Restoration man: the story of Houghton Hall

In a tweak on perspective, the central corridor is wider at one end than the other, with a double herbaceous border, recently refurbished by a local garden adviser, Virginia Worsley, running down its length. Edged in catmint, Nepeta 'Six Hills Giant', the flower colours warm progressively towards yellows, oranges and reds as the beds widen, and at the cool end, there is a particularly good blend of white-spired eremurus and verbascum, lemon thalictrum, coral-tinted macleaya, and spiky, silver-leafed cardoons. This concludes in a typical atmospherically charged, architectural flourish by the Bannermans a rustic temple made of oak, its pediment filled with antlers shed by the park's herd of ghostly white fallow deer. Oak obelisks carry the rustic theme down the borders.

'You can tell the Bannermans have been in here, too,' Lord Cholmondeley remarked as we got to the conservatory at the other end of the corridor, gesturing inside to another classically inspired feature: a fern and tufa-encrusted grotto fountain with water spilling from giant clam shells. In the adjacent compartment, devoted mainly to orchids, which come into the Hall as they flower, a carnivorous butterwort (Pinguicula) provided the gothic counterpart it lures and consumes insects by means of sticky, glandular leaves.

From here, the outer circuit walk takes you past a narrow, diamond-patterned box parterre, punctuated by clematis-hung tripods, backed by wall-trained apricots, peaches and nectarines, and filled with seasonal bedding. This includes tulips and wallflowers for spring, and in summer scented-leafed pelargoniums, chocolate cosmos and the conservatory heliotrope 'Chatsworth', whose heads of pale violet flowers give off a very potent aroma, flavoured somewhere between almonds and warm rubber. 'I absolutely love peonies,' Lord Cholmondeley declared, as we passed under the pergola of Japanese and Chinese wisterias, and came upon large beds of pink, crimson and white varieties, interspersed with lilies (scented white Lilium regale and 'Pink Perfection'), which is a trademark Bannerman touch, and accompanied by Japanese anemones.

Following one of the two secondary axial walks, you are led through a formal orchard 'I wanted to do something like this after going to Villa Cetinale [near Siena; one of Italy's most beautiful gardens, restored by the late Lord Lambton]' consisting of phalanxes of plum and crab apple trees separated by panels of pleached limes, with a grid of mown and rough grass, infiltrated by blue camassia and white Pheasant's Eye narcissi bulbs.

The Rose Garden beyond is huge. 'The design was taken from the ceiling of the White Drawing Room in the house, and we surrounded it with wavy yew hedges so you get views in and out.' The mass of flowers is provided by various categories of rose from once-flowering, old-fashioned shrub varieties; modern, repeat-flowering bushes such as 'Iceberg', pink 'Strawberry Hill' and red 'L D Braithwaite'; ramblers such as 'Crimson Showers', blush white 'Cecile Brunner' and 'Veilchenblau' (aptly described by someone as the colour of old bruises), and 'Little White Pet' are grown as standards. In the middle, amid cushions of lavender, are 17th-century Italian statues of gods and goddesses, with steps down to a sunken fountain pool, constructed by the Bannermans with tufa and flint, and ringed with pots of hydrangeas. It is a sumptuous ensemble, and beautifully managed by the head gardener Mhari Blanchfield and her team.

The other axial walk takes you first through the remnant of an old apple orchard, whose fruit is juiced to make cider; then under a new apple tunnel, underplanted with lily-of-the-valley and cleverly arranged in succession according to flowering time, so that in spring there is a ripple of apple blossom down its length; then through a small avenue of white 'Tai Haku' cherries, accompanied by box-edged beds of alternately dark and pale purple irises; and finally out into a croquet lawn, with niches in the surrounding yew hedge for double-headed Janus statues named after the Roman god who looks to both past and future. 'A bit disconcerting, as if someone is always watching you.'

A whole series of smaller gardens flank this walk, including patterned herb, vegetable and fruit gardens, the last presided over by a splendid soft fruit cage, the design of which was taken by the Bannermans from the dome of the nearby stable block. It is in the decorative paved enclosure beyond that Sybil Cholmondeley's initials appear in the swirls of box hedging. Shaded by umbrella-shaped plane trees, they surround a linear pond and tufa fountain.

But it is the fountain in the grassy Laburnum Garden next door that really has you gawping, for bobbing on top of the water jet is a real, live plume of fire. Sorcery surely? 'Actually, it is fuelled by gas, which travels up through the jet of water, rising as the water rises. It is especially lovely at dusk.' Designed by the Danish artist Jeppe Hein, it is one of the most mesmerising pieces of modern garden art I have ever seen, and is part of a series of contemporary artworks that Lord Cholmondeley has commissioned. I particularly liked the Full Moon Circle of Cornish slate by Richard Long, directly opposite the front door of the house, which is framed by newly installed avenues and plantations (inspired by the 1720s estate plan). Their crisp formality contrasts well with the sleepy pastoral setting of park and estate, which is grazed by picturesque British Longhorn cattle, and run organically skylarks, barn owls and English partridges all thrive here.

The restoration of the Houghton gardens is being tackled with great imagination and gusto. 'I am not yet a practical gardener like my mother,' Lord Cholmondeley said. 'But I can see myself becoming one.'

Houghton Hall is open until September 30 on Wednesdays, Thursdays, Sundays and Bank Holiday Mondays (houghtonhall.com)

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Restoration man: the story of Houghton Hall