"This is going to be weird," Dougie Field said as the taxi pulled through the gate and into a small courtyard.
"Of course it's going to be weird," Colin Marsh replied. "This is Old Money, real Old Money. They haven't changed their attitudes since the 1900s."
The mansion was modest in size, yet still possessed an aura of quietly confident ostentation. It was also very isolated, being surrounded by woodland so old Colin wouldn't have been surprised to see wolves running through it. It had been a long taxi drive. The fare on the meter would have given Colin a heart attack if he'd not known it was already covered. Thankfully, Crispin was footing this one.
Crispin could foot it.
Crispin Montague was about as Old Money as you could be. A taxi fare that would have meant Colin eating mechanically recovered beefburgers for the rest of the week was nothing to him.
"We have to ignore it's weird," Colin said. "Treat it as normal. This is one of those networking opportunities they always tell you to take full advantage of at university."
"Yup. Nod and smile at the crusty old relics and hope one gives you a cushy job after you graduate," Dougie said.
They both got out of the taxi.
"It's still going to be weird," Dougie said.
The small car park was covered in gravel that crunched underfoot. It was fully illuminated by a pair of baroque, wrought-iron lamps. A few other cars were already parked up outside the house. As with the mansion there was a quiet aura of wealth to them. Top-end models without trumpeting they were top-end models.
Colin watched as other guests walked up to the front door. They looked fairly ordinary, like regular doctors and lawyers going to a club after work. Colin wondered what he'd been expecting. He was too used to tiktok videos of influencers flashing the bling. This was a level of wealth far above that. They didn't feel the need to flaunt it because it was all normal and commonplace to them. They'd never known any different.
Colin wasn't greedy. He was fine with just enough bling to flash like the gaudiest tiktokkers.
Dougie knocked him out of his reverie by sharply jogging his elbow.
"Will you look at that," he hissed.
This car did not look unobtrusive. It was a classic Rolls Royce painted a very unclassic shade of lush pink. The passenger that stepped out was just as eye-catching as her vehicle.
She might just be the hottest woman Colin had ever seen in his life. Well, what he could see of her. Her slim form was wrapped in a very chic fur parka, with the fur-lined hood pulled up over her head. Her eyes were hidden behind fashionable sunglasses. The rest of her face was pale and exquisitely sculpted. She was tall and leggy, and her stocking-clad legs terminated in expensive black leather boots.
Colin wondered who she was. She was dressed like a movie or pop star, but not one Colin recognised, and he liked to keep up with all the latest trends. Even heavily covered up, she oozed sex appeal. She wore it with the same ease as her fashionable fur parka. Both Dougie and Colin couldn't help but stare as they watched her walk up to the door and enter the mansion.
Then they turned and looked at each other with giddy grins.
Now that was a girl you wouldn't see at a regular university party!
"Top totty," Dougie said.
"Posh totty," Colin said.
"Posh totty is always top totty," Dougie said.
They walked up to the door where Crispin was already waiting for them.
"I'm glad you could make it," he said as he greeted them.
"Glad you invited us," Colin said.
Crispin was Old Money. He was never flash with it. Just like the mansion and cars it was unmistakeably there though. In his posture. In the inflections of his voice.
They'd been on the same corridor in halls of residence for the first year. He was on the same course as Dougie. The three of them had rented a flat together after leaving halls for the second year. They were still together now, at the beginning of their third year.
Despite this, Colin never felt he'd got to know Crispin all that well. Crispin wasn't secretive, or guarded, but Colin got the sense he only let out what he wanted to let out. Crispin was affable enough, and a good and generous friend, yet a complete mystery in other regards. Dougie and Colin jokingly put it down to his background as Old Money.
* * * *
"You needn't have gone to all that effort with the suits," Crispin said as he led them through into the house.
Dougie had hired his suit that morning. It didn't fit all that well. Dougie had spent most of the taxi ride self-consciously trying to adjust it, to no avail.
Colin had come in the same suit Dougie had seen him wear for every fancy do at the university. It wasn't a bad suit, just one that had been worn a few too many times. Colin had expressed fears it would look too cheap, but it was all he had.
Neither of them wanted to stand out.
As it happened, they might have arrived a little too overdressed. Crispin himself was dressed very casually in a black polo neck jumper.
"Do we look like we're trying too hard?" Dougie asked.
"It's fine," Crispin said. "It's supposed to be a casual affair, but some still turn up in nice dinner suits. Old habits die hard."
He took them down a side hallway.
"What you wear is irrelevant for the main event anyway. You'll see," he added cryptically.
* * * *
They walked through the house. Colin saw lots of Old Money. Blue bloods. Posh. He wondered if there were any actual bona fide lords here. He felt like an interloper. He'd expected that and planned to hide it by putting on air of swagger. Fake it 'til you make it. He'd practised his swagger.
Now he was here, it... didn't seem right.
"Just act normally," Crispin told them. "It's just a social event. People are here to socialise. Don't be too pushy and don't come across as needy. Just have normal conversation like you would at a university party."
Dougie and Colin nodded.
They knew what this night was about. It was a chance to get up and breathe the rarified air above the upper crust. To familiarise themselves with it, to become acclimatised to it, to make contacts, to open up opportunities. Neither wanted to fuck it up.
Crispin took them into what looked like a changing room. A line of identical black silk robes was hung on a rack. Dougie and Colin looked around in puzzlement. Several feet away a balding man with an expansive gut was taking his clothes off and hanging them up on a rack.
Colin turned back and saw Crispin was already taking off his clothes and putting on one of the black silk robes. It looked like something a Satanic cultist would wear in an old horror movie. Crispin saw them looking and his face reddened. He looked sheepish.
"Before the party can begin, there's something that needs to be gotten out of the way first. An old... superstition."
"Superstition?" Dougie questioned.
* * * *
Crispin looked embarrassed. "It's a very old ritual. Thought to bring prosperity and good luck. We still carry it out, even though it's more of a symbolic show than anything nowadays. A relic of older times."
Weird old rich people, Dougie thought.
Dougie took his clothes off, folded them and put them in a wooden box next to Crispin's. He put on one of the black robes. It was lightweight and seemed to be made out of soft silk.
"Where do we put our valuables?" Colin asked.
Dougie shared a glance with Crispin. They both smiled and shook their heads.
"I don't think we need to worry about thieves here," Dougie said.
