In its 28 well-appointed rooms, the likes of Richard Smith’s technicolor pop-art prints (discovered among the bric-a-brac in Chatsworth’s nurseries) and Phyllida Barlow lithographs from the Hepworth Wakefield hang beside four-poster beds flanked with stacks of Enid Blyton paperbacks, while the common areas are dotted with paperwhites and hyacinths grown in the estate’s greenhouses and hand-thrown lamps by Joe Heath, a local potter and member of the main household’s staff.
Checking in on a late summer afternoon (albeit a lightly drizzly one—this is Derbyshire, after all), it felt a little like stepping into a well-to-do friend’s cozy farmhouse, with the audible crackle of a fireplace in the next room and a gentle hum of conversation and clinking teacups drifting through from the garden room dining area. After being handed an enormous old-fashioned key, we were led along the rambling corridors (the building was first acquired by the estate in the early 19th century, when it served as a coaching inn before being converted into a hotel by the Devonshire family in 1975) and up to our room, which was revealed after pushing back the doors covered in a green felt that recalled a vintage snooker table.
Inside, the space was decorated with Harding’s signature blend of country house charm—think antique four-poster beds with Princess and the Pea-thick mattresses and chintzy wallpapers—as well as a few more modish touches, like zingy shades of electric blue and crimson, abstract paintings, and funky rotary-dial phones. But the real star of the show is the view offered from every room in the house, allowing you to momentarily imagine yourself as a character in a Jane Austen novel sit in your window, gazing across undulating fields and pockets of woodland. (You’ll want to go see them up close too, as the paths beyond will lead you to the main house at Chatsworth, which sits just a 20-minute walk away.)