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Lu Holmwood stopped her sleek automobile, parking it a few meters from Pongo Twistleton’s estate. Within seconds, Quincey Harker was out of the passenger’s seat, opening the door for her.
Lu stepped out, her blue evening gown under her coat catching the evening light.
“Why, how old-fashioned, Mr Harker,” she teased. She didn’t mind, she liked being a modern woman of the brave new 1920s, but she also knew that Quincey was used to imitating his father, Jonathan, when interacting with women.
“You helped me fix my tie earlier, Miss Holmwood, it is but polite.”
She linked her arm with his, giving him a grin as they made their way along the gravel path. “Well, such gestures of etiquette are appreciated in the kind of party we are heading to. So you will fit right in with the older crowd.”
She knew it had been a couple of years since his return from the trenches. But she knew he was a child since he last interacted with the blue-blooded circles of her adoptive father. “Ready, Q?”
“Ready.”
The air was crisp with the chill of late December. The estate’s garden was glimmering with twinkling lights from a distance. Soft music filled the air, as waiters and waitresses dressed in black uniforms navigated the spacious garden. People clad in all manner of smart and elegant finery mingled, conversing and wishing Merry Christmas to newcomers. Among the youthful, mainly upper-class crowd stood a few distinguished older relatives.
The garden party was a spectacle of winter elegance, in Lu’s eyes. Guests, wrapped in fur stoles and tailored coats, mingled beneath heaters and in the glow of elaborate chandeliers hung from trees. Young men and women, resplendent in their fine evening attire, laughed and chatted around the bushes, while older relatives gathered near the bonfire.
Lu once loved these parties—the elegance, the charm, the opportunity to make friends, meet potential partners, and immerse herself in the vibrant social scene. Not born into this life, the daughter of an unmarried maid, she was always struck by that world. Now she was trying to regain that once-innocent feeling, ever since her duties overseas as a war nurse came to an end.
‘These parties are a chance to escape, even if just for a little while, reminders of joy,’ she thought. She hoped that Quincey agreed. She recalled how, as a war nurse, soldiers would tell her they couldn’t wait to go back to pubs, among other things. She couldn’t provide drunken parties among blokes, but this was something that she could.
As they moved through the party, Lu introduced Quincey to friends and acquaintances, swelling with pride each time he charmed them with his modest demeanor and quiet dignity. She could see his initial tension easing with each friendly interaction.
Lu noticed that when someone he had not interacted with in the past would talk to him, Quincey would stand there, somewhat awkwardly, feeling out of place amongst the well-dressed guests and the glittering jewelry and lace. As she noticed his discomfort, she slipped her arm into his, guiding him towards her closest friends.
“Let’s go find The Bertramster, shall we?” Lu suggested.
“One day I’ll end up accidentally insulting someone, what with all these nicknames you use for each of your friends.”
“Not just me, they all do. And no one will get insulted by you, of all people. You’ve heard what kinds of ‘offenses’ Bertie and Jeeves have dealt with.”
Quincey chuckled. “Yes, I suppose I am safe. No intention to antagonize anyone over fiancées and suchlike.”
She spotted Bertie Wooster near a grand pavilion, walking away after talking with Bingo Little.
“Bertie!” Lu called out as they approached, her voice filled with genuine delight. “Merry Christmas!”
“Lu!” Bertie exclaimed, pulling her into a warm embrace, Bingo momentarily forgotten. He then turned to Quincey, extending his hand. "Cheerio, Harker! Merry Christmas. Spiffy to see you again.”
Quincey shook Bertie’s hand, his smile polite and reserved. “Likewise, Sir Wooster.”
They soon joined a small group gathered near the grand fountain. Sara Crewe, one of Lu’s closest friends, greeted them warmly. Soon after, she was taking Lu aside.
“Dearest Lucille, you bring the most intriguing guests.”
Lu laughed. "Q would have tried to disagree being called that.”
“Quite a reason why I would say he is quite different than the other gentlemen you have introduced before,” Sara remarked, always being more honest with Lu than with most others. “Would you two now happen to be…”
Lu glanced at her drink and shook her head. “An item? Not really. I haven’t had the right chance to drop the question, you know?”
“Is that so? Are you worried that he might not return the feeling, perhaps?”
“Oh no, I know he looks at me differently than he used to when we were younger. I’m hardly as oblivious as our dear Bertie is on those matters,” Lu gently nudged her with a wink. “Speaking of, I hope they’re getting along.”
Sure enough, they were. Bingo was narrating to Quincey about the time when Aunt Dahlia had asked Bertie to be an American Santa Claus at a past Christmas Party, much to Bertie’s chagrin.
The evening progressed, and the air filled with laughter and the clinking of champagne glasses. Lu’s peers danced on the open lawn, the band providing a slightly more modern rhythm at a younger patron’s request. The lanterns cast a soft glow over the garden, illuminating the faces of the revelers. Lu’s heart thrummed with anticipation to invite Quincey to dance with her in the sunset, the breeze carrying the crisp scent of winter. In moments like these, she felt alive, and fears faded away. She squeezed Quincey’s hand, and he returned the gesture.
Their moment was abruptly interrupted by a boisterous duo entering the garden. The twins Claude and Eustace arrived and made their presence known loudly, with booming BMW motorbikes mere meters from their group. In a flash, they were demanding to see Bertie for a “personal matter.”
