The old dovecote, converted. Three bedrooms stacked over three floors, every bed made up as a queen or split into twins, and a terrace under the cedar.
Le Pigeonnier stopped being a dovecote a long time ago and has been a house ever since. It goes up rather than along: living on the ground, two bedrooms above, and a third under the roof where the birds used to be.
The carved stone dormer on the front is original, and so is most of what holds the building up. Inside, a timber staircase turns against bare stone from the ground floor to the top, hung with watercolours that were here before we were. The windows are small and deep-set, which is what happens when the walls are that thick — the effect in August is that the house stays cool without anybody having to do anything about it.
Downstairs is one long room with a stone hearth at the far end and a wood burner in it, a table for six, and doors that open onto the terrace. All three beds are 160 × 200 and all three come apart into twins, so the house works for three couples, or two parents and four children, or any of the arrangements in between that people usually only tell us about on arrival.
The birds moved out. Most of the rest stayed.
Everything below belongs to this house alone — its own front door, its own kitchen, its own terrace. The pool, tennis court and grounds are shared with the rest of the estate.
A flagged terrace directly outside the dining doors, with a teak table that extends, a second iron table on the grass, and a cedar standing over the whole thing. The wall of stacked firewood behind it is not decorative. It is the winter's wood, and some of it ends up in the hearth inside.
A deep stone hearth under a brick chimney breast, with a cast iron wood burner standing in it and a Périgord longcase clock beside. Green floral sofa, a matching bergère, and an old bread oven in the wall now holding two glazed pots. Terracotta floors, dark beams overhead, and the acoustic that guests keep mentioning — someone brings a guitar out after dinner and the room does the rest.
The same room as the salon, at the other end of it: a table for six with painted chairs, an art deco buffet against the wall, a gilt mirror above, and French doors that stand open from about ten in the morning until whenever the last person goes up. Windows on two sides, so it is bright well into the evening.
Solid oak, turning against bare stone, with watercolours of the estate hung up the wall. It is the spine of the house and the reason the house works — but it is also two full flights from the kitchen to the top bedroom, and worth knowing about before you decide who sleeps where.
A deep-set window with the original iron grille in it, framed by green velvet, with brass wall lights either side of the bed and a watercolour on the far wall. Sisal underfoot. It looks straight into the cedar, which means the light arrives filtered rather than all at once.
The quieter of the two on this floor: bed under the window, a table either side, the same green velvet and brass lights, and a framed photograph of the garden wall on the return. It shares the landing shower room with bedroom one.
Tiled to shoulder height in brown arabesque zellige, laid by hand and left alone since. Pedestal basin, WC, a carved white mirror and a window that looks into the trees. It serves both bedrooms on this floor, which is worth factoring in if the house is full.
The top of the tower, and the old dovecote itself: whitewashed roof timbers, an A-frame overhead and the carved dormer looking out over the fields. Made up here as twins with a table and lamp each, or put together as a queen. It is the room children fight over, and the one adults are quietly pleased to end up in.
Red mosaic from floor to shoulder, a shower, a basin under the roof lights, a WC and a bidet that nobody has had the heart to remove. It belongs to the top bedroom alone, which is the real argument for sleeping up there.
One floor for living, one for two bedrooms, one for the room under the roof. Two shower rooms, one on each of the upper floors, and every bed either a queen or a pair of twins.
Indicative layout · not to scale · queen 160 × 200 · all beds convert to twins
Issigeac holds its market on Sunday morning and Eymet its night market on Tuesday. Beaumont-du-Périgord runs a marché gourmand on Monday evenings through the summer, where you buy a plate from whichever producer you like the look of and eat it at a trestle table — bring your own cutlery, because nobody supplies it. Monpazier and Villeréal are both worth the drive on their market mornings.
For wine, Château Tour des Gendres, Château de la Jaubertie and L'Ancienne Cure are all about a quarter of an hour away. For the river, canoes from La Roque-Gageac down to Beynac, the Maxange caves, and the beach at Pont de Vicq. And for the days when nobody wants to move, there is the pool and there are the cedars.
Le Pigeonnier is the one returning guests ask for by name, usually without being able to say exactly why.
Dates and rates are online. If you want this house together with one or two of the others, write to us instead — it's quicker than trying to make the calendar do it.