Inside

Many of the materials used in the restoration were salvaged from the property. A pair of screen doors monogrammed with the Ortmans’ initials was found in the barn and returned to the rear door of the main entrance hall, and a stair-riser in the kitchen was made from a board with “Claiborne & Taylor, Ortman Job” scrawled on the back that was found in one of the outbuildings. Herbert Claiborne was often Bottomley’s contractor in Virginia and was himself a skilled craftsman who had worked on the reconstruction of Stratford Hall. Kim Cory describes that find as exciting for everyone.

“Chuck and Kim have always been interested in the adventure” of the restoration, says Spencer, “and that can be infectious on a job site.”

The two upper floors of the house, which contain bedrooms and additional sitting rooms, did not receive short shrift in this process, nor did the basement, formerly a storage space. Spencer rebuilt a staircase to the lower level from the center hall, and he and the Corys reimagined the space. It’s now a wine cellar that can hold 5,000 bottles and has been the site of intimate wine dinners and tastings. A card room leads to an outdoor arcade with views of rolling hills—the site of a birthday dinner for 50 guests on an evening not long ago. Next to the former walk-in silver vault (now storage for canned goods from the farm’s ample gardens) is what Spencer playfully refers to as the gentleman’s pissoir. Urinals retrieved from a defunct New York hotel are mounted on a wall of dark soapstone near a gleaming white double-pedestal sink surrounded by exposed natural brick and whimsical light fixtures. The remainder of the basement contains utility rooms and children’s art and game rooms.

According to Spencer, Bottomley had a penchant for “pulling details and weaving them into the fabric of the house.” In homage to this trick, Spencer used a fretwork motif from the library molding in the new pool house. The blue-hued space—with a bell-jar roof inspired by a Gillette pool pavilion in Richmond—was designed so that a 400-year-old white oak on the property would always be in view, as would many of the original Gillette gardens, painstakingly restored by Kim, an accomplished gardener, with the help of landscape architect and Gillette scholar Rusty Lilly.

All of the work meant “a slow migration into the house,” says Kim Cory. The family spent several summers living in one of the farm’s guest houses while the restoration progressed. During the rest of the year, they flew in every six weeks to spend a day on-site. Good, authentic work can’t be rushed—and today Blue Ridge Farm conveys an effortless charm.

But don’t be fooled. “We didn’t wave a wand and say, ‘Here is your house,’” explains Spencer. “Blue Ridge Farm is the way it is now because of Chuck and Kim’s stewardship.”

For the Corys, reclaiming Bottomley’s legacy isn’t just about bricks and mortar, it’s about living well. “A house should be gracious enough to host the president of UVA for dinner,” says Chuck, “but family-centered enough to play Crazy 8s in any room.” Blue Ridge Farm is both.