I wonder how old Jane was? Or more accurately, when she was born?
Story time:
Before we got married my wife was an age 30-ish successful attorney. Her mother was a traditional sort but had always encouraged her daughters to aim high, work hard, get a high-falutin’ career, and don’t be dependent on a man. Oh yeah, but make lots and lots of grandkids and be a total hostess with the mostest kind of woman. Mixed message much? Naah, not Mom!
Anyhow, we get married, my wife being the first of Mom’s daughters to do so. Wife chose to adopt my last name as her own. That was her decision, not mine; I’d have been happy whatever she’d chosen.
Shortly thereafter Mom writes daughter a flowery congratulatory letter full of gushing about how wonderful it was for Mom to now have a married daughter. Squeee!
Of course it was addressed to
Mrs. Elmer Doe
123 Main St
And the salutation on this heartfelt mother->daughter letter was
Dear Mrs. Elmer Doe,
Mom had been waiting decades while dreaming of the day she could address her daughter like that and wasn’t going to waste the opportunity when it finally came.
My wife’s reaction:
My own mother has reduced my identity to a lower-case “s”. The same as every other married woman in the English-speaking world. Makes me feel so special!
To this day when Mom does some typical Momly thing that minimizes daughter’s status versus her own, she or I comment to each other something like: “Oh well, I guess I’m just as ‘s’” or “Well dear, what do you expect, you’re just an ‘s’”.
Ya gotta laugh or else you’d cry or get angry.
TLDR: Folks from the Olden Dayes be … quaint … about stuff.