The wearer of the silver ring

-1886-

This all took place on a regular summer day, in some lost village of Wales. At this time of the year, the sun shines, the birds sing, and people stay at home, in the shade, to avoid the burning heat. Or at least, this is what summer usually looks and feels like. But not that year. In 1886, the small village of Shuttley experienced the oddest summer: the sky was grey, and the sun, the light of which could not reach the ground, coloured the clouds with a hurting white colour, that sharpened the edges of any object and made everything look sad and dead. It was hot enough, but the heat was mingled with dampness that stuck on the skin and made the sheets feel wet at night. Even the tiniest movement caused sweat to appear on foreheads. The kids didn't go out to play: it rained all the time, sometimes even with thunder.

Mary Gardener was seventeen, about to turn eighteen, on that summer of 1886. She, like her name, looked ordinary. She had brown eyes, long curled brown hair and a plain face. She was polite, shy, and always did what she was expected to. Mary would marry a nice city boy chosen by her father in a couple of years, would have two sons and a daughter, would make tea for her husband every afternoon, to finally die at the age of sixty-eight, peacefully falling asleep in her bed after fighting the disease for weeks.

Or at least, that's what everyone thought Mary's life would have been like if, on the 7 of the month of June of 1886, a young boy hadn't knocked on her door.

***

His soaked body was shaking and little drops of water were falling all over his already wet shoes. His hair was falling on his eyes and Mary could not see him clearly. In his arms rested a bag that he was trying to protect from the rain, even though he was not doing a very good job at it.

-I'm so sorry to disturb you, miss. But the storm caught me off guard and I find myself in a very complicated situation. I have nowhere to go right now, and it would be very nice of you to let me use your phone, if you do have one...?

Luckily, Mary didn't have to answer a thing. Her father, who was getting impatient, joined her on the doorstep. James Gardener was one of those patriarchs whose only goal was to get higher up in the social hierarchy. He always had a look of disdain in his eyes and never separated himself from an expensive golden pocket watch. He looked at the young boy with disgust: his clothes were all repulsive and old, his hair was too long and his hands were covered in scars. Even his ring looked...

-Please! exclaimed he with widened eyes. Come in! We will get you proper clothing and supper, Sir. Stay as long as you please!

Mary was startled by her father's welcome. He usually loathed foreigners, preferring to stay in his little village, surrounded by those he had known since he was a boy. But she wasn't a part of this conversation and was not being asked anything, so she kept quiet and took a step back to let the stranger come into her home. As he got past her, he swept his hand across his face, pushing his hair away, and his dark gaze fell onto her, searching for something she would soon give him.

***

Once he had gotten cleaned up and fed, the young boy actually looked like a very respectable aristocrat, with a fine suit and his silver ring that Mary had been asked to polish. He had dirty blond hair, was way taller than her, and looked more like a muscled farm boy than a regular city boy. She still had no idea of who he was. James had offered him to seat in the most comfortable armchair they had, but the stranger had refused, choosing to seat right next to Mary on the large couch. The greedy spark in James' eyes clearly showed he had noticed the boy's interest in his daughter, and was very happy about it. Obviously, the symbol on that silver ring meant something and James knew what; whereas, he didn't seem ready to share it with his family.