The
stairs leading from the family living quarters up to the attics are possessed of the same polish and elegance as the rest of the house, but more simply expressed. They are not cast into complete shadow, but it is a close thing, as the candles that light the second floor do not lend much of their light to the enterprise and there is only one additional fixture to help with the job - a sputtering, flickering bare bulb that hangs naked from the ceiling partway up. There is evidence that it might once have possessed some sort shade, but whatever the case might once have been, it does not have one now.
The stairs, themselves, are intermittantly creaky, sometimes squeaking and moaning in chorus as one moves one's foot from one step to the next. Whatever spotting and aging they feature is not so heavy as to attract undue notice, though that is not that there might not be something untoward lurking amongst the discolorations caused by generations of tramping feet.
Once they've wound around and back on themselves, this set of stairs lets out onto a landing, which is just as dark, if not somewhat darker than, the stairwell. To the right there is one doorway, featuring a closed door which gives away nothing about what might lie behind it away. To the left, there is another doorway, whose door stands partially open.
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