The classic stereotype has it that Edinburgh is the quiet, refined foil to the noisy brashness of Glasgow. Trot out this canard in a pub in either town and you’re in for a long night — but like many simplifications, it hangs on precisely because it does offer some insight, however reductive. Spend a decade anywhere and you’ll see below the surface, but for transients like hotel guests, the first impression may be all there is — and Edinburgh, at first glance, is nothing if not refined, a mish-mash of Georgian, Gothic and medieval architecture, a modestly sized capital with a classic air. All of this is just to say that if ever a hotel perfectly conveyed the essence of its home city it’s the Prestonfield. This seventeenth-century manor house, fresh off a major restoration, and will have you forgetting there’s any such thing as a modern minimalist hotel. Here it’s all rich fabrics, priceless antiques, and miles of marble and leather, in an over-the-top traditional style that is a complement rather than a contrast to the building’s old-world splendor. There’s an element of the theatrical at work here, as in any luxury hotel. This one happens to be blessed with twenty acres of tranquil parkland, to assist in setting the scene. Guest rooms do contain all the trappings of a technologically modern hotel, but the gadgetry is hidden from view, such that those willing to suspend disbelief can entertain the fantasy of being personal guests of some storybook Scottish aristocrat. An excellent restaurant, Rhubarb, and a couple of elegant lounges mean you can pass your stay without engaging with the urban side of Edinburgh at all, if you like.