Hansom cabs were nice, and well and good for those who could afford them, but the University was just not in the habit of handing out that kind of money to assistants out gallivanting across the countryside to investigate the potential of private book collections.<br/><br/>Still, Lacey couldn't help but suppress a quiet rather unladylike sigh as the most recent in a series of the dratted things rumbled past her on the cobblestoned street.  Her own boots clicked away at the walk as she approached the lovely manor house.  She let her eyes travel up the walls, following the vines around the windows and the masonry outcroppings.<br/><br/>Turning up the walk, Lacey hitched her small handbag, and selected reading material a little closer, and took a nice steadying breath, fetching out her invitation and doing one last check of her hair and the set of her very best hat before reaching for the knocker with a gloved hand.<br/><br/>Getting in was easy, relinquishing her shawl and small hat was even easier.  Now came the most difficult part.  High Society.  Hopefully it wouldn't be to terribly obvious that she was nervous at being included in such a gathering of the rich and important as she found herself a corner and simply waited out the evening until the viewing was over.  Then she could get down to the important work of looking over the documents that came with every tomb.<br/><br/>Naturally, Lacey couldn't help but let her eyes slide across the small and growing gathering.  Men and women she did not know, each jockeying for their own slice of attention, all while subtly trying not to let on that it's what they were doing.  In a way, it was rather fascinating, watching each person and their own method of peacocking, and the interesting ways they adjusted their approaches in the face of the successes and failures of others.  Perhaps the evening would be less nerve-wracking than she had thought...