Oh my goodness, I'm out of practice of getting reviews. So much nerves. Do I leave the story the same, do I edit it, are people going to feel like there are scenes missing, or too many superfluous ones...? My mind is exploding just a tiny bit. Contributions to the Release the Magic Smoke from AnxiousRobot's Microprocessor Brain Fund are cheerfully accepted in the box at the bottom of the page.
"Good morning, Carson."
"Good morning, mi'lord."
"How is your grandson settling in? It's been a few weeks now, hasn't it?"
Carson inclines his head in confirmation. "Quite well, mi'lord. We plan to send him to the village school in the fall."
"Well that should be fun for the lad."
"We hope so."
"Good morning, O'Brien"
"Good morning, mi'lady."
"How are things downstairs? Is the Carsons' grandson settling in alright?"
"As well as can be expected, mi'lady. It's been a bit of an adjustment for all of us."
"Have there been problems?" Cora's eyes widen, inviting confidences.
O'Brien pauses for a moment, thinking her answer through, before answering honestly if slightly grudgingly. "No, mi'lady. Mr. and Mrs. Carson keep a close eye on him."
Cora's smile widens. "Excellent. I am so very pleased everything worked out for them."
"I hate you!" the words ring down the hallway into the servants' hall and the kitchen, shocking the occupants.
In the silence they hear Mr. Carson spluttering angrily. There are pounding footsteps as the butler's voice demands, "Martin! Come back here-!" and then the back door of the house slams shut. The servants don't dare move until they hear the door of the butler's and housekeeper's office close.
"Well I never," remarks Miss O'Brien sarcastically, coming into the room from the hallway and sitting at the table.
Thomas glowers. "Old man thinks he can control us, but he can't even control his own grandson."
Anna slips silently away from the table to find Mrs. Carson.
Elsie goes to Charles first. If Martin is very like his father then he will benefit from some time on his own to burn off his anger.
She shuts the door firmly behind her. "What happened then?"
His face is lined the way it is when he is hurt or sad. "I lost my temper with him." She purses her lips, knowing now exactly what had happened. How many times previous had it happened with their son? Charles, the dear man, was perfectionistic and fastidious. He liked to recite the tale of himself as a boy when he was a bootblack and spent hours getting a perfect shine on each and every shoe. It was a semi-mythic tale of course, one that everyone has, polished by years of retelling. He forgets that small boys do not have the attention span and diligence of an adult.
Of course, she cannot forget there is another level to Martin's behavior: Charles Carson is not his father. Martin is so like Nathan it is disturbingly easy sometimes to forget how exactly the boy came to live with them. She makes a mental note to be more careful.
"Well, I suppose one of us will have to go after him then. Or we wait until he returns on his own."
Charles rubs his forehead, feeling the starting twinges of a headache. "What did we do with Nathan?"
"Let him run usually. He always came back when he was calmer and ready to talk... But Martin isn't Nathan, Charles. And he's dealing with much more than Nathan ever had to."
"You think we should go after him then?"
She shrugs, at a lost. "I fear not going after him will indicate to him that we do not care for him as his parents did. That he'll think we're angry with him, or worse, ignoring him."
"Surely he wouldn't think that."
"He's a small boy who's lost his parents."
There is a moment of silence as they try to think through all the implications their actions could possibly have. Charles is the first to come to a conclusion even as a knock on the door summons him. "Go after him." Later, when Martin is more secure in his life they will be able to let him work through his anger. Now they cannot afford to not reassure him that they will always be there for him.
"You will have to talk to him later."
"I will."
They move to exit the room, her to find their grandson and him to attend to their employers. Before she opens the door she stops, catching his arm with her hand. "It's not your fault, Charles."
He gives her a half smile, still sad, but understanding what she means. Regardless, he will take some of the responsibility. He used to have times when Nathan was still young that he thought he was a very poor father indeed and this has brought all those feelings rising to the surface again. In the future he will take much more care of how he acts around his grandson.
"How is he?"
His wife gives nothing away as she passes him to walk upstairs on some errand. Her look is kind but it gives him no clues. He doesn't have much time. He has to do it now before he rings the dressing gong and the hours-long process of dinner begins. He doesn't know how long the conversation will take and when the servants' dinner is over Martin will be sleeping while walking.
Martin sits at the table in the servants' hall, shelling peas with Daisy while laughing at some silly nonsense story she was telling him. "Daisy, can I borrow Martin?"
"Of course, Mr. Carson."
Martin looks worried. "Granda, do I have to?"
