Late night (OK, 9.30pm), armed with a bag of Maltesers and what looked like a jailer’s ring of keys (complete with torch), we giggled uncontrollably as we twisted open the front door to Rectory Manor Hotel.

Because even though we’d been checked in earlier, and very graciously, by owner Frank Lawrenson, it still felt like we were breaking in.

In our jeans, comfy shoes, and early autumn jumpers, my friend Sarah and I did NOT look like we belonged at such a lavishly appointed abode. Glancing about the open hallway, definitely suffering Imposter Syndrome, we tiptoed past the glow of the crackling fire, and upstairs to our room before anyone could attempt to chuck us out.

Having read one too many crime thrillers where untoward things happen in the midst of such grandeur (Agatha Christie comes to mind), I locked the door. We were in. With nowt to do than switch off, eat chocolate, and watch utter trash on the telly – such fun!

If you’ve ever pondered what lies behind the pristine hedges and intricate railings of some of the country’s most exclusive private homes, this is the way to find out.

Rectory Manor is a member of Historic Houses – an association promoting stays within properties otherwise unknown to the public. The kind of spots where history unfurls around you at every step.

There are nine places to stay in the east, making the building part of a rather elite club - one that’s as far away from the homogenous white-washed walls of the big-name chains as you can get.

Frank opened the doors to the family home (which he inherited) 10 years ago, following a successful, award-winning career in finance and business.

A former Georgian rectory housing local clergymen for a millennium, the site was once resided in by Rector John Hopkins, author of the Book of Psalms.

It is truly grand. An electric gated entry opens to the sweeping drive leading, via mature tree-strewn lawns, to the entrance. There’s a tennis court, grass croquet, a heated pool.

But, for all its ‘fanciness’, the boutique hotel still exudes a sense of familial warmth. Frank has, for example, kept the lounge, with its piano and library of books, just as his mother decorated it. Sideboards and fireplaces are resting places for pictures of the hotelier with his partner and children.

There’s even a rather sweet framed collection of what look like birthday or Valentine’s Day cards hanging amongst artwork on the wall.

Guests ringing the doorbell are personally greeted by Frank and, in our case, inquisitive fox red lab puppy Hazel, who rather enjoyed chewing on my hand, proceeding to potter behind us for much of our tour.

A great deal of thought has gone into fostering a sense of comfort (and luxury) throughout the hotel. This begins in the hall, where classical music chimes, and logs crackle in the open fire. I ribbed Frank that he’s rather spoiling his foreign guests, who will be very disappointed to find this kind of hospitality isn’t par for the course in the UK.

Bouncing upstairs in beat to the rhythm of the music we were shown to our digs for the night – one of seven rooms, each designed by Frank and his family, and every one completely different, while remaining true to the home’s period features.

Park View’s styling can only be described as idiosyncratic antique. Its focal point is an intricately carved four poster bed, designed and hand-built specifically for the room by The Woodcarvers Guild.

Neither of us have been blessed with long limbs, so we were relieved to see a chair step to the side for later.

The room itself has been anointed in soft Wedgewood blue. The edging and panels picked up in gold detailing. Shutters open to views of the grounds and gardens. There are claw-legged chairs, angel-winged side tables, Middle Eastern rugs, and Oriental lacquered cabinets.

A roll top bath sits in the centre of the large bathroom which (in what I think is a brave move) is carpeted. Shutters here also reveal uninterrupted views of nearby fields. But our eyes were drawn instead to a faded fresco of Turner’s Bridge of Sighs, which covers the breadth of one wall.

“Ooh, this is a bit nice,” Sarah nodded as we picked up on the finer details. The Penhaligon toiletries. A chest of fine teas and coffees. A drinks table topped with hefty decanters of whisky and gin. And an honesty fridge laden with Fevertree tonics, soda, prosecco, shortbread, chocolate, sweeties and crisps. A nice touch is the addition of a full ice bucket. I’ve not seen ice in a hotel room for a long time.

Keen to make the most of our one-night stay, and armed with a map handily found in our room, we headed for a dusky stroll on the backroads and byways of Great Waldingfield. Despite both living nearby, we have to admit we’ve never been to this little part of the Suffolk countryside before. It’s peaceful...and good stomping ground. Walks jut off to nearby Lavenham, Boxford and beyond.

But, as I’m always blamed for getting people lost, we kept it short, and made way a few minutes up the road (by car) to Lavenham for dinner. There are several good options here for dining. Number 10 is excellent and comes highly recommended. The exec chef who put The Leaping Hare at Wyken in the guide books is now heading up the kitchen at The Swan. At lunchtime you cannot beat a ploughman’s at Lavenham Blue. And do not go home without having sampled ice cream AND hot chocolate at The Parlour...oh, and fudge from across the road at Posy.

We were on shaky ground stepping into The Greyhound, which came out as locals’ choice in my straw poll on the village’s Facebook page. I gave it a less-than-rosy review not long after it opened (which I stand by). But I’m always willing to give places another shot. And glad that I did. For informal, fun dining in a lively atmosphere, the pub ticks all the boxes. We enjoyed croquetas, garlic and chilli prawns, lamb meatballs, and a great value sharing chicken skewer platter which, for £25, was enormous, filling us up so much that even I, the one who always has room for pud, couldn’t face another bite.

Devoid of light, and with sound blotted out by the shutters, night time was peaceful at Rectory Manor. The bed cosy, wrapping us in layers of Egyptian cotton sheets and blankets.

We woke to a rousing chorus of violins as the music returned for breakfast – for which there are two sittings, 8.30am and 9.30am.

The breakfast room is very civilised indeed, and a communal affair, which I think is fab...everyone chatting about their plans for the day, where they’ve been, where they’re going.

Options are more than substantial for a small hotel, and the set-up is swoon-worthy – all chunky glass tumblers, place mats, butter cloches and Emma Bridgewater everything.

Fresh juice and ice water sits on the side, and guests are invited to help themselves to seasonal fruit salad, cereals and yoghurt. And to cut chunks from the array of whole salamis, cured meats and cheeses.

Frank apparently holds a blind taste test every couple of years to decide which local produce will end up in the kitchen’s full English. At the moment it’s John Coleman Butchers in Boxted. And very good the sausages and bacon are too, served with eggs as you like ‘em, and neatly cut tomatoes with a sprig of basil.

A very elegant way to start the day. And I have to point out they do not skimp on portions here. Sarah’s tea came in an enormous Emma Bridgewater pot, surely destined to refresh four people (just the right amount for her she told me)!

This really is country glamour done right.

The hotel is open to guests over 16 only, making it a bit of a mecca for anyone who wants to get away from their little darlings. In fact, Frank tells us most of the people who stay in autumn and winter are couples seeking a bit of romance away from the family.

It is also in a perfect location for walking, and exploring Suffolk’s wool towns – from Lavenham and Long Melford, to Clare, Sudbury and Hadleigh.

A midweek stay in the four poster Park View room this autumn is £179.77. Other rooms begin at £161.50. To get the best available rates book direct at rectorymanorhotel.co.uk