Week one, Emma tried to be invisible.
Week two, she realized invisible was exactly what they wanted.
Week three, she stopped trying.
Vivian's voice drifted from the breakfast room as Emma passed. "…found her serving wine like common help. Can you imagine? The girl has no breeding whatsoever."
Margaret's laugh was sharp. "Damien always did have questionable taste."
Emma kept walking. She'd learned that responding only made it worse.
The staff ignored her requests.
Yesterday when she'd asked a maid for fresh towels, the maid hadn't even waited for her to finish talking before just walking away.
Just this morning, she'd tried to eat breakfast in the kitchen and the cook stared at her like a thief all through.
At dinner, Vivian watched Emma struggle with the fish course. "Wrong fork, dear. But then, how would you know?"
Emma set down the fork. "I don't."
"Obviously."
Damien didn't look up from his plate.
That night, Emma called Tyler from her room.
"How's the manor?" His voice was stronger now, almost normal.
"Big."
"That's it? Just big?"
"Yeah. How are you feeling?"
"Em, you sound weird. What's going on?"
"Nothing. I'm tired."
Silence. Then, "You're lying."
"I'm not..."
"You're my sister. I know when you're lying." Tyler's voice got quiet. "Is it bad there?"
Emma looked around her massive bedroom. "It's fine. The house is beautiful. I have everything I need."
"Except you sound miserable."
"I'm just adjusting. It's a lot."
More silence. "Em, if this is too much..."
"It's not. I'm fine. Tell me about physical therapy."
Tyler let her change the subject, but Emma could hear something in his voice. Something that sounded like guilt.
-----
Days blurred together. Emma spent mornings in the garden because nobody bothered her there. Afternoons visiting Tyler at the hospital. Evenings alone in her room because dinner was unbearable.
She was losing weight. Her clothes hung loose.
She didn't remember the last time she'd actually felt like eating.
She had lost her appetite because each time she had dinner she could barely keep food down because of the criticism, snickers and hate.
No one respected her. The maids gossiped and mocked her openly.
When one of them had tried to stop them saying;
"She's the master's wife. What if she reports us to him?"
"Ha! This one? He doesn't even care about her."
"She's so low class. Wonder what he saw in her."
"I heard she's a poor orphan. Sold herself to him for money."
Emma couldn't remember the last time she'd actually been hungry.
And the bullying got even worse.
One morning she found that someone had spilled coffee all over a favorite dress.
Emma sat on the floor and stared at it.
The door opened. Damien stood there in a suit, checking his watch.
"We have the charity gala tonight. Be ready by six."
Emma didn't look up. "Okay."
He paused. "Are you sitting on the floor?"
"Yep."
"Why?"
"Does it matter?"
Another pause. "Henderson said you haven't eaten breakfast in four days."
"Haven't been hungry."
"That's not healthy."
Emma finally looked at him. "Thanks for the medical advice."
His jaw tightened. "The gala is important. Don't embarrass me."
"Wouldn't dream of it."
He left.
Emma stayed on the floor another twenty minutes.
-----
That afternoon, Vivian cornered her in the hallway.
"The gala tonight. Try not to look so… poor."
"I'll do my best."
"That dress you wore last week was atrocious. Who picked it?"
"I did."
"It shows." Vivian's smile was ice. "Perhaps stick to what the stylist chooses. We wouldn't want people questioning Damien's judgment more than they already are."
Emma's hands clenched. "Anything else?"
"Yes. Stop moping around like a kicked dog. It's pathetic."
Emma left for her room.
On entering the room, she was surprised to see a new dress laid out. Midnight blue. Beautiful. A note in handwriting she didn't recognize: For tonight. -C
Emma's eyes fell on the cupboard where she had kept the sapphire necklace. Would it go with her gown?
"I know I decided never to wear it. But fuck it. I deserve it."
She took the necklace out and wore it with the dress.
-----
The gala screamed riches and class. Emma wore the blue dress and felt like a fraud. The expensive necklace around her neck made her feel even more undeserving.
She stood hand in hand with her husband, her stomach in knots.
"I see you wore the necklace. Good." was all Damien said to her.
People stared. Whispered. She heard "gold digger" twice.
"Smile," Damien murmured. "You look miserable."
"I am miserable."
"Don't care. Smile."
Emma smiled. It felt like her face might crack.
They made small talk with people whose names she forgot immediately. Everyone asked how they met. Damien had a practiced answer: "At a friend's party. It was love at first sight."
Emma wanted to laugh. Or scream.
"Damien Cross!" A man's voice boomed.
An older man approached, silver hair, kind eyes. "I didn't know you'd be here."
"Richard." Damien's voice warmed slightly. "Wouldn't miss it."
"And this must be Emma." Richard shook her hand with genuine warmth. "Richard Vale. Old family friend."
She noticed Richard's eyes linger on her necklace and a strange expression appear in his eyes. But the next second it was gone.
"Nice to meet you."
Richard was kind and spoke so gently and sweetly to her. It felt like a breath of fresh air to all the mean words she's been hearing for weeks.
"So you paint. I will really love to see your paintings," he said.
"You would?" Emma blinked. "I mean, they're not very good."
Someone called Damien away for business. Richard offered Emma his arm.
"Walk with me? These events are dreadfully boring."
They walked together.
"I know this marriage is hard. But you can always come to me if things get too hard. I care about Damien. Which means I care about you."
"Thank you," she replied.
"Also don't be so harsh on Damien. Since he lost his mom years ago, it's been hard."
"His mom?"
"Yeah. She died an horrible death. Fell to her death. Right in front of Damien. I still remember how he won't stop screaming that night," Richard said, shuddering.
Emma didn't know what to feel. She felt bad about his mother but it was hard to feel sorry for such a hateful person.
When Damien found them an hour later, his face was blank.
"Monopolizing my wife, Richard?"
"Can you blame me? She's better company than you."
...-
The ride home was silent.
"You seemed happy tonight," Damien said suddenly.
"Richard was nice."
"He usually is."
More silence.
"Your grandmother destroyed one of my dresses yesterday," Emma said. "The coffee was a nice touch."
Damien's jaw tightened. "I'll speak to her."
"Don't bother. She'll just do something else."
"Emma..."
"I'm tired. Can we not talk?"
They didn't.
Back home.
Emma sighed as she took off her clothes. She heard a knock on her door.
It was Claire.
"Got a minute?"
Claire looked different. In her casual shirt and jeans she did not look like the strict assistant she knew.
"Come in," Emma said reluctantly.
Claire sat on the bed.
"How are you feeling?" She asked.
Emma shrugged.
Claire's eyes landed on the sapphire necklace Emma had took off. She frowned a little and scratched her hands, nervously.
"Nice necklace right?"
"Yeah. Too valuable. Don't know why Damien gave me. Never wearing it again."
Claire chuckled. Then changed the subject.
"You must feel so alone. I know this is hard for you."
"I am alone."
"No. You're not."
Claire pulled out her phone and gave Emma her number.
"Call me anytime. If you need anything. Anything at all."
Emma took the number, skeptical.
"Why are you doing this?" She asked.
"Because somebody should." Claire smiled. "And because I like you."
Emma's eyes widened in surprise. And for the first time in weeks, she didn't feel completely alone.