Just east of Charlottesville, Va., in the foothills of the Blue Ridge Mountains, Keswick Hall at Monticello stands as a testament to the power of fantasy.
From the outside, it's a villa in Tuscany. Indoors, it is something else again -- a 48-room luxury hotel decked out in Laura Ashley fabrics and an eclectic collection of antiques, offering a lifestyle experience most often associated with the rich and famous.
For $330 -- the price for a room with unlimited one-day golfing for one -- we get breakfast free, so Keswick could be defined as a B&B.; But this is no just-folks kind of place. The illusion it promotes is of a country house in England; in fact, it refers to itself as a "country house hotel" and boasts of its membership in the Small Luxury Hotels of the World, a tony trade group. It was also included on Conde Nast Traveler's 1998 Gold List and The Golfer magazine's top 100 golf resorts list.
Allusion is involved here, too. Keswick Hall is not really "at" Monticello. It's a 600-acre estate in Keswick, Va., almost 10 highway miles away from the "little mountain" where Thomas Jefferson built his famous home. One can only imagine the strongly worded declaration Jefferson might have penned if he had known this highly polished pursuit of happiness English style would one day be attributed to his very doorstep.
"At Monticello," tacked onto Keswick Hall when it was sold along with a sister property -- the Inn at Perry Cabin in St. Michaels -- to Orient-Express in May, does, however, strike a historical note, hinting at Continental sophistication along with American gentility.
Actually, Keswick has some history of its own: The original building, known as Villa Crawford, for its owner, was built in 1912. Its expansion and incarnation as a hotel, in the small Ashley House chain, began in 1990.
The Laura Ashley fabrics and wall coverings still testify to the previous owner, as does the Ashley logo on the thick terry bathrobes waiting for us in the bathroom. The English country-house theme is an Ashley holdover as well.
The little play in which we have the role of guests begins immediately. As we enter the grounds, the gatehouse guard is calling the hotel to announce our arrival. A nice young woman named Kim greets us at the door, says she'll have the bellman bring up the luggage, take the golf bag to the adjacent Kes-wick Club -- a private country club with an Arnold Palmer-designed course, which is one of the reasons we've come -- and park the car. The car is new; we hand over the keys without a backward glance.
There's no reception desk at Keswick. Instead, Kim shows us the unremarkable office, tucked back from a corridor paved with terra-cotta tiles from a French chateau, where we will eventually pay for our pleasures. Along that same hallway, she shows us the similarly unobtrusive elevator, its door painted to look like a wooden one with an old-fashioned handle.
It's before the 3 p.m. check-in, and our room is not quite ready; but neither are we. The drive from Baltimore has taken 3 1/2 hours, almost all of it on U.S. Route 29. We had hoped to visit Monticello and have lunch at Michie Tavern, but when we reached Charlottesville there wasn't enough time for both. So we just pushed on, saving the tourist stops for our return trip.
Hungry now, but anticipating the free teatime, which also begins at 3 p.m., we go to the club for something light. Appetizer-size portions of cold poached salmon on mesclun, topped with black-bean salsa, are simply exquisite. It would be a lovely lunch but for the squealing toddler whose apparent grandmother tries, without much success, to entertain her by throwing a napkin over her head for a peculiar game of peekaboo.
The lunchtime disruption is one of the reasons we will not even blink at the price of dinner at the hotel that evening, in a room where gentlemen wear jackets, even in the summer; waiters speak with French accents; and the parents of children under 12 have respectfully been asked to feed them somewhere else.
Before we dine, however, we do tea, just like the Brits. Another guest, a woman who has been to English country houses where owners have had to take in paying company, tells us it is exactly thus. Teatime dainties are set out on a sideboard -- scones and lemon curd, whipped cream and made-leines. Sherry and stemware are nearby. We repair with our plates to a sunny-colored lounge and a waiter, after asking discreetly for our room number, pours tea, the real thing, with a little strainer set over the cup to catch the leaves.
A postprandial stretch of time -- or perhaps it's preprandial, because the next scheduled event is dinner -- seems to call for calorie-burning activity. Sweating is not something one does in the hotel itself, but temporary membership in the club is one of the perks. Larry, my husband, heads for the indoor-outdoor pool. I hit the fitness room for half an hour on the stair machine and treadmill, shower in the locker room and then join him in the water. It is a Thursday afternoon, right before a holiday weekend, and we are all alone.
When I ask about the lack of people, the bellman tells me that even when the hotel is full -- it clearly is not now -- guests have that same feeling of privacy. Still it is a little disheartening to find, after being advised to make dinner reservations well in advance, that the hotel dining room is half-empty. We join a couple we met at tea, and they tell us they didn't even reserve their room till two days prior.
