The Daily Telegraph - Saturday - The Telegraph Magazine
Paradise regained
After his father was murdered and his brother died of a heart attack, it was left to the 12th Earl of Shaftesbury to inherit an impossibly crumbling ancestral estate. Finding hope among the ruins, he has poured his heart into its extensive, magnificent re
How tragedy led a New York DJ with sleeve tattoos to become the 12th Earl of Shaftesbury and restore his family’s stately home to its former glory. By Elizabeth Grice
Even as a boy, Nicholas Ashley-cooper felt the deep melancholy of his ancestral home in Dorset. No one had lived there for years. No one talked about it. Metal plates covering the gaping hole left by a demolished tower rattled eerily in the wind. He and his elder brother Anthony would race round the choked-up lake on bikes, abandonment all around. They knew that the sorry state of St Giles House, seat of the Earls of Shaftesbury since 1650, was something their father, also Anthony, the 10th Earl, did not wish discussed.
‘When I was young,’ says Nick, ‘I remember feeling it was a colossal job, almost an impossible one, and feeling quite happy that, as a second son, it was never going to become my problem because Anthony would inherit it. I thought: “Wow! I’m glad I’m not him.” I consciously parked any concerns I had about its future at the back of my mind and set about finding a path for myself elsewhere.’
The story of how he came to be, at 39, mastermind of one of the most dramatic historic house restorations in modern times, springs from a double tragedy that almost defies belief.
Two years apart, the brothers were close despite the wildly differing expectations imposed on them by birth and the laws of inheritance. They grew up together in Mainsail Haul, a comparatively modest dower house on the other side of the village from their ancestral home, and both went to Eton, but Nick, the rebellious one, left at 16, impatient to be out in the real world. ‘I was always pushing the boundaries, always wanting to get on. School for me was just about getting through.’
At Manchester University, studying economics and social policy, he started music promoting and worked for a nightclub. The experience set him up for New York, where he spent his early 20s building a career as a music promoter and DJ. Meanwhile Anthony, the diligent heir, prepared to take on a 5,700-acre estate and Grade-i ruin.
St Giles House had become a conservation cause célèbre, so close to collapse that architectural historians despaired of its rescue. The 10th Earl had despaired of it, too. Years of trying to save the house and make it habitable had come to nothing. With his second marriage – to the boys’ mother, Christina – also failing, he left Dorset and went to live in the south of France, where he eventually remarried. ‘He just wanted out,’ says Nick. ‘He had inherited at the age of 22 and had given his whole life to this place, and it was still defeating him. My brother and I felt a great sadness for my dad. He had a lot on his plate and it hadn’t worked out.’
In November 2004, the Earl went missing in the Côte d’azur. Alarm bells rang when he failed to turn up for a meeting about the estate because although it was well known that he suffered from alcoholism and depression, he was never unreliable. His body was found five months later
‘When I was young, I felt happy that, as a second son, the estate was never going to be my problem’
at the bottom of a ravine outside Cannes. He had been strangled at the behest of his Tunisian third wife, Jamila M’barek, a Playboy model turned prostitute whom he had been preparing to divorce. ‘We were so shocked,’ says Nick. ‘We knew he was in the hands of unsavoury people but we never felt his life was in danger.’
Nick says that his father’s generous nature made him vulnerable to fortune-hunters. He and his brother were aghast at the succession of unsuitable women who latched on to him in the south of France. ‘There had been real concern, given his fragile state of mind, that he would take the whole estate off the cliff,’ he admits. ‘We saw her [M’barek] taking advantage of him and that was upsetting, seeing it unfold so clearly and not being able to do anything. I met her once. It confirmed all my fears. She just saw him as an opportunity.’
At the trial, Nick accused her face-to-face of being manipulative and scheming. ‘You caused the death of an innocent man,’ he said, ‘and you caused my family a lifetime of hurt.’ Has he gone some way to expunging that hurt? ‘I’m not sure,’ he says. ‘I don’t think those things ever stop hurting. I have moved on, though, to focus on my own life.’
M’barek and her brother Mohammed, who had committed the murder, were both found guilty and given 25-year jail sentences. On appeal, hers was reduced to 20 years. For Nick, the details were hard to hear. Looking back, he says, ‘The most important thing that came out of the trial was that my father was found, brought home and laid to rest in a dignified way, surrounded by family, friends and those who knew and loved him.’
