Downton Abbey’s X Factor… Why do people love Downton Abbey?

The week Downton Abbey returned to our screens in the UK, the viewers perception was captured on the UK TV programme, Gogglebox. It was really interesting to hear what people said, to help try to work out – what is the X factor in Downton Abbey? Why have so many people fallen for the show?

Viewers were captured on camera as it began saying things like “Oh… Downton Abbey…” “I love it…” “We’ve been waiting all summer for this…” “It’s lovely to have our friends back…” “It’s just like a warm hug…” “It’s just a lovely programme…”

So people enjoy it… but why, why Downton Abbey and not another programme? What does it bring to the historical genre that other show’s haven’t? WHAT is the magic, the X gene in Downton’s DNA that makes some people love the show?

The Gogglebox viewers gave some clues, they asked questions of each other like, “What do they do as a job?” The lover of the show’s answer was… “Well they don’t really, they have dinner parties…” they then went on to say “Oh but they do have land,” and they mentioned “shares”.

“It’s all about love and stuff…” Another person described – although if you look at the story lines it has just as much been about death and hardship but then loss is still about love.

Then in families where some were lovers of the show and some were not, conversations debated a scene between Lady Mary and her latest admirer. It was interesting then to see how people emotionally engaged with the scenes. Earlier people had talked about the characters as ‘our friends’ well now you hear different viewers talking about characters like they are truly people they know and have a personal relationship with… “I can see something starting here…” She’s quite uptight, Lady Mary, isn’t she…” Then Lady Mary’s beau offered to “make your life simpler…” “How much simpler can it get… she has people to do everything…”

Then there was the scene where a fire began in the house, which started in Edith’s room. “Please God say they don’t kill Edith,” a young man shouted out. Then there was a close up on the eyes of one of the viewers and the look in her eyes said she was completely and utterly absorbed in the programme, she was emotionally connected to the characters and the scene as it played out. I shan’t tell you what happened I wouldn’t want to spoil it for viewers in America, but the body language of those watching the scene was fascinating…

How does Downton Abbey do it?

Well, their priority is not to get every fact of the historical setting correct. I have heard historians pull the scenes and the story lines to pieces, it is not at all historically or factually based – it is firstly fiction, and secondly a drama – I heard the person who helped the story developer for the film RUSH (something completely different – and I know not historical in the terms people think of historical) but it was someone who knew the fact behind the story, and he said, when he complained that the film wasn’t really about what actually happened “they told me they weren’t making a documentary they were making a film.” Like wise the director of Downton Abbey isn’t make a documentary, but making a drama… something they want to pull people into at an emotional level not an intellectual level.

Some of the viewers on Gogglebox did challenge the facts about the show they watched, “As if he’d be fighting the fire himself… he’d be watching…” “Did they have a fire service then? They got there a bit quick…” They got there a bit quick because the programme is only an hour-long and if the fire service are going to arrive they need to arrive in the time allowance of the programme without dragging out a boring – the fire service are coming – or we’re waiting for the fire service – stage in the story… 😀

So this is the X Factor that I pull through into my historical books…

1. I don’t make the priority in my books the historical fact – I don’t worry about exact, historically correct, language, people may not even know the words people used in the past, one of the things about Downton is its accessibility to anyone, it gives people the sense and feel of a historical setting, but it does not push people away by using words they don’t know or situations and characters they can’t relate to. Primarily people need to understand the characters, and understand how they feel and what they say.

2.So I focus primarily on the characters I create. I want people to feel as emotionally engaged with my characters as people do with the Downton Characters… and I hope for those readers who love to be lost in a historical setting… I’ve achieved that… One reviewer said to me, when she read The Illicit Love of a Courtesan, when Ellen gripped her dress, I actually gripped my maxi dress as if I was going to climb up onto the horse with her… That made me feel like I was doing something right, and the viewers of Downton seem to connect with the story to that degree.

3. I create settings that allow people to feel as though they are escaping reality, “they have dinner parties…” “It’s all about love and stuff…” “How could you make her life simpler…” the story lines are about more than the viewers perception but because it steps them so far away from their reality, it is like a fairytale… and people still aspire to fairytales even in the 21st Century, so even though they are travelling through a story in which bad things occur, they still connect with the story as an ideal they aspire to.

