The Forgotten Middle Sisters: A Closer Look at Mary Bennet and Beth March

May 8, 2025

Literature

Kaija Strong

Guest Writer at Bond & Grace

Jane Austen and Louisa May Alcott are some of classic literature’s most beloved novelists, with their work examined and reexamined with each passing decade. Yet in both of their seminal works, Austen’s Pride and Prejudice and Alcott’s Little Women, there remains a critically unacknowledged character: the lost middle sister. Both Jane Austen’s Mary Bennet and Louisa May Alcott’s Beth March have historically been sidelined in interpretations of their novels. Yet these prim, quiet figures have much more to offer than the adaptations would have us believe. Thankfully, the past 10 years have seen new artists coax these characters out of the shadows and into the spotlight.

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Mary Bennet, The Loner

“Mary had neither genius nor taste; and though vanity had given her application, it had given her likewise a pedantic air and conceited manner, which would have injured a higher degree of excellence than she had reached.” —Jane Austen, Pride and Prejudice

Poor, poor Mary. I fear that Jane Austen’s characterization of this particular middle sister is rather unforgiving. Both the original novel and traditional adaptations portray Miss Mary Bennet as a rigid, pious young woman. While some adaptations, such as the 1995 BBC Series, are kind enough to expand her characterization into a comic relief character, few iterations afford Mary an empathetic approach.

Indeed, Mary Bennet is the odd duck in a family full of swans. Austen’s narrative tells us that Mary is the “only plain one in the family.” Her other sisters have coupled off into perfect friendship pairings (Jane united with Lizzie, and Kitty bonded to Lydia), leaving Mary perpetually alone. This awkward division in the sibling dynamics is common for middle children, especially when they belong to a large family like the Bennets. Mary constantly fights to be noticed by others (see her virtuoso piano playing), and she is self-conscious of all the ways she falls short. She may not fully understand why she is starved of praise, but she feels the pangs of her isolation all the same.

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Description of Mary in *Pride and Prejudice*

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Arguably, one of the first interpretations of Mary that peered closer into her inner world was the 2005 film Pride and Prejudice by Joe Wright. Mary’s music starts the opening soundtrack, and we always see her alone at her instrument. While the other sisters may have each other, Mary is given a companion in her piano. Whether the family is sitting down to breakfast or coming home from a social calling, Mary’s preferred stoop is the piano bench. She doesn’t even bother to remove her outer cloak before retreating to her haven.

There is one particular scene in this version that I have always loved: Mary’s performance at the Netherfield Ball. In the novel, Mary’s piano playing is compared to that of her older sister, Lizzie. Though Mary is objectively the more talented musician, the audience enjoys Lizzie’s performance more. This is because, as Austen’s narration tells us, Mary’s bad manners have left her with a haughty attitude that demands praise, deeming Lizzie’s imperfect humility, by contrast, more acceptable. The 2005 adaptation sidesteps this harshness and instead focuses on Mary’s social awkwardness. Rather than haughtiness, it is Mary’s inability to pick up on social cues that causes her to be mocked by the audience. Mr. Bennet tells her to stop playing, not to scold her, but to save her from humiliation. Later, he finds her in tears and pulls her into an embrace.

“I’ve been practicing all week,” she sobs.

“I know,” he replies.

In this adaptation, it is Mary’s misguided earnestness that forsakes her, a fate that I think many of us can relate to. I tried, she pleads. Why did I fail?

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Mary in Joe Wright’s *Pride and Prejudice* (2005)

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Like Joe Wright’s film, modern reimaginings of Mary Bennet’s tale give audiences the chance to understand her more intimately. The 2017 stage play Miss Bennet: Christmas at Pemberley by Lauren Gunderson and Margot Melcon is a sequel to Pride and Prejudice. This story places forgotten middle child Mary front and center, granting her an opportunity for romance. Gunderson and Melcon examine Mary’s mistreatment by the rest of the family and sympathize with her loneliness. Instead of a sweeping, dramatic love story like Lizzie’s, Mary’s first bloom of love is softer. I had the privilege of playing Mary in this production when I was in college. My interpretation of Mary was always that she had been stifled for most of her life and sought refuge in her books and piano. When, for the first time, she meets another person who shares her interests, it transforms her. She comes alive.

