This story is completely written up with 11 chapters and just under 13.5k words. It could be much longer, but all the plot bunnies in my head are satisfied and I didn't want to force the muse and have it end up being terrible. There are 4 Stories (all posted together here) each with a few chapters. The Stories are not in chronological order. I'll note the relevant years at the beginning of each one. The title comes from the poem "In Flanders Fields".

STORY THE FIRST - The Arrival
1919

"It seems very irregular."

"Jane worked here despite having a son."

"Yes, but Freddie was able to stay with her mother while she worked. In this case, our two senior servants want to both work and look after a seven-year-old boy."

Cora raises her eyebrows at the name 'Freddie' but moves past it without comment. "I should very much regret to lose Mrs. Carson. She is the most spectacularly organized person I've ever met."

"Yes, but to have the boy here in this house..."

"Carson did say he worked as a bootblack when he was only ten. Seven is not so different from ten. And I cannot imagine any child being disobedient to the pair of them."

"But living here? In the servants' quarters?"

"It is just a cot in their office. It is hardly any great rearrangement or inconvenience... and has already functioned for this past week."

Robert turns from his position by the window to look at his wife. Bemused, he asks, "Why are you championing them so strongly?"

Cora's blue eyes open wide. "I just don't see the issue here, Robert. Carson and Mrs. Carson are both extremely competent and have worked here for years. If they say they can work and watch the boy, and that he will be no trouble, I believe them. And it is so very awful for the boy. To lose his father to the war and then his mother to the Spanish Flu..."

There is a moment of melancholic remembrance of Cora's own near-death and the loss of Miss Lavinia Swire.

Robert sighs, pushing morbid thoughts from his mind, and moves to stand over the couch Cora sits on. "I suppose you have a point. And we can always make it a condition that if there are any problems other arrangements will be made."

"You are wonderful, darling." Cora stands to give him a peck on the cheek. "Shall we call them up and give them the news now?"

"There's nothing to be gained by putting it off any longer."

They managed to make it to the safety of the servants' stairs before turning to each other.

Elsie lets out a deep breath. "Thank the Lord for that."

Charles nods, "They are a great family."

She rolls her eyes. It is an old difference, they way he raises The Family on such pedestals and she sees only that they are human and no better or worse than any other creature upon the Earth.

Affection has no place outside of their bedroom and office, but she breaks the rule and reaches for his hand, squeezing it. There is a silent moment of shared grief for their son and his wife. They do not allow themselves to pause for too long. Now is not the time, not in the middle of the day with work to be done. Their descent down the stairs is resumed.

"It is very hard on the lad. He hardly know either of us," muses Elsie sadly. Martin's first 6 years of life had been spent in Liverpool where Nathan worked as an accountant for a shipping firm.

"We've seen him more during the past year. It's not as if we're complete strangers anymore."

"But he's lost everything that was known and familiar to him. And he's not old enough to use logic to combat homesickness." Comforting young adults she was well practiced in but Elsie knew well that a child's mind did not respond to the same reasonings.

"He's a good lad." Carson's voice is gruff with affection and Elsie smiles to hear it. "He'll adjust with time and we'll manage until then."

"Aye, we will."

Martin is sitting quietly in their bedroom. His mother's death is still so recent, only a week old, that he prefers not to be immersed in the hustle and bustle of the house. They explain to him that he will live here at Downton, with them, from now on. The boy clings to Elsie who hugs him tightly as Charles rubs the boy's back. They are a little family now, broken. All they have is each other.

"Poor tyke," exclaims Mrs. Patmore sympathetically. "It's a good thing they're letting him stay here."

"They'd better not ask me to keep an eye on him," declares O'Brien. "And he'd better not run around and grab everything with sticky little fingers," she adds with disgust. She is not specially fond of children.

"With those two taking care of him?" scoffs Thomas. "He'll be butler before he turns ten."

"I think it's sweet, though," chimes in Daisy.

"Course you would," mutters Thomas.

"You'd just better be nice to that boy, Thomas," scolds Mrs. Patmore. "He's lost both his parents and doesn't need to suffer anymore for events beyond his control."

Thomas rolls his eyes and heads outside for a smoke.

The first bell of the morning rings, Elsie looks up to the board. "That's Lady Mary." Anna shoves her chair back from the table as she takes of last sip of tea. With a loud jangle, other bells join in the chorus and the downstairs turns into a flurry of activity.

Charles pushes back from his seat, tugging his vest to straighten it. He steps behind Elsie's chair to ruffle Martin's hair. "Behave."

"Yes, Granda."

"Good boy." Charles joins the march up the stairs to assume his position in the breakfast room.

Elsie sips her tea as Martin tucks into his porridge. She has until Anna returns downstairs from dressing the girls, then she will have to lead the housemaids in changing the sheets and cleaning the rooms.

When Anna makes an appearance, she smoothes out the hair that her husband had mussed. "Stay out of the way and listen to Mrs. Patmore and Anna."

"I know, Grannie," he groans.

"And no more of that cheek from you," she mock-scolds, smiling back when Martin grins at her.

"We'll have to send him to school," she tells him as they prepare for bed. Charles makes a grunt of agreement. "He'll have to make the walk down to the village and back on his own."

"He's an intelligent boy."

Elsie sighs as she ties her hair back and sits on the bed. "He reminds me so much of Nathan at that age."

Charles gives her a sad smile as he sits beside her, lacing their fingers together. "And Nathan got that from his mum."

Elsie squeezes his hand, leans her head against his shoulder. "Do you remember when he'd help me in the shop? I couldn't keep him away from the account books, he wanted so badly to know what all the numbers meant."

"Of course I remember. I had to alter that chair for you so that he could sit at your desk without having to kneel."

Elsie presses her lips together. "Sometimes I wonder if we're too old to do this all again." He knows she does not regret taking in their grandson, but it is true that neither of them is getting any younger and the war has taken its toll as well.

"We'll manage," he tells her. It is what she has told him time and time again.

"Of course we will, Mr. Carson. We always do."

He holds the blankets up for her, lets her slide in first. Then he shuts off the lamp and joins her.