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These things do tend to accumulate,’ added Lady Manbrook vaguely. ‘Ah, here is coffee. Be good enough to pour, Miss Lightfoot. We lunch at half-past one; you will, of course, join us.’
    Suzannah thanked her nicely, drank her coffee and excused herself. If she looked sharp about it, she could unpack and get settled in, feed Horace properly and introduce him to his surroundings before then. And in the afternoon she would make a start on the contents of the attic. She found Snow waiting for her in the hall and they climbed the staircase at the back of the hall to the floor above, opened a door in a wall and climbed to the nextfloor and then once more mounted a very narrow, twisting staircase to the attics. Snow opened a door with a flourish and she went in. There were several attics, running the length of the house, connected by open archways, all well lit by dormer windows. The trunks were in the second, large and old-fashioned, made of leather and strapped tightly. They undid one of them between them and Suzannah got down on her knees to inspect the contents. There was no sort of order: bundles of letters, foolscap sheets tied with string, a number of what appeared to be diaries all jostled themselves together. It would be hard to know where to begin, she decided.
    â€˜Lady Manbrook said that you would show me where I could work, Mr Snow, but I think I shall have to do the sorting here. There’s plenty of room and the light’s good. When I’ve got things in a bit of order I can carry them to wherever I’ve to work and start the indexing.’
    â€˜Just as you say, miss. I will arrange for a small table and chair to be brought here, and anything else that you may require. I must say there appears to be a good deal of work involved.’
    â€˜Yes, I think so, too,’ said Suzannah cheerfully, ‘but I’m sure it will be interesting.’ They went back down the little stairs and he showed her a room, very light and airy with a wide table and comfortable chair and an open hearth, in which, he pointed out, a fire would be lit while she was working there.
    Her own little room seemed very small when she reached it, but decidedly cosy; it already looked like home, too, with the geranium on the window-sill and Horace curled up on one of the chairs. She unpacked her few things, fed him and took him outside for a short time and then tidied herself and went back to the housefor lunch—a meal eaten in some state in a large, heavily furnished dining-room with a great deal of white damask and silver. After an initial shyness Suzannah began to enjoy herself; the two old ladies were charming, keeping up a gentle flow of conversation calculated to put her at her ease. She left them after they had had their coffee, took a quick look to see if Horace was comfortable, and then repaired to the attics.
    It seemed at first glance a formidable task, but not a dull one. She opened the first trunk…
    She was completely absorbed when Snow tapped on the door and brought her a tea-tray. She sat back on her heels and said apologetically, ‘Oh, Mr Snow, I could have come down—I didn’t know.’ She smiled at him. ‘I got rather carried away.’
    He surveyed the neat rows of piled-up papers, old dance programmes, newspaper cuttings and the like. ‘Indeed, miss, I can well understand that. It is no trouble to bring you a tea-tray. Dinner is at eight o’clock; the ladies go to dress just after seven o’clock.’
    â€˜Oh, but surely I’m not to dine with them?’
    â€˜Indeed you are, miss. They quite understand that you would not wish to join them for tea and interrupt your work, and breakfast is taken by the ladies in their beds. Your breakfast will be served in the morning-room at eight o’clock.’
    â€˜Thank you, Mr Snow.’
    â€˜And if you will not find it presumptuous, miss, you should address me as Snow.’
    â€˜Oh, but the maid