‘The 16th of December was the day of Jane Austen’s birth. The month’s delay in her arrival inspired her father to a small joke about how he and his wife had “in old age grown such bad reckoners”; he was forty-four. The child came in the evening, he said, without much warning. There was no need for a doctor; it was rare to call one for something as routine as childbirth, and the nearest, in Basingstoke, was seven miles away over bad roads. In any case, “everything was soon happily over.” They were pleased to have a second daughter, “a present plaything for her sister Cassy and a future companion. She is to be Jenny.”’ Claire Tomalin, Jane Austen: A Life.