Concealed in a dense arboreal garden of palms, cypresses, myrtle, bay and lentiscs, lies a secret world, the world of Alc�ntara.

Here the family had their private shooting box; and on a bright crisp winter's day, they would retire from shooting partridge to indulge in the simple pleasure of a country fireside, glittering copas of cooled Tio Pepe, or amber oloroso, and a homely lunch of hot sopa de ajos, eggs from the farm hens, gently fried in olive oil, or perhaps some spinach or Swiss chard grown between the vineyards on the hills behind the house.

There are only nine extremely comfortable rooms. All are decorated subtly in pale earth colours which reflect the hills of the huge estate behind the house. Here and there is a reminder that the property still belongs to the family; a photograph, an antique chest of drawers, a painting or an embroidery.

Upstairs, the rooms have steeply beamed roofs, and all the bathrooms in the house have delicately veined white marble surrounds, painted wooden panelled dados, and large shower roses (with decent water-pressure behind them!)