Still, it is a fine meal, beautifully presented. On outsized plates, our portions appear small but are certainly adequate. Everything is artfully arranged and made with ingredients I can't pronounce much less describe. Pretty little sauce puddles add color as well as flavor.
Appetizers are preceded by a wee portion of bay scallops snuggled on a bed of thin-sliced cucumber and topped with caviar. Raspberry sorbet clears the palate for the entrees; my wild rockfish is superb, and Larry's red snapper is nothing short of divine. Desserts -- Larry's is a banana-filled pastry, mine a cold, creamy confection with balsamic-kissed berries on the side -- seem to disappear off our plates of their own accord.
All of this culinary glory has a price -- actually a prix fixe: $58 per person without wine and not counting tax or tip. By the time we finish, we've signed away $146. Not paid it, you understand; crass cash and credit cards are superseded by a signature on the bill, which will be settled at checkout time.
There's no evening entertainment, but going early to bed is no hardship when the bed in question is a six-pillowed king in a room that also holds a pair of comfy chairs, an armoire, a desk and a modern TV with a full range of cable channels.
Besides, we've got an early call next morning. Larry's tee time, also reserved in advance, is at 8:50 a.m. I have a more leisurely breakfast, and dawdle over coffee, reading newspapers. There's a stack of them, all free for the taking.
I have a morning to kill and a range of options. For free I can borrow a Keswick bike and helmet or return to the pool or exercise room. For a fee, I can play golf or tennis, get a facial or a massage, have my legs waxed or my body polished, take an aerobics class or enjoy the attentions of a personal trainer.
In the end, I take advantage of Keswick's unhurried ambience and do -- nothing. This place would be heaven, I think, for honeymooners or other romantics looking for a memorable spot to celebrate. And those seeking a quick respite from the demands of an over-full life could easily enjoy a splurge here.
Even at my leisurely pace, the morning flies by. I walk a little, enjoy the gardens, chat awhile with our dinner companions of the night before, check out (and find a $114.95 extra charge on the bill, which is quickly removed). And then I just sit, sampling sofas in the various quiet public rooms in hotel and club.
There are so many of them that Larry spends half an hour trying to find me when he finishes his golf game. A self-described duffer, he's found it a difficult course. "Everyplace but the fairways the grass is about 5 inches tall. If you don't hit the ball into the fairways, you don't get any roll. It just stops dead, and you have to hit it out of the grass."
With all that whacking about, he's worked up a thirst; wandering around the hotel, he's looking not just for me but for a Coke. Ever watchful, a Keswick employee offers to get him one. The price: $4. Plus tip.
WHEN YOU GO ...
Getting there: Keswick Hall at Monticello is at 701 Club Drive, Keswick, Va. To get there, take your favorite route to Interstate 495 (Washington Beltway), exit onto Interstate 66 west to Gainesville, Va., then take U.S. 29 south to Charlottesville. From there, go east on U.S. 250 to Shadwell; left on state Route 22 east for 1.5 miles; and turn right onto Route 744. Keswick Hall is right ahead.
Rates: $175 to $595, depending on the room, time of the year (midsummer and midwinter are low seasons), day of the week, package deals.
Costs: Be prepared for extra expenses such as food, tips, taxes and, if you indulge, spa fees. An 18-hole round of golf costs $100 plus taxes and tips. When lunch, dinner, tips and taxes were added up, our $330 package came to $542.81.
Information: Call 800-274-5391 or visit the Web site: www.keswick.com.
Nearby n Monticello is on Route 53, Charlottesville, Va. Call 804-984-9822 or visit the Web site: www.monticello.org. Admission: $9, $5 for children age 6 to 11.
Michie Tavern, 683 Thomas Jefferson Parkway (Route 53), near Monticello. Call 804-977-1234. Lunch in the "ordinary" costs $10.50 for all you can eat of vegetables and fried chicken; beverage, dessert and sales tax are extra. Tours of the tavern are $6 for adults, $2 for children, $5.50 for senior citizens, students and military personnel.
Ash Lawn-Highland, home of James Monroe, on James Monroe Parkway, Charlottesville. Call 804-293-9539 or visit the Web site: http://avenue. org/ashlawn. Admission: $7 for adults; $4 for children age 6 to 11; $6.50 for senior citizens.
Montpelier, home of James Madison, at 11407 Constitution Highway, Montpelier Station, Va. Call 540-672-2728 or visit the Web site: www.montpelier.org.
Pub Date: 07/25/99