Downton Abbey Novels & Stories

It's my first time learning how insensitive Agnes is. My Damah is not like that. She's good at helping people. I turned around. "Let's give them more days. Maybe what they said is true, right nurse Lilith?" I asked her while getting off my chair. I heard her sigh again. I could see all of their expressions through my mind. I saw how Danym looks so handsome and mysterious. I wanted to know him more. I want him to stay here. I need to talk to my father again. I'll help them to stay here from now on.

If only it were that simple. This Head Maid is no ordinary person. In the original, it was said that her family had served the Nijel family for generations. She once served as the duke's maid, and Ario was taken care of by her for a while when he was a child. This woman is already considered a half noble in the Duke's mansion, so she dares to look down on me like that. After Claire rushed over and lost her temper, the head maid will definitely take it out on me in the future. I can already see the difficult life ahead of me...

It was beautifully carved flagstones that stretch up to the other side of the mansion and when they arrived at the lobby, there were maids and butlers on the staircase going up into the mansion. Downton Abbey vibe for sure. One guy in his butler suit stood next to Clarke’s door and he opens it. Letting Clarke out and again, Clarke spoke to him, laughing and handing out tips to him which looks like a thick wad of cash that was tied to a rubber band. Clarke walks to the other side of the car and opens the door for El who was holding a lovely pink cake box filled with her delicious, creamy, not too sweet, and buttery apple pie.

And ever since mother passed, she has become the motherly figure to Kael and me. Anna fixed me up. She assisted me from bathing to putting on a one-hundred-and-twenty-thousand-franc outfit. The gown is royal blue in color with a hundred and fifty diamonds on the chest plate. A marvelous hand paint was embroidered at the ends of the gown. It lit up my mood. Francis never disappoints. I ought to thank him for this. “We should pair this gown with your diamonds, your Highness,” she suggests. Apart from being my closest maid, she knows all about my jewelry and whatever treasure there is in my room.

she said, scornfully. "Thank you for your kindness," they all said in unison, hanging their heads in disappointment and sadness. Shifting to the right, she continued, "This is Mr. Oaksworth." He was tall but his butler uniform was covered in dirt, and his hair looked matted. I again smiled, but he didn't take his eyes off of Grandmama. What did Grandmama do to him?

I nodded. "Fine. I'll go back." The doctor had already given me my diagnosis. Consumption. I had only a month left to live. So I went back. And I played the part of the perfect duchess. I no longer demanded Alistair's loyalty. I even found him three new mistresses who looked just like Liana and sent them to his bed after he had sent her away for me. I no longer made Damian study the arts of statecraft and not forced him to master his courtly duties. Instead, I supported his ridiculous dream of joining the Expeditionary Force.

Amara Adebayo stepped out of the cab onto the cobblestones outside Edward Harrington’s townhouse, the drizzle of London rain soaking her coat sleeves just slightly, enough to make her aware of each thread clinging to her skin. The house itself was imposing, but not ostentatious. Georgian brick, black iron railings, polished steps leading to a perfectly proportioned doorway. It was the kind of building that suggested history, wealth, control—but also careful curation. Nothing unnecessary, nothing misplaced.

Emily St. Laurent, the Duchess of Essex, sat in the drawing room of Lord Denbruck's townhouse in Mayfair, sipping tea. Beside her, Horatia and Audrey were also holding teacups. Lord Denbruck, an older man who still bore the vestiges of his handsome features, had been delighting the ladies with tales of his youth.

prompting them to display a hint of resistance before ultimately nodding curtly, realizing it's best not to argue. I stepped aside, granting Marilyn passage into my house. Her demeanor reminded me of Maggie Smith's character in Downton Abbey, as she moved cautiously, as if avoiding imaginary scorpions scattered on the floor. To my surprise, she glanced around and beamed with a warm smile. "What a delightful and cozy place," she remarked. "If I weren't so... affluent, I could easily purchase a small house and recreate this welcoming atmosphere." Her expression transforms into a whimsical one as soon as she noticed the look on my face. "Oh, please don't take off

Sun setting on the horizon and rays cascading through the large balcony sliding doors cast an inviting glow to the room that took away the weariness. I glanced around the immaculate, cream-colored Sterling Suite; this is the finest, most costly accommodation on the Dorian coast. This is more than my six-month income for one night, but it's money well spent. If only I had mastered the art of saving money and adhering to a budget, both of which I have yet to master at the ripe old age of 30.