Mrs Cora Crawley and her three daughters are thrown out of Downton, the house of her deceased husband, because it is entailed to the next male heir: a distant cousin of a spineless disposition called Mr Joseph Crawley. Mr Crawley and his snobbish, shrewish wife, Sarah, come to live at Downton before Mrs Crawley can move out. Mrs Crawley's brother, Mr Matthew Ferrars also comes to stay. The eldest daughter, Mary, has formed a strong affectionate alliance with Matthew before they leave to take a cottage offered to them by one of their neighbours: Sir Charles Carson and his wife Lady Elsie.

Colonel Anthony Strallan, a good friend of Sir Charles's, meets Miss Edith Crawley, the middle daughter, at Sir Charles's house. She was playing the piano at the time. For him it was love at first sight, but, alas, not for her. She only has eyes for the dashing Mr. Gregson whom she meets when she and her youngest sister, Sybil, are out walking and they are overtaken by a storm. She takes a fall spraining her ankle and Mr. Gregson carries her home.

Meanwhile, Miss Sybil, the youngest, has fallen in love with one of Sir Anthony's stable-hands, Tom Branson.

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The family of Crawley had long been settled in Yorkshire. Their estate was large; their residence was at Downton Abbey. By a former marriage, Mr. Robert Crawley had one son: by his present lady, three daughters. The son was amply provided for by the fortune of his mother, and the estate was entailed upon the male line. His sisters' fortune could be but small; since their mother, who had been born and bred in the colonies, had nothing.

Before he died, Mr. Robert recommended the interest of Mrs. Cora Crawley and her daughters to his son, but, although Mr. Joseph was not an ill-disposed man, he was easily swayed by the arguments of Mrs. Sarah Crawley, who was a strong caricature of himself, but more narrow-minded and selfish.

No sooner was his father's funeral over, than Mrs. Joseph Crawley, without sending any notice of her intention to her mother-in-law, arrived with their attendants. Mrs. Joseph Crawley had never been a favourite with any of her husband's family; but she had had no opportunity, till now, of showing them with how little attention to the comfort of other people she could act when she wished it.

Mary, the eldest daughter, possessed a strength of understanding, and a coolness of judgment. She had an excellent heart and her feelings were strong; but she knew how to govern them.

Edith's abilities were, in many respects, quite equal to Mary's. She was sensible, practical, and clever; but eager in everything having felt Mary's shadow over her all the days of her childhood, and, she feared, all the days of her life.

Sybil, the other sister, was a good-humoured, well-disposed girl; eager and fearless, with nothing but sweetness for all who met her.

Thus Mrs. Joseph Crawley installed herself mistress of Downton; Cora and her daughters were degraded to the condition of visitors. Joseph pressed them to consider Downton as their home; his invitation was accepted, and Mrs. Crawley remained at Downton several months. When her spirits began to revive, she became impatient to be gone, and looked for a suitable dwelling in the neighbourhood of Downton.

The contempt which Cora had felt for her daughter-in-law was much increased by closer knowledge of her character; the two ladies might have found it impossible to have lived together so long, had not a particular circumstance occurred to give still greater eligibility, according to the opinions of Mrs. Crawley, to her daughters' continuance at Downton.

This circumstance was a growing attachment between her eldest girl and the brother of Mrs. Joseph Crawley, a gentleman-like and pleasing young man, who was introduced to their acquaintance soon after his sister's establishment at Downton.

Mr. Matthew Ferrars was the eldest son of a man who had died rich; but for Mrs. Crawley it was enough for her that he appeared to be amiable, that he loved her daughter, and that Mary returned the partiality. It was contrary to every doctrine of hers that difference of fortune should keep any couple asunder who were attracted each to the other.

Matthew Ferrars was too diffident to do justice to himself but when his natural shyness was overcome, his behaviour gave every indication of an open, affectionate heart. His understanding was good, and his education had given it solid improvement. But he was neither fitted by abilities nor disposition to be what his mother and sister wished, which was to enter into parliament, or to see him connected with some of the great men of the day. But Matthew had no turn for parliament or great men. All his wishes centred in the quiet of private life. Fortunately he had a younger brother who was more promising.

