Mid-July, Mrs. Bennet sat down to write a letter to Elizabeth. She had put a note on her husband’s previous letters, but this was the first she had written on her own. Her daughter had been married a month and she thought it would be a good idea to inform her of what to look for if she became with child. If she was anything like the Gardiner women, she would be in the family way before the end of the year.

Mrs. Bennet told Elizabeth that her courses would first seem late before she would realize they were not coming at all. She may feel overly tired and want to sleep more than usual. Certain smells and foods could turn her stomach, and she may even be sick. Mornings could be particularly bad for some women, but her experience had always been sporadic throughout the day. Her breasts would likely grow fuller and heavier and would be more tender, possibly painful.

Eventually, her appetite would increase and she would notice she was becoming fuller all over, not just in her middle. Mrs. Bennet told her that with three of her five pregnancies, she had enlarged primarily over her legs and bottom before her belly grew at all. Her skin would likely change, too, taking on a more milky appearance and her cheeks would eventually fill out, though likely not for some time.

She also told her the signs of a miscarriage, which she had thankfully only experienced once, and informed her that a drop or two of blood was nothing to be concerned about, but perhaps it was a signal to relax a bit more and run about a bit less. If there were painful cramps, call the midwife.

Mrs. Bennet paused in her writing as she remembered the painful miscarriage she had suffered between Kitty and Lydia. She had been sure it was a boy. Everything in her told her it was so. Her sister told her she had thought so before, but Mrs. Bennet knew this time was different. Alas, it was not to be. In her fourth month, she had been gripped with terrible pains, the like of which she had only experienced when delivering her girls. The midwife was called, and within a few hours, Agnes Bennet was no longer with child.

The tiny babe had been buried in the family graveyard at her insistence. She had not looked at the half-formed child, but the midwife confirmed what she had known all along. The child had been a boy. She called him John, after her grandfather, and wept bitterly for weeks.

Her next pregnancy was very careful and though she knew in her heart the babe was another girl, she did not want to take any risks. Lydia became a much-prized infant after a deeply-felt loss.