Move over Cinderella! There’s a new princess in town and she’s ready to take over this castle. Yeah, I’m  feeling my oats as I drive up the winding, tree-lined driveway to Waterford Castle on Ballinakill Island in Waterford, Ireland.

The luxe lifestyle

After months of planning this adventure, and two days of crazy travels, I’m ready to spend the next 24 hours ensconced in a beautiful castle. The two-hour drive from the picturesque harbor town of Kinsale is harrowing for an American who isn’t versed in driving on the opposite side of the road and the opposite side of the car. By the time I reach Waterford, I can feel the quiet stillness and serenity of the countryside begin to permeate my being.

The island on which the castle is built was given to Maurice Fitzgerald, a cousin of Strongbow, the Earl of Pembroke, in the late 12th Century. The land remained in the possession of the Fitzgerald family for eight centuries, one of the longest records of ownership in Ireland’s long and colorful history.

In the 15th Century, some of the Fitzgerald family erected a tower, which currently exists as the main part of the castle. Various additions and renovations took place over the years and by 1895 the East and West wings were added. Eventually, the narrow window slits, originally intended for shooting arrows at invaders, were reworked and now fills the castle with natural light.

To reach the castle, one must first navigate congested traffic, mind-bending roundabouts and a tidy residential section before reaching the castle’s own ferry that carries visitors not only across the River Suir, but also centuries back in time. As I drive the wee car onto the boat, I know I’m heading toward 24 hours of luxury.

The history of Waterford Castle

I emerge from the shaded, meandering driveway to see the ivy-covered stone castle, with its majestic roofline that evokes memories of medieval battles, with sentries standing guard. The arched, heavy oak wood doors add warmth and are a warm, welcome contrast to the otherwise cold stone structure.

The jaw-dropping elegance doesn’t stop at the door. The Entrance Hall of the castle, where a tiny check-in desk is discreetly nestled in a corner, is pure opulence. In the center of the room, woven into the regal burgundy carpet, is the Fitzgerald coat of arms, with its vivid colors of blue, red, yellow and white. The symbols in the crest represent the family’s hospitality, graciousness in victory, generosity and nobility. There’s even a monkey, which, according to family lore, was a beloved pet who rescued one of the Fitzgerald children during a fire.

The fire blazes on this chilly day, crackling in the massive Portland stone fireplace. On the facade above, the Fitzgerald coat of arms is dramatically replicated in stone. Cozy, overstuffed sofas and chairs are strewn about the large room with dark mahogany antique tables, settees and cabinets, creating quiet nooks for reading, conversation or simply enjoying the roaring fire.

Our porter is an elderly man by the name of Rudy, whom, my traveling companion remarks, looks as if he came with the castle. The spry gent quickly unloads our luggage and shows us to The Browne Room, our quarters for the night. The 310-acre estate has five suites and 14 rooms for guests.

Cheery, English-inspired botanical prints in hues of ivory, red and yellow decorate the bed and windows. The heavy, lined drapes are drawn to show a sight worthy of being captured in a postcard. Beyond the windows there are hundreds of shades of green in the lush landscape, through which the River Suit runs. The staff has thoughtfully provided bottled Irish spring water, both still and sparkling, and a delectable plate of fresh fruit.

But the gem of the suite, to this travel-weary chick, is the cavernous bathroom. There is a brass towel warmer, a six-foot long claw-foot tub, a thick Turkish terry cloth rob and luxurious bath gels and soaps. I know my night would end with a long soak in a hot tub.

Time for afternoon tea

After securing the luggage, I make my way to The Fitzgerald Room for tea time. Once again, I’m greeted by Rudy, who is my butler for the afternoon. Since there is only one other person in the room, I have my choice of any comfy sofa or chair. I settle into a secluded alcove that gives us a wonderful vista of the front lawn. Rudy ambles off to the kitchen to inform the chef of our plans, then returns to dress the coffee table with pristine, crisp linens, featuring a Celtic knot design woven throughout.

Atop the table, Rudy places all the accoutrements for our tea. First, he brings out translucent white Wedgwood bone china cups, saucers and tea plates. In the folded Irish linen napkins, he places highly polished Sheffield silver knives and forks. Then he meticulously and efficiently sets up our accompaniments–cream and sugar cubes, both brown and white, all in silver containers. Three small saucers hold our butter, currant jam and clotted cream-ready to drench and dress our freshly baked scones.

Then Rudy delivers a cloth-covered tray, bearing two squat silver pots, holding the deep amber-colored, smokey flavored tea. As we sit in awe of the cozy atmosphere he has created for us, he deftly strains two cups of tea through the silver strainer into the delicate bone china cups. Ahhhh, sweet nectar of the gods!

Our three-tiered silver tea-tray is laden with marvelous treats. On the topmost tier rests a duo of tall, puffed currant scones. The second tier holds an assortment of finger sandwiches including bacon, lettuce and tomato; ham and cheese; chicken with curried mayonnaise; and smoked salmon on Irish brown bread.

But the bottom tier is the piece de resistance: delectable desserts. There are two small ramekins of creme brûlée, wedges of orange-scented panna cotta and chocolate mousse.

Tourism brochures will tell you that in Ireland, you can experience four seasons in a day. It’s also well-known the at some point in the day, showers are likely to fall. While we sit enjoying our tea, we see both of these occur. We hear the winds whistling through the ancient trees, the skies darken with clouds, and raindrops began to pelt the panes. But within minutes, our parlor room is warm again with sunlight.

Take time to explore the grounds

After the relaxing and plenteous afternoon feast, it’s time to explore the grounds. We are given a map depicting the layout of the estate and the delineations of the golf course from the nature trail. I opt to meander among the ruins of old cottages and buildings scattered throughout the island. I wander along the trail, winding up on the banks of the River Suir and on to the greens of the golf course. The wind off the river is quite frigid, so the warmth of the fire back at the castle is a welcome treat.

We decide to skip dinner at the castle, although the kitchen boasts of having a wonderful chef. Tea had been filling and we face a long drive to Dublin the next day. After the above mentioned long, hot bath, I fall asleep with the fresh, cool Irish breezes wafting through the open window, listening to the rustling of the trees and resting my head atop a down-filled pillow.

Daylight delivers a beautiful spring day. Sunlight streams through the windows of the solarium where breakfast is served. The Irish believe in hearty morning meals. A cold buffet offers seasonal fresh fruits, nuts, fresh muffins, croissants, smoked salmon, cereals, yogurt and farmhouse cheeses. As if that is not enough, the wait staff can fetch anything we need for a hot breakfast from the kitchen. Soft piano music and the chirping of the birds outside the solarium are the perfect soundtrack to start the day.

A walk after breakfast awakens the senses and provides the opportunity for some photos. Too soon has the time come to leave this fairytale lifestyle. As I drive onto the ferry to leave the island, I glance back for one last look, wishing for time to stand still.