Walking into the Orangery at Teffont House during the golden hour, the restaurant is glowing. Sunlight falls across cocktails the colour of spun sugar, spills on to a terrace trailing constellations of fleabane, and bounces off spoons sinking into raspberry trifles. What really gives the room its sparkle is none of these things, however, but the fact it’s packed with local people. On a warm June evening this new hotel, 10 minutes’ drive from the Wiltshire village of Tisbury, already feels embedded in village life.
It’s the latest venture of the Beckford Group, which runs a small clutch of West Country inns and restaurants, including the Talbot Inn in Mells and the Beckford Canteen in Bath. The company has carved a niche in modern rural hospitality, teaming unflashy furnishings (all chalky pink and moss green paintwork framed by antiques and contemporary art) with menus designed for greedy locavores and pricing that delivers an unstuffy demographic. Underpinning all of this is an ability to tap into local communities to create soul. With this, the Beckford Group’s first hotel, it is making that connection more explicit by labelling it as a “village”, rather than a country house hotel.
Rather than just point visitors towards nearby Stonehenge, Salisbury Cathedral or Stourhead Gardens, the guest guide recommends the village pilates teacher, and local people are actively encouraged to use the hotel’s walled garden and croquet court. Hospitality should flow both ways, explains Charlie Luxton, one of the group’s founders, when I meet him in the hotel’s bar. “There’s no sweeping drive taking you away from everything; the drive is the road into the village,” he says.
What a drive it is. Snaking down from the wide, open chalk downs of Cranborne Chase, the roads successively narrow. By the village of Teffont Evias itself, it’s down to a single track, tracing the line of a rare chalk stream and a long caterpillar of cloud-pruned hedging past rose and hollyhock-frilled cottages, deep in the Nadder valley.
Teffont House sits elegantly at the village’s heart. Part genteel stone dower house, part cuckoo clock, it was built in the 17th century but altered, in then voguish Swiss style, in the 19th century, its sedate bone structure spiked with gothic windows, chalet-style eaves and surprise carvings.
Inside are 17 bedrooms. Mine, number seven, looks out over the walled garden towards the church through soaring arched windows. Instead of oversized minibars and fluffy robes there are proper cups and saucers on a silver tea tray, a tiny decanter of vermouth with two vintage glasses and, in the bathroom, botanical Bramley toiletries.
Luxton tells me he drew inspiration from French auberges. “They are often owned by the same families for generations,” he says. “We can’t recreate that history but we can create that feeling. We come from a pub background, so we’ve taken what we’ve learned and become a bit smarter here. You can dress up and get a cocktail but it’s still low-key.”
Exploring the garden after dropping my bags, I discover two summer houses being installed: one stocked with watercolours and sketchbooks, the other with telescopes for making the most of the Nadder valley’s dark skies. Behind the kitchen garden, in a treatment cabin in the orchard, I have a facial that leaves me feeling as rosy-cheeked as the apples that will soon grow on the newly planted trees.
Georgie, my therapist, shares her Nadder valley tips. The hotel has two mapped walks, she says: one a village loop and one a five-mile ramble to sister inn the Beckford Arms (stroll over for lunch and the hotel will pick you up afterwards). Other options include a 45-minute hike to Dinton Park via an old coffin path over Teffont Common; order one of the hotel’s picnic lunches and sit in the shade of an oak tree for views of neoclassical Philipps House between bites of smoked trout and watercress sandwiches.
Visiting during a heatwave, I abandon my walking boots and drive over to Tisbury the following morning. Just 10 minutes away, this large village is Wiltshire’s answer to Bruton in Somerset, with an excellent bookshop, butcher and deli, a community-run pool and direct hourly trains from London. It’s also home to a gallery and cultural centre, Messums West, where the vast 13th-century monastic tithe barn at its centre is hosting artist Andrew Amondson’s Forest Cathedral installation before it tours England’s gothic cathedrals next year.
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Entering its yawning shade from the bright sunshine, the exhibition feels appropriately jungly in the still heat, and calmingly meditative. A soundscape loops a soporific medley of rushing water and bird calls, and kinetic leaf sculptures sway overhead, casting dappled sunlight on to the barn’s ancient timber ceiling.
On the way back to the hotel, I detour via Old Wardour Castle. This hulk of a hexagonal 14th-century fortress was blown up during the civil war and now stands as a picturesque ruin surrounded by landscaped parkland. Swallows fly in and out of the castle’s ravaged windows as I step inside its shell, while below it a fishing lake shimmers with waterlilies. A handful of visitors huddle in the cool, ferny damp of the castle’s 19th-century grotto, but I sit beneath an old cedar instead, watching the hot breeze stirring the branches and drowsily sweeping slits of sunshine across the shade.
The day is unfolding at a similarly snaily pace back at Teffont House, where guests are ordering slices of Victoria sponge or gentleman’s relish on toast soldiers from a “four o’clock” menu. Soon, Luxton hopes, guests will gather for five o’clock sherries, announced by the sounding of a brass gong. “That’s the fun of a small hotel,” he says. “You can do little things that surprise people.”
The big surprise at dinner is how many local people are there. Joining them for three courses, I wolf my way through a lightly spiced venison carpaccio dotted with sharp little kea plums, crisp-skinned chalk stream trout with buttery greens and a sauce peppered with briny little beads of roe, and a single, perfect scoop of strawberry sorbet.
Afterwards I wander up to the top of the garden. Dusk is falling, the moon rising and the soft clink of glasses from the terrace is harmonising with the calls of song thrushes. A sheep bleats somewhere in the distance, lights glint on in a cottage down the valley and, behind me, the woods on the ridge are darkening. Enfolded in the village, I feel truly part of it – albeit just for a night or two.
The trip was provided by Teffont House. Double rooms start at £155 B&B