Is this an alright description of an early 20th century gothic mansion – for novel?
“My family enjoys their privacy,” replied Christopher as they began to pull past the black, spike-tipped, wrought iron fencing, through the open gate into the long, winding driveway. Slowly driving up the steep hill the house resided upon, the driver admired the Romanesque three story mansion, externally structured with stone and granite, accented by black iron lancet windows. Pulling around the circular driveway, passing the two story carriage house, the driver couldn’t help but enquire about the manor. “Boy,” he sighed, staring up at the gigantic residence. “How big is this place?”“Almost seven-thousand square feet,” replied Christopher. “Twenty rooms. Not including the servants quarters, of course,” a detectable air of snobbish supremacy apparent in his tone. “You really should lock up that gate. Wouldn’t want any trespassers if this was my place,” the driver commented. “But this kind of big mansion is too much for me. Bet I’d lose myself in there. But, to each their own, I guess,” he smiled, his stare still fixed on the mansion. “That’ll be fifty cents, sir.”“Fifty cents?” repeated Christopher, ignoring the drivers former comment. “A cent doesn’t go very far anymore, does it,” he grumbled, pulling change from his pocket and counting it out. Handing the cab driver the fifty cents exactly, he exited the taxi and began to walk towards his house. “Sir! I think you’re forgetting something!” the taxi driver shouted as he opened his door to get out of the car. Christopher turned around to realize he had forgotten the basket in the back Wrought iron staircase pictures seat of the taxi in his haste to make his way inside. “Pardon me,” he excused himself, as he walked back as the taxi driver pulled the basket from the seat and handed it to him.“Guess all that lawyer business takes up all your mind,” the driver laughed. “Yes,” Christopher forced a grin. “Goodnight”. With this, he once again turned around and made his way up the screened veranda’s steps and set the basket down to fetch the heavy metal keys from his briefcase. Unlocking the heavy iron double front door, Christopher stepped in and breathed a deep sigh of relief. The manor’s familiar musk pleased his sense; he had not been home in nearly two weeks. During the term of his wife’s hospital stay, he opted to live at his office, which housed all necessary amenities for comfort. He had had the architect design it years ago in mind he may enjoy extended breaks of privacy from his wife—before he was even formally courting any lady. Inside the manor, the walls were wainscoted gray marble; the floors covered in dark tile; the fourteen-foot ceiling of the first floor presented in pressed tin. The dark colors and lancet windows gave the mansion a sinister, daunting, feel, Christopher thought; a concept he had adopted as a young boy when he and his mother first moved in seventeen years prior. The principal story of the residence was comprehended first by the grand entrance lobby and staircase, which led to the chamber story. Through the entrance lobby led a hallway, which led to a subsequent lobby comprised of three sets of double doors facing south, east, and west, which lead to the dining room, basement, and picture gallery, which was casually used as a billiard room for company, respectively. The dining room also communicated to another set of double doors which led outside towards the separate kitchen and servant’s quarters, which was comprised of a small, two-story stone dwelling.In the basement, a large library formed an inner apartment connected to the drawing room of the same dimensions. Also housing two bed chambers, a gentleman’s room and home office—which also functioned as a bed chamber, dressing room and bath house—the basement came to function as an area for Christopher to seclude himself from the rest of the household. It had become his private oasis, ventured into only by himself and his private company. The most notable feature of the library, possibly of the mansion itself, was the gigantic Tudor fireplace, above which the previously residing inhabitant’s family crest hung. The large crimson crest held the motto ‘Sod the Poor’ inscribed in Latin. Often asked by company why he chose to keep the family crest which was not even his own hanging in his residence, Christopher would chuckle and say that he “couldn’t argue with their sense,” in a joking manor. The chamber story consisted of ten rooms: five bed chambers, three dressing rooms, and two drawing rooms. The master room was located at the end of the long hallway, an extended distance from the guest bedrooms—one of which had been remodeled by his wife to accommodate the expected children. The house was decorated with gothic accents of black crystal chandeliers and candlesticks, which did very little for the manor’s actual lighting. Horrible, leering portraits of Tudor worthies which used to scare Christopher as a boy covered the walls.
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