"I don't know, Darcy," sighed Bingley, staring out the window at the busy London street.
Darcy refrained from rolling his eyes. He'd suggested they stop in this tea shop so he'd have a chance to persuade Bingley to do something - anything - other than nurse his broken heart, but Bingley wasn't cooperating. He wasn't arguing or complaining, but he very politely refused every suggestion Darcy had made. Darcy wished he would argue; an open disagreement would be much easier to handle than this apathy.
"Bingley, you must find yourself some amusement. Miss Bennet's indifference hurts now, but with time and activity the sting must fade. What of boxing? We could go down to Bond Street for an hour's practice?"
"If you like, Darcy. Perhaps tomorrow," Bingley answered. He didn't sound enthusiastic.
Darcy stood, and was disappointed when Bingley did not follow him. Perhaps he's have more success tomorrow. "Georgiana is waiting for me, I'm afraid. Shall I walk with you as far as your club?"
"No thank you. I'm going to sit here a while longer," Bingley responded, with a polite smile, "Give my best regards to your sister."
"Of course." Darcy put a few coins on the table and left the shop.
Bingley sighed and took another sip of his now-cold tea. He appreciated Darcy's efforts, of course, but they didn't help much. He didn't even feel sad anymore, or at least not very often. He just felt fuzzy, as if everything was wrapped in a layer of cotton wool and could not reach him.
A rotund man in black garments had seated himself in the table next to Bingley a few minutes before. Having settled his umbrella under his seat and poured his tea, the man was quietly sipping from his cup, clearly enjoying his treat.
After a few minutes, the man stood and came over to Bingley's table. "Might I trouble you for an extra lump of sugar?" he asked, indicating the sugar bowl on the table, which was still half-full due to Darcy's preference for unsweetened tea.
"Of course, help yourself," replied Bingley.
"Thank you." The man sat across from Bingley and added sugar to his tea. "My name is Brown, by the way. Father Brown."
"Charles Bingley," Bingley replied. He looked closer at the man and realized he was wearing the garb of a Catholic priest. "I didn't know there were many priests in London."
"Not many, but a few. I'm visiting a friend here."
"Ah." Bingley sipped his tea, finally realized it was undrinkable, and gestured to a waitress to request a fresh pot. "I'm not at all sure what I'm doing here," he added.
"What did you think you were doing when you came?" asked Father Brown.
"When I came...Lord, how long ago that seems. I came to see my banker about something. I never meant to stay for more than a day."
"And why did you?"
"Well, I...see here, aren't you chaps down on marriage? I should think you'd be glad I avoided it."
"Marriage is a tool, Mr. Bingley, provided by God for our blessing. We simply wish to ensure it is used properly."
"Oh." Bingley sat back.
"Were you about to be married?" Father Brown asked, after a moment.
"Well, I was about to propose, at any rate. There's a lady who lives near my home in the country, a Miss Bennet. I was going to go back and propose, but I changed my mind."
"Why did you change your mind?"
Bingley sighed deeply. "My sisters never liked the match, but it wasn't until I learned Miss Bennet did not love me that I decided against the offer."
"How did you learn that?"
"My friend Darcy told me. He's a terribly acute observer, you know, and I've always relied on his judgement. He wished to save me from offering for a lady who does not love me."
"I see. Do you think she would have accepted you, despite her lack of affection?"
Bingley propped his elbows on the table and leaned his chin on his folded hands. "I don't know. She might. Her family is not a wealthy one, and her father's estate is entailed. She might have married me for my money."
"Then she would be happier and safer married to you, even without affection."
"Yes, of course, but shouldn't she love me back?" Bingley looked up at him.
"Is your love dependent on hers?" Father Brown asked.
Bingley looked startled. He hadn't considered that. Wouldn't it be better to offer his Jane security and his love, to make her happy, even if she didn't love him? And why shouldn't she love him? Plenty of marriages started with little affection and grew over time.
Father Brown spoke into his thoughts. "Would she make a good wife? Is she of good character?"
"That she is!" Bingley responded. His sweet Jane, who had always been welcoming and charming and gracious, who never spoke a harsh word of anyone. He spent so much energy trying to control his sisters that it was always a relief to find Jane, who never criticized anyone.
Jane was patient, and kind, and sought others' good instead of her own. Wasn't that what the Bible said love is? And even if she did not love him as he loved her, isn't it the nature of love to sacrifice oneself for the beloved?
"Then you think perhaps I should offer for her?" he asked suddenly.
"Marriage is a tool, Mr. Bingley. It has never been an emotion," Father Brown pointed out, "and a wife of good character is worth more than rubies."
Bingley sat back, digesting that. His Jane was certainly worth more than rubies. And if marriage was a tool, what better use than to use it to love his Jane?
"Perhaps I should go back, then. Perhaps she will have me anyway," he said, mostly to himself.
"And you never know, your friend may have been wrong. No man can see the heart. If she does love you, she no doubt hopes for your return," Father Brown suggested.
Bingley gasped at that. It had never occurred to him that, if Darcy was wrong, then Jane was feeling as hurt and lost as he did. "Good heavens! I must go back at once! Thank you ever so much for your advice!" he exclaimed, jumping up and putting his overcoat on. He paid the waitress for his own tea and for Father Brown's as well, and darted out the door.
Father Brown's eyes twinkled as he watched Bingley go. He went back to his seat and buttered a muffin, and proceeded to enjoy his tea.