Most Ardently

by Gabe Cole Novoa

Of course, this now left Oliver in the awkward position of being alone with Mr. Harrison, who wanted to talk about embroidery, of all things. “It’s such a feminine art,” he was saying, “so simple, but it can be truly beautiful with a skilled hand. I envy the ability of a woman to create such delicate work. Are you quite skilled in embroidery, Miss Bennet?” Oliver pursed his lips at the address—and the implication that he would be skilled in a feminine art because Mr. Harrison mistook him for a woman—before forcing his shoulders to relax as he met Mr. Harrison’s gaze. “I can’t say I am. If you’ll excuse me.” Oliver didn’t wait for permission—or, more importantly, give him the opportunity to protest—before turning away and continuing along the perimeter of the room. He spotted Jane dancing with Bingley. She looked absolutely radiant, giggling shyly as they met in the center of the floor before separating again. Jane looked happy, and for the moment, that was enough. Oliver’s gaze wandered across the room. He found Bingley’s friend—Darcy, was it?—standing exactly where Bingley had left him when he went to ask Jane to dance. The two women had found dancing partners of their own, so there he stiffly stood, alone, his back to the green wall like it was his only protection. It was a sentiment Oliver could relate to.