So those are the three elements I would say are the genetics which create the X Factor for Downton – Historical Fiction not fact – Characters who are easy to connect with – Settings that allow people to completely escape their reality…

If you would like to discover how I try to translate that in books then The Desperate Love of a Lord, A Free Novella, is now available as a taster, and if you are quick, the Marlow series is currently discounted in both the USA and UK from $1.99 in the USA and 69p in the UK… Click on the covers in the side bar to view on Amazon.

Go to the index

For

the story of the real courtesan who inspired The Illicit Love of a Courtesan

and lots of other true stories from Jane Lark

Jane Lark is a writer of authentic, passionate and emotional Historical and New Adult Romance stories, and the author of a No.1 bestselling Historical Romance novel in America, ‘The Illicit Love of a Courtesan’.

Click here to find out more about Jane’s books, and see Jane’s website www.janelark.co.uk to learn more about Jane. Or click ‘like’ on Jane’s Facebook page to see photo’s and learn historical facts from the Georgian, Regency and Victorian eras, which Jane publishes there. You can also follow Jane on twitter at @janelark

Jane’s books can be ordered from amazon by clicking on the covers in the sidebar, and are available from most booksellers.

Reckless in Innocence ~ A #Free Historical Romance story ~ Part Six

Reckless in Innocence

for my Historical Romance readers ❤

© Jane Lark

Publishing rights belong to Jane Lark, this should not be recreated in any form without prior consent from Jane Lark

Reckless in Innocence

Read the earlier parts one , two, three, four, five,

Part Six

Marcus

Marcus leaned back in his chair. He had a conscience. He had thought himself immune to conscience where women were concerned, yet it was definitely guilt that kept him drinking, and guilt could only stem from regret, and regret could only stem from recognition of doing wrong – he had definitely wronged Elizabeth Derwent.

He drained another glass and topped it up again. He’d never intended his dalliance with Elizabeth Derwent to go as far as it had.

He must have earned the title of the most outrageous rake in the ton now. What had possessed him to seduce a debutante?

But then was it truly he who had done the seducing? Her eyes had followed him across the halls and chambers of society for weeks, and last tonight she had eased herself against him as they’d waltzed with the artistry of a courtesan. She had scandalised the tabbies. Yet he could have held back.

He should have held back.

If he’d known the truth, he would have done.

He brushed his fingers through his hair. His hand shook.

His conscience, which had not spoken to him in years, was shouting condemnation.

He’d taken her virginity, taken her innocence.

But she had not behaved with innocence.

He’d thought that she was not a virgin when she had encouraged him to touch her, not that she was as guilty as him of wanting more, but now he heard her words again in his thoughts, he understood. I am not innocent. He had deliberately twisted her words to satisfy his small amount of honour. He’d immediately presumed she’d gained experience away from town – away from the risk of scandal.

But he had known and denied the truth when he’d touched her. She’d been too hesitant in her response. He had convinced himself it was otherwise merely to take what she gave – what she had offered and given willingly – touch me.

Damn those words. They were haunting him tonight.

The girl he’d seen this morning, though, in the street, was not the one who’d said them. The girl this morning, had been full of regret. She had not even wished him to touch her hand, let alone her body…

Damn the girl to hell, with her subtle seductions. What had happened had been her fault.

And yet she would have the memory of that glass house for the rest of her life. It had been her first time – a woman of society should save the making of such a memory for her marriage bed – her wedding night.

Why the devil had she done it?

He’d given her half-a-dozen chances to back out of it too – asked her if she wished for him to stop, but those wonderfully seductive eyes, clouded with desire, had merely looked at him, as if he was mad, begging him on.

If he had an ounce of decency in his soul he would be knocking on her father’s door pleading for her hand. But he could not bring himself to do that. He would not be shackled.

It had always been the joke between himself and Jason, his younger brother, that he would provide the inheritance and Jason the heir.

Damn it there was no way he would endure a woman’s tongue as sharp as his mother’s. She had hounded his father until she’d driven him to the grave. He’d hung himself to escape her for God sake – why would any man risk the same.

His father’s image hung from a corner of the room, a rope around his neck as his body twitched. Marcus drank another full glass and reached for the bottle.

That image had never left him. It never would. It was behind his every thought, his every action.

To the point that he would seduce a debutante and leave her high and dry rather than risk the parson’s noose?

Yes.

Damn it. And seduce her, he had. His conscience yelled at him to stop denying it.

He’d faced himself in the shaving mirror at dawn, and told himself abruptly, he was – a cold-hearted bastard.

She had been inexperienced, a virgin pure and simple.

