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Five expectant, curious faces looked up at me.
Five?
She said there were four.
“We’ve one extra tonight as Millie’s grandpa decided to come,” Maggie explained as if she could read my mind. “Sam doesn’t always show up.”
“I only came because you promised me chocolate chip cookies,” the older man grunted, stabbing a needle through a cross-stitching hoop. “Pleasure to meet ya, lass.”
“And you.” I smiled shyly.
“This is Millie,” Maggie said, motioning to a young woman who really did look the same age as me. She had short, wavy blonde hair that was cut to just below her ears, and one of the kindest smiles I’d seen in a while.
“It’s lovely to meet you, Adelaide,” Millie said, beaming at me. “And my sincere condolences for having to live at Bentley Manor for the summer.”
I fought back a laugh. “It’s not so bad. I’m used to it.”
Another woman who looked to be in her late fifties frowned. “Used to it? How can anyone be used to that level of grandeur?”
“Be nice, Helena,” Maggie warned.
“Oh. Um, my uncle is the Duke of Leicester, so it’s not that strange,” I explained.
“Ooh, you’re one of those,” Helena said, nodding. “Makes sense.”
What made sense?
Should I be offended?
The woman next to her who could have been my grandmother tapped Helena on the shoulder. “Don’t be so rude. Young Alexander has been nothing but kind to us. Nothing good comes of judging someone for the family they were born into. You should know that.” She put down her cross-stitching hoop and came over to me, taking my hands. “Welcome, Adelaide. I’m Florence. It’s lovely to have another face joining us. Have you done much cross-stitching?”
“I’m sorry, but I haven’t. I’m a dab hand at sewing, though.”
Helena snorted.
Millie shot her a dark look, but a gentle hand from her grandpa, Sam, stopped her from saying anything.
“Well, why don’t you sit down here with me, dear? We’ll get you started.” Florence guided me over to the sofa she’d been sitting on and sat me in the space next to her. “It’s not as difficult as it looks. It would be easier if you had a beginner’s pattern with it printed on, but I wasn’t told you’d be coming, or I’d have brought you one.”
“Oh, stop it,” Maggie said, waving her hand dismissively. “It was last-minute.”
If you could call yesterday last-minute.
“I’m here for another few weeks,” I said quickly. “There’s plenty of time.”
“There you go, then,” Millie interjected. “We can teach her the stitching, Florence. Next time, bring your beginner patterns, and if Adelaide is here, she can try it then.”
“Agreed.” Sam turned to me. “Drinks time? Adelaide, would you join us for an alcoholic drink?”
I paused. “Oh, um, yes. A glass of Sauvignon, if they have it.”
“Of course they do. Same again everyone?” He looked around and, when faced with a round of nodding heads, slapped his hands against his thighs and stood up. “Right. I’ll get on that, then.”
“Do you want—”
He waved his hand over his shoulder and sat down at an empty stool at the bar.
I glanced at everyone else. “Does he—”
Maggie shook her head. “No, dear. We take it in turns, usually, but Sam does like to buy all the drinks when he’s here.”
“He’s got nobody else to buy for,” Millie said, albeit a little sadly. “He used to come with my grandma when she was alive, and he would always make sure the group had a drink.” She paused. “We always say he only comes because I do, but I only started coming because Grandma did.”
Helena reached over and patted her knee. “And we are glad to have you, Millie. You’re a wonderful cross-stitcher.”
Millie smiled at her. “Thank you.”
Silence settled over us for a moment, and Florence picked up her crocheted tote bag. She pulled out a cross-stitch ring with the material already pulled tightly and set it on my lap, then produced a blue skein of what I assumed was cross-stitching thread. “Adelaide, let’s get started with you, shall we?”
***
So… Cross-stitching was hard.
Really hard.
After I’d gotten myself knotted up three times, much to Helena’s amusement, Maggie had suggested to Florence that I only use one string to practice with. That had resulted in an astronomically easier time of it for me, and I’d actually managed to get some kind of a cross-stitch going.
It’d taken me an hour, but whatever.
It was all the same, wasn’t it? At least I’d tried it, and I’d succeeded… to an extent.
At least I hadn’t failed on a catastrophic level.
That was something, especially since Helena had been giggling and snorting at me all night. I’d spent the whole night trying not to take it personally, and I was thankful when she finally retired and left the rest of us to it once we’d downed tools.
“Never mind her,” Millie said, zipping up her bag. “She’s jaded towards the aristocracy, and I’m sure she assumed you’re one of them.”
