Thanks to everyone who has reviewed my story so far! Raven O'Connor, Conva, zagato, silver phoenix, sunset heaven, jenn (:P), toledasarrah, thanks bunches! I know…I promise the action will pick up in the next chapter or so, at least more of the mystery will be revealed…^ ^ so..sit tight and enjoy!

"Lucy, dear, the carriage is ready to take you to your uncle's," called Anita's mother from outside Lucy's room.

                "I'll be done in a minute!" Examining her complexion in the mirror, Lucy shifted her head to and fro, trying to decide whether her somewhat sunburned face looked better with her hair down or put up. Finally deeming it unchangeable, she noticed Anita glancing at her with an amused smile from her perch atop the bed, knees curled up underneath her in a decidedly unladylike fashion. Hastily, Lucy slipped a simple white dress over her head, quickly tying her bonnet around her wavy locks. "I cannot understand how anyone could possibly enjoy doing this." She remarked half-jokingly. How strange it is that would I care now of all times!

                "Perfect." Anita pronounced, adding the final touch of an azure blue ribbon.

Bustling through the door, Mrs. Verne hurried Lucy from the room. "Come now my dear, spare all this fuss at least for the poor coachman's sake!"

                The Reynolds' home was as charming as its owners. The grand white door with its silver handle beckoned visitors inside, while rows of beautiful tulips and geraniums like drops of colors on an artist's palette lined the stone pathway leading up to the house. As James entered the parlor, his nose was greeted with the pleasant aroma of lavender, Mrs. Reynolds' favorite scent.

                "James!" Welcoming him with an effervescent smile, Eileen Reynolds warmly accepted his bow of greeting. "I'm so glad you were able to join us! My niece is here with us for tea this afternoon and I would like for you to get to know each other."

                "Of course Mrs. Reynolds." The smile remained frozen on his face; he had learned early on the easiest way to keep the opposite sex at bay was to humor their little eccentricities, which usually included pretending to be interested in tedious discussions about topics of no consequence.    

As he went into the dining room, he had no idea what was waiting for him on the other side, or rather, who. Demurely, the huddled form of one Miss Lucy Benning seemed absorbed in her task of stitching, furiously attacking her pattern with a long needle. Gawking, his mouth fell open in utter surprise as she looked up with the gravest of ease at his perplexity.

"You are the chief detective inspector's niece?!" Nearly spitting, he lowered his voice into a fierce whisper. His face contorted into an ugly and sinister sneer, eliciting an oddly familiar effect on the girl opposite, who stared at him with calm, almost indifferent gray eyes.

                "I wouldn't do that if I were you. It makes you look quite unattractive, and we know you would never want that." Lucy emphasized. Arching her thin eyebrows and amidst clenched teeth, she let her anger simmer beneath the surface like the bubbles in a cauldron, determined to keep her head held high and not stoop to such rudeness. In spite of herself, she had to admit that he looked very handsome and sharply dressed in his fashionable attire. It was the first time that she had been able to get a good look at him, without anyone around. His hair was an intertwined mess of light brown curls that complemented his green eyes. He had a nice chin. It was almost as if he would be nice to get to know, had she the chance.

                "I see you have met our young inspector, Mr. Russell." Hurrying into the room, Eileen Reynolds was all apologetic smiles. "I'm terribly sorry about having kept you two. But I see you were just getting acquainted."

                The two were doing anything but that. His only acknowledgement of her was a stiff, curt bow while her eyes refused to even deign to look at him, ignoring his presence.

                Teatime was another matter entirely. Mrs. Reynolds tried all she could to engage the two in conversation, but it was as if she was trying to talk to two brick walls. In exasperation, the woman finally resigned herself to the fact that the two would never acknowledge each other.

                Sipping her tea from the decorative gold-rimmed white teacup, Lucy smiled serenely at her favorite—albeit, only—aunt. From the thick blond curls, which fell in waves down her back, to her merry blue eyes, and her trilling laugh, she was Lucy's idea of perfection. As far as she knew, her aunt was respected in all the high social circles of London. Lucy herself was greatly influenced by the 5 foot and one inch of policeman's wife seated in front of her.          

"Have you heard anything from your mother since you've been away?" asked Mrs. Reynolds pleasantly. Surprised, Lucy paused in mid-slurp, uneasiness fixed on her face. Glancing towards Mr. Russell, she was silently enraged to find him mocking her, with an amused smile upon his face. She swallowed her tea hard, inevitably burning her throat but causing her to croak a hoarse "Yes."

"They're doing well."

"I'm glad to hear it," Eileen Reynolds replied with a kindly smile. 

"Russell," boomed the steady voice of Detective Chief Inspector Reynolds, as he entered the room. "I'd like to speak with you in my study."

                Bowing politely to the ladies, the younger man retreated with Reynolds into the study. Impatiently shutting the door behind him, James eagerly awaited his orders from his superior officer. Well known as a sterling example of a gentleman, the tall and experienced detective said nothing about the urgent matter at hand, silently combing his hand through his straight russet-brown hair that was touched with a sizable bit of grey, his face a mirror of thoughtfulness.

                "Sir?" James asked impulsively.

                Reynolds allowed a small smile to creep over his features as he regarded the other man. It had been clear to him from the beginning that a gentleman's son was hardly an ideal person for the job of policeman, but something in the man's personality had led Reynolds to keep him on, even after the dissension amongst certain members of the police had made their feelings evident. He hoped that Russell would not let him down—and at the rate he was quickly ascending in rank, he had not.   

"There is something about the Arlington case that I wished to speak to you about, as you most probably surmised." Nodding towards a plush chair, Reynolds sat in one of his own. "I was hoping you could tell me more about the Arlingtons, since I believe you and your family knew them at one time."

James looked at him oddly. "There isn't much to say, sir. I believe I played cards with Michael Arlington a few times, and my father may have been in business with Mr. Arlington, but other than that, our family ties have been somewhat severed. My mother and Mrs. Arlington at one time were in the same social circles, but as my mother's health has, er, prevented her from seeing many of her old friends, I don't believe they see much of each other anymore."

"Ah. I'm sorry to hear that, about your mother."

James, a stony expression on his face, merely nodded without a glimpse of feeling.

"You have heard of the Arlingtons' plans to host a private dinner party tomorrow?"

"Yes sir. I was invited by Mrs. Arlington."

"I do believe this can work to our advantage. You will go to the dinner, find out if any of the guests were there yesterday night and try to get a clearer picture of the family's whereabouts. Ah, and there is the matter of my niece, Lucy."

"Surely you do not believe that she stole the painting?"

"Certainly not. But she seems to be holding something back. I would like you to find out what that is. And, there is one other matter I would like to speak to you about."