Beatrice Alvarez was thirteen years-old when she was told of the news of her Aunt Clara's death.
Mama had come into her room, her eyes brimming with tears. She sat Beatrice down on the bed. It was minutes before Mama could even form words, and the pauses filled young Beatrice with a quiet sort of dread.
"Darling... anak..." Mama began.
Anak. Child. Mama always called her the Filipino endearment when she had something serious to say.
"Anak... your Aunt Clara passed away a few days ago. We just received word." Mama struggled to compose herself.
Beatrice began to weep. Aunt Clara. Sweet Aunt Clara. She was her father's older sister and was vivacious and fearless. Aunt Clara was gone- Aunt Clara who painted with her and helped her practice her Filipino and her French. Aunt Clara who loved hiking and horseback riding more than staying indoors. Aunt Clara whom Beatrice always missed when she had to travel to the Philippines. She couldn't be gone. She had promised to come back to London. And she never broke a promise.
She didn't want to believe that Aunt Clara was dead. Not that she would ever say that out loud to her parents. But even as she wept and watched her parents weep, Beatrice would sometimes wait at the door. Maybe there was a letter that would arrive telling them that it was all a big mistake. Maybe Aunt Clara herself would come through the door as alive as she ever was.
But neither of those would happen.
The only thing that arrived at the front door days after the news was a large box filled with some items Aunt Clara wanted to leave with them upon her passing. Beatrice didn't want to look at what was inside. After looking at the box, Beatrice ran back to her room.
Mama came up to check on her. "Beatrice. There's something for you in the box."
"I don't want it," Beatrice replied. "I want Aunt Clara."
"I have something from Aunt Clara," Mama gently coaxed. "Would you like to see it?"
Beatrice nodded and Mama handed her a small envelope with her name written on the back. She didn't open the envelope until after dinner. The first thing she took out from the envelope was a letter that read:
My Dearest Bea,
Inside this envelope, you will find a diamond ring that I have been saving to give you on this, your debut-
Beatrice wept again. Aunt Clara would never see her debut. This letter had come five years too soon.
When you are out in society, you will meet people who are honest and truthful and you will meet people who are not. This ring will help you discern between both. There is something... rather magical about the diamond. It burns the brightest red when faced with dishonesty and shimmers the most vivid blue when faced with honesty. This ring has never once failed me in discerning truth and lies, whether they come from other people or from my own self. I hope that it might benefit you the same way.
But most importantly, my dear, dear Beatrice, I hope you learn to discern truth and lies within yourself. An honest heart shines brighter than any diamond ever could.
With all my love,
Aunt Clara
Beatrice looked inside the envelope again, and there was indeed a beautiful diamond ring. She picked it up and didn't feel anything special about the ring itself. It looked like any other diamond ring she's seen. Her own mother owned rings with much bigger diamonds than this.
But it came from Aunt Clara and that made it more prized to Beatrice than anything else at that instant.
There was just that one detail from the letter that could never escape Beatrice's mind. What did Aunt Clara mean about the ring being magical?
"Beatrice!" Mama called from hers and Papa's room. "Could you come here, darling?"
She put the ring on her right finger and tucked away the letter. There would be time to decipher it later on. Beatrice entered her parents' room to find Mama holding a beautiful old dress in the lightest shade of blue. Mama smiled. "I want you to try this on. I just wanted to see how it would look on you."
To both their delight, it fit her perfectly.
"You look absolutely beautiful," Mama said, almost tearing up.
"Where did you find this dress?" Beatrice asked.
"It was mine when I was your age. I wore it during my sister's debut ball. That's where I met your father. I had it trimmed down and adjusted to better fit you, and- oh-" Mama looked at Beatrice's hand. "What's this ring on your finger?"
"This ring- it's from Aunt Clara. It was inside the envelope she left for me."
Mama nodded. "It suits you. Perhaps you'll wear it when your debut comes."
"I will," Beatrice promised.
When she walked back to her room later on, Beatrice saw her sixteen-year-old brother Victor coming out of his room. He had not changed out of his dinner attire and he was holding a small chest.
"Beatrice," he said, startled. "Wh-what are you doing here?"
"What am I- I just came from Mama's room after trying on a dress," Beatrice answered, confused at the question. "I'm about to go to bed. I think I should be asking what you're doing."
"I- I am just putting this chest back... where it belongs. And then I'll be off to bed myself."
"Very well, then. Good night, brother."
***
It was only when Beatrice was inside her room and finally took off the ring that she noticed that the pale diamond had turned red. Call it some sort of joke or some sort of illusion, but it had turned as red as a ruby like Aunt Clara had said in the letter.
Victor was lying to her.
What could she do?
***
That night, Beatrice woke up to the sound of loud voices coming from downstairs. Though most of the conversation was muffled, she could make out some of the words.
"How could you...", "At this hour?", "Where have you been?"
Beatrice threw on a robe, grabbed Aunt Clara's ring, and went out of her room, stopping at the top of the staircase where she could remain unseen. She saw Mama and Papa, also wrapped in robes, with Victor, who was still dressed in his dinner attire- and they were screaming at him.
"So where are they, Victor?" Mama asked.
"I lost them!" Victor answered.
"You lost them? How could you lose them? Those belonged to your grandfather!" Papa yelled.
"Why can't you just tell us where you've been?" Mama pleaded. "We might be able to find it."
"I already said I can't tell you." Victor breathed in heavily, fighting back tears.
"Is that it? You can't tell us where you've been and you can't tell us where to find your grandfather's heirloom. Well then, if he doesn't want to tell us, he can just return to his room and stay there until he decides to be truthful," Papa decided firmly.
"Gladly," Victor responded.
Victor ran upstairs, passing by Beatrice. She followed behind him as quietly as she could to his door before he could slam it.
"Beatrice? You're still awake?" Victor asked when he noticed Beatrice at his doorstep.
"What happened down there? Why are Mama and Papa angry with you?"
"It's none of your concern, little sister. Go back to bed."
"Tell me what happened first."
Victor sighed. "You won't leave me alone until I answer you, will you? Fine. I went out, took grandfather's old coins and gave them to someone. That is all. Good night little sister."
Victor closed the door. Beatrice took the ring and when she looked at it, it was flaming red.
A week after what she calls "Victor's incident, Beatrice was looking for the miniature theatre that Papa had bought for her last birthday. It was a picturesque little thing that almost resembled Shakespeare's Globe. Her best friend Hannah Dubois was coming over and they were planning to reenact A Midsummer Night's Dream together, but somehow it was not in her room. Beatrice searched her closets and toy chest, but it was not there. When one of the maids came in, Beatrice asked where it was.
"Your miniature theatre is in the old nursery, Miss Beatrice," the maid told her. "Your mother thought it would be best if it stayed there."
She suddenly remembered that she was still wearing Aunt Clara's ring when she saw the diamond on her finger start to turn blue. She covered her hand so that the maid would not see it.
"Thank you. Hannah and I will use it later. I promise I will put it back."
She went to the nursery, and indeed, the miniature theatre was there with all the other toys that belonged to her and Victor. The diamond on the ring turned blue like Aunt Clara said it would, which meant that the truth was told. The toy was in her hand now. This could be no mere coincidence. Beatrice didn't understand why Aunt Clara sent her this ring. But it seems to be working the way she promised it won't. Her aunt wouldn't lie to her or break a promise she made. Not now, not ever.
And she would wear the proof on her hand.