The Master Bedroom

In the quiet turning of the eighteenth century, when this house first rose against the Rhode Island wind, rooms were shaped not simply for shelter, but for solace. The master bedroom of The Gem at Little Rest still carries that truth in its beams and floorboards, offering a retreat where history lingers as softly as morning light.

Here, beneath the gentle pitch of the colonial roofline, a tall four-poster bed stands like a sentinel of early American craftsmanship. Its posts, worn smooth by time, frame a space that feels both intimate and enduring, a reminder that generations once sought their rest beneath these very rafters.

Across the room, the original bedroom fireplace anchors the space, its stonework darkened by centuries of warming winter nights. It is a hearth in the truest sense, a companion to quiet conversations, to shared stories, to the simple comfort of watching firelight dance along the old boards.

The architecture itself bends toward romance. Low, sloping ceilings cradle the room in a sense of shelter. Wide plank floors, blackened with age and polished by footsteps long gone, stretch across the room like a living document—each board a page, each knot a punctuation mark in the story of the house.

A hanging lamp, suspended over the window, completes the scene. Its glow is soft, almost lantern-like, echoing a time before electricity reached this hillside. When lit at dusk, it casts a warm shimmer across the painted artworks that adorn the walls, creating the impression that the entire room has paused—breathing, remembering.

There is a tenderness here, unmistakable and deeply rooted. Couples have greeted mornings, whispered goodnights, and lived uncountable small, human moments within these walls. To step into this bedroom is to feel the romance of centuries—quiet, steady, and profoundly alive.

It is not merely a place to sleep.

It is a place to dream, in a home that has been dreaming since 1788.