A/N: Aargh. I can't stand all this s3e2 angst. It's wonderful but it's just destroying me. I have no idea if weekly boarding plans existed in the 1920's but I'm using Author's License again.
October 1920:
When Elsie pushes open the door to the office, Martin is already awake, sitting at her desk drawing away. He turns when he hears the door open. "Morning Grannie!"
"Happy Birthday, Martin."
The newly-ten-year-old grins broadly, and she's cheered to see it. Last birthday had been a painful reminder for all of them of the absence of Nathan and Claire. The first birthday without parents, the first Christmas, the first time Charles left for London: slowly they are moving past all of the firsts and beginning to find a new equilibrium.
"Your granda says you can choose between presents now or tonight after dinner."
Martin jumps from the seat. "Now! Please Grannie, presents now?"
Of course. "Go on then. Knock and see if he's ready yet - Mind that you knock!" Martin is already out the door and down the hallway.
Charles comes out the door, grumbling good-naturedly at being rushed in his dressing and shaving.
"Granda, can I have my present now? Please? Grannie said you said I could have it now if you want!"
"Oh, Grannie said that, did she?" Charles' eyebrow lifts inquiringly.
"Yes! Please say I can have it. I can't possibly wait until after dinner!"
Charles laughs. "Alright then. Since it is your birthday."
"Piggyback?"
"You're very demanding today." He almost manages to look stern and disapproving.
"Pleeeaaase?"
"Up the stairs then." Martin quickly climbs the two steps by the back door and Charles stoops slightly so the boy can scramble onto his back.
When they make it back down to the office, Elsie looks at Charles' disbelievingly. "You'll throw your back out, Charles."
"Nonsense, if I can spend my days hauling around heavy tea trays and silver dishes I can manage to give Martin a piggyback twenty feet down the hallway." It won't be much longer until the boy is too big for a ride and too old to ask. "Off you come then," he commands Martin and the boy slides down, dropping onto the floor.
"I can have my present now?"
Elsie unlocks the bottom drawer of her desk and pulls out a wrapped box, pushing Martin's papers and pencils out of the way, and sets it on top of the desk. Martin tears into the paper in a hurry, scattering scraps around him. An old wooden clock, clearly second hand, emerges from the paper and box. Martin is delighted and immediately begins examining the clock from every angle.
Charles allows him to continue this for several minutes before asking, "This is what you wanted then?"
Martin tears his attention away. "Oh yes! Thank you, Granda!" He wraps Charles' legs in a hug and then Elsie's. "Thank you, Grannie!"
"You're very welcome, Martin," smiles Elsie.
"I suppose you'll be needing these then." Charles removes a small screwdriver and a pair of pliers from his pocket and hands them over. "Mind you don't get parts everywhere. Keep everything in the box and you may keep the box on Grannie's shelf."
Martin nods eagerly. Charles stops him before he can get lost in the clock again. "You have two hours before breakfast. Then you'll have to put it away and get ready for school."
Martin groans. "Do I have to go to school?"
"Yes. Even birthday boys have to go to school. We still have to work on our birthdays."
"That's not right," mutters Martin.
"You'll have the whole weekend to dismantle the clock," Charles reminds him. "And right now you're wasting time."
Martin's sullenness instantly vanishes at the reminder that his present is waiting for him. His attention completely absorbed by the clock, Elsie and Charles slip out of the room. "All that over a clock," laughs Elsie.
"Reminds me of a certain grandmother who bought herself an electric toaster as a treat."
"Yes, but that was to use, not to dismantle," she reminds him.
He just looks at her knowingly and she shakes her head in amusement.
"Aaagh," growls Martin as he slams the pliers down on the desk. Immediately he feels guilty and looks about to see if his grandparents are around. Assured of his isolation, he slumps back down in the chair, folding his arms across his chest crossly. The stupid clock refuses to go back together. He's always left with extra gears and springs that refuse to fit in together. It had seemed so simple when he was taking it apart! He had been sure he could remember how it all went together. Now, weeks later, the clock is still disassembled and he has increasing difficulty remembering which parts connected to each other. He grabs the box and, holding it under the lip of the desk's surface, sweeps in all of the little pieces that used to be the insides of his clock. He shoves the box onto the shelf.
The sun shines through the window, taunting his foul mood. He's sick of being inside, locked up with his clock. Stupid thing. He grabs his old dog-eared copy of Treasure Island and shrugs on his jacket and hat. Winter is coming soon. He'd much rather enjoy the last sunny days of autumn outside reading than fight with his broken clock anymore.
September 1922:
"Come on, Grannie," Charles puts his arms around her shoulders, gently leads her away from the school. He has to overcome his own resistance in every step, feeling the tug backwards just as strongly. "He'll be back in just five days."
A few years ago they were overjoyed to see Martin once a month or so. Before that... well, he was overjoyed to read Nathan's letters about the boy and hear Elsie's tales from her annual trip to Liverpool. Now they can hardly imagine seeing the boy everyday.
