Page 1 of A Most Beloved Sister
Prologue
Longbourn 1789
Apiercing scream echoed through Longbourn as Thomas Bennet sat in his library, nervously downing another glass of port. Across the room, his brother Phillips gave a hearty chuckle.
“Not too much now, Bennet. You don’t want to be too drunk to remember meeting your firstborn!”
Glancing ruefully at the half-empty decanter, Bennet stood and walked towards the window. “I had no idea how terrible this could be. It has been a day and a half since her waters broke, and still there is no babe.”
“It always takes longer with the first birth.”
“How would you know? You and Lucy haven’t got any children!” retorted Bennet.
“My mother was a midwife. I know more about babies being born than probably any man in England. She took me along with her when my father was at sea, as she didn’t want to leave me at home where I could get into trouble.”
Bennet stared in surprise at his brother-in-law. “How is it that I never knew that about you?”
Phillips shrugged self-consciously. “I don’t talk much about my childhood, I suppose. It wasn’t easy, and it was very different from the life I’ve made for myself now. My parents sacrificed much so their only son could go to school and gain an education. They wanted better for me than what they had.”
A loud, high-pitched wailing interrupted their conversation. Bennet’s shoulders sagged in relief, and a few minutes later, there was a knock at the door. Mrs. Hill, who served as both housekeeper and lady’s maid for Fanny Bennet, poked her head through the opening.
“Best you come up now, Mr. Bennet, and meet your child.”
Without pausing to excuse himself from Phillips, Bennet dashed out of the room and up the stairs to his wife’s chamber. Fanny Bennet lay in bed, with her sister sitting at her side and the midwife standing near the dresser.
“Oh, Thomas, we have a daughter,” wailed Fanny.
Bennet stopped short and stared at the little bundle in his wife’s arms. “A girl? Can I—can I see her?”
Mrs. Phillips gently lifted the baby out of her sister’s arms. She showed Thomas how to support the infant’s head, and Thomas looked down at the child he held.
“She’s beautiful, Fanny,” he whispered.
The small babe had a head of blond hair with large eyes that slanted upwards slightly at the edges. One hand was flying around in the air, and he gently touched it with his finger. The babe closed her fist around his large finger, and Thomas felt his eyes fill with tears.
“Oh, Fanny, don’t cry, love,” he said tenderly, looking at his weeping wife. “You have given us a beautiful girl to dote on! We’ll call her Jane, for my mother and your grandmother.”
“But the entail!” the woman sobbed.
“God will provide,” he said firmly. “For now, we will work on giving our daughter a dowry that will fit her beauty.”
The midwife cleared her throat. “Mr. Bennet,” she said, beckoning him towards her.
Bennet crossed the room to where the elderly woman stood, wringing her hands. “Is there a problem?” he asked in a low whisper.
She pressed her lips together. “Do you see her palms?”
He lifted his finger and gently pried the fist open. After inspecting them, he looked at her and shrugged. “She seems to have all her fingers.”
When his lighthearted tone fell flat, the joy he’d been feeling sank like a rock in his stomach. “What is it?” he insisted when the woman remained silent.
“She has only one line across each of her palms. And her toes… there’s a large gap between the largest and the second. When you combine that with her eyes…” Her voice trailed off.
“What?” he urged.
“I think she might be defective, sir.”
A rushing sound filled his ears. “I beg your pardon?” he cried, startling the child into wailing.
