, I suggest we retire to quieter quarters to complete the arrangements. The rest of you may go on about your business."
Regalos
-- Regalo
recibido Estado de energía semanal
-- Ranking de
Poder 
-- Piedra de
Poder