A Look On The Lighter Side: I dream of “Downton Abbey”

Judy Epstein

In the recently released cinematic update of “Downton Abbey,” the entire household is in a lather because the King and Queen will be arriving for a visit. The royals in question are the slightly fictionalized King George V and Queen Mary, whose granddaughter Elizabeth II is the U.K.’s current monarch.

The upstairs family — the Crawleys — harbor some concerns about the expense of entertaining royalty, but it is the entire crew of downstairs servants who take the situation directly to heart.

“I want every surface in this house to gleam and sparkle,” ordains housekeeper Mrs. Hughes.

I know how she feels. That was just exactly what I wanted for some recent visitors to my home.

There were only a few glitches with that idea. For one thing, unlike the Crawleys, I do not possess a giant estate house with more than 200 rooms, or a household staff of numerous footmen and maids, two cooks, a housekeeper, valet, and butler.

If I did, at least one of them would probably have remembered where I had stashed the emergency set of linens for the fold-out bed we haven’t used in quite a while. And, once found, all the sheets and pillowcases would likely have been the same color!

Alas, when it comes to laundry maids, footmen, valet, and cook at Casa Judy, I am it — the entire kit and caboodle. Which is why I sympathized, not with Downton’s ambitious housekeeper, but with Thomas Barrow, instead.

He is the newly-promoted butler who soon scandalizes the daughter of the household, Lady Mary, with the radical confession that he doesn’t plan to polish every last vase, urn, and sterling silver serving piece (which look, from one scene, to fill a room the size of my old apartment); he only wants to polish the items that the royal visitors are likely to use.

I say, give that man a medal! — if a slightly tarnished one.

But this kind of talk terrifies Lady Mary and sends her scampering to the home of retired butler Mr. Carson, the butler of her youth. “Barrow is like a deer in the headlights,” she complains to him, begging him to come back to work at least long enough to get the household through the royal visit without mishap.

Which of course he does. We all know it wouldn’t be Downton Abbey without Carson telling Who’s Who just What’s What, and keeping everyone at the top of their game.

A second difference between our two scenarios is that at Downton, the staff are informed that they are all to take the night off. The King’s own butler — or, as he haughtily insists on their calling him, “The Royal Page of the Backstairs” — informs them that they will all be replaced for the night, from the cook to the maids to the footmen serving the food.

This outrages the Downton staff, who are determined on their right to serve “My King and Emperor.” (I assume the Queen/Empress is important to them, too, although nobody mentions her.)

I cannot divulge what, if anything, the Downtoneers choose to do about this situation. All I can tell you is that Here is where I draw the line. If somebody orders me to take off for the night, and leave the cooking, baking, serving and cleaning to them … they will find me only too happy to comply!

Alas, no one did, and we had to make do with America’s version: paper plates and a pizza delivery, followed by the ritual cutting-up-for-the-recycling of all the resulting cardboard. I am sure that even Mr. Deer-in-the-headlights-Barrow could have handled it all with aplomb.

There are many spills and chills, twists and turns, both in the Downton story and our own. (Why do my son and his friends insist on walking to Main Street in the dark? Will they wear reflective armbands? No? Then at least consent to carry flashlights!)

The Downton folk are heartily relieved when their visit is over. Royalty generally only drop by once in a generation. I, however, hope my visitors come back sooner than that. Even if it means polishing some silver!

TAGGED: Downton Abbey
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