Not a city at all — a farmhouse under the Downs, at the end of a lane, with paint on every door it owns.
Entry is by timed slot. Book it before you plan the rest of the day around it.
This is not a place you drop in on. It is out in the country at the end of a lane, the house is seen in timed groups, and the slots go early in the season. Book first; arrange the train, the car and the lunch afterwards.
Give the garden the same time you give the rooms. It is doing the same job as the painted doors — a small enclosed world made by people who were not going to leave anything plain — and most visitors run through it on the way back to the car.
June suited it. Long light, the windows open, and the paint reading warm rather than shabby. I would not come in the wet unless I had to.