Crimson Snow by Jeanne Dams

and locked. Hilda didn’t know exactly what was kept in there, but she knew that a footman who ventured to peek in, one day when the door had been left open, had been sacked without a reference. “And lucky not to be sent to jail,” Mr. Williams had said of the incident, which had happened before Hilda came to work at the house. “You remember, girl, that you are never, under any circumstances, to go near that safe.”
    Well, she was neither a thief nor a fool, she thought as she left the room. She had no wish to know what was in the safe. Or if she did, she acknowledged in a burst of inner honesty, she would control her curiosity. She couldn’t afford to be thrown out on the street…and that brought her thoughts back around to the most important subject. What future lay ahead for her and Patrick?
    She got through the rest of the afternoon’s drudgery automatically. She performed tasks she could have done in her sleep, and chivvied the under-housemaids to perform theirs, without giving more than a quarter of her mind to the job. When at last five o’clock came, she pulled her cloak over her uniform and slipped out the back door and up the outside steps to wait for Norah.
    Hilda saw Norah before Norah saw her, and Hilda’s heart sank. This wasn’t the Norah of the old days, this woman who trudged up the back drive, her body drooping with weariness. She, Hilda, was tired, too, but not bone-weary. Norah looked ready to drop, and the first thing Hilda said when her friend got close enough was, “Hurry! Come in and sit down. There is a good fire in the servants’ room, and I can make you some coffee.”
    Â â€œCan’t. Sean’ll be gettin’ home and expectin’ his supper. Anyway, Mr. High-and-Mightiness would never allow it.”
    â€œHe has taken to his bed. He is sick with something. And Sean can wait, for a change. Norah, you must sit down and get warm, even if you do not have coffee. You look terrible!”
    â€œAlways were the soul of tact, weren’t you?” But Norah allowed herself to be taken inside, divested of her hat, cloak, and wet shoes, and installed in the most comfortable chair in the room, her feet propped up near the fire.
    â€œIf the old tyrant catches me in his chair—” Norah began.
    â€œHe will not. He is in bed, I told you. And he has no control over you, not anymore.”
    Norah sighed and wiggled her warming toes. “He does over you, though. Suppose somebody tells him?”
    Hilda tossed her head. “Let them. I might not be here forever, anyway.”
    â€œHilda!” Norah sat up straight and stared at her. “Do you have something to tell me?”
    â€œTo ask you. Oh, Norah, I need your advice—yes, Maggie, what is it?”
    The waitress stood in the door, hands on hips. “Mrs. Sullivan said as I was to get you to help set the table for dinner tonight, as there’s guests and Mr. Williams isn’t fit for a thing, and some of us is run off our feet.”
    Hilda looked at the clock on the mantel. “Dinner is at eight, as usual, is it not?”
    â€œYes, but there’s our supper, too—”
    â€œI have finished with my work for the afternoon. Now I speak with my friend. I will help you when it is time.”
    â€œWell, of all the—it must be nice to be you, take time off whenever you please, entertain your friends, and in Mr. Williams’s chair!”
    She flounced off, and Norah raised an eyebrow. “Her face’d sour milk, that one. She’ll make trouble if she can.”
    â€œShe makes trouble all the time. She does not like me, nor I her. But Norah, maybe it does not matter. You see, Patrick wants to marry me.”
    â€œTell me somethin’ I don’t know.”
    â€œI mean really. And now, or soon, anyway. He thinks there is a way.”
    â€œOoh! Tell!”
    â€œPatrick’s Uncle Dan wants to make him a partner. With