by Sir Christopher Hatton – the favorite of Elizabeth I – is said to have been the best dancer in England; he caught the Queen’s eye at a ball for the first time, displaying a lively galliard. Could he match Barry Keoghan’s liberating moves in the Netflix movie Saltburn? Who knows. But I like the idea of the ‘Dancing Chancellor’ driving through the halls of Holdenby, the Northamptonshire pile he built in case Elizabeth came to visit (which she never did).
Holdenby House – now an eighth of its original size, but still impressive – is just one of Northamptonshire’s colorful stately homes. Sitting on a rich limestone belt, separated by the main road from the north and close enough to go to court if you wanted to, but get away if you didn’t, this county of “spike and scourge” – although the more of a bypass at the residential masses. – is believed to have more such houses than any other.
“Around 55, depending on how you classify them,” says Laura Malpas of the Northamptonshire Heritage Forum. And only one – Canons Ashby – is run by the National Trust; many of them are still the homes of the descendants of the families who built them. So it was no surprise when director Emerald Fennell was looking for an unknown property to play Saltburn – the nameless house at the center of her riotous crack satire – she ended up here.
Filming took place at Drayton House, a top secret Baroque mansion, not open to the public. “I’ve been working in heritage for 25 years and I’ve never had a sniff of it,” says Laura. However, despite remaining largely privately owned, most of Northamptonshire’s finest houses welcome visitors, if only for a limited time.
Indeed, far from languishing in summers of murder and mayhem, they give tours of their laundries, host ABBA tribute bands and re-enact the Battle of Naseby. This is partly because they want to share and contextualize their homes, according to Laura: “If the heritage is to live on, it has to stay relevant”. And it’s partly because they can’t afford to be without it.
“On a beautiful day, you walk around and you feel lucky,” Holdenby’s current owner, James Lowther, tells me. “Then I see the bills and I go into deep gloom…”
According to the Historic Houses Association, a co-operative of over 1,400 independently owned properties in Britain, its members are estimated to have a repair backlog of £2 billion. It is a constant battle to keep these places standing; money is spent on sorting dry rot and specialist brooms to clean medieval chimneys, not on wild parties like Saltburn.
“That doesn’t mean you can’t still enjoy it,” says James. After all, his home is stunningly beautiful, with Grade I listed gardens and over 500 years of stories. For example, Charles I was held under house arrest here for five months in 1647. “We put a plaque to mark where he was when Cromwell’s men took him away,” says James. “You can stand there yourself. You never get used to that feeling.”
Holdenby was used for filming – it was Satis House in the BBC’s Great Expectations. But Deene Park, a large Tudor-Georgian house, was home to the 7th Earl ‘Charge of the Light Brigade’ Cardigan, who is famous at Saltburn. “We are the one in the film that yes open to the public,” says Charlotte Brudenell, current owner of Deene.
“Drayton doesn’t have a lake!” (They used Deena’s for the film’s stone-throwing scene.) The Brudenells saw Saltburn in the cinema; they waited to see if they were in the credits and got locked in.
“I know a lot of people who live in houses like that who don’t,” insists Charlotte. “We are all struggling to keep the roof on. Not part of frivolity and champagne flowing.”
Maybe they are not now. But Deene has plenty of good stories in his back catalogue. Like the women of Adeline, the second wife of the 7th Earl, who delighted the multitude of visitors by climbing into a coffin and asking to be admired; her gossipy memoir, My Recollections, delved into the gambling habits and love affairs of the aristocracy.
Then there are the discoveries. In the 1970s, an estate inventory found a copy of Magna Carta (sold for $1.5 million). Less lucrative, Charlotte has recently discovered some pigskin prophylactics, dating back to 1900 – “they’re huge!” she says.
These are the kinds of details we love today: the dirty secrets, the crazy relationships, the maintenance involved. “Yes, you visit to see the art but also to see the lives,” agrees Charles Lister, property manager at Boughton House. “People are looking at history in different ways, and they’re inspired by TV and film.”
Boughton was built in 1528 and greatly extended by the Duke of Montagu in 1695, who sought to bring the French victory to the British countryside – it is known as the ‘English Versailles’. Les Misérables and, more recently, Napoleon, were filmed here. It’s exciting, but challenging, making sure the house is protected, says Charles.
Boughton was essentially derelict for 200 years, escaping the damaging modernization of the Victorian period, so it is one of Britain’s best-preserved stately homes. It has a valuable art collection and, in 2024, the Louis Chéron ceilings in the State Rooms will undergo extensive restoration.
“We only open on selected dates, mainly for conservation reasons,” explains Charles. “One emits the heat of a 100w bulb, breathing increases the humidity. We want people to enjoy the place, but sustainably.”
James Saunders-Watson opens Rockingham Castle at least 50 days a year. He admits that sometimes it’s nice to have the wonderland to himself, but, ultimately, “these places have to be loved”. Continuously inhabited for nearly a thousand years, Rockingham has been home to his family for 450 years. Although the first generation is perhaps less practical. “For our Christmas event, it was so wet we had to close the car park and run buses. My wife, Lizzie, and I were the only team qualified to drive them, so we were doing coach tours.
Rockingham offers visitors variety. The gardens are open for snowdrop displays, theater and a new Dinosaur Day. Inside there are impressive rooms and important portraits, but also much of British art in the 20th century. “My great-uncle was a fanatical collector,” says James. “We have a lot of modern pictures hanging in old places.”
This is one of the comforts of the private state house, according to him. “It’s not pickled in aspic, you get the full color of the story, the people, the thread of life.”
Even if, now, that story is usually less about evicting a billionaire, and more about how you pay the heating bill.
