No one noticed how different Jane was until Elizabeth learned to walk first. Mr. and Mrs. Bennet, both of whom did not have younger siblings, had no idea that Jane was progressing much slower than most children did. Their somewhat selfish personalities—which naturally included the use of pin money being spent on books and ribbons as opposed to the quality of servants—meant that days would pass before either of them actually saw their daughter in person.
It was only after Elizabeth’s first birthday that the Bennets even realized that their second daughter could walk, while the eldest was still only crawling.
After that, everything about the two sisters was compared. Elizabeth was reading words by the time she was five, whereas Jane still struggled as an adult with words of more than two syllables.
Elizabeth’s piano playing was pleasing to listen to, but Jane still could not remember which key was a C and which was an F, even though they had the same music master for an entire year when Elizabeth was seven years of age.
Jane’s embroidery was still all tangled—even though she practiced daily—while Elizabeth could hold her own with the other ladies of the neighborhood by the time she was twelve.
Even then, it took a stranger from outside the family to help the Bennets see the reality of the situation.
When Mrs. Bennet’s brother, Mr. Gardiner, married his wife, the newly named Mrs. Gardiner recommended a specialist from London to come see the then nine-year-old Jane.
The man took one look at Jane’s features and immediately asked, “How old was she when she first could sit by herself?”
Upon hearing that it was a month after Elizabeth’s birth, he frowned. “I’m afraid your daughter is an idiot, and she will always be one. You had best send her to the workhouse and forget she existed, for the sake of your other daughters.”
Elizabeth was only eight years old, and even then, she was her sister’s most valiant ally. She had stormed into the room through the door from which she had been eavesdropping and kicked the man in the shins.
“How dare you tell my parents to give up Jane!” Elizabeth shrieked.
Then she kicked him again, this time a little higher in between the legs.
The doctor roared in pain and clutched himself with one hand, falling to the ground. He lifted his other hand to smack her, but Mr. Bennet—with an agility that surprised even himself—launched from his chair and grabbed the man’s arm.
“I suggest you leave before I kick you myself.” His voice was deep and menacing.
Mrs. Bennet had swooned on the sofa, weak from having given birth to their fifth child. When she came to, the doctor was gone, and Mr. Bennet was comforting a sobbing Elizabeth.
“I will not allow anyone to take her from us,” he vowed to both his wife and daughter.
Since that day, Elizabeth had taken upon herself the mantle of Jane’s protector. Well aware of her sister’s differences, Elizabeth had done all she could to protect Jane, but the older the girls grew, the more worried Elizabeth became.
Mrs. Bennet had the natural ability to ignore things that were unpleasant to her. Jane’s beauty was enhanced by the small ears, large eyes, and strong jaw that were currentlyen vogueinsociety, and Mrs. Bennet convinced herself that Jane would be able to make a good match.
It was only when one looked more closely that hints could be seen of upturned eyes spaced farther apart than usual and a flat face. But as the Bennets treated Jane as though nothing was amiss, the rest of the neighborhood’s twenty-four families had become accustomed to her exceptional appearance.
The fact that most children weren’t seen by neighbors, or even by their own parents, until they were older also contributed to Jane’s acceptance. The Bennets were fond of their daughters, but they did not have much to do with the daily care of their children as babies. Wet nurses, maids, and nannies were hired for that purpose.
None of the hired staff were paid well enough—nor had the courage—to care about the eldest Bennet’s development. It was only when Elizabeth came along that any delays in Jane’s development were noticed, but Mrs. Gardiner was the only one who encouraged the indolent Bennet parents to do anything about it.
As Jane’s beauty increased, Mrs. Bennet became more and more determined that Jane would marry well—which, to Mrs. Bennet’s mind, meant that Jane would marry someone with significant wealth. Not only would that ensure the well-being of Jane’s family after Mr. Bennet’s death, but Jane would be cared for as well.
The lack of gentlemen in Hertfordshire meant that Jane at twenty-one and Elizabeth at twenty were still unmarried. In desperation, Mrs. Bennet had allowed her younger daughters to come out before the elder were wed in an attempt to entice the few young men in the area. The Bennet daughters, while amiable and with many charms, did not possess a dowry that would tempt the few young men.
Bingley’s arrival was—in Mrs. Bennet’s mind—a direct answer to her prayers. The fact that he seemed besotted with Jane’s beauty and rare looks completely washed away any trepidation she may have had over her daughter’s unique characteristics and simple mind.
After all, Mrs. Bennet possessed a rather simple mind herself.
It was with great delight, therefore, that a note soon arrived from Netherfield from Miss Bingley.
“My d-d-dear f-f-f… Lizzy, what is this word?” Jane asked, showing her sister the letter.
“Oh, give it here, girl!” Mrs. Bennet, impatient with her eldest daughter’s inability to read the elaborate cursive of the missive, snatched the paper from her daughter’s hand.
“Why, it’s an invitation to spend the afternoon at Netherfield and dine with them! What excellent news!” Mrs. Bennet skimmed over the page. “Oh, of all the rotten luck. The gentlemen will be dining with the new officers…”
Mrs. Bennet’s voice trailed off as her eyes scanned the sheet again. “Well, there’s nothing for it. You must go by horseback, Jane!”
