Dowager Countess Quotes

And I hope you will not think me foolish when I also extend my thanks. Thank you, Michael, for letting my son love her first. —from Janet Stirling, dowager Countess of Kilmartin, to Michael Stirling, Earl of Kilmartin

Violet, the Dowager Countess: ‘I have plenty of friends I don’t like.

Violet, the Dowager Countess: “I mean, one way or another, everyone goes down the aisle with half the story hidden.

Invariably dressed in black, the Countess was one of those dowagers whose natural natural independence of mind, authority of age, and impatience with the petty made her the ally of all irreverent youth.

Is my gardener's pride to be sacrificed on the altar of Mr Molesley's ambitions? - The Dowager Countess(Maggie Smith)

The dowager rose and slipped from her pew. There was the sound of tearing silk as she threw up her arms to embrace her son. Then: "Oh, Rupert, darling," she exclaimed in tones of theatrical despair, "don't you see? The game's up!

I am leaving in the morning Lady Grantham. I doubt we will meet again.” Sir Richard “Do you promise?” Dowager Countess Violet

“We are frequently referred to as the gentler sex. Foolish notion. Women are far more vicious than men. We are simply better at disguising it.” —The Dowager Marchioness of Wallingham to the Countess of Berne after a particularly spiteful Thursday luncheon.

“While I agree men fancy a good meal, Meredith, I daresay the stomach is not the most direct route to a man’s heart. That organ lies a good bit lower.” —The Dowager Marchioness of Wallingham to the Countess of Berne upon learning of said lady’s supper menu.

Principles are like prayers; noble, of course, but awkward at a party.

Thank you, Michael, for letting my son love her first. —from Janet Stirling, dowager Countess of Kilmartin, to Michael Stirling, Earl of Kilmartin, June 1824.

“Virtue is its own reward.But then, the same could be said for sin.” —The Dowager Marchioness of Wallingham to the Countess of Berne upon said lady’s refusal of a fourth lump of sugar.

And I hope you will not think me foolish when I also extend my thanks. Thank you, Michael, for letting my son love her first. —from Janet Stirling, dowager Countess of Kilmartin, to Michael Stirling, Earl of Kilmartin

She smiled serenely. “I shall put aside my feelings for the dowager countess if you care for one of her daughters . . .” She looked up hopefully. “Do you care for one of her daughters?” “I have no idea,” Benedict admitted. “I never got her name. Just her glove.” Violet gave him a stern look. “I’m not even going to ask how you obtained her glove.” “It was all very innocent, I assure you.” Violet’s expression was dubious in the extreme. “I have far too many sons to believe that,” she muttered.

the Dowager Countess Melton was not a fool. She knew quite well that he was in disgrace; promising young officers in the good graces of their superiors were not sent to the arse-end of Scotland to oversee the renovation of small and unimportant prison-fortresses. But his brother Harold had told her that the trouble was an unfortunate affair of the heart, implying sufficient indelicacy to stop her questioning him about it. She likely thought he had been caught with his colonel’s wife, or keeping a whore in his quarters.

Dared he ask about George? Not a direct inquiry, that wouldn’t do, but a reference to the family, asking whether his mother had happened to encounter Lady Everett lately, and might he ask to be remembered to her son? He sighed and drew another point on his object. No. His widowed mother was ignorant of the situation, but Lady Everett’s husband moved in military circles. His brother’s influence would keep the gossip to a minimum, but Lord Everett might catch a whiff of it, nonetheless, and be quick enough to put two and two together. Let him drop an injudicious word to his wife about George, and the word pass on from Lady Everett to his mother … the Dowager Countess Melton was not a fool. She knew quite well that he was in disgrace; promising young officers in the good graces of their superiors were not sent to the arse-end of Scotland to oversee the renovation of small and unimportant prison-fortresses. But his brother Harold had told her that the trouble was an unfortunate affair of the heart, implying sufficient indelicacy to stop her questioning him about it. She likely thought he had been caught with his colonel’s wife, or keeping a whore in his quarters.

Violet pulled a face. “Of course I have great ambition that my children marry well and happily, but I am not the sort who’d marry her daughter off to a seventy-year-old man just because he was a duke!” “Did the dowager countess do that?” Benedict couldn’t recall any seventy-year-old dukes making recent trips to the altar. “No,” Violet admitted, “but she would. Whereas I—” Benedict bit back a smile as his mother pointed to herself with great flourish. “I would allow my children to marry paupers if it would bring them happiness.” Benedict raised a brow. “They would be well-principled and hardworking paupers, of course,” Violet explained. “No gamblers need apply.” Benedict didn’t want to laugh at his mother, so instead he coughed discreetly into his handkerchief.

I'm a woman, Mary. I can be as contrary as I choose.

Lady Dearborn glanced quickly through the papers, impatient to continue her talk with her new daughter-in-law, pausing to open only one letter. "My goodness!" she exclaimed as she read it through. "It is from Lord Kerrigan, your grandfather, my dear. He is quite recovered, it seems, and was delighted to learn that I had made your acquaintance. He expresses a desire to see me again and asks if I would consider escorting you to Ireland. For the sake of old friendship, of course!" Ellie noticed that the Dowager's cheeks had pinkened somewhat. "I must tell him of my marriage at once, of course," she said. "'T'would be wonderful if I could do so in person." She looked questioningly to her husband as she spoke. "A splendid notion, I think," said Forrest at once. "In fact, I had already thought that Ireland might be just the place to begin our wedding trip. My mother may remain there when we continue on to the Continent, if she wishes." The look he directed at the Dowager Countess was one of mingled amusement and curiosity. The Dowager's blush deepened, but she said composedly enough, "Perhaps I shall. No one I know can play whist as Kerrigan used to. The four of us will have some rare games, I doubt not." "Pray do not expect Ellie and me to spend an inordinate time at the card table," said Forrest with a wink at his new Countess. "We shall have other things to occupy our time.

Invariably dressed in black, the Countess was one of those dowagers whose natural independence of mind, authority of age, and impatience with the petty made her the ally of all irreverent youth. She would not only abide, but enjoyed when her grandson would interrupt polite conversation to question the standing of the church or the ruling class. And when her guest grew red and responded in a huff, the Countess would give Mishka a conspiratorial wink, as if they stood arm in arm in the battle against boorish decorum and the outmoded attitudes of the times.

the Countess was one of those dowagers whose natural independence of mind, authority of age, and impatience with the petty made her the ally of all irreverent youth.