Supposedly, in The Gilded Age, Marian Brook is the story’s leading lady, placing more ambiguous characters, like Bertha Russell, in check with her conviction to be a strong woman in a time when a woman’s only goal was to secure a good marriage. And “good” didn’t necessarily mean happy — we know that well.

In the original synopsis of Season 1, Marian was introduced as the “main heroine,” a charming and strong young woman who wanted more than just marriage: she wanted to do something with her life. And now, as we enter the third phase of the story, we find a Marian who still holds these same principles, but who has clearly changed.

Created directly from the mind of Julian Fellowes, Marian is not like Lady Mary Crawley from Downton Abbey — a titled heiress. Instead, she is a small-town girl whose fate shifted when her father died, leaving her with only thirty dollars and no future prospects. With no other option, she agrees to live with two aunts she had never met before. That’s how she arrives in New York.

In terms of literary references, Marian seems more like a character from Henry James than from Edith Wharton, with strong echoes of Isabel Archer from The Portrait of a Lady, which is unsettling, given the suffering Isabel endures. For those unfamiliar with the classic, Isabel is a smart, curious, and idealistic young American who travels to Europe seeking independence and self-discovery. After unexpectedly inheriting a fortune, she believes she can shape her own destiny and rejects conventional marriage proposals. However, her choices — especially marrying the manipulative Gilbert Osmond — lead her down a path of pain and personal growth. Isabel is a complex portrait of the struggle between freedom and societal pressures, between the desire to live fully and the limitations imposed by gender and culture.

The difference here is that, in Season 1, another James novel seemed to parallel Marian’s journey: Washington Square, whose heroine, Catherine Sloper, falls for Morris Townsend — a character eerily similar to Tom Raikes. The fact that Raikes eventually marries someone else breaks Marian’s heart, but also strengthens her.

Marian’s evolution throughout the series has been a joy to witness. Her confrontations with her aunt Agnes, conservative and opinionated, are inevitable — but what’s interesting is that, over time, Marian listens. She begins to understand society’s logic and even tries, reluctantly, to follow her aunt’s advice.

The timid, almost country-girl demeanor from the beginning — so ceremonious even within her own home — has given way to a young woman more at ease. After a sad life with a widowed and poorly managing father, she’s now surrounded by the love and care of her aunts and her cousin Oscar. We forget that Marian’s life wasn’t easy: she lost her mother at a young age and clearly dealt with her father’s alcoholism, something she alluded to subtly in Season 2.

Marian’s modernity lies in her admiration for Peggy Scott, who helped her in her darkest moment and who continues to support her with empathy. Marian wants to do something with her life, but lacks both talent and training — another parallel to Isabel Archer. Because of this, she still dreams of marrying for love (a radical idea for the time), but now understands that she cannot throw herself blindly into the arms of the next man — technically, the third.

The panic she experiences now makes sense given her trajectory: she questioned society’s judgment of her friend, Mrs. Chamberlain (who lived for years with her partner without marrying); she nearly eloped with Raikes; and in Season 2, she considered a marriage of convenience with the widower Dashiell Montgomery, only to call off the engagement when she realized it would smother her spirit.

Her affection for Larry Russell has been a long-held hope for fans of the show — but it was never going to be easy. While Marian has stronger family ties than Larry, he is the wealthy one — and she the poor relation. There are far more “suitable” women than Marian for the strategic marriages of the time, and the couple will have to face fierce opposition from Larry’s mother, Bertha Russell.

Knowing she has no room for further missteps, Marian is now insecure about Larry’s feelings. After all, love was not the cornerstone of marriage back then. Larry supports her teaching efforts, but he is financially dependent on his parents — and obedient to them as well. He will need great courage and rebellion to marry Marian, if that is truly what he wants. It remains uncertain.

For some time now, fans of Marian have been divided between those who believe she is secretly an heiress (because of railroad stocks allegedly left by her father) and those who think she truly has nothing. I belong to the first group — in fact, I’m one of the originators of that theory. It’s where I place my hope for a dramatic turn in The Gilded Age. Once again, I’m thinking of Isabel Archer.

The fact is that Bertha will try to separate Larry and Marian — and so far, she always gets what she wants. She knows about Marian’s past connection to Raikes, her broken engagement to Dashiell, and her lack of fortune. Even if Marian suddenly inherited the world, Bertha wouldn’t see her as worthy of her favorite son. That makes us fear for her.

There are a few material options to save the couple: either the railroad stocks turn out to be valuable (something Raikes dismissed), or Larry becomes wealthy through his partnership with Jack, giving him enough power to defy Bertha without hesitation — or perhaps both!

According to the synopses of Episodes 4, 5, and 6, Marian will not yet confront Bertha directly, but will grow increasingly anxious about Larry. Considering that Gladys gets married in Episode 4, could we still have another grand event by Episode 8?

I certainly hope so!

Analysis: How Has Marian Brook Changed in The Gilded Age?

Marian’s journey is, above all, a delicate process of maturation — one that doesn’t betray her essence, but rather deepens it. She begins as a romantic, somewhat naïve young woman searching for her place in the world, caught between youthful idealism and the suffocating norms of a society hostile to independent women. Across the seasons of The Gilded Age, her gaze becomes sharper, her choices more considered, her posture more firm — though still laced with doubt.

Marian learns from her mistakes: Raikes’s betrayal doesn’t make her bitter, but it teaches her to be more cautious. Her almost-marriage to Dashiell doesn’t destroy her faith in love, but shows her that freedom and respect matter too. Through Peggy, she discovers another version of America — one that teaches her more about privilege, race, and true friendship than her aunt Agnes ever could.

If at first Marian was a promise, now she is a woman in the making, living out the eternal dilemma of Henry James’s heroines: freedom comes at a cost — and is rarely welcomed by the world around you. Perhaps her greatest transformation lies in this: she still wants to make something of her life, even when the world keeps offering her very little.

The beauty of The Gilded Age lies precisely in how its female characters shape themselves within an age that sought to limit them. Marian hasn’t become Bertha, or Peggy, or Agnes — but has found within herself a little of each. And that quiet complexity, far from loud protagonism, is what makes her one of the show’s most intriguing and — paradoxically — modern figures.