At the end of the path he cannot help himself and turns back to regard the school. Ripon Grammar will take a bite out of their savings even with the scholarship, no doubt about that. Despite all the practical worries that have been pestering them for the past months, it all fades to silence for a moment: This is where their grandson will make friends, learn lessons, and grow into a young man. They will do their best to encourage him and keep him on a straight path, but it will be hard when they will only be able to see him every two days of seven and on holidays. Charles can only remember his foolishness as a youth - the heady, delirious days when he thought singing and dancing had been a wonderful adventure and not the quickest way to ruin.
He breathes out, a bit shakily.
"Come on, Granda." Elsie pats his arm. Together they lead each other away.
March 1924:
"Carson, I came across your grandson earlier while I was out walking. He said he attends Ripon Grammar?"
"Yes, your lordship. This is his second year there."
Lord Grantham frowns. "You never said anything."
"No, your lordship."
Lord Grantham frowns more. "Why ever not?"
Carson cannot entirely hide his confusion. He had been of the impression that His Lordship was not entirely comfortable with the idea of Martin living with them at Downton when they had first approached him about it. He and Elsie have always been very careful to keep the boy out of The Family's path. "It was not a matter regarding the household."
"Yes, but-" The Earl pauses. "Is he doing well? I got the impression he enjoys it there?"
"We're happy with his work. He rather excels in mathematics."
"Ah, is that so?" His Lordship looks as if he wants to ask another question, but no such question is forthcoming.
"Is there anything else, your lordship?"
"What? No, no. It's fine, Carson. I think I'll go through and join the ladies now."
"Of course, milord."
"Carson, last night about your grandson..." he hesitates on the name.
"Martin, milord."
"Martin, yes. You're... well, not to pry, but you're managing to, well, afford it alright?" It was safe to say this was one of the most awkward conversations the two men had ever had. "You would let me know if you were having any difficulty?"
He would not. It wasn't proper for a servant to ask for a raise. Martin knew the conditions of his education. "He earned a partial scholarship, which helps. And he works as a hallboy over the holidays." It is only years of training that keeps Charles from shifting uncomfortably on his feet. That question alone had been painful enough for him to ask, but His Lordship had approved of paying their grandson partial wages so long as he did the same work as any other hallboy. Elsie has stopped her occasional purchases of hats and coats (and electrical gadgets), he has refrained from adding to his book collection and no longer goes out while in London. They have never been frivolous spenders but with careful penny pinching they are managing to make it all work.
His Lordship however seems unwilling to let the subject drop. "Are you sure there's nothing I can do to help?"
"I don't think it would be proper, milord."
"Ah, yes. 'Proper'." His lordship sighs and takes a stiff swallow of his port.
Charles is now certain there is something else going on that he is not aware of, but servants do not pry so he must lay it to rest. If it is anything too important, His Lordship will reveal it sooner or later.
August 1924:
Charles stalks down the men's quarters making sure all the lights are off and the rooms are quiet before he retires for the night. Of course, under the very last door there is a glow of golden light. He knocks briefly and pushes open the door. "Martin..."
Martin, George, and Edward all look up from where they are clustered about the chest of drawers. Through them he can see scattered sheets of paper, string, bits of wood, and a bottle of glue.
"It's well past lights out time."
"Sorry Granda," Martin murmurs as all three boys hang their heads. Not that Martin is ever one to stay chastised for long. "I finished my plane though, look." He slides his chair away from the furniture and shoves the two older hallboys out of the way. Revealed is in fact a small toy airplane. "See, the propeller works because of this rubber band..."
"Martin, may I remind you that over the summers you are considered an employee of this house, and as such we expect you to fulfill the same duties as the other hallboys?"
"Yes, Granda."
"And you will not be able to do so if you are tripping over yourself yawning. Not to mention you're keeping George and Edward awake."
"Sorry Granda. We'll go to bed now. Goodnight."
"Goodnight, Martin. George, Edward."
"Goodnight, Mr. Carson."
He waits outside the door until the light is turned off and the rustling of sheets and mattresses calm before heading back downstairs to his own room.
Elsie is already in bed, waiting for him with a book. "Martin keeping them all up late again?"
"Why did we ever think it was a good idea for him to live with the hallboys?"
"Because he's working as one of them. Because we thought it was a good idea to teach him the value of hard work, so we can count his wages as livery and we don't have to pay for his meals from our salaries anymore, so we can continue to pay for his education-"
"It was a rhetorical question. I was involved in the decision."
She smirks a bit at that - it had been his idea. "Has he finished his plane?"
"He says he has..."
"I'll make sure he doesn't shirk his duties to go test the thing. Don't worry." She pauses as he joins her in bed, marks her place in the book and puts in on the bedside table. "You should go with him when he tests it, after you missed the other test flights for The Season. They're quite clever really." She leans in for a quick goodnight kiss as they settle under the covers.
"Mmm. Perhaps. If he can wait for me to find the time."
"Of course he'll wait if you ask him to. He'll be thrilled."