"May I help you with something?" Charles challenged the shorter man at intermission. "You've been staring at me through the whole play."

"Don't I know you from somewhere?"

"I doubt it," Charles answered tersely.

"No, I'm sure I know you. You have a memorable face. You spend a lot of time at Covent Garden Market, don't you?"

"Yes, I do." Charles looked more closely at the man now. "You're that fellow who dances the soft shoe beside the eel cart."

"Charlie Grigg's the name." The small man shook Charles' hand enthusiastically.

"Charles Carson."

"Another Charlie! What are the odds?" Grigg chuckled.

"Quite good, actually. Charles is one of the most common names in…"

Grigg laughed heartily. "It's just an expression, mate."

"Right. Well, nice to meet you. Enjoy the show," Charles said dismissively.

"Easy there, Charlie boy, where are you off to in such a hurry?" Grigg stopped him. "Second act won't start for a while yet."

Charles couldn't argue with that, so he decided to stay and talk. He actually did have some questions for this Grigg fellow.

"Can you really make a living at busking?"

"In the short term. I make enough to keep a roof over my head and eat most nights," Grigg said jovially. "Today was a particularly good day, so I decided to indulge in a play. It's a kind of research. I always need new material. I have to stay current on what people are seeing."

"You mean you steal songs and steps from the shows you see?" Charles teased.

"Stealing is such an unpleasant word," Grigg said with a smile. "I pay homage to the popular works."

"I see," Charles smiled back. Despite himself, Charles was intrigued by this energetic man.

"Busking is just temporary," Grigg insisted. "I'm really a song and dance man. I've been on the stage, but I'm taking a break."

"A voluntary break?" Charles asked.

"Not exactly. I lost my partner. It's no easy matter replacing him."

"I'm very sorry for you."

"I see it as an opportunity to upgrade the act," Grigg shrugged, clearly unconcerned. "Speaking of which…you don't have a job, do you?"

"What makes you say that?" Charles said defensively.

"I don't know many gainfully employed chaps who spend all day drinking tea at the market. If that's your job, I'd be interested to know if there are any other positions available." Grigg elbowed him in the ribs and winked.

"I used to be a footman, but I'm currently looking for work," Charles admitted, still unsure of why he was sharing any personal information with this man. Perhaps it was because he hadn't spoken much to anyone since his arrival in London. A brief interview with his landlady had been the longest conversation he'd had in weeks.

"A footman? Did you work in one of those swank Mayfair houses?"

"Only during the Season. The rest of the year, I worked at the main estate in Yorkshire."

"Can you imitate them?"

"Who?"

"Your former employers; His Lordship or His Grace or whatever he was."

"He was an Earl. He is still an Earl, come to that," Charles corrected himself. "He's a good man. I wouldn't feel comfortable mocking him or his family."

"I don't want you to mock them; not exactly. Thing is," Grigg continued. "My act requires two very different characters. If you affected a posh accent, I bet you couldn't find two more different fellows than you and me."

"I'll not argue with you there," Charles said with a crocked smile. Grigg's accent wasn't terribly thick, but no one would ever mistake him for a member of the upper class. Charles, on the other hand, carried himself in a manner that made it hard for many to tell if he was a gentleman or a gentleman's gentleman.

"Well?" Grigg pressed.

"What?"

"Can you do the accent?"

"I suppose I can sound a bit more polished, if need be," Charles admitted. "What are you proposing?"

"I'm proposing that we form a double act. A bit o' singing, a bit o' dancing." Grigg shuffled a few dance steps.

"I can't dance."

"It doesn't matter. You don't have to be any good; you just have to be entertaining. Leave that to me. I'll write up an act for us. Your character can be a bit of an oaf if you like. Then people won't expect much of your dancing," Grigg declared as if it were the most logical solution in the world. "Is there anything you can do?"

"I can juggle," Charles said quickly, trying to defend himself. His hackles had risen at being called an oaf, even if it was to be an act.

"Perfect!" Grigg exclaimed. "I can use that! Anything else?"

"Not that I can think of," Charles admitted with a bit of shame.

"Can you tell a joke?" Grigg wondered.

"I suppose I can," Charles said with a shrug.

"I bet you'd be an excellent straight man," Grigg said excitedly.

"That depends."

"On what?"

"On whether or not you're funny," Charles stated drolly.

Grigg laughed appreciatively at this. An usher walked by, playing the chimes that announced the second half of the play.

"Well? Are you in, mate?" Grigg asked. "You won't need to do much. I'll write the jokes and everything. You just need to be a big, lumbering upper class sounding twit."

Charles frowned at this description of his character. Was this man actually suggesting that Charles act a fool on stage? It would be humiliating and disgraceful. 'But it would make Mum happy,' Charles thought to himself.

