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Downton’s wild damsels

By Tracy Curtis
Tracy Curtis
Tracy Curtis is a mom after a 15-year career in TV and film. She lives in Charlotte.

I miss them already. I’m wondering what they’re doing, where they’re going, when dinner will be served, and who’s received a telegram. I miss the Crawleys of “Downton Abbey.”

With last Sunday’s finale behind us, I long for those nights I could lose myself in England in the early 1900s, in a castle, following the lives of an aristocratic family and their servants during the reign of King George V. Not since they put the Real Housewives in Miami could I feel so far away from today’s world.

When the men were gentlemen. And the women were ladies, in every sense of the word. The Crawley sisters even carrying the title of Lady. When gentleman callers would send word they’d like a walk in the gardens or a drive in their new motor. When the patriarch, like Lord Grantham, would ascertain their suitability and bless their engagements.

I wonder, how did it all change so much? Although I have to say the women of Downton didn’t exactly do us any favors in season 3. They started to crack – and I imagine their small breaks from tradition led us to where we are now.

Like Lady Sybil. First, by wanting a job in politics, then by shocking everyone at dinner wearing pants instead of the traditional post-Edwardian dress. Fine. So she brought us Hillary Clinton.

But insisting on being ringside at a political rally in the village? Don’t tell me that’s not the reason we now have female commentators on the football field.

And those house maids. Edna traipsing down to the pub to throw herself at a shocked Mr. Branson – introducing the idea that it’s okay for women to meet men in bars for a beer. Not to mention the concept of stalking. And her co-worker, Jane, kissing the boss, Lord Grantham? All that romance needed was an office. But don’t worry, Jane, Sybil’s going to find you one.

Lady Edith’s the one who really ran the motor off the dirt road. Thanks to her picking the wrong man and being jilted at the altar, we all now pay a fortune in deposits every time we have a wedding. Or any function, really.

Of course, her next unsuitable suitor had a wife in an asylum, giving us all the title of Crazy Ex-Wife. Thanks Edith – I was happy with Lady.

And what about when she used the new telephone to ring a London operator to ask for personal information about her latest love interest – you don’t think the Google people were all over that? It started somewhere, folks.

I bet you a pheasant that in season 4, she talks the operator into tracking all the bachelors in the village and matching them with the spinsters.

Maybe by season 5 she’ll have her own online dating service that she runs out of the drawing room.

I am so glad that show is over.

tcurtis@charlotteobserver.com

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