Most Ardently

by Gabe Cole Novoa

To my trans siblings: We deserve romances that will sweep us off our feet too. That’s why this book is for you.

It is a truth universally acknowledged, that a single boy in possession of a good fortune must be in want of a future wife—unless that boy was Oliver Bennet. Not that Oliver was in possession of a good fortune, mind you, but it seemed impossible to him that having such a fortune would so completely transform his disinterest in one day having a wife. Or, more importantly, being one.

This rightness of hearing Jane call him her brother. One day, the rest of the world would know the truth too.

It was a special thing, to have one’s reflection in harmony with who they were.

Being recognized for who he was brought him a euphoria like nothing else he had ever experienced. You see me, he thought, and it made him so happy he wanted to laugh out loud.

“I would love to,” Oliver said, and then the strangest thing happened. Darcy smiled. Just a little.

Now, stepping into the truly massive bookstore for the first time, he knew he’d made a grave mistake. He was never going to want to leave.

I’d be happy to make you mine.” Oliver arched an eyebrow. Darcy’s face flushed pink. “My … guest. That is.”

Darcy’s smile was small and sweet—and Oliver found he couldn’t look away. For some reason, he didn’t want to.

You said Darcy was a different person in the company of men—well, you’re a different person when you’re permitted to be yourself. You’re so much more at ease, so much happier. It’s not just that your clothes have changed, your entire demeanor is more authentic.”

because people in our position don’t have the luxury of marrying for love. We must make sacrifices if we want to survive. I just worry you don’t have as much time as you think you do.”

“I won’t submit myself to a life that would make me absolutely miserable, and you shouldn’t want me to.”

“you’ll be able to find someone who you can be yourself with at home. Even if you have to pretend to be Elizabeth in certain public situations, perhaps you’ll find someone you can be a husband with in the privacy of your home.”

There was a time when being referred to as a girl or a woman felt off, like trying to force two ill-matched puzzle pieces together, damaging both in the process. But the discomfort that was once easily ignored became exponentially more painful once Oliver experienced the euphoria of being seen as himself, as a boy, for the first time. It seemed the longer he spent in the bliss of being the boy he was always meant to be, the more miserable he was forcing himself to play the part of the girl he never was.

Even more incredible was that Darcy wanted to spend more time with him, without Bingley. It would be an unthinkable scandal if he were a woman. Good thing he wasn’t.

“You should know my name is Oliver. And I’m … I’m your son.” Mr. Bennet’s smile grew into a full grin, spreading across his face like a plant turning its leaves to the sun. “You most certainly are,” he said, and then his arms were around Oliver.

He let Collins’s and Wickham’s blended words wash over him, as if from a distance, as his mind wandered to kinder places. Like taking a walk with a certain boy in the dark, side by side, so close their hands nearly brushed against each other. Whisper-thin space between them, under the moon and the stars, infinite possibilities laid out ahead of them.

“You know that all I care for is your happiness. I’ll never force you to marry anyone you don’t want to marry—even if it means you never marry at all.”

But marrying a man who would force him to pretend to be a woman, a wife, for the rest of his life didn’t feel like survival at all.

“I can’t imagine,” Darcy said, “that you could ever be unextraordinary.”

but even if I were I’d never want to be treated as an inferior.

“Even if it means we’d never be able to be open about the nature of our relationship?” “I’d rather be secretly happy with you than openly living a lie.”

I admire you, Oliver Bennet. Your spirit, your wit, your open honesty—I have thought of nothing else since we first met.” Tears blurred Oliver’s vision, spilling hot over his cheeks and cooling in the rain. “Darcy—” “I love you, Oliver,” Darcy said. “Most ardently.”

“I love you, Fitzwilliam Darcy,” Oliver said. “With my whole heart, I love you.”

But it was real, and nothing and no one could take that away from him.