Most Ardently

by Gabe Cole Novoa

The boy turned to Oliver, and up close, Oliver realized he was more man than boy—probably twenty or so, in contrast to Lydia’s fourteen years and Kitty’s fifteen. Something in the man’s gaze as he sized Oliver up made him shiver, and Oliver found himself wanting to look away from those piercing blue eyes, but he forced himself to meet them. “Hello,” the man said. “My name is Wickham.” When he was pretending to be a girl, Oliver despised introductions. It was difficult enough forcing himself to respond to a name that didn’t remotely suit him, but there was something uniquely painful about forcing that name off his own tongue. About denying who he was out loud, in words. It was a self-betrayal that cut deep. “Elizabeth Bennet,” Oliver forced himself to say, after Charlotte and Lu introduced themselves. “Pleasure to meet you.” “The pleasure is mine.” Wickham’s smile was the kind that made many weak at the knees. Oliver returned it with a polite smile of his own before turning to his sisters. “We really ought to return home,” he said, fully prepared for his siblings to protest, but to his shock—and deep suspicion—Lydia lit up at the mention of home instead. “Why, that’s perfect!” Lydia exclaimed. “Wickham here just told us he was walking in the same direction and offered to escort us home. He could join us!” “Oh, that won’t be necessary,” Oliver said quickly, but Wickham cut in. “Nonsense! What caliber of gentleman would I be if I allowed five beautiful women to travel home wi...