Desig House: Real Homes: Victorian Country House

Taking on a Victorian country house of grand proportions in Shropshire, the interior designer Henri Fitzwilliam-Lay has enhanced its original details and combined them with the mid-century aesthetic for which she is known

'We were looking for a house in the country and one thing we knew for sure was that we didn't want to live as far away as Shropshire,' says the interior designer Henri Fitzwilliam-Lay as she swoops up the tree-lined drive of her Shropshire home in her 4x4, while pheasants skitter into the bushes. 'We often visited my husband Hugh's sister, who lives up here, so I knew just how far it is from London,' she says. This house was an unexpected choice for a couple whose work is London-based, but it changed their minds and their lives - as well as those of their four daughters. A handsome brick and stone mansion, with a belvedere tower, Dutch gables and large stone-mullioned windows, it was built in 1856 and rebuilt, after a fire in 1878, in the florid neo-Jacobean style that reminded the Victorians of 'Merrie England' and the romances of Sir Walter Scott.

But how would its strong Victorian identity sit with the cool mid-twentieth-century style that Henri's clients have come to love? That was the least of the couple's problems. When the house was sold after the Second World War, all the lead was stripped from the roof and everything that could be moved was sold at auction. After decades of decay, the roof rotted, the staircase fell in and a tree grew in the hall. The house became a venue for raves and wild parties. 'I've met a few people since we moved in who have come up to me with a knowing smile, remembering the times they had here,' Henri says. A local developer took on the place in the early 2000s and did sterling work replastering walls, remaking the roof and even recasting the bricks for its 38 chimneys. 'It was so sad for him,' she says. 'Though his was a well-run business, the credit crunch provoked him to sell - and we got lucky.' Their luck consisted of buying a building with no doors, no staircase and plastic sheeting at many of the windows.

They bought the house in 2009 and, after supervising the works in Shropshire from their home in France (the family had moved there for a year), Henri made two seemingly contradictory decisions: she revived the Victorian character of the rooms by remaking their elaborate woodwork and ribbed plasterwork ceilings; and then she took the interior decoration in a completely different direction. 'As an American, I had a vision in my head of the perfect English country house, but it came from films or from David Hicks' decoration books of the Sixties,' she says. 'I don't do period houses, and I don't want to live the life of a country squire.' As a result, the house - despite its four-metre ceilings and grand rooms - is never intimidating.

Walking into the lettuce-green vestibule, it is hard to imagine the dark woodwork, heavy drapes and gasoliers of its original owners. Henri has kept the tall central hall relatively empty, with mid-century sputnik lights, brass-framed Sixties mirrors and a set of prints by the artist Antony Gormley, who is Hugh's uncle. 'In the stables, we discovered three spindles from the original staircase, which we had copied,' says Henri. As they march up the stairs, their chunky barley-sugar twist is perfectly in proportion with this impressive space.

But even the grand proportions of the hall do not prepare one for the majestic scale of the kitchen, which leads directly off it. White tiles gleam on the walls and four black lights from Trainspotters hang over the marble-topped island. These proportions are matched by three heavy-duty catering stoves, which are the preserve of Hugh, a keen cook. The family hangs out in this room and the sitting room next door.

One of three interconnecting rooms across the front of the house, the sitting room has a strong mix of periods and styles. Here, a faux bamboo round table and chairs and two Chinese lions on either side of the chimneypiece meet a Seventies Perspex coffee table and a pair of nineteenth-century cast-iron garden tables. Somehow it all blends perfectly.

Henri was less than happy with the machine-sewn trim on the pelmets in the sitting room, so sitting on a ladder, she unpicked and sewed them back on by hand.

Next door, in the more formal drawing room, the tone is set by the warm ripe wheat colour of its hessian wallcovering. A collection of African masks blends with mid-century furniture and lamps. The carpet here, which came from Henri's London house, was too small for the room, so she has laid it over a larger one of inexpensive seagrass squares - a trick that she recommends to clients who are waiting to purchase a larger rug.

'The dining room was excruciatingly noisy,' Henri continues. 'At our first dinner party, you couldn't hear your neighbour.' So she tented the ceiling with Ralph Lauren fabric, filling the gap with chicken wire and insulation, covered the walls with the same striped fabric and hung huge brass lights just above the table. A fabric-covered jib door opens onto the dark and glamorous bar with a marble and brass cabinet, which is everyone's favourite room when she and Hugh entertain. But for sheer fun, even the bar cannot compete with her daughters' bedrooms: eight-year-old Edith has red-and-white-striped wallpaper, while Josephine, 16, enjoys a Fifties Riviera vibe, with tropical wallpaper, wasp-waisted straw lampshades and curvy, leopard-print headboards.

All is serene though in the main bedroom, which overlooks a ravishing landscape of unspoilt valleys and distant hills. Walls in a subtle grey green and curtains of the palest blue silk - the colour of a spring sky - make a backdrop for some beautiful things, including a gilded Chinese screen and sprays of brass leaves by Curtis Jeré. 'There's also a bit of a Thirties Japanese thing going on in here,' says Henri, opening the door to the glamorous main bathroom next door, its curvy cupboards covered in an oriental-style gold and white wallpaper.

When she and Hugh first met in New York, Henri was an art director in charge of fashion shoots. She had to be constantly aware of deadlines and of the need to plan but remain flexible - and to always have a plan B up her sleeve. She organised the decoration of the house with the same efficiency and acute eye for detail in design. This was a great help when, as the family moved into the unfinished house in October 2010, Hugh told her he had invited his entire family, all 27 of them, for Christmas. 'It was the nearest we got to the end of our marriage,' she says, laughing. But she got it done. 'And we had a great time'.

Henri Fitzwilliam-Lay: 07968-948053