They reentered the hall and were greeted by a blast of music proclaiming a reel. As they approached the floor, the music ceased and people were returning to their places. Darcy searched for Bingley but couldn't spy him. He turned to his potential dance partner, stepped back and bowed. "It seems we must wait for the next dance, which I hold you to your promise to save for me," he smiled at her. To his surprise she was staring towards the floor. "Is something the matter," he asked, concerned at the look of concentration on her face. She answered his question with one of her own. "Did you have a collision with someone before you entered the games room?" He started in surprise, both at the seriousness of her tone and at the strangeness of the question. "As a matter of fact, I bumped into an old servant. Why? Are my clothes in disarray from the contact?"

"No," she answered, solemnly. "But it was no accident. He used the opportunity to steal the dagger I heard you discussing with your friend." Darcy quickly bent over and was outraged to find the boot scabbard empty. "The scoundrel," he muttered. "He'll no doubt want to extort a high ransom from me for its return."

Miss Bennet pursed her lips in thought. "I do not think so," she said after a moment. "Tell me, Mr. Darcy, do you know anyone at this assembly other than your amiable friend?"

Although puzzled by her question, Darcy answered at once. "We have no acquaintances in this part of the country, being only newly arrived in Netherfield where he has taken up residence. Attending this ball was one way we thought to broaden out acquaintances here, as a matter of fact. Why do you ask?"

Miss Bennet did not answer. Gathering her skirts, she cried to him as she began to run. "Quickly! It is a matter of life and death!" Darcy was only a pace behind her when she reached her sister, the blond beauty as he still thought of her. "Jane!" she cried. "Where is your partner?" Her sister looked at her in puzzlement. "He said something about having drunk too much punch, then excused himself." She blushed slightly, realizing there was a strange man at her sister's side.

Elizabeth grabbed Darcy's arm. "Come," she commanded him. "He is surely going to the men's area to relieve himself. That is where the attack will happen!" Darcy staggered after her, trying to keep his balance as she dragged him along. 'What attack?' he asked himself as they left the dance floor and hurried towards the rooms set aside for those who needed privacy. There was a small crowd of men heading towards that area. Darcy thought he caught a glimpse of Bingley's blond head. The same moment Miss Bennet urged him, "Call out to him in your greatest voice" Remembering his vow to trust the judgement of this intelligent woman, he bellowed "BINGLEY!" with all the force he could muster.

All heads turned towards him, including Bingley's. All except one. The old servant rushed from a dark corner, the Dagger of Pemberley glinting in his raised fist. Bingley's face contorted in horror as he saw the dagger flashing towards him. He just managed to raise a defensive arm to block the blow heading towards his heart. He caught it on his arm, suffering a deep slash that sprayed blood. The servant snarled in rage, and raised the dagger a second time, but now many hands were reaching towards him, grabbing at his clothes, and Darcy was roaring in rage as he hurtled forwards. Turning with a snarl as he was pushed away from his victim, the 'old' man stumbled, almost falling; then, catching himself before he fell completely, he rushed through the huge windows that led onto the balcony. There was a glimpse of him as he leapt over the low stone wall and disappeared into the bushes below.

Darcy spared no thought for him as he reached Bingley and gripped his friend's slashed arm to stem the flow of blood as best he could. He looked around but Miss Bennet had disappeared. 'Small wonder,' Darcy thought. 'Few women of breeding could stomach the sight of gushing blood, no matter how much intelligence she might exhibit.'

But a few minutes later, as the men helped Bingley to a chair, Darcy learned he had once more underestimated the intelligence in that curly head with the twinkling eyes. She reappeared, this time with a small, elderly chubby man in tow: a medical doctor's black bag clutched tightly in his fist.

The fat man at once opened his bag, drawing out strip of thick muslin which he wrapped tightly about Bingley's upper arm, tying it so tightly the poor man winced at the new pain. "You can release the arm now, young fellow," the Doctor ordered Darcy. "I have sealed off the blood vessels with this tourniquet and the blood will not flow now. I must stitch up the wound and the torn veins now to save his arm."

Reluctantly, Darcy released his friend's arm and moved away to allow the medical man room to work. With sharp blades the material of the coat was slashed open exposing the torn flesh. Working quickly, the small man's hands pulled needle and thread through his friend's skin, ignoring the cries of pain that tore at Darcy's heart. He couldn't bear to watch his friend's distress and turned to see Miss Bennet at his side, her eyes solemn and attentive as she looked into his. "That is Dr Simons," she told Darcy, softly, as they watched the pale-faced Bingley having his torn arm sewn up. "I remembered seeing him playing cards with friends in the gaming room earlier. I prayed he was still there. He is a medical marvel… well-known in the area. In his youth he served in the regiments and sewed many torn bodies, saving countless lives and limbs. Since there are many farms in this area, that sort of medical repair in not uncommon and he has a good reputation among the country folk."