Anthony became the 11th Earl at the age of 27, determined to restore the family’s reputation and its house. He was just getting into his stride when, six months later, in May 2005, he died of a heart attack while visiting his younger brother in New York. (The autopsy report found nothing abnormal and his death was unexplained.) Nick, doubly bereaved and now 12th Earl of Shaftesbury, was the inheritor of chaos. ‘I knew New York was finished. My family needed me.’
To the astonishment of Historic England and almost everyone else, this untried, unprepared second son has orchestrated a miracle of renewal in not much more than a decade. Today the house rises magnificently from glorious parkland, its redbrick façade glowing in the sunshine, the lake restored, the long beech avenue replanted.
The house was built by the 1st Earl in 1651 on the site of an earlier one, of which only the riding house and stables remain. The original architect is unknown and the house has been compulsively altered and expanded down the centuries but it looks more harmonious today, shorn of its Victorian accretions, than it has ever done. It has more than 70 rooms and it has won prestigious awards for conservation, but to call it a textbook restoration case study would be to miss the point. This is Nick’s homage to his father and brother: a family home alive with children’s voices for the first time in more than half a century.
‘After my brother died,’ he says, ‘I had a strong sense that I would try to do the best job I could in
his place and he would be very close to me throughout the rest of my life, and particularly in this house. I have no doubt that if he had lived, he would have made this place a success.’
So far, it has cost £5 million. He borrowed to the hilt, got every grant possible and used money from his inheritance, all with the aim of making the property a viable business. ‘It was all or nothing. The worst of all worlds would have been to go in half-heartedly.’ Although many rooms are still to be restored, St Giles House is now in demand for weddings, concerts and events.
The Earl is tall and thin, with a gentle manner and a slight limp from a riding accident in 2009 in which he broke his back. ‘At the time it was very scary as I didn’t know how much function I would regain,’ he explains. ‘I could use my legs but they were very weak. They are better now but still weak and that won’t improve.
‘At first it was very hard, but I’ve learnt to accept my limitations. Knowing your life can change at any moment makes you realise you shouldn’t take things for granted.’ He has become a passionate supporter of spinal cord injury research through the charity Wings for Life.
When I arrive, he is helping to manhandle a large rolled-up carpet into the library. In low-slung jeans, T-shirt and electric-blue trainers, he could be a youth from the village on work experience. His German-born wife, Dinah, an accomplished horsewoman, is poised and softly spoken. She runs a stud on the estate, but also practises as a vet and takes a key role in the restoration programme.
The couple were married in 2010 and have three children – Anthony (all the family’s firstborn sons are christened Anthony), seven, Viva, six, and Zara, three. He proposed in front of St Giles House while they were having a picnic. ‘It was wonderful,’ he says. ‘We were laughing a lot. There’s that sense of unlimited possibilities you have as a couple embarking on a new future. We just said, “Let’s live in this big falling-down house with buckets to catch the water falling through the roof.”’
Dinah’s readiness to carve out a home within the general wreckage, and their hopes of starting a family, gave him the confidence to repair the most derelict section of the house and move in. ‘Without her by my side, I would not have been brave enough to take that leap.’ Their combined experience of building work until then had been improving the kitchen in their London flat.
‘I loved the magic of the dereliction here,’ says the Countess. ‘I never saw it as daunting. I guess I was incredibly in love, and slightly naive, thinking it would be the most romantic journey. I didn’t quite realise that 40 builders would move in and it would happen while I was heavily pregnant.’
Surrounded by dust, noise and cardboard boxes, they moved in on 23 March 2012, almost 362 years to the day since the 1st Earl of Shaftesbury recorded in his diary: ‘I laid the first stone of my house at St Giles’s.’ Their daughter Viva was born on a mattress on the floor a few weeks later.
‘I thought living here would be the most romantic journey. I didn’t realise 40 builders would move in’
Living on a building site with young children has had its moments. On one occasion, Dinah found them chasing one another with electric drills. They describe their home life as ‘incredibly messy and normal’ – normal being living with a team of craftsmen and conservation experts. Their private quarters are strewn with toys. No one fusses about fingermarks on the silk-effect wallpaper. ‘I really enjoy camping and getting back to basics,’ says Nick. ‘My refuge is the mountains but I also love road trips and setting up a tent somewhere. Thankfully, the kids love it too.’
He plays down the aristocratic card. ‘You have utter respect for the grandeur and titles but also realise that it’s not you. It’s all a bit of an illusion and you’ve got to concentrate on who you are and on bringing up the kids in a grounded way.’
