Downton Abbey. A show about rich folks and their servants. Set in early 20th century. It dives into lives of Crawley family. And let us not forget their loyal help. Social changes? Check. World War I? Check. Women doing stuff? Double check. With a cast that could win awards for just showing up and plots that twist like a pretzel, this show became a cultural sensation. Six seasons of pure drama and critics loved it. Who knew watching aristocrats sip tea could be so riveting?

Meet the characters from Downton Abbey

Robert Crawley

Robert is the kind of Earl who wears duty like a heavy coat — warm in winter, a bit stiff around the shoulders. He loves his family fiercely and will defend tradition until his spectacles fog up (literally, he misplaces them and blames modern life). Sometimes he’s grumpy and pompous and then suddenly embarrassing with sentimentality, like showing up with awkward gifts or a surprising joke. He resists change but keeps trying to do the right thing, even when he’s baffled by cars or newfangled ideas. You can tell he cares because he fusses over the estate like it’s a living thing (and yes, he probably talks to the pheasants).

Mrs. Hughes

Mrs. Hughes is the calm, practical housekeeper who runs the downstairs like a small, benevolent dictatorship — but in a good way. Stern when she needs to be, soft at the edges, and suspiciously good at remembering everyone’s birthdays (even when you swear you told her twice). She has a dry wit that sneaks up on you and a private fondness for knitting things no one expects (blankets? dog jumpers?). Protective, moral, quietly romantic in a stubborn, sensible sort of way, and probably the one person who can both scold and soothe better than anyone.

Cora Crawley

Cora is that bright American heiress who brought fresh money and cheer to an old house — optimistic, generous, and oddly fond of music in the drawing room at odd hours. She can be a little naive about English traditions (she’ll apologize with four teacups and a song), but she also has steel under all that velvet and a cunning for keeping the peace. Warm, maternal, philanthropic, and the sort who collects teacups and odd little souvenirs from trips (no, she won’t tell you where she hid the tiny eagle statue). She’s modern in thought but dresses like she belongs to a different, softer era; charmingly inconsistent, really.

John Bates

Bates is the quiet backbone — loyal, steady, and with a limp that tells you his story before he says a word. He has this gentle, awkward humor that catches you off guard and a sense of honor so large it makes him stubbornly honest to a fault. Protective of his wife and of the house, he’s brave without showboating, like someone who’d rather fix a fence than give a speech. Occasionally baffled by politics and manners, but fierce as a terrier when someone he loves is threatened (and yes, he probably talks to his horse/companion — I’m not sure, but I can totally picture it).

Lady Edith Crawley

Edith is the wonderfully messy middle sister: sharp, underestimated, wounded, and then improbably resilient. She’s been through cringe-worthy choices and heartbreaks but comes out smarter and more determined (and a little bitter, but who wouldn’t be?). Ambitious in ways that surprise her family — journalism, independence, that slow burn into someone who really finds herself. Often awkward, often wonderful, and capable of sudden acts of generosity that make you rethink everything you thought you knew about her.

Charles Carson

Carson is the quintessential butler: rigid, principled, and obsessed with order like it’s his religion. He treats the house like a machine that must run quietly and perfectly (but also keeps little mementos in a drawer he pretends not to have). Formal to the point of poetry, but with a surprisingly soft spot for certain rituals — the right teaspoon, the right salute, apparently even the right joke if you’re lucky. He hates change in principle but will adapt if it preserves dignity, which is his true north.

Lady Mary Crawley

Mary is sharp-edged glamour with a secret, softer core — the classic brooding heroine who says the thing she means and then pretends she didn’t mean it. Proud, fiercely intelligent, occasionally cruel but often because she’s scared, and always, always magnetic. She loves cars, horses, and awkward romantic entanglements, and she would absolutely insist she doesn’t care what you think while being quietly devastated if you do. Complex, stylish, and stubbornly loyal to her family’s future even when she pretends otherwise.

Anna Bates

Anna is the quietly brave one — loyal, compassionate, and with a spine of steel hidden beneath sensible gloves. She is endlessly kind but will fight like a terrier for the people she loves; scandal barely dents her, she just keeps going. Warm and domestic but not soft, she has tragic resilience (and a surprising twinkle in her eye when she laughs, which she doesn’t do enough). Slightly nosy sometimes (in the best possible way), devoted, and morally solid, the emotional glue of the downstairs staff.

Thomas Barrow

Thomas is the deliciously complicated rake: scheming, snarky, and painfully lonely — the man who barbs to hide that nobody understands him. He loves fashion (very much) and control, and he will stab you with a look and then later do an inexplicable kindness that makes you suspect he has feelings (confusing!). Ambitious and sometimes cruel, yes, but vulnerable in public and private, and honestly one of the most humanly messy characters you can get. You love to hate him, then feel bad about it five minutes later.

Daisy Mason

Daisy is peppy, earnest, and full of earthy observations about life (and vegetables), like the sort of person who will solemnly tell you how to make a stew and also sing to the carrots. Bright but naive at first, she grows into someone practical and surprisingly wise about small, important things. She has a soft spot for animals, an uncanny ability to read people (when she wants to), and an annoying habit of saying what everyone else is thinking. Endearing, clumsy in the sweetest way, and stubbornly optimistic — the heartbeat of the kitchen.

Mrs. Patmore

Mrs. Patmore is the fierce, practical cook who treats every meal like a declaration of love and a minor battle against chaos. Gruff, explosive, and deeply proud of her pastry (never ask her to use margarine — it’s practically blasphemy), she runs the kitchen like a ship’s captain with heart. She’d scold you for wasting bread and then slide you a secret spoonful of jam when no one’s looking — contradiction is her love language. Loyal, opinionated, and weirdly tender about the staff, she is the furious, brilliant culinary soul of the house.