She was not the smartest, she was not the silliest, though; she was not beautiful, humourous, or boisterous and she was not the most dutiful of them; she was not definitely the favourite of her family, neither her parents nor her uncle and aunt Gardiner; but there was one absolution about her, she was the most hard-working of them.
And that was then she took upon herself to guide her younger siblings through their life when the physician advised Mrs. Bennet's not being disturbed from her bed-rest after her sixth but stillborn child – a boy, their hope, shattered long before it became their hope. – and Mr. Bennet declared his desire not to look after the silliest girls in England that he had had the misfortune of having them as his daughters, – though that was questionable how two girls of five and three years old, one could assume as silliest girls.
Mary, herself was seven years old, but she had a self-determination that made her look older, even some mistook her serious look as the older sister of Lizzy. She didn't mind them much. She had important matters to take care of.
Her two younger sisters.
She never questioned why her two older sisters didn't try to help her in the upbringing of their younger ones, or why their parents put their own responsibility on her little shoulders, but maybe that was good for all.
Yes, good for all. Especially for Mary to have two younger siblings looking up to her and hanging on every word of her. It was a balm to be adored by those two innocent girls after so much neglect from her parents and older sisters.
And it turned even better when the trio were under the constant abuse of their father. When their cold shoulders were the only reaction that their so-called father could hope for while trying to get a rise out of them. He didn't beat them, but his acid tongue was much worse. And They were together throughout his disrespectful attitude and weathered the storms together.
It was best for all. Best for the trio.