Firstly, I have to apologise for leaving it so long between updates, that was never my intention. But I had a bit of a mental block and felt like I'd rather written myself into a corner. Thankfully once the mental block had gone, I realised that I hadn't written myself into a corner and as a result the words didn't seem to stop coming, hence why you've got around 5,000 words to read, I'm not totally happy with this chapter but it is what it is. I hope you like it, especially as we bring in a few of the other characters will be seeing a bit of in this story as it goes on.

The chapter title comes from the song 'Enchanted' by Taylor Swift, which has long been a favourite song of mine, and also contains lyrics from the song Mr Sandman. And a link to the song mentioned as a ringtone can be found on my tumblr post about this chapter. Anyway, enough from me, enjoy the chapter.

London, May 2018

Tucked away down a small side street in Covent Garden, sat the restaurant Hawksmoor. It was one of the most notoriously hard places to get a reservation at, mostly due to how popular it was. It had come as something of a surprise when Joe had told her that they would be having lunch there. It had become less of one when she realised that the head chef was an old friend of Joe's and that Joe's farm was the new chief meat supplier for the restaurant.

"So how did you manage to pull this one off?" Elsie asked with an amused smile as she indicated the remains of a steak on her plate. "I didn't think restaurants like this changed their suppliers that often."

"They don't," Joe conceded as he finished his lager. "But when the chief supplier gets shut down by the BMPA, its open season for farmer's who want to expand."

"And it doesn't hurt that you know the head chef?"

"That too," Joe laughed, "do you want another drink? Or do you have to go?"

Elsie looked at her watch, and mentally calculated how long it would take her to get across London at this time of day. Though the rehearsal wasn't for another ninety minutes, she knew that it was getting to the time of day when parents and nannies would be using public transport to pick their kids up from school. She was also well aware that there was a football match on at Wembley that evening, and knew that the England fans would already making their way to the stadium.

"I am going to have to leave it for today," she replied with an apologetic smile, as she reached under the table to pick up her bag. "How much do I owe you?"

Joe rolled his eyes. "We do this every time we have lunch, and every time my answer is the same, it's on me."

"Fine," she sighed good naturedly, as she stood up from the table while Joe signalled their server. She watched as he passed his card to the young woman, before he stood up too. She wrapped her arms around him and hugged him in goodbye. She smiled at him when they broke apart, before she pressed a light kiss to his cheek. "See you when you're next in the city?"

"Always," he replied.

Elsie gave him a last smile, before she turned and left the restaurant.

As she walked out of East Acton underground station and checked her watch to see what the time was. Thanks to the slightly higher than usual number of passengers it had taken her longer than she'd expected to make the journey across London. Still, she saw that she had more than enough time to get to the former Acton Arts Centre.

The Arts Centre had closed officially a few years back due to a lack of funding from the local council. Even with local fundraising efforts, they had barely enough to cover all the rent and bills. Eventually, it had been sold to another theatre where it was primarily used as a rehearsal venue for when there was a local play being performed or in the month leading up to the annual pantomime opening. The rest of the year, it was rented out to various groups either as a meeting place or a rehearsal space.

Once he'd read about the place and deemed it worthy, Thomas had paid over the standard rate to use the main auditorium three times a week for rehearsals and practices, as well as a storage space for the instruments when they weren't in use. It had certainly been a welcome change from having to lug their instruments all over London several times a week, now they could just keep them in one place. It also had the advantage of being just a five minute walk from the underground station.

As Elsie approached the building, she smiled as she saw Beryl pacing the pavement outside the building, while talking to someone on her phone. She was in no doubt that it was to her assistant Daisy. Privately, Elsie thought that Beryl was occasionally a little too hard on the young woman, especially as Daisy had proved herself time and time again when she was left in charge of the small bakery in Notting Hill. She waved at the woman as she walked into the building, and headed towards the rehearsal room at the back of the building. As she entered the room, she noticed that the doors that led to a small courtyard were flung open, and Thomas was sat on a low wall, enjoying his afternoon cigarette, while he frowned at whatever it was he was reading on his phone.

Anna sat on the steps of the stage, while she checked her viola was in tune. She looked up at the sound of footsteps and gave Elsie a bright smile that was easily returned. Elsie walked over to the small cupboard and pulled out her violin case and carried it over to the stage before she took a seat on the steps beside Anna. She opened the case and set about tuning the violin. She was grateful that Anna didn't feel the need to fill silences, especially as she was still trying to process the past couple of weeks. She'd gone up to Aberdeen for the funeral, but hadn't stayed long, had barely exchanged more than a few words with her mother while there. She knew that as the only family she had left, more or less, that she should try and make some sort of peace with the past. But there were some ghosts that she just wasn't ready to make her peace with. Not when things still felt raw, even after all this time.

