The honest answer is, probably, that nobody knows. However, the arrival on the scene of two notable properties—an early- Georgian gem in Wiltshire’s Chalke Valley and a restored 17th-century masterpiece near Chichester, West Sussex—may provide some clarity.
In 1947, following Broadway success and a new contract with film-maker Alexander Korda, the Society photographer, artist, stage and costume designer Cecil Beaton was looking to buy a house in the country. A friend, the writer Edith Olivier, introduced him to pretty, red-brick Reddish House in the village of Broad Chalke, eight miles from Salisbury. Instantly captivated, he readily agreed to buy it for £10,000. For the next 32 years, until his death in 1980, the house, described by Christopher Hussey as ‘an outstanding example of rustic Baroque’ (COUNTRY LIFE, March 21, 1957), was Beaton’s cherished country home, where he entertained his many friends from the worlds of the Arts, stage and screen. Among them was Greta Garbo, to whom he proposed marriage, inviting her to ‘build her nest’ here. The offer was politely declined.
Previously known as Littlecotes Farm, Reddish House was originally a farmhouse on lands given to Wilton Abbey by King Eadwig in 955 and transferred to Sir William Herbert after the Dissolution. From 1560, the manor farm was owned by the Reddish family of nearby Maiden Bradley, who sold it to a wealthy clothier, Jeremiah Cray, in 1696.
This story is from the June 17, 2020 edition of Country Life UK.
Start your 7-day Magzter GOLD free trial to access thousands of curated premium stories, and 9,000+ magazines and newspapers.
Already a subscriber ? Sign In
This story is from the June 17, 2020 edition of Country Life UK.
Start your 7-day Magzter GOLD free trial to access thousands of curated premium stories, and 9,000+ magazines and newspapers.
Already a subscriber? Sign In
Save our family farms
IT Tremains to be seen whether the Government will listen to the more than 20,000 farming people who thronged Whitehall in central London on November 19 to protest against changes to inheritance tax that could destroy countless family farms, but the impact of the good-hearted, sombre crowds was immediate and positive.
A very good dog
THE Spanish Pointer (1766–68) by Stubbs, a landmark painting in that it is the artist’s first depiction of a dog, has only been exhibited once in the 250 years since it was painted.
The great astral sneeze
Aurora Borealis, linked to celestial reindeer, firefoxes and assassinations, is one of Nature's most mesmerising, if fickle displays and has made headlines this year. Harry Pearson finds out why
'What a good boy am I'
We think of them as the stuff of childhood, but nursery rhymes such as Little Jack Horner tell tales of decidedly adult carryings-on, discovers Ian Morton
Forever a chorister
The music-and way of living-of the cabaret performer Kit Hesketh-Harvey was rooted in his upbringing as a cathedral chorister, as his sister, Sarah Sands, discovered after his death
Best of British
In this collection of short (5,000-6,000-word) pen portraits, writes the author, 'I wanted to present a number of \"Great British Commanders\" as individuals; not because I am a devotee of the \"great man, or woman, school of history\", but simply because the task is interesting.' It is, and so are Michael Clarke's choices.
Old habits die hard
Once an antique dealer, always an antique dealer, even well into retirement age, as a crop of interesting sales past and future proves
It takes the biscuit
Biscuit tins, with their whimsical shapes and delightful motifs, spark nostalgic memories of grandmother's sweet tea, but they are a remarkably recent invention. Matthew Dennison pays tribute to the ingenious Victorians who devised them
It's always darkest before the dawn
After witnessing a particularly lacklustre and insipid dawn on a leaden November day, John Lewis-Stempel takes solace in the fleeting appearance of a rare black fox and a kestrel in hot pursuit of a pipistrelle bat
Tarrying in the mulberry shade
On a visit to the Gainsborough Museum in Sudbury, Suffolk, in August, I lost my husband for half an hour and began to get nervous. Fortunately, an attendant had spotted him vanishing under the cloak of the old mulberry tree in the garden.