Janice Hadlow’s 2020 novel, The Other Bennet Sister (soon to be a BBC Series), expands on Mary’s status as the ugly duckling of the Bennet clan. Beautifully sympathetic, this book retells Pride and Prejudice from Mary’s perspective and shows her slow journey into confidence. In Hadlow’s version, Mary learns that we cannot love another until we love ourselves first.

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Beth March, The Wallflower

“Her father called her ‘Little Miss Tranquility,’ and the name suited her excellently, for she seemed to live in a happy world of her own, only venturing out to meet the few whom she trusted and loved.” —Louisa May Alcott, Little Women

Beth March is the saintly peacemaker of the March family. While she is not forgotten like Mary Bennet, Beth is most often portrayed as a memory, a one-dimensional recollection born out of grief. While she is appreciated for all her goodness and selflessness, she is denied the complex humanity of her sisters in service of her main role in the novel: to be sick and to die.

Similar to Mary, Beth is eclipsed by the larger personalities of her sisters. Meg’s leadership, Jo’s drive, and Amy’s self-assurance distinguish them from their peers. Beth, on the other hand, while gifted at the piano, is mostly known for her altruism. The other sisters lament that they can never be as good as the angelic Beth. They take for granted that she is merely playing a part. She is good, yes, and does believe wholeheartedly in her charity, but she allows herself to fall into this niche because she suffers from a deep-seated identity crisis. If she can’t be useful, part of her fears that she will fade away into complete insignificance.

‍“I’m not like the rest of you. I never made any plans about what I’d do when I grew up. [...] I couldn’t seem to imagine myself anything but stupid little Beth, trotting about at home, of no use anywhere but there.” —Louisa May Alcott, Little Women

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Early adaptations of Little Women don’t care to explore Beth beyond her sainthood, which ultimately cheapens her eventual death. The impact of this loss cannot be fully appreciated without glimpsing the hidden depths of Beth’s character and the life she could have led. The 2019 Greta Gerwig film and the 2017 BBC Series both correct this faux pas. These modern adaptations focus on Beth’s life, her hidden dreams, and her invisible struggles.

Greta Gerwig intentionally dove into Beth’s piano skills and heightened them to be more than just a childish hobby. In an interview with Boxoffice Pro, Gerwig said that she takes umbrage with the idea that Beth was “marked for death.” Her choice to show us Beth’s mastery of the piano makes her short life all the more bittersweet. We see an emerging talent whose dreams were stolen from her by fate. After her death, the piano becomes a shrine, one that the family cannot bear to sit at. We understand why. No one can play like Beth.

The 2017 BBC Series takes an alternate, though equally important, approach to Beth’s character. This adaptation explores her shy and demure nature, going so far as to posit that it could be social anxiety. This time, Beth’s fear of participating in the outside world isn’t viewed as mere plot foreshadowing of her early exit from it. Instead, it is a painful mental health struggle that only Marmee and Mr. Laurence can see. We ache for Beth’s inability to assimilate into society as her sisters do. Step into the light, we urge in our heads.

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‍Why the Piano?

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Louisa May Alcott’s approach to the forgotten middle sibling was ultimately gentler than Jane Austen’s. This is likely because Little Women is semi-autobiographical, and Beth was based on one of Alcott’s own siblings. What I find interesting is the key similarity threaded through their tales: the piano. Both young women, despite their differing personalities, seek refuge in the same instrument. Music is a transformative thing; rhythm enters the body like a second heartbeat, vibrating our souls until they dance.

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Beth in Greta Gerwig’s *Little Women* (2019)

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In both Miss Bennet: Christmas at Pemberley and Greta Gerwig’s Little Women, Mary and Beth are devoted to playing classical composers. Mozart and Chopin flow from their fingers in place of more common country songs and hymns. They attempt to speak through their music, pounding the keys when they are angry and tickling them when they are not. Beneath their fingers is a message begging to be heard. Will we finally learn to listen? Not just to them, but to all the others in the background, as well?