His first reaction is to say 'of course', but he bites his tongue, remembering his promise to take care. "No, Martin. You do not have to. I was going for a walk outside and hoped you would join me."
"Can we see the ducks? Peter says there are ducks at the pond but Grannie says I'm not allowed to go to the pond by myself."
"I suppose we can stop by the pond. Daisy, is there any stale bread we could use to feed the ducks?"
"Of course, Mr. Carson!"
Thus properly armed, Mr. Carson leads his grandson outside and across the grounds. It is beyond him how to even go about addressing the subject so he lets Martin run on ahead, trying to plan out a speech in his head. Does he apologize for losing his temper with the boy first? Surely that would be the logical place to begin. The question is, does he leave it there, or does he try to address the boy's living at Downton or the death of Nathan and Claire? He does not know what Elsie said to the boy, they have not gotten a second to speak since she went to chase after him. He does not want to stir up what she has already settled.
They walk out onto the dock where there are indeed ducks bobbing about in the water. Martin seems liable to throw himself into the water, so Charles hands him the loaf of stale bread and then keeps his hand on the boy's shoulder as a precaution. Does he talk about authority to the boy? The difference between being a butler and a grandfather? Today he ordered Martin about as if he were one of the hallboys and the boy understandably reacted badly as ordering about never came natural to Nathan. It is likely to happen again though, despite his best intentions, and he would to avoid repeats of the subsequent happenings.
"I'm sorry I said I hate you."
Charles looks down at Martin, shocked out of his thoughts. "I beg your pardon?"
Martin looks down at the water and scuffs his shoes on the deck. "I didn't mean it. I don't hate you... and, and Grannie said that if I didn't mean it, then I should tell you. And that I should say sorry."
There is a substantial height difference between the two of them and suddenly Charles feels very at odds with it. He lowers himself to the dock, groaning as his knees crack and pop. Martin laughs, the mood suddenly broken. "That's right. Laugh at your poor old Grandad," Charles mutters in mock indignation.
"But you're so slow sitting down!" exclaims Martin. He promptly drops to the dock, crossing his legs beneath him. "See? I can do it much faster!"
"Just wait until you get older then."
"I won't ever be as old as you!"
Charles humphs in indignation. He had certainly not signed up to be mocked by a child! "Well in that case, you'll take pity on a man as old as myself and share your bread."
Martin pulls the bread in two, giving Charles the smaller of the halves. As they throw pieces into the water for the ducks to eat, Charles speaks. "Thank you for your apology, Martin. I'm sorry for losing my temper with you. I behaved poorly as well."
He is not sure how he expects Martin to react, but he is oddly relieved when the boy simply nods in acknowledgement of the apology and then continues throwing bread to the ducks. It is rather peaceful, sitting in the sun and feeding the ducks. They will have to go inside shortly so that he can ring the dressing gong, but for now Charles finds his attention wandering.
He is sharply pulled from his relaxations when the loud croak of a frog cuts through the air and Martin immediately jumps up and runs down the dock towards the reeds growing along the shore.
"Martin, don't-!" There is a loud splash as Martin ignores him and splashes into the shallows. "Blast!" Charles curses under his breath as he struggles to get to his feet. He is far too old for this!
When he reaches the shore he can see the reeds bending and whipping about, indicating Martin's pursuit of the frog. "Martin, come back here!" Martin continues to ignore him. He is presented with horrifying images of Martin finding a ditch or running out too deep, losing his footing, and drowning. Without thinking he plunges into the pond after the boy.
"You didn't think to threaten him with no dinner?" Elsie is far too amused for her own good, he thinks darkly. "Food seems to be the best way to manipulate males in my experience."
"I was more concerned with him drowning," Charles grouses as Elsie pulls off his jacket and begins on his shirt buttons as he works on his trousers.
Elsie's mouth twitches in a smile but she does try to suppress it for the sake of his pride. "At least the poor frog managed to evade capture." She does up his shirt and vest as he fusses with the collar then pushes him to sit, slipping on clean socks and shoes and lacing them up as he does his tie, the sleeve cuffs, and shrugs on his jacket. She stands back to inspect him. "And just in time to ring the dressing gong with no one the wiser."
"Except for every blessed hallboy and grounds worker out in the yard."
"Oh tosh." She gathers up the wet and muddy clothes from the floor, carefully holding them away from her dress, and still managing to push him out in front of her. "Go on then, and let me take care of these clothes and your grandson before we have dinner to contend with!"
They hurry their separate ways, both thinking the same thought: any fear (or hope) of their lives becoming dull has been put to quite an end.