"I think it a pity, Mary," said Edith, "that Matthew should have no taste for drawing."

"No taste for drawing!" replied Mary, "why should you think so? He does not draw himself, but he has great pleasure in seeing the performances of other people, and he is not deficient in taste. Had he had such tutorage as we did, I think he would have drawn very well."

Edith was afraid of offending, and said no more on the subject; but she honoured her sister for her partiality to Matthew that produced such a defence.

"Do not be offended, Mary, if my praise of him is not in every thing equal to your sense of his merits. I think him every thing that is worthy and amiable."

"Some people may not call him handsome," continued Mary, "until they apprehend the expression of his eyes, which are uncommonly good, and the general sweetness of his countenance. I think him really handsome; what say you, Edith?"

"I shall very soon think him handsome, Mary, when you tell me to love him as a brother."

Mary started at this declaration, and was sorry for the warmth she had betrayed in speaking of him. Matthew stood very high in her opinion. She believed the regard to be mutual; but she required greater certainty of it to confirm Edith's conviction of their attachment. She tried to explain the real state of the case to her sister.

"I do not attempt to deny," said she, "that I think very highly of him—that I greatly esteem him, that I like him."

Edith here burst forth with indignation—

"Esteem him! Like him! Cold-hearted Mary! Oh! worse than cold-hearted! Ashamed of being otherwise. Use those words again, and I will leave the room this moment."

Mary could not help laughing. "Be assured," said she; " that I meant no offence to you by speaking in so quiet a way of my feelings. Believe them to be stronger than I have declared. But farther than this you must not believe. There are other points to be considered besides his inclination. He is very far from being independent. What his mother really is we cannot know; but, from Sarah's occasional mention of her opinions, I doubt she is amiable; and I believe Matthew himself is aware that there would be many difficulties in his way, if he were to wish to marry a woman who had neither a great fortune nor high rank."

Edith was astonished to find how much the imagination of her mother and herself had outstripped the truth.

"And you really are not engaged to him?" said she. "Yet it certainly soon will happen."

Mary had given her real opinion to her sister. She could not consider her partiality for Matthew in so prosperous a state as Edith had believed it. Nay, the longer they were together the more doubtful seemed the nature of his regard; and sometimes, for a few painful minutes, she believed it to be no more than friendship.

But whatever it might be, it was enough, when perceived by his sister, to make her uneasy and uncivil. She took the first opportunity of affronting her mother-in-law, talking to her so expressively of her brother's great expectations, of Mrs. Ferrars's resolution that he should marry well, and of the danger attending any young woman who attempted to marry him for fortune alone; that Mrs. Crawley could not endeavour to be calm. She marked her contempt, and instantly resolved that, whatever might be the inconvenience or expense of so sudden a removal, her beloved Mary should not be exposed another week to such insinuations.

It was then that a letter was delivered to her, which contained a proposal particularly well timed. It was the offer of a house belonging to a relation of hers. He understood that she was in need of a dwelling; and offered her this cottage. He seemed really anxious to accommodate them. She needed no time for deliberation or inquiry. Her resolution was formed as she read. She instantly wrote Sir Charles Carson her acknowledgment of his kindness, and her acceptance of his proposal.

No sooner was her answer dispatched, than Mrs. Crawley indulged herself in the pleasure of announcing to her son-in-law and his wife that she was provided with a house, and should incommode them no longer. They heard her with surprise. Mrs. Joseph Crawley said nothing; but her husband civilly hoped that she would not be settled far from Downton. She had great satisfaction in replying that she was going to the west of the county—Matthew turned hastily towards her, on hearing this, and, in a voice of surprise and concern, which required no explanation to her, repeated, "Are you going so far from hence!?"

She offered a very affectionate invitation to Mr. Matthew Crawley to visit her at Barton. Mr. Joseph Crawley told his mother how exceedingly sorry he was that she had taken a house at such a distance from Downton as to prevent his being of any service to her in removing her furniture, which included a handsome pianoforte of Edith's.

In a very few weeks, everything was settled in their future abode as to enable Mrs. Crawley and her daughters to begin their journey.