"I cannot thank you enough," he choked out to her. "Your quick wit surely prevented my friend's immediate murder." She shrugged. "I considered the possibilities. Ransoming the knife was of course one of them, but that need not be dealt with before an actual demand was made. But a murder with a weapon that can only be associated with you was an immediate concern. And who might you murder in a city of total strangers except the only person known to you… your friend who accompanied you here."

"Brilliant," Darcy breathed. "As brilliant as your chess play." Once again she waved a dismissive hand at his compliments. "The question is who has a motive to want to destroy you if you know no one in the area. This person may have followed you here."

"Then he had a long journey since I live in Derbyshire and went from there to London for the season, until my friend moved to Netherfield and asked me to accompany him," he told her, even as his mind was racing through the previous months to see if there had been other indications of someone pursuing him. His thoughts went to Georgiana, his sister. 'I must immediately increase the security at Pemberley,' he told himself. He drew his thoughts back to the present and looked for Miss Bennet and found her talking to the blond beauty. 'I must learn that maiden's name,' he thought wryly. Then he recalled Miss Bennet had called her, "Jane'!

The Doctor had given Bingley some sort of elixir and Bingley's head was nodding. Darcy approached the medical man. His work seemed to be finished as he had removed the tourniquet and was now repacking his medical bag. Darcy asked him in a quiet voice, what provisions should be made for his patient. "We live in Netherfield and I fear the carriage ride might be too far. But I shall be guided by your opinion," he told the small man.

"Absolutely no long carriage rides for some time," the Doctor pronounced firmly. "Not for a few weeks until I remove the stitches. Also, I must inspect the wound daily to be certain there is no festering or rot in the flesh. A local establishment would be best. Perhaps a local inn or residence if there should be accommodation available."

Miss Bennet had approached during this conversation and said firmly, "He shall stay in our home, Longbourn at Meryton, Dr. Simons. It is only a short ride from here by chaise; and even if Mr. Bingley should require being carried in the chair, two able bodied men can cover the ground in fifteen minutes at a pace that will not distress the injury."

The tall, blond beauty had approached with Miss Bennet. Now she bent over Bingley and seemed to whisper in his ear. Despite his wretched condition, Bingley seemed to brighten a little and he sat slightly more erect. The tall, blond beauty now turned to Darcy and Miss Bennet. "I told Mr. Bingley he will be in hands that will care for him as though he were of our own family."

Darcy stiffened. "I am somewhat at a loss, being a stranger in the area..." he began. Before he could continue, Miss Bennet laid a light hand on his arm. "This is my sister, Jane. " Smiling at her sister, she said, "Jane, this is Mr. Darcy who lives at Netherfield with Mr. Bingley, being his dear friend.

Darcy bowed, somewhat stiffly, the second Miss Bennet curtseyed. He felt awkward. The tall blond beauty was the sister of the short dark curly headed twinkle eyed chess genius! What would the rest of the family to prove to be? Then he remembered the loud, raucous woman the tall blond… Miss Jane Bennet… had been speaking with! Good Lord Almighty! Could that boisterous harridan truly be the mother of these two pearls among womanhood!

Another moment and Miss Bennet, the taller, returned to comfort Bingley while men were sent for to carry him to Longbourn. Meanwhile, the shorter Bennet version, darted off and knelt next to a large urn with huge green fronds in it. She seemed to be groping behind it. A moment later she gave a cry and straightened up. With a shock, Darcy saw she held his dagger, recovered from where it had fallen, when knocked from the assassin's hand. Darcy had assumed the assassin had carried it off. Miss Bennet approached. She had a small handkerchief and was rubbing the blade and handle. As she reached him, he realized she was wiping off Bingley's blood! "I thought I saw it fly away as the assassin was knocked about," she said, matter of factly. 'Was there no end to this unique woman's surprises?' he asked himself. 'How many maidens could blithely wipe away a victim's blood from the very weapon that dealt the blow?'

"It has a nice shine when it is polished," she said matter of factly. "And I like the mottled pattern in the blade. It is most unusual. I cannot recall seeing similar work before. Is it from the Middle East? Surely it is the highest quality Damascus steel."