Wasn't that the whole reason he was in London; to follow in his father's footsteps? Wasn't this exactly the kind of work that ran in the family? He might not be a freak in a side show, but he could still make a spectacle of himself for the amusement of others. Even Charles' Mum would have to admit the similarities.

Grigg watched as Charles stood contemplating his decision.

"Let's skip the rest of the play," Grigg urged. "It was rubbish anyhow and my feet hurt. I'll buy you a drink and we can discuss rehearsals."

"Alright; I'll do it," Charles nodded seriously.

"My, but you're a cheerful one aren't you, Charlie?" Grigg laughed as they exited the theatre.

-00-

"For the next two weeks, I joined him at Covent Garden while he busked; practicing my juggling and learning to dance. Grigg dubbed us the 'Cheerful Charlies' and started writing banter for an act. When he had it almost perfected, he arranged for us to audition at the theatre where he'd previously worked.

"We were a little awkward, but the manager knew Grigg and trusted him to whip me into shape for the stage. We were given one week to rehearse before our first show.

"Say what you will of him, Grigg knew his business. The act was complex and entertaining. The jokes were funny and our characters were well defined. I was meant to be a son of aristocracy that had fallen on hard times. Grigg's character was the conniving toady that leached away whatever money my family sent me."

Elsie didn't comment that these characters sounded suspiciously close to their true personalities.

"At the start of the act, most of the jokes were directed at me. They were largely jokes about my height, my clumsiness or my mythical, privileged past. Some of the jokes were vulgar or quite mean-spirited, but that was by design. Grigg would dance around me between songs and berate me. By the middle of the act, most people felt sorry for me and disliked Grigg; again, by design. The last part of the act was when all the groundwork paid off. I was allowed to start insulting Grigg in return. The crowd loved seeing Grigg take the abuse rather than doling it out. It was a huge hit.

"Grigg was rather a genius in that sense. His humor was based on insults. People eventually start to feel uncomfortable if you just keep insulting each other," Charles explained. "But if you create a dynamic where the crowd sides with one character over the other, where one character is perceived to deserve the insults…people are free to laugh wholeheartedly.

"I was surprised that Grigg let me be the innocent who gets the last laugh. He was very unselfish that way. He didn't care if he had to be a villain if it meant entertaining the audience. In the end, we made peace and were the 'Cheerful Charlies' again. During our last song, I'd juggle and he'd dance.

"I was to be gone from Downton just over eighteen months. In that time the jokes and songs changed, but the basic formula never did," Charles said with a distant smile.

"We'd been on stage less than a month whe-"

"Stop right there, Charles," Elsie interrupted him. "I hate to butt in, but I'm going to need to know more about the act."

"I've told you everything there is to know," Charles insisted, not seeing his wife's playful smile. "I don't remember any of the actual jokes. They didn't really appeal to my sense of humor."

"If you can't tell me about the act, perhaps you could show me," Elsie suggested slyly. "This seems like the kind of story that requires a demonstration."

Charles realized what she was asking. "No."

"Please, Charles," Elsie pleaded, giving his side a ticklish poke. "Won't you be my Cheerful Charlie?"

"Haven't you been listening? I wasn't any good," Charles protested. "Grigg said my soft shoe looked as though someone had electrocuted a bear."

"Well that, I've got to see," Elsie laughed. Charles, however, did not. It was clear to Elsie that Charles was not budging on this front, so she tried a different tack. "Perhaps you could juggle for me? You were good at that, weren't you?"

"I used to be, but it's been years."

"I'm sure it's just like falling off a bicycle," Elsie said encouragingly.

"How's that?" A confused Charles Carson asked.

"Just one of my Da's sayings," Elsie explained. "I'm not sure exactly what it meant, but I wouldn't think one would forget how to fall off a bicycle once you've learned it."

"Why would you want to learn to fall off a bicycle?"

"That isn't the point, Charles," Elsie said testily. "You're just trying to put me off, but I won't be so easily distracted. Please juggle for me. Is this my present or not?"

"It is," Charles sighed. He stood from the bench and walked over to the nearest flower bed. The bed was separated from the main path by a line of larger rocks. "Don't get your hopes up, love, it really has been a very long time."

"I understand," she assured him calmly, trying to cover her giddy excitement.

Charles picked up four rocks that fit comfortably in his hands. He handed one of the rocks to Elsie and stepped back away from her.

"What's this for?" Elsie asked.

"Just wait, love, and I'll let you know," Charles instructed. He stared at the three rocks in his hands for a few moments. He shifted this hands up and down as if already juggling. His lips moved as though he were counting to himself. Finally, he took a deep breath. "Ready?"

"Ready!"

TBC…

AN/ Sorry for the cliffhanger and the long wait between updates. It was the last week of school and yada yada yada Real Life. Thanks for sticking with me.

We'll get to hear all about Charles' performance next chapter! And more of London.

There has been a request for including more of Elsie's back story. This really is Charles' story, but I'll see what I can sprinkle in.