The Pheasant Arms was exactly what one would expect a small village pub to be.
Small.
At least that was how it looked from the middle of the square, where I was leaning against the formidable tower that was the town clock. It wasn’t a little country pub with a thatched roof and pretty little flowerboxes on the windows, but it was pretty enough.
It was detached from the other buildings around it and had Tudor-style cladding across both stories. The entryway was a step out from the rest of the building, and that was a rich, red brick that was the same as the chimney stack that protruded from the side of the pub.
And I had to go in there.
And meet people.
I was not good at the whole meeting people thing. I never had been, and I doubted it would ever truly be my forte.
I mean, I wasn’t trying to become a successful author because I was an extrovert.
I could do this, though. I would do this. I had to do this.
Lord knows I needed to get out of that miniature castle with all the tension between Elizabeth and Alex.
Okay.
I was going to do this.
I took a deep breath and walked towards The Pheasant Arms, then pushed open the solid oak door. It was only slightly cooler than outside, and I paused as I stepped out of the entryway and into the pub area.
A large wooden bar stretched out through the middle of the pub, and each beer pump had a local beer or cider etched onto the bit where the drink logo went. One even had a piece of paper taped over the top of it announcing one I’d never heard of.
The stools were all full bar one, and one side of the bar had numerous tables that were only half occupied. A large, stone fireplace had a bouquet of flowers in the open fire, which made sense since it was summer, and I’d barely had a chance to focus in on the people when I heard my name being called from the direction of the fireplace.
“Adelaide! Over here!”
I turned and caught sight of Maggie’s fiery hair. With her orange hair and her pink shirt, she stood out like a homing beacon, and I was very grateful for the fact she was mine right now.
She waved me over and I weaved through a couple of tables to get to the much comfier looking armchairs they were all occupying.
“I’m so glad you made it!” She wrapped me into a big hug that was rather enthusiastic. She left one arm around my shoulders and turned me to face the group.
Five expectant, curious faces looked up at me.
Five?
She said there was 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.”
“I am, but I’m not,” I said slowly. “I mean, that’s my friend circle, but I’m not.”
Maggie frowned, reaching for her new glass of wine. “How can you not be?”
“Technically speaking,” I clarified. “My mum is titled, but she didn’t marry into the nobility, so me and my sister don’t carry titles of our own.”
“Interesting,” Florence said, the last of us to still be stitching. She wanted to finish that colour, she’d said. “So she married a commoner, is what you’re saying.”
“Yes. I don’t really like referring to my father that way for obvious reasons.”
She smiled at me. “I can imagine you don’t.”
“So how do you know Alex?” Millie asked, sitting back. “You’re tutoring Olympia, aren’t you?”
“His cousin is my best friend.”
“Gabriella?”
“Yes, do you know her?”
“We’ve met in passing.” Millie smiled. “She’s lovely. Is there anything she ever does wrong?”
“You’d be surprised.” I grinned. “We live in Arrow Woods, too. My parents run the hotel in the village, so we grew up together. I was as surprised as anyone when Alex asked me to tutor Olympia.”
“Are you not qualified?” Maggie asked, tilting her head to the side.
I explained that I was and gave them the same reasoning that I’d given Alex—wasn’t a fan of too many kids and wanted to pursue a writing career over a teaching one, but I enjoyed one-on-one tutoring.
Millie nodded slowly. “That makes a lot of sense. She’s a sweet kid. She comes into the restaurant often and has the best manners of any child I’d ever met.”
“Oh, you have a restaurant?”
“Grandpa does.” She grinned at Sam. “But it’s a family run thing, really. You should come and have dinner one night. Bring Alex.”
“It’s not like that.” I shook my head.
Sam stood up with another slap to his thighs. “It will be after another glass of wine.”
“Oh, no, no! I have to drive back. One is probably already too much,” I protested.
“Nonsense.” Florence tied off her stitching and set the hoop back into her bag. “Alexander will collect you. I daresay he’s expecting this.”
I held up my hands. “I can’t ask him to collect me. He has too many things to do rather than babysit me.”
“Ask him.” Maggie nodded her head towards on my phone on the table in the middle of our little sofa circle. “I bet he will.”
“I can’t.”
“Fine, I will.” Millie picked up her phone and tapped at the screen.
My jaw dropped. “You cannot!”
She peered up with a grin. “Oops. Too late.”
“Oh, my gosh.” I cupped the lower half of my face with my hands as I stared at her.
This was why I didn’t associate with people. I had no control over them. They did very silly things like this.
“He replied.” Millie’s grin got even wider, if it were at all possible.
“Oh, no. What did he say?”
She held out her phone.
I didn’t want to see this, did I?
Ugh.
I took the phone and peered at the screen.
ALEX: I assumed you’d all corrupt her. What time shall I rescue her?
“Corruption is a strong word.” Florence sniffed, peering over my shoulder. “I’m quite offended by that.”
“He says it as if we’re leading a coup against the Palace of Westminster,” Maggie responded, crossing her ankles and resting her hands on her knees. “Do I look like a lady who’d lead a coup against the government?”
Millie paused. “Didn’t you get arrested in the seventies for leading a march in favour of gay rights in Cardiff? Didn’t you threaten to burn down Cardiff castle unless they listened to you?”
My eyebrows shot up, and I turned to look at Maggie.
Her gaze darted from side to side. “I have no idea what you’re talking about, Millie. Perhaps you’ve had enough alcohol for tonight.”
Florence threw back her head and laughed. “Yes, she did! And she was threatened with arrest fifteen years ago shortly after she moved her because she was the ringleader of a feisty little group who wanted the council to fill the potholes.”
“Well, there’s a movement I can get behind even now,” Millie said slowly, tapping away at her phone. “I’ve had to get my suspension looked at twice in six months thanks to the potholes on Cobblestone Lane.”
“That’s the cobblestones on Cobblestone Lane doing that to your car.” Sam set a tray of drinks in the middle of the table. “I told you to stop going down there.”
“Grandpa. Shh.”
I laughed and accepted the glass of wine Sam handed me. “Thank you. That’s very kind of you.”
He winked at me and sat down after distributing all the drinks. “So? Is His Grace coming to collect our newest member?”
“He is,” Millie answered. “We have exactly one hour to corrupt Adelaide and send her back a changed woman.”
Florence laughed and sipped her whiskey. “It’ll take more than an hour for all that, Millie. We’ll need a good week, at least.”
“I don’t know,” I said slowly. “I’m easily convinced.”
“Excellent.” Maggie rubbed her hands together. “Let the corruption begin!”