Darcy was in shock, The Dagger of Pemberley had not had that luster since his parents died. What could this mean? Who could he ask? His cousin Richard with his army experience? Richard's father, the Earl of Matlock, who might have some knowledge of this Dagger origins, so important in the Darcy family's history?

He watched as she turned the blade in every direction until apparently satisfied with its condition. Then, to his additional shock, she flipped the blade several times in the air, expertly catching it deftly. "A masterpiece of balance and workmanship," she murmured.

Noting the shock on his face she explained, "I have developed proficiency with knives from a young age. A knife is an excellent weapon for a woman, I find. Easily concealed and with sufficient skill it can defend as well as a sword. That should go back into your boot scabbard," she admonished him, "and a clasp should be devised that will not allow a thief to so easily draw it forth."

Darcy considered asking her why she felt the need at a young age to defend herself. 'Better to save that for another time', he told himself. Instead, he smiled. "I will have my artisans at Pemberley design one on my return home," then, adding in a light tone, "I have learned to take every suggestion of yours now as though it is a move in the chess game of life!" The dark haired Miss Bennet gave him a smile and a twinkle as she handed over the dagger to him.

At that very moment, their attention was drawn to a loud commotion near the entrance to the hall and so it was that neither noticed the flare of brilliance from the dagger as their two hands joined on it for a moment. As they looked towards the entrance, they were not surprised to see a number of red coats announcing the arrival of the militia. After conferring with the mayor and other officials the captain made his way with his troop towards Darcy and Elizabeth. Before he reached them, Elizabeth whispered urgently to Darcy, "Say no word of anything I have done." When he frowned at her in confusion, she held a finger to her lips. Then, the militia was in front of them and Elizabeth seemed to shrink into herself and shelter behind Darcy's broad shoulders.

After introductions the Captain said, "According to witnesses, the injured man arrived here with you, Mr. Darcy?" he both asked and stated. "Correct, Captain. He is my close friend and we reside together at Netherfield, He had just finished a dance when he was set upon and attacked," Darcy concluded. The Captain looked about as though unsure how to proceed. Finally, he said "I understand there were witnesses to the attack and the assassin escaped. Was it someone known to you or anyone else?"

Darcy shook his head. "He was disguised as an old servant but stole my dagger and used it to attack my friend. I saw the attack coming and called to Bingley in time for him to raise his arm and fend off the fatal thrust. He was treated here by a local medical man and will recuperate in a private home nearby,"

"You have this dagger in your possession again?" the Captain asked. "Indeed, and it will not leave my possession now that I know someone wishes to use it to incriminate me in a murder," Darcy said, grimly.

Elizabeth's eyes as usual were everywhere, studying the faces around her. As Darcy spoke, she noticed a slight reaction in one of the militia men, a lieutenant, standing near the Captain. She studied him carefully from head to toe. She hid her thoughts, thinking to share them later with Darcy. 'Better not to reveal your cards too soon if you don't know what game is being played', she told herself.

"We found the clothes and wig the man wore in the bushes outside the hall," the Captain shared with them. "He certainly has had enough time to be far away by now and it would be useless to mount a search." Again Elizabeth noted the slightest of reactions in the same militia man, but she did not give away her interest in him by staring. "I would only counsel you to take every precaution," the Captain said, gravely, "since it is clear someone is determined to do you harm… either directly or through your friends." Again Elizabeth noted a slight reaction in the same man.

The Captain turned to her and asked, "And you, Madam… did you see anything?" Elizabeth looked vaguely around. "Do I see anything?" she asked in a confused tone. Many of the soldiers suppressed smiles. The Captain frowned. "Then. At the time of the assault," he said with patience.

"Oh… when the music stopped, you mean," Elizabeth simpered. "I was just wondering why people were interrupting the dancing, I'm afraid. I was looking at the musicians to see if they were going to begin again."

The Captain shrugged, then saluted Darcy, bowed to Elizabeth, turned to his troop and said, "We're done here, it seems," and they followed him out, many of them grinning at the naiveté of the local girl.

Darcy turned to her to ask for some explanation of her surprising performance as a simple-witted country miss. He was sure this amazing woman could provide an explanation for her baffling behavior, but she raised a hand slightly to silence him. When the troop had departed, she began the conversation by asking Darcy if by chance he was acquainted with any of the men in the troop." He had already learned to listen closely when she spoke, even if the matter appeared trivial at first glance. So, he told her, with a slight shake of his head, "To my sorrow, I am more than acquainted with one of them since he grew up on our estate and he was as a brother to me for many years until he betrayed our family's trust in him."