"I'm not late am I?" Phyllis asked as she hurried into the rehearsal space, her bag hanging from her wrist. "There was a snarl of traffic at the roundabout, why does Thomas always insist on rehearsals just as school's are letting out for the day?"

"Because I think its the ideal time of the day," Thomas commented as he walked back into the room alongside Beryl who had finished checking up on the bakery. "Now, can we get started? The event is in three days time."

As he listened to the melody ring out from the instrument, Charles couldn't help but wish he'd picked something different for Iwan's lesson today. However, since the young man was planning on performing it at his great grandmother's 90th birthday the following month – it was a song she'd always loved – Charles had had no choice but to go with it. When his students started to get more confident in their piano skills, their parents would start getting more picky over the music choices. But since they paid three digit sums to say that their child had taught by an award winning composer, he couldn't exactly complain.

Still, it didn't stop the voice of his late mother drifting across his mind as he recalled her playing it on the grand piano in their living room. He would watch in awe, as the sunlight streamed in through the window, casting her in a soft glow, making her seem like an angel. How she'd sit him on her lap, and guide his fingers to the right keys as she taught him how to play the instrument.

Mr. Sandman, bring me a dream
Make him the cutest that I've ever seen
Give him the word that I'm not a rover
Then tell him that his lonesome nights are over

Sandman, I'm so alone
Don't have nobody to call my own
Please turn on your magic beam
Mr. Sandman, bring me a dream

He was soon pulled from his recollections by the final note of the song. He turned back to see his student collecting up his music sheets.

"That was very good Iwan," Charles commented, causing the teenager to smile at the praise. It was rare he gave a compliment after the lessons, so he took them where he could get them. "I think your great grandmother will be very impressed," he added.

"I hope so too," Iwan commented, "its been a hard year for her."

Charles nodded in understanding, before he turned to look at Iwan's mother, who was busy writing out a cheque to cover the cost of the day's lesson. He had noticed several lessons back that she started to dress up when she brought her son over, and he was well aware of the why. He wondered how long into the conversation it would be before she brought up the topic of more lessons, this time outside of his advertised teaching hours. While he occasionally took the odd lesson outside of scheduled hours, he preferred to keep to his schedule, as it allowed him to spend more time with his day job. Not that he was having much luck with brand new compositions at the moment.

"It really is wonderful how quickly Iwan's improved in recent months," Clara said as she glanced over at her son, before turning her attention back to Charles. "I'm thinking about maybe getting him into one of the prestigious music academies in the city."

"Any one of them would be lucky to have him," Charles replied. "He's a very talented pianist and could have a bright future ahead of him if it was something he wanted."

Clara preened under the praise of her son. "Oh I'm so glad you think so too," she smiled. "You see many of these academies require an audition piece and I was hoping you could provide him with some extra lessons in preparation."

"Well, I am booked up for the next few weeks."

"Oh I've no doubt about that, you are very talented yourself," she smiled as she tucked a lock of her auburn hair behind her ear. "I was actually thinking of something, outside of your usual teaching hours."

"I only give those in special circumstances."

"I completely understand," Clara said as she moved a fraction closer to him, "and this would be one of those circumstances."

"Mum, we're going to be late," Iwan piped up. Charles had never been more grateful to the young man. Especially as he was moments away from saying something that could easily be construed as rude. "You know what Auntie Madeleine is like."

"Yes I do," Clara sighed, the topic of her sister was always exasperating. She handed Charles the cheque with a rueful smile, before she followed her son out into the hallway. She paused as she adjusted the strap of her bag. "Same time next week?"

"Of course," Charles nodded. "And I look forward to hearing all about your performance," he added with an encouraging smile at Iwan.

Once the door was closed behind them, Charles walked into the small living room and poured himself a drink, before sitting down in his armchair. He definitely needed it after that lesson. It wasn't so much the lessons themselves that tired him out, it was some of the mothers that accompanied their children to the lessons and thought that just because he was recently divorced, he would be open to a date with one of them. As it stood, another relationship was the furthest thing from his mind.

He reached over to pick up the book he had been reading, but was stopped as his phone began to ring. He picked it up from the side table, and sighed when he saw the person who was calling.

"What is it this time?" Charles sighed. It was rare that Robert Crawley ever rang just for a catch up, even when they had been friends for as long as they had. Robert preferred to keep their catch up sessions to their fortnightly lunch in the city and Charles's visits up to Downton every few months.

"Why do you always say it like that?" Robert replied, "I could just be calling for a chat."

