Candlelight and String Quartets at Chateau le Mas de Montet, Perigord

Morning light filled the chateau's upper rooms as the bridal party gathered over coffee and croissants. The bride's gown, a structured ivory crepe with a sculpted bodice and soft chapel train, was laid across a damask chaise. Bridesmaids moved around her in oyster-toned silk, their gypsophila posies already tied on the windowsill. Someone laughed, champagne was poured early, and the room carried the scent of warm wax and white florals.

Remy walked down the aisle to Pachelbel's Canon played live by a string quartet, the notes carrying across the formal gardens and into the surrounding trees. Rows of wooden chairs sat on the lawn between clipped hedges as warm sunshine filtered through. During the signing, the quartet shifted into Can You Feel the Love Tonight, and for the recessional, Sir Duke broke the emotion with something jubilant.

In the walled garden, late morning light softened to something almost painterly against box-hedged paths. Close-up portraits caught the fine texture of the crepe gown, the pearl drops at her ears, and the slight smile that arrives just before full happiness settles in. The ivory train trailed across pale gravel as she walked first alone, then with her mother.

As golden hour arrived over the Perigord landscape, Jake and Remy slipped away for portraits along the shaded avenue behind the chateau. Frances Mary Sales worked with the amber light that turns stone walls warm and softens everything it touches. These are the photographs that hold the day's emotion after the noise has quieted, two people at the centre of something they built together.

The bridesmaids wore floor-length gowns in oyster, that particular non-colour that reads cream in shadow and champagne in sun, carrying loose posies of gypsophila. The groomsmen wore navy suits with pale gold pocket squares. What photographs so well is the easy physicality of a group who clearly know each other, the hand on a shoulder, the shared joke caught mid-laugh.

The cocktail hour unfolded on the terrace as the afternoon heat began to ease. Staff circulated with Perigord-regional canapes, duck rillettes on brioche and walnut-chevre crostini, while guests settled into the particular pleasure of cold champagne in warm air. Conversations overlapped in French and English, and somewhere the string quartet played on.

Dinner beneath the string lights was long, unhurried, and full of feeling. The tables glowed with candlelight reflecting off ivory linen and gold-rimmed glassware, low white rose arrangements leaving clear sightlines for conversation. Guests were welcomed in to Sunchyme's bass line, and the first dance to My Girl brought the room to a standstill. The floor stayed busy well into the night.

Chateau le Mas de Montet sits in the Perigord with the quiet authority of warm honey-coloured stone and clipped box hedges. Formal gardens open onto sun-warmed terraces, and shaded stone paths wind between parterre beds, offering natural flow from one moment to the next. Afternoon light fell in long diagonals across the pale facade, picking out the texture of the rendered walls.