Read Online Crimson Snow by Jeanne Dams - Free Book Online

stuffy about us Irish, but Sven is coming around, and your little brother adores Patrick. Your mother—well, that generation’s stuck back in the old country.”
    â€œIt is not so long ago that Mama was in the old country,” Hilda reminded Norah.
    â€œThat’s what I mean. This is America. It’s different here.”
    â€œWe would have to be married by a priest, in a Catholic church. My family would not even come!”
    â€œYes, well, you didn’t come to my weddin’, did you, but you came to the party afterward, and we had a fine time.”
    You had a fine time, Hilda thought but did not say. “It’s not the same thing. Mama would never forgive me if she could not see me married.”
    â€œWell, let her come, then!” Norah was growing impatient. “There’s no law against it. It’s only your own ideas keep you out of Catholic churches. Or else get married all over again in your church. Or have a judge marry you, if it’s goin’ to fret you so much.”
    â€œBut—a Catholic cannot be married by a judge! Can he?”
    Norah rolled her eyes. Hilda sighed and shook her head, and would have said more if Mrs. Sullivan hadn’t sailed into the room in a full-blown temper. She was in charge of the household with Mr. Williams abed, and it wasn’t a responsibility she relished.
    â€œSo there you are, Miss High-an’-Mighty! I’ve no time to wait for your pleasure, Your Majesty, what with tryin’ to do two people’s work, and company coming, and the soufflé sauce tryin’ to curdle, and that Maggie no more use than a sick headache! You go an’ set that table now, and then come back and help me in the kitchen. As for you, Norah, I’d think you’d know better than to keep Hilda from her work. And didn’t you ought to be home cookin’ supper for your man, as’ll come home tired and hungry any time now?”
    She stood in the doorway tapping her foot, her lower lip jutting out. Hilda sighed and shrugged. Norah got to her feet. “It’s very nice to see you again, too, Mrs. Sullivan,” she said as she pulled her shoes on. As she left the room, she stuck her tongue out at the cook’s back.
    Hilda went resentfully to the family dining room. There were only a few guests tonight, so there was no need to use the enormous state dining room, whose table would easily seat fifty. There was no need, either, for Maggie to ask for help with setting a table for a mere twelve people. But as Hilda made the rounds of the table, laying down silver, straightening glasses, and tossing scornful remarks Maggie’s way, she wasn’t really thinking about her grievances. She was thinking how profoundly unsatisfactory it was to have to talk to Norah in stolen moments. She wanted a private heart-to-heart, the kind they used to have and would never have again.
    As long as you work at Tippecanoe Place, whispered a voice in her head.

The servant girls marry…just as frequently as their young mistresses.
    â€” The Complete Home
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    7
    H ILDA WAS TOO TIRED to stay awake that night, but she woke up early the next morning and lay in bed for a few minutes, thinking about Patrick and marriage and families. When could she see him and talk things over sensibly?
    It wasn’t easy. In theory she could leave the house during her rest time, but the weather was far too cold to make an outside rendezvous practical and there was no other really private place they could meet.
    Well, she’d just have to see if she couldn’t run down to the firehouse for a few minutes this afternoon. There would be no time to talk, but at least she could make sure that they planned something for Sunday afternoon. This was Friday. It was a long time to wait, when she was bursting with things to say and to ask, but it would have to do.
    Life doesn’t always work out the way we plan. When Hilda finished her