Embarking on a wholesale regeneration scheme seems the obvious path now but it was far
from clear back then. After his brother died, the new Earl struggled to get his bearings. ‘The two worlds were so disconnected that nothing made sense.’ He worried about what people on the estate would think of this DJ with sleeve tattoos coming in. Would St Giles be the scene of all-night raves?
‘I was such an unknown quantity. I wanted people to have confidence in me. I was determined to show them I am someone they can rely on. I’ve always known that running the estate and playing my part in the family history is so much more important than playing music in a club.’
Once in a while, though, Nick steps back into the old world and does a few gigs. ‘Let me show you a bit of New York,’ he says, descending into an inky-black beer cellar that he has converted into a music cavern for parties. He mounts the colossal 1850 oak barrel that serves as a DJ booth, and for a moment I think we’re going to have a blast. ‘I sort of miss the music life, but not that much,’ he says. ‘I appreciate having had that amazing freedom but at some point in your life you have got to take responsibility for what you are and what you want to make of it.’
At first, he didn’t know what that was, except to be worthy of a family that had produced a philosopher (the 3rd Earl) and one of the great social reformers of the 19th century (the 7th). He bought himself time and a useful skill set by doing an MBA course at London Business School. ‘It gave me two years to assimilate what had happened and reset myself. When everything had fallen apart, it was just the greatest stabiliser.’
In this breathing space, Nick got to know the house, poking around room by leaking room. ‘I developed a fantastic relationship with it. I didn’t see it as spooky or oppressive. As my level of understanding grew, it completely changed my mindset. In my head, the house was turning from a problem into a huge opportunity.’
Two further things inspired him. He met other couples who lived in historic buildings open to the public and was encouraged to learn that they still managed to enjoy family life. And his half-siblings, Cecilia and Frederic Casella, commissioned a photographer, Justin Barton, to record the house’s beauty-in-decay as a Christmas present. ‘Until then, it still felt quite overwhelming. What Justin’s pictures did was open a portal to this magical world of architectural details, plasterwork, wood carving, little sleepy objects. It
‘It has been very cathartic. There was quite a lot of anger in me at how things could have got so bad’
was the stardust, if you like, that made me see what beauty there was still in the house.’
Several years on, Barton is still recording progress and his photos appear in a new book, The Rebirth of an English Country House. He recalls, ‘When I arrived, the house was on the brink of collapse. There were danger notices everywhere. It’s wonderful what they’ve achieved.’
At first, the couple took a conventional approach to repairs but as time went on, they saw the value in leaving evidence of the house’s half-century of neglect – unplastered walls, broken cornices, fragments of original wallpaper.
On a personal level, the work has given Nick a deeper understanding of his father. ‘It has been very cathartic. There was quite a lot of anger in me at how things could have got so bad. Anger as well as pity. After a time, the anger completely dissipated. I saw what he was trying to do – restoring the house to its original brick finish, making it more symmetrical and a much more manageable size, things that are huge bonuses for us now. The only tragedy is that he is not around to see it.’
He speaks warmly of his brother’s loyalty to their father through many difficult years, and the loving support of their mother and half-siblings. ‘My father was a very ill man and he needed help. All the signs were there from a long time ago but he belonged to a generation where getting help and opening up about stuff just didn’t happen.’
Nick believes that loneliness going back to childhood was at the root of his father’s problems. ‘We always understood that the drinking was an illness and not who he was. It later shaped me a lot as it made me extremely determined not to fall into the same trap and not let pressure build up on me. To face life and ask for help when I need it.’
Now Nick is focused on his own life and on keeping the estate in good heart. He says he’s ‘maxed out’ for the moment but when his children are old enough to assume some responsibilities, he may turn to political and social initiatives. ‘You want to feel you can contribute and be useful,’ he says. ‘I’m incredibly proud of belonging to the family and everything they’ve done. I want to show the rest of the world how amazing it is to be part of it.’
How does he want it to be for his own son when the time comes? ‘I think about it a lot,’ he says. ‘There have been many unhappy chapters, so I want him to come into a situation that’s stable and secure. The crucial thing is to make him, as a child, love the place.’
The Rebirth of an English Country House: St Giles House, by The Earl of Shaftesbury and Tim Knox, is out now (£40, Rizzoli). To order the book for £35, call 0844-871 1514 or visit books.telegraph.co.uk