[...] and then, by a gleam of lightning, she perceived some person on the terrace. All the anxieties of the preceding night returned. This person advanced, and the playing flame alternately appeared and vanished. Emily wished to speak, to end her doubts, whether this figure were human or supernatural; but her courage failed as often as she attempted utterance, till the light moved again under the casement, and she faintly demanded, who passed. - The Mysteries of Udolpho, Ann Ward Radcliffe
Who on earth could it be? And, having noticed the stranger, what should Mary do now? She could hardly speak to them without being introduced, nor did she want to alert the Darcys to their presence without having some idea who to expect. She would feel very embarrassed to bring them in if it turned out to be an unfamiliar servant or other expected person.
For lack of a better alternative, Mary edged around the room to gain a better view of the unknown interloper.
Sitting primly in a large chair was a small woman. Mary at first took her for a young girl, but then realised that she was full grown but short and thin. She was reading a volume of an encyclopaedia with a look of utter misery on her face. Mary wondered what it was within the letters M to Z that made her so distressed.
From her dress and manner it seemed unlikely that she was a thief or a vagabond. Since they had not been introduced, and the woman did not look like she wished to be disturbed, Mary decided to leave quietly and inform Mr and Mrs Darcy of her presence.
Unfortunately, she must have made some sound in her passage, for the woman suddenly broke from her reverie and looked up at Mary.
She first stared in shocked and sad surprise, but then quickly assumed a more guarded expression. The two women stared at each other for a few moments.
Eventually the unknown woman spoke. "I apologise for my unexpected presence. A servant let me in when I arrived and I found myself unready to greet and introduce myself to the occupants of the house. I do not wish...that is...would you be so kind as to leave me a few moments alone to compose myself?" She spoke so softly that Mary had to strain to hear, but the softness of her voice was belied by the intense seriousness of her expression. As she finished her entreaty the woman trailed off into silence and stared intently at a spot on the floor near her feet.
Mary considered herself a rational being, not hampered by the ties of sentimentality and excessive emotion. However she could not help but feel a pang of sympathy for this woman who, like her, had come to this place seeking refuge. She opened her mouth to reply, but was interrupted by the doors to the library opening with a loud bang.
Lady Catherine burst into the room and rushed over to the strange woman. "ANNE!" she cried. "What are you doing here?!"
Miss Anne De Bourgh (as she was now revealed to be) seemed to shrink back into herself.
"And where is Mrs Jenkinson?" her mother continued. "I know she is ill, but what is she about, letting you travel so far by yourself?"
Miss de Bourgh replied, but so indistinctly that she could not be heard.
"What was that?" her mother demanded.
"Mrs Jenkinson is dead."
"Dead? Dead, you say? Oh dear. Oh that is too terrible. Well, then I understand your distress, my dear, but you did not have to drive all this way. We will go back at once." Lady Catherine put out her hand and her daughter took it. She did not look much less distressed.
Mary tried to remember what she had heard about Miss De Bourgh. Mr Collins had mentioned her frequently during his visit, but all she could remember was that she was ill, that she was elegant, and that she did not travel. The first two were readily apparent, and the last seemed not to be so true after all, so that report was not very useful. Had she perhaps once been engaged to Mr Darcy? Surely not. For the first time in her life, Mary wished she had paid more attention to gossip.