Five bays wide, with a central pedimented breakfront, a Venetian window on the first floor, and a Diocletian window, that distinctive semicircular form divided by two vertical mullions, set into the pediment itself, the composition follows the formal vocabulary of mid-eighteenth-century Irish classicism with considerable care. The narrow sash windows have curved sills and limestone surrounds with prominent keystones, while a string course cuts cleanly between the ground and first floors, and a moulded cornice runs beneath the gable ends. The whole front is extended by lower two-storey wings, four bays to the east and one to the west, giving the ensemble a breadth that suggests ambition rather than mere comfort.

The dating of the house carries a small puzzle at its centre. A local historian, Grove White, writing between 1905 and 1925, recorded that in 1777 a house already stood on this spot, and yet the architecture of the present building points to a date no later than that, and quite possibly earlier. The mid-eighteenth century is where the proportions and detailing place it. What complicates matters further is a suggestion from the owner that an earlier structure may be absorbed into the eastern wing, meaning the building now visible may have grown around, or consumed, something older. The rear of the house tells a different story to the front: a central two-storey gabled projection is flanked by later lean-to additions, the kind of pragmatic accumulation that tends to gather on the less ceremonial side of a house across generations of occupation. The house remains in use today, which may explain why its fabric has survived intact enough to read so clearly.