And so is the room, which is spacious and dominated by a lofty four-poster king, at the foot of which stretches a fabulous large fainting couch. Which I plan to spend a lot of time on, maybe thumbing through the copy of “Jane Eyre” thoughtfully placed on the nightstand, or taking in the movie — the corner secretary holds a DVD of the 1943 Joan Fontaine and Orson Welles version; the best! Except that every time I turn around, my husband’s stretched out on the darned thing. Hmmph. Who knew that a man could feel so faint?
Obviously, the room puts him in a dreamy mood, because every chance he gets, he also turns on the fireplace. It’s gas, but it adds to the pretty atmosphere in the low-lit space, and romance is all about atmosphere, isn’t it? Plus, the flames actually throw some good heat; so pleasant on a nippy night.
But the piece de resistance of our chambers, I have to admit, is the bathroom. Or “the bathroom, the bathroom, the bathroom,” as one former occupant rhapsodizes in the guest book. “Nothing more needs to be said.”
So I’ll just say: automatic toilet with heated seat and self-raising lid (plus some other nifty features; just use your imagination), toiletries with a scent personalized for our room (heather), irradiated floor, heated towel rack, huge walk-in shower with multiple spray jets and — ta-da! — a grand and curvaceous copper tub. What could be more romantic?
“I could sleep in that tub,” says the wife of the other couple staying the night (the ones who stole Nick and Nora!). We meet them over wine and hors d’oeuvres in the lounge and have a nice chat before my husband and I head out for dinner. She’s “a huge Nora Roberts fan” who’s read all the author’s books; the weekend at the inn is her husband’s birthday gift to her. We commiserate about the lack of closets in our rooms — there are just hooks on the bathroom door — which does seem an odd oversight, but the only one we can think of.
When we come back from dinner, everyone — Ellen, Nick and Nora, and Linda, the night innkeeper — is gathered around the island in the kitchen, having more wine and chatting. We don’t mean to break up the party, but we sort of do. But that’s okay, because then Linda says, “Would you like to see the other rooms?” Would we!
And so she takes us to Marguerite and Percy (“The Scarlet Pimpernel”), Elizabeth and Darcy (the haunt, it turns out, of Lizzy, the ghost in Roberts’s trilogy of novels about the inn; if I’d known this room had a ghost. . . !), and Eva and Roarke (from Roberts’s own J.D. Robb “In Death” mystery series).
They’re all different, and all fantastic. As are the two suites on the third floor, which Lea, the friendly housekeeper (everyone’s so friendly!), kindly shows us the next morning after breakfast, before we check out — and a full house checks in for Saturday night. Totally awesome. I think I even like the fireplace in Westley and Buttercup (“The Princess Bride”) better than ours.
But then again, I don’t know. Let me think about it.
As I said, it’s a tough choice.
1 N. Main St.
Rooms from $225 weekdays and from $255 weekends. Includes breakfast and other amenities.