I arrived on Herbert's arm, a place where I had begun to feel more comfortable. His patience with my mother and her grand schemes for our wedding only strengthened my fondness for him.
“My word,” he whispered, breathless, as we walked in, but, in truth, there were no words for what we saw.
The white terra cotta bricks that formed the exterior made the mansion look like something out of ancient Greece. To step inside was to step into a wonderland. The firm of Stanford and White modeled the cottage based on Louis XIV's Grand Trianon Palace at Versailles, but we never expected this…this was a palace in its own right.
Herbert and I walked about the H-shaped mansion as if we were tourists visiting a European palace of old. Through the arched entryway, painted ceilings rose twenty feet above