"And are you?"

"Not as such," he commented. "I am on a mission from Cora. She would like you to come to the Crawley Foundation Gala on Friday at the National Gallery."

Charles rolled his eyes, even though Robert couldn't see it. While he didn't mind attending the occasional charity function, he wasn't looking forward to attending at the moment. Not when he would be met with looks of pity and/or sympathy about his divorce. Especially as he and Alice had socialised with many of them in the past. "I don't think so, not this month."

Robert chuckled on the other end of the phone. "Cora thought you might say that, in which case, I have permission to use some light emotional blackmail," he commented, and Charles paused as he wondered just what it would be. "It is the first event Mary is attending since Caroline was born, and I think she'd really like it if you were there."

Charles shook his head, he should've known it would come to that. He was powerless to deny his god daughter anything. "What time?" he sighed.

"Good man," Robert said, with a good natured laugh. "We'll send the invite over by courier tomorrow, and it starts at 8. Black tie."

The taxi slowed down as it approached The National Gallery. Once again, he could see that Cora had gone all out, to make it a memorable event, just by the outdoor decorations that were leading up the steps towards the entrance of the gallery. A number of security guards stood at the entrances to check the invitations of those invited. As the taxi came to a stop, Charles leaned forward and paid the driver before he got out of the taxi. He pulled the invite out of his inside pocket and made his way across Trafalgar Square towards the gallery. He watched the procession of celebrity supporters of the Crawley Foundation as well as many from London's high society walk into the building, each dressed in their finest. Not for the first time at one of these events, he felt distinctly out of place. However, he had promised Robert that he would be in attendance, plus he knew Mary would be looking out for him, so he had no choice but to go inside.

He passed the invite to the guard and once it had been checked over, he followed the small crowd inside the building. As he walked into the main rooms of the gallery where the event was being held, he cast an appreciative eye over the artworks lining the walls. He remembered coming here as a young boy and his father pointing out the various paintings, telling him a little bit about not just the paintings but the artists themselves. In a corner of the area, he saw a string quartet set up, playing soft music. He had to admit that it was rare to see a band look so in sync with each other style wise. All four women had their hair pinned back, and wore black trouser suits which seemed to have something sewn into the linings to make the outfits sparkle under the lights.

"So its true, you did come. Mama said you would."

Charles turned at the sound of a familiar voice and smiled at the young couple who had come up beside him. "Well I like to do my bit for charity."

"Of course you do," Mary replied with a smile, before she gave her favourite godfather a one armed hug. "How are you?" she asked sympathetically, "with...everything."

Charles couldn't help but smile at her tactful way of asking about the divorce. "Everything is fine," he replied, "but what about you? How is Caroline?"

"She's absolutely wonderful," Henry commented. "And George is already doting on her."

"Which is surprising when one considers that he didn't want a baby sibling at all," Mary added with a laugh. "Well, we've got to go and circulate," she said in a tone that implied she'd rather be doing anything but as she tugged at the lace sleeve of her midnight blue evening gown

. "I'll try and see you again at some point this evening," she turned with a last wave of her hand, before she threaded her arm through Henry's.

Charles watched with a smile as the couple disappeared into the throng. He'd initially been sceptical when Mary had married Henry three years after her first husband Matthew had died in a tragic accident. He hadn't believed that a former F1 champion worthy of her, but as time had gone on, he had conceded that he was a good man. It helped that when he had retired from racing, he had set up a foundation to help underprivileged children get into racing and other sports. He also helped Sybil's husband Tom at the car dealership they owned in North London. Charles looked around the room once again and his eyes landed on Sybil and Tom who were talking with her grandmother Violet. Sybil once again deciding to stand out from the crowd in a jumpsuit, the shade a deep green. While Tom worked at the dealership, Sybil spent her days working as a doctor at St Thomas's, and her free time protesting unfair wages and working conditions for nurses and junior doctors.

As he walked past the string quartet, he felt a flicker of recognition as he caught sight of one of the violinists. He was sure that he had seen her somewhere before, he just couldn't place it. And from the furrowed look she had given him as he'd passed her, she felt a similar jolt of recognition. He gave her a brief nod – he felt it only wise after spending several moments staring at her – before he turned to get the attention of the bartender. Once he'd gotten his drink, he leaned back against the bar and scanned the room. Every so often his eyes would stray back to the violinist as he tried to figure out where he knew her from.

"Something interesting?"

Charles glanced to his left at the woman who had come to stand beside him and smiled at her. "Not especially," he lied, even though there was a valid reason for his staring, he didn't want to come across as a creep. "Its not often we see you at these events."

"I could say the same for you," Edith laughed. "How did Mama convince you to come?"