She was not that now.

He could not blame her for asking in innocence for what she could not understand, not really.

How was an innocent young woman of nineteen able to see the consequences of flirting with a rake?

She must have expected more, been harbouring dreams of romance.

Older woman knew and played the game, they had learned, like he, that romance was a fiction, a fairytale. There were no streets paved with gold in London, and there was no happiness in a marriage bed.

Yet there had been no sound of expectation in her words. She had not hinted or asked for anything beyond the physical connection of their bodies.

Touch me. Such a damned simple request.

That was the thing which had always been so refreshing about Elizabeth she had not once discussed marriage or sized up his fortune and his title. They discussed flippant things – things which made her laugh and he had liked her laughter. He liked the sound and the way her eyes shone when she did so. She had been the first uncomplicated woman he had met. It had been no hardship to dance and speak with her, it had simply been amusing…

Damn it. He slammed his empty glass onto the desk. If he was going to get foxed he may as well do it amongst friends, at least then his thoughts would not dwell on the many attributes of Elizabeth Derwent.

An hour later, Marcus strolled into White’s and glanced about the leather winged armchairs, seeking someone he knew.

“Marcus!”

“Do I detect you are hiding, brother?” Marcus called back as he turned with a broad smile. “I was told that you had promised to be home by dinner. To think I was escorting your wife about town, fulfilling the thoroughly boring duty of standing at her side as she thumbed through fabrics and feathers, while you are merely avoiding her and getting in your cups.”

“Not so much avoiding. I was busy, as you know, but perhaps I have spun my day out a little. Well yes, come to think of it, I admit it. I am avoiding my wife. She has taken it into her head to redecorate the house and the conversation is constantly… which do you prefer, this shade or that, this pattern or the other, this style or…”

“You need not carry on. It is not me you need to make excuses to. If you wish to offer up excuses, I suggest you go home to your wife.” Marcus threw himself into the vacant chair beside his brother

“It is late to see you calling at White’s, Marc. You are usually off about town by now?”

“To tell the truth, Jason, I am in no mood for town and debutantes tonight.”

“Debutantes?” Jason’s eyes widened at the bitterness he must have heard in Marcus’s pitch, and amusement twisted his lips into a smile. “Why on earth have you any concern for debutantes? I thought you always steered clear?”

“I do.” Marcus snubbed the thought of speaking to his brother. This was scandal beyond any he’d stirred up before, if he ever spoke it aloud.

He could do one thing for Elizabeth Derwent now – he could keep quiet. “That is exactly what I mean. I cannot stand the season. There are girls at every turn desperate for a match, any man is game, even a self-professed bachelor and an appalling rake. If I have to look at one more pair of fluttering eyelashes, and listen to anymore simpering voices, I swear I shall start throwing their owners into the Thames.”

“Surely you are not afraid of being trapped? You would not even entertain any of them with a second glance.”

When Marcus was silent, Jason looked at him askance and added, “You are out of character, brother. You are not telling me that you are tempted?”

“Not in the least, Jason. Not even by the most charming of girls.”

Jason raised an eyebrow at that. There had obviously been a certain errant tone in the pronunciation that evoked query. Jason would never have heard him complain of debutantes before, and certainly never known him insinuate that he found any one of them charming. He did not normally even speak of them, let alone think of them. Until Elizabeth…

“Well then, what would you say to getting lost somewhere for an hour or two, in a place where debutantes would certainly never dare to go? I am in no mood for an early night perusing wallpaper samples. I fancy a card game with heavier stakes than White’s can offer me. Are you up for it Marc? Will you join me?”

He was definitely, he was up for anything that would distract his mind and silence his conscience.

If you cannot wait until next week for more of Jane Lark’s writing there’s plenty to read right now 😀

To read the Marlow Intrigues series, you can start anywhere, but this is the actual order

The Lost Love of Soldier ~ The Prequel

#1 The Illicit Love of a Courtesan

#1.5 Capturing The Love of an Earl ~ This Free Novella

#2 The Passionate Love of a Rake

#2.5 The Desperate Love of a Lord ~ Free and NOW available to pre-order from Amazon

#3 The Scandalous Love of a Lord

and, yes, there are more to come 🙂 soon…

Go to the index

For

the story of the real courtesan who inspired The Illicit Love of a Courtesan,
another free short story, about characters from book #2, A Lord’s Scandalous Love,
the prequel excerpts for book #3 The Scandalous Love of a Duke