(FORTUNE Magazine) – New money. In certain circles, no two words--except perhaps "Anna Nicole"--induce such horror and contempt.

Was Mr. Francis Silas Rodgers, a cotton merchant, considered new money when he built his Charleston, S.C., mansion in 1886? Probably: Old money rarely tries this hard to impress. And impress Wentworth Mansion does, especially after the meticulous renovation necessary to turn it into a 21-room inn. Five stories high and loaded with the kind of architectural details you don't see often in the U.S., at least outside of Newport, R.I., the place gleams. Polished wood, polished tiles, polished Tiffany glass--if you stand still long enough, you risk being the victim of a hit-and-run spit shine.

Did it work? Did Mr. Rodgers find acceptance in Charleston society? Impossible to say. But if you were he--wait, for as long as you stay at Wentworth, you are Mr. Rodgers. You have his magnificent mansion and a crackerjack staff. And as to whether Old Charleston considers you worthy of its acquaintance or not, one thing's clear: Frankly, you don't give a damn.

--Erik Torkells