"She got your father to play the emotional blackmail card," he replied nodding in the direction of Mary who was stood talking to one of the politicians in attendance.

"Of course she did," she commented as she raised her glass of champagne to her lips. "Still, at least this gives Bertie and I a night off of wedding planning."

"Where is he?" Charles asked as he looked around the room for the man who was completely smitten with Edith and had been since they'd first met. "You're normally attached at the hip at these events."

Edith blushed at the comment. It was true, the pair always stuck close together at these events, both preferring quiet nights in to events on a big stage. "He got drawn into Sybil's crusade to educate everyone on the need for better working conditions in hospitals. All he did was agree with a couple of points of hers and now she's dragging him around to help explain it to 'the old boy's club', her words not mine," Edith commented with a smile. Everyone in the family was used to Sybil using these events to argue politics. "Of course she's not wrong, but there are…" she tailed off as she noticed Charles's attention had wandered slightly. She smiled as she caught sight of where he was looking. "If you want her number, I can ask Anna for you," she commented.

"Oh no, its nothing like," Charles said, his words seeming to come out in a rush as if to cover up what he had perceived to be a mark against his character. "Its just I recognise one of the violinists and I'm just trying to place where it is I know her from."

Edith looked at the quartet thoughtfully, before she glanced back at her unofficial uncle. "Well, they perform events all across the country, they've even done a few international events, Bertie and I caught them when they performed in Vienna in February," she told him. "Perhaps you saw them perform somewhere. They've been mostly UK based though the past couple of months, I'm not entirely sure why though, Anna wasn't forthcoming when I spoke earlier when they were setting up. Said it had been a couple of weeks since they'd last performed together, their last event was some big concert in Cardiff..."

"That's it," Charles interrupted. "I met her briefly when I was delivering some music to a friend there."

"Glad I could help," Edith smiled. "I'll have to leave you, Bertie's sending me the 'save me' eyes," she laughed as she indicated the man wordlessly signalling to her from the across the room. She gave him a small wave, before she walked into the crowd, her black dress blending in with many others in the crowd.

"What was all that about?" Beryl hissed as they took a small break in an antechamber off of the main room.

"What are you talking about?" Elsie replied, though she knew full well exactly what her friend was on about. Still it was often an advantage to play dumb sometimes.

"That man you've been sneaking sly glances at all night," she replied as though it was the most obvious answer in the world. "He practically zeroed in on you the moment he saw us playing. Not to mention the looks he's been giving you."

"It's nothing," she commented with a wave of her hand. "I met him briefly when we were Cardiff the other week. That's all. He was probably trying to figure out why he knew me."

"Sure it is," Beryl snorted before she took a deep swig from her water bottle. In the years that they'd been friends and playing together, she could count on one hand the amount of people that Elsie would remember after a brief moment. Still, she wouldn't press her on it, at least not yet. She needed to gather more information before she did that.

Despite the fact that it was late May, it was still a cool evening. The gentle breeze a welcome respite from the warmth of the National Gallery. As he stood waiting for his taxi, Charles reflected on the events of the evening. He'd been more than a little surprised to see that the woman he'd met a couple of weeks back was one of the performers at the event. He had had no idea that she was a violinist – and a supremely talented one at that too – but then to be fair, they hadn't exchanged much in the way of personal information during their brief conversation.

"Didn't expect to see you again."

Charles turned at the sound of her voice and smiled at the woman who had come to stand beside him. Even in the dark he could still see the sparkle of the small sequins that lined her jacket and trouser seams. "I didn't either."

"Do you come to many of these events?"

"Not especially," Charles replied. "Do you play many of them?"

"There's usually a couple a month and we have a tendency to get booked solid every July when it comes to weddings," Elsie replied with a shrug. "But we love performing together, we wouldn't do it otherwise," she added. "So, now that we've gotten that out of the way, I think we should do something we should have done a couple of weeks ago," she held out a hand to him, "Elsie Hughes."

"Charles Carson," he replied. "You're very talented you know."

"So I've been told," Elsie smiled as she looked around Trafalgar Square.

"Are you waiting for a taxi?" he asked. "I was going to call one, perhaps we might share?"

"No thank you," she replied, looking a little weary at a man she barely she knew offering a shared taxi. "I'm just going to walk…"

"On your own? At night?"

"Walk to Piccadilly Circus station," she continued as though he hadn't interrupted. "Of course I'm not going to walk, that would take me an hour," she added as though he was mad for even suggesting such a thing.

Charles frowned as he looked behind him, at the sign for Charing Cross underground. "Isn't that closer?"