Lu glanced at Quincey, noticing his sudden stiffness and the flicker of discomfort in his eyes.
The rowdy entrance and commotion contrasted sharply with the evening’s previously serene ambiance, and she could tell it was unsettling for him, despite his relaxed demeanor and winning smile.
Lu reached and took his hand, tugging him away from the scene.
“That’s ridiculous,” she muttered. “Ignore those two. They are the ones who always barge in to demand this or that from Bertie.”
“Ah,” Quincey started, following her, “yet from the stories you’ve told me, that’s hardly helping to narrow down who they are.”
Lu laughed.
Lu and Quincey found themselves strolling near the grand fountain, the gentle sound of water mingling with the distant live music. They had been at ease again, mingling with Lu's friends. But as they paused for a quiet moment alone, Lu could tell Quincey disliked it here, wondering if he felt like Lu’s been trying to force him into this life. Has she been forcing herself back into it?
They stood in silence for a moment among the chatter, the chill December air wrapping around them. As the evening wore on, an unexpected drizzle began to fall, the soft patter of raindrops surrounding the party. Thunder roared in the distance, sending a ripple of excitement and a touch of unease through the gathering.
"Well, this certainly adds a bit of drama to the evening, doesn't it?" Bertie remarked with a chuckle as he walked away to avoid the downpour.
Thunder cracked louder still. Guests scrambled to gather under the large pavilion and nearby gazebos for shelter. The garden now shimmered under the rain.
“I guess it’d not be a proper English party without sudden rain.” Lu joked and reached out a hand for Quincey to take so they could walk along with the rest. But after getting no response, she realized he was no longer among them.
Lu and Sara rushed under the pavilion, joining a group that included Bingo and Bertie. Quincey was not there, either.
“I must go to… to cover my car seats!” Lu waved at her confused companions and headed off. She didn’t want people to crowd him, in case he was somewhere trying to calm down.
As Lu rushed into the pouring rain, she squinted into the growing darkness. She wished there wasn’t just a crescent moon now that the sun was sinking on the horizon. As another thunderclap boomed, she started heading towards the car, hoping to find him there.
“Quincey?”
Suddenly, she stopped in the darkening gardens, silent. All alone, she felt as if a strong presence was there, calling her away…
A powerful whisper, pulling her in the opposite direction.
It was a young man’s whisper, though of none she had ever heard in the past.
She tried to find him, to see who it was.
“Who…who is there?!”
Yet, she didn’t feel threatened. No desire to have a lethal weapon. She felt cold, but safe.
She glanced around until her eyes fell on the hedged fence.
Then the ghostly whisper, pleading: Go to him.
Lu didn’t try to look for the source of the imploring again. She just rushed to the hedge as thunder roared.
Within seconds, she found him sitting down on the now-wet floor, his arms hugging his knees. His expression was blank, stunned.
She froze for a moment. This was the first time she had seen him like this. His nerves were not kept a secret from her. That much he had learned not to be secretive with her. He’d confessed before. That each day he lived the best day he could, and each night he’d dream and scream himself awake.
Steeling herself, she quietly moved towards Quincey and simply sat down next to him.
She reached out to touch his shoulder, but she froze.
While he was still staring into nothing, his lips curled while growling low in his throat.
And then she saw sharp, long canines. Unmistakable, white under the dim moonlight.
Lu couldn’t see his eyes well from his profile angle, but she could see they were a beast’s.
A primal fear that wasn’t activated even in the sanatoriums while trying to calm down thrashing, screaming men washed over her. She wanted to run.
She took a deep breath and chose to stay.
“Q?”
Quincey’s growl quieted down.
“It’s me. I’m here.”
His lips stopped curling up. Before he closed his lips, she could notice his large fangs retracting. His expression turned back to stunned as his hair dripped.
Lu exhaled. She noticed his shoulders drooping. She took off her coat and slowly, carefully moved it from behind his shoulders to drape him with it. Quincey let her.
He reached a hand to his side, towards her, still gazing away. She could tell that he was aware of what had happened, that he knew that Lu saw his monstrous side. Wanting to see if she would stay regardless.
Lu took his hand. It was like steel and cold as ice. But he wasn’t hurting her, amidst the thunder.
The rain had stopped, she realized, and the air was filled with a fresh, earthy scent. Finally, Quincey exhaled.
As they sat together in the quiet corner, the distant sounds of the party continued, and Quincey rested his head on her shoulder.
"Are you all right?" she asked, squeezing his hand reassuringly.
Quincey nodded against her shoulder, his expression softening, muscles relaxing. "I am. Thank you. Truly.”
"We can head somewhere else or spend the evening at Pater’s," Lu said softly. "Or we can stay here and enjoy the wet tranquility."
Quincey exhaled, feeling the weight lifting. "Let’s stay here a bit longer. This is nice."
Quincey managed a small smile. “Thank you, Lu. I didn’t mean to spoil the evening.”
“You’re not spoiling anything,” she replied firmly. “Don’t be foolish. You matter much more than some stupid posh party.”
Quincey chuckled, and so did she.
They remained in their spot, holding hands and finding solace in each other's presence.
Lu inwardly thanked whoever -ghost or angel- it was who had nudged her here. She’d have to tell Quincey about it later. She’d have to wait for him to tell her about the vampiric nature he revealed.
But for now, they were weathering the cold, silent night together.