The Courtyard
A walled inner garden — cool, leafy, paved in bluestone. A ceremony of forty, a cocktail hour of one hundred, the late-summer evening case-in-chief.
Intimate ceremonies in the courtyard or on the lawn. Receptions in the Refectory. Fifty-two rooms for the family — booked together, walked between in slippers, settled the morning after.
Most weddings here run a three-day shape — Friday's welcome, Saturday's main, Sunday's slow breakfast. We compose around that without insisting on it.
Guests check in through the afternoon; a relaxed welcome on the courtyard from six.
The ceremony, the cocktail hour, the long-table dinner, and the evening that runs as late as you like.
A slow breakfast for everyone still in the house before the road home.
Every ceremony venue has a contingency room. We don't charge to switch on the day — a Refectory ceremony is as graceful as a courtyard one in rain.
A walled inner garden — cool, leafy, paved in bluestone. A ceremony of forty, a cocktail hour of one hundred, the late-summer evening case-in-chief.
A south-facing lawn with a single oak. The kitchen brings out long tables for the cocktail hour; the ceremony arch sits against the valley.
The indoor private dining suite — daylight from the west, the cellar bar through the sliding door. The reception home in any season; the rain plan for the others.
Three working programmes — composed to be edited. None of these are packages in the heavy sense; they are starting shapes the planner walks you through and amends.
From confirmation through to the Sunday brunch the same three people walk the weekend with you. No package handovers, no third-party planners, no surprises.
Marina walks the planning from the first conversation. Twelve years at the property; the only person whose pen ever touches the run-sheet.
Iris writes the menus around the season and what the kitchen garden is doing. Dietaries reviewed in person at the tasting six weeks ahead.
Pere chooses the pours around your menu and budget. The cellar has two hundred and twenty bottles to work with; he treats it like a longer dinner.
Three names on shift across the weekend. They check the guests in, hold the luggage, pour the late coffee, and keep the lobby still after eleven.
Spend an afternoon with Marina. Walk the courtyard, the lawn, the Refectory and a luxury room. Stay for dinner if you like. No deposit until the run-sheet feels right.
Forty-eight people, three days, no one looked at a phone. The Sunday breakfast is the photograph we keep.