Oxford Blood (The Cavaliers: Book One)

by Georgiana Derwent



  Oxford Blood (The Cavaliers: Book One)

  By Georgiana Derwent

  Copyright © 2012 Georgiana Derwent

  All rights reserved

  Third edition (2013)

  Book cover design by Scarlett Rugers Design

  www.scarlettrugers.com

  For F, the man of my overheated twenty-something dreams and the original Cavalier

  TABLE OF CONTENTS

  Prologue - Trinity Term

  Part One - First Year, Michaelmas Term

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Part Two - Year One, Hilary Term

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Part Three - Year One, Trinity Term

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  About the Author

  Prologue – Trinity Term

  he Cavaliers’ Midsummer Party. Celebrate the lengthening of the nights with us. Dress like it’s your last night on earth. 21st June. Be ready and we will be waiting.

  When she found the invitation, Stephanie French stared at it for a few moments, utterly speechless. Then she punched the air. This was it. Until she got a proposal from an aristocrat (and she was working on that one), she’d reached the pinnacle of Oxford University social progress.

  Despite her humble background, Stephanie had grown almost blasé about her place in the in-crowd and each exclusive party. Nonetheless, she’d gasped at the sight of the tiny square of solid silver engraved with a heavily stylised sword and horse design.

  Although she’d tried to find out, Stephanie still didn’t know much about the Cavaliers, the most exclusive and secretive society in Oxford. She’d heard some rather alarming rumours about their summer parties, but she’d long ago decided to do whatever it took to get ahead.

  ***

  The party began the moment that the sun went down. An unordered taxi picked up each guest and drove them into the Oxfordshire countryside. One by one, the taxis deposited them in a large clearing in the middle of a wood, several miles outside of the city. The lanterns and flaming torches enchanted Stephanie and she found the elaborate free bar impressive. It served every drink that she could imagine. Music of all kinds drifted out from hidden speakers. To her astonishment, a mock-up of a scaffold decorated in the Cavalier colours of silver and turquoise dominated the space.

  “I hear that’s always there. Commemorating the execution of King Charles or something,” Alice, another of the guests, whispered to Stephanie.

  Stephanie nodded, trying to look interested in her socialite friend’s ramblings, but her eyes and mind drifted across to Archie on the other side of the clearing. The son of a Duke, Stephanie found him surprisingly sweet and shy, and all the time that she’d been social climbing over the last year, she’d had him in her sights as the ultimate prize. At some point, however, she’d surprised herself by developing real feelings for him. Despite his aristocratic background, Archie looked as though he felt as out of place as she did, apparently sober and staid amidst the drunken and drugged chaos.

  Before she could reach him, the music suddenly stopped, and all the torches extinguished themselves. When they flickered back on, the Cavaliers stood on the scaffold, champagne glasses in hand. They wore similar white tie outfits to the guests, but as full members, they’d accessorised with waistcoats and bow ties in the society colours, and many of them carried canes topped with a carving of the Cavaliers’ sword and horse design.

  “Welcome,” said one of the members, a gorgeous tall boy with floppy white-blond hair and a finely sculpted, arrogant face. “I hope you’ve all been enjoying yourself in our absence. Now that we’re here, the party’s only going to get better.”

  The difference between the established members and the prospective ones intrigued Stephanie. Despite the prospective members’ obvious attractiveness, the current members made them look almost plain. They reminded Stephanie of an airbrushed modelling shoot compared to a holiday snapshot.

  “Becoming a Cavalier involves trading one life for a new and better one,” intoned the blond boy. His oddly hypnotic voice demanded Stephanie’s attention, and she couldn’t take her eyes off him. “It involves power that you can’t imagine. It involves acts that some would call evil but that we simply consider exhilarating. Allow me to introduce one of our most eminent old boys and begin the induction of the new members.”

  A man who appeared to be about forty but still looked very attractive in a George Clooney sort of way walked out of the woods behind the scaffold and joined the speaker on stage.

  “Ladies, gentlemen and Cavaliers, please raise your glasses to Augustine.” Everyone complied and the speaker passed the microphone to the newcomer.

  “Thank you, George,” said Augustine.

  George’s voice had been hypnotic, but Augustine’s left it in the shade. Nonetheless, she couldn’t shake off the idea that she had seen him before somewhere. Through her daze, she desperately tried to remember where.

  Augustine turned to face the candidates. He pointed at them, one by one, until he had selected five. Stephanie smiled when Augustine picked Archie out of the crowd. The elite group lined up on the scaffold.

  “Congratulations, gentlemen,” said Augustine. “Now please call your chosen guest to you.”

  The first selected candidate, a rower and College President named Peter, called for ‘Camilla Jenkins,’ and a brash brunette who had headed the fashion show committee walked up to him.

  “Alice Howard-Jones,” said a socialite type called Charles. Her friend and sometimes rival, a sexy blonde South African who partied constantly and had a different eligible boyfriend every other week, sashayed onto the stage.

  Edward Howard-Jones, Alice’s twin brother, stepped up next. Tall, muscular and as blond as his sister, he led the gay scene in Oxford and generally appeared amiably camp, until an election needed fixing - then he turned ruthless.

  “Can I pick James?” he asked nervously.

  Augustine nodded, and James, a failed candidate, walked over to join Edward.

  Hugh, a well-built, charming, black guy who had been President of the Union the term before, picked a girl called Amelia.

  Finally, it was Archie’s turn. “Stephanie French,” he mumbled, not quite daring to meet her eye.

  Stephanie joined him, almost overcome with delight. So far, they’d been keeping their burgeoning relationship quiet, but Archie could hardly have made his feelings more public than by picking her out of this group of beautiful and talented women, in front of the most important crowd in the university.

  George, standing behind Archie, glanced at Stephanie with a question in his eye. “French, was it?” he asked quietly enough that only she and Archie could hear. “Are you any relation to Adelaide? I’ve been trying to think who you reminded me of all night.”

  Stephanie had felt that nothing could ruin the moment, but his words filled her with a sense of unease. “I had an aunt called Adelaide,” she whispered. “But she died when I was a baby, you couldn’t have known her.”

  George smiled. “How fascinating. Isn’t it strange how things turn out?”

  Before she could reply, Augustine called for silence and stepped to the front of the scaffolding again.

  “Now it begins,” he proclaimed in his hypnotic voice. “What follows is a necessity. I ask you all to remain calm.”

  He raised his cane
before slamming it down on the floor. The Cavaliers, as one man, leant forward and sank their teeth into the necks of the inductees. Oddly, no one screamed. Stephanie could only manage one coherent thought – that aristocrats don’t have blue blood after all. Then everything went dark.