"And was this the tall, good-looking, blond lieutenant just behind and to the side of the Captain?" she asked in a neutral tone.

Darcy looked at her, sharply. "Indeed," he replied. "That is George Wickham. As I said, once he was like a brother to me but he grew hateful when he realized that he was not, after all, my actual brother but, in fact, the son of an employee. He expected to inherit part of the estate on the death of my parents and was not satisfied with the sinecure that had been provided for him." Darcy paused. "Why did you notice him, if I may ask?"

Elizabeth hesitated. She was not sure the man in front of her was capable of sufficient self-control, but, deciding the risk was too great to remain silent, said, "I noticed his inability to hide his hatred for you. It showed through several times as the Captain spoke."

Darcy nodded. "I see you are as perceptive of human behavior as you are on strategies at the chess board. My estimation of you climbs higher with every word you speak."

Elizabeth waved a disparaging hand, a gesture Darcy was realizing was also part of her distain for the usual flatteries of human interactions. Instead, he saw she was chewing her lip as she pondered some line of reason. Then, apparently deciding to share her thoughts, she looked at him with the most serious mien he had yet seen her display.

"It may not be proof enough for a trial, since there could be other explanations, but I observed on his boot two large drops of a dark liquid which had a shining effect in the light of the hall. I assume them to be droplets of blood and would gamble my life that he was the assassin. He could shed his wig and costume quickly, but changing a pair of boots would require more time… and, in any case, clearly he had not himself noticed the blood or he would have wiped it off."

Darcy could feel his own blood rising to his face as his fury began to rage in him. He turned to pursue the militia and confront Wickham, but Miss Bennet laid a restraining hand on his arm and he froze. Such, he realized, was the power she already had over him despite their short acquaintance.

"Wait," she urged. "He will claim it was from a cut while shaving, or some such fabrication. It may be he has already noticed the drops and wiped them clean. You must not let him know he is suspected. It may be he will renew his attempts so we must be on our highest guard. Next time we will be ready and he will be checked and, hopefully, check-mated!"

Darcy's fury subsided at the wisdom of her words. He realized as he calmed down, she had said 'our guard', not 'your guard' and 'we' will be ready', not 'you will be ready'. His heart beating hopefully in him, he took a step towards her. "Miss Bennet," he began, then throwing caution to the wind, revised his words. "Elizabeth," he said in a soft tone, "is it too much for me to hope that you begin to see us as partners? Because, I confess, the only good thing that I see emerging from all this mayhem tonight is that we are drawing closer together. That is an object I would be happy to pursue. Indeed, I would like to talk to your father at the earliest opportunity."

He thrilled to see a smile forming on her face, but the twinkle in her eye did not seem as romantic a response as he had hoped for was coming. "I must admit, sir, that I never dreamed to be wooed by a man whose clothes are soaked in blood, happily, not his own. But, not wishing to revert to a primitive time when men fought to the death and the blood-soaked winner carried off the maiden, let us not pursue this topic until you have had a chance to change your apparel." She finished with such a twitch of her lip and a twinkle in those beautiful eyes that told him she was restraining a grin. He did not know whether she was welcoming his attentions or finding a gentle way of easing a denial of his expression of interest. Nay… much more than interest, he told himself. Passion! As the import of her words finally penetrated his emotions, he looked ruefully at his clothes which were, indeed, stained with Bingley's blood.

"I shall have to return to Netherfield posthaste," he admitted, "to bathe and change my apparel. Also, I must inform Bingley's sisters and brother-in-law of his circumstances. They will surely want to come and see for themselves that he will recover. The ladies were feeling poorly and so did not wish to attend tonight."

"Will you be traveling alone in the dark?" Elizabeth asked, and he thrilled to hear the genuine concern in her voice. "Perhaps I shall have one our footmen accompany you in your carriage and return with you."

He hesitated, considering the wisdom of her words. Could Wickham be lingering in the area, hoping for another opportunity to do him harm? "I will, of course, have my driver and my valet, but an extra man would perhaps be prudent."

"At any rate," Elizabeth continued, "Let us take your carriage to my home where you can see your friend's condition and report on it to his family. Then you can continue on to Netherfield... for your much needed bath and change of clothes," she added with that twinkle he now realized was as much a part of her as the beautiful deep brown of her eyes.