If only I could live in your walls. Like a ageless ghost, wandering in and out of your stately rooms. Silently seeking the answers to all the questions you never answer for me on Sunday nights!
Floating softly above Bates could I find out how long it takes him to answer the call of service? I mean, every week we see the poor man laboring down the hallway to the kitchen with his cane! Doesn’t it stand to reason it must take him 20-30 minutes to drag himself up two different staircases when his master calls? That’s a heck of a long time to wait for those cuff links, Lord Grantham! Are you sure you couldn’t just open the drawer yourself?
In my spectral state I would then descend into the kitchen. Into the realm of teenage hormone drama when Daisy, Ivy and Jimmy along with countless other young people do their complicated mating dance. Of course, I fully accept the premise the script writers have given us that none of these hot blooded young people have ever snuck off to the pantry for a little slap and tickle. Heavens no! They have pies to make! Pies and cakes and little sandwiches!
Breezing softly by Carson I would head off into the rooms of Mrs. Hughes and Mrs. Patmore attempting to find evidence of children. Surely these women had a life before Downton! They are both addressed as Mrs and we know from past episodes that both of them can be players!
Perhaps, I would make my way up the stairs and follow Cora around for a while. What does she do all day? Needlework? She could have recovered every chair and couch by now! Exercise? I doubt it! In my recollection we have only seen her outside maybe two or three times- once while lying on a chaise! So she is not going off to yoga…..hmmm. I wonder if she just walks around all day…going from room to room; muttering and pointing, “I own that and that and that and that….”
But what would I find out about Lady Mary and Edith? Could it be that they also, as I suspect most of the maids, sit pining away for Tom Branson, the only hottie to take up residence in Downton for any real length of time. (Don’t get me started on Matthew! His death is still to painful for me to discuss!) Do they plot how to trip and fall against him, so that he might save them from expensive oriental rug burn with his sexy Irish arms? Or would I only find Thomas Barrows, the valet musing about that?
Alas, it is not to be. I must wait until Sunday nights to be given a peek into your regal world. Until then…I am off to cruise fan fiction sites once more.
Woe is me!