"It is, but I've always loved going from Piccadilly," she replied as she adjusted the strap of her bag on her shoulder as she turned to leave. "I guess I'll see you around."

He watched her walk away for a few moments before he called after her. "Would you mind if I walked with you?"

Elsie looked him up and down, he hadn't seemed like a serial killer, when they'd spoken by the bay, but you could never be sure. Still, she seemed to sense that if she said no, he wouldn't get in a mood about it. Everything was up to her. "Not especially."

The pair walked in silence as they started to walk up Pall Mall East and turned onto Haymarket. Neither had felt the need to talk, as the silence itself was comfortable. They had gone a few feet up Haymarket when Elsie stopped and looked at the theatre opposite. Charles was familiar with Her Majesty's Theatre, having taken Alice there on a date in the late 90's. The lights were still up around the front entrance as a stream of theatregoers spilled out onto the street.

"I remember when my father took me and my sister to see Phantom of the Opera here, back when it first opened," Elsie commented breaking the silence that had settled between them. "The reviews were terrible, but I loved it. It was the first show I ever saw. Despite some elements, it remains my favourite to this day."

"I've never really seen the point of them. I like a couple, but they're not normally what I choose to see."

"Well, we'll have to change that at some point," she challenged as they started walking again. "Some of them have such beautiful orchestration, case in point," she said as she indicated the theatre that was getting smaller as the further they walked away from it. "Les Miserables has some beautiful orchestration too. I mean, much like Phantom, I hear those opening bars of music and, I just get this indescribable feeling."

"So you really like musicals then?" he asked, his tone slightly teasing.

"I'm a musician, I like to think the two go hand in hand," she said with a smile.

"I'm not sure I agree with that," Charles commented. "I'm a pianist and composer, and I don't like them that much."

"Then you have never known pure joy," she teased. "So what music are you into then, if musicals aren't your bag?" she asked, before she held up a hand. "Wait, no, let me see if I can guess. I'm sensing you like classical pieces, like Brahms, Mendelssohn, maybe a little Mozart and Debussy. Though I suspect Debussy is the personal favourite with one of his pieces as a ringtone." she added, giving him a hopeful look. "Am I close?"

Charles had to concede that she had guessed a few of his favourites. "You're quite close, though I have to say, I'm not as stuffy as your guesses would suggest I am," he smiled, "at least I hope not."

"Is your phone ringtone is Clair de lune though?" Elsie asked, her tone still light and teasing.

"Actually it's not," he smiled, he figured she would be very impressed if he told her what it was considering her profession. "It's actually David Garrett's version of Beethoven's Fifth."

Elsie felt her eyes widen in surprise. "That is a hard piece of music to play, and I should know," she commented. "Okay," she paused letting that sink in, "tell me something else about your music tastes that I would never guess."

Charles searched his memories as he tried to find one that he felt would impress her, smiling as one came to mind. "When I was 8, my aunt took me to Glastonbury 1971, where David Bowie was a headliner. I fell in love with music during that set."

Elsie let out a small whistle. "That is impressive," she agreed. "Would never have pegged you as a Bowie man."

"I'm a man of hidden depths Ms Hughes," he smiled, as he also gave her a small wiggle of his eyebrows causing her to laugh slightly and shake her head.

"I'm starting to see that," she smiled as the Criterion Restaurant came into view. She looked at the familiar sight, and the entrance to Piccadilly Circus just beside it, and gave them a sad smile. Though she couldn't wait to get back home, and decompress, she was a little reluctant for the night to end. "You should call me sometime," she heard herself say, before she could even process it, "talk about music some more. Learn more about those hidden depths."

"I would like that," he said as she held out a hand.

"Pass me your phone," she replied, the unspoken question had been clear all over his face. He unlocked his phone and passed it over to her. She quickly pulled up the contacts app, feeling a little sad that his home screen was a generic one that had clearly come with the phone. She input her number in quickly and sent herself a quick message so she would have his number, before she passed it back to him. "See you around Mr Carson," she smiled as her fingers flew over the screen of her phone.

"Until the next time Ms Hughes," he replied.

He watched as she disappeared into the crowd of people descending into the underground station, before he looked at his phone. He smiled as on his screen was a notification of a text message that had been sent to him mere moments ago. He had to admit he was impressed as to how fast she could type and send him a message before signal became patchy in the underground. He opened it up and smiled as he read the message.

Changes was the first record I remember owning. One of Bowie's best wouldn't you say?

As both began their separate journeys home, they couldn't help but feel as though something was in the ether. That fate had just dealt them both a very favourable hand as ghosts of the past yearned for their time to finally come.

Hope you liked it, and I promise to try and not leave it so long between updates next time.