What makes the place quietly arresting is the gap between the ambition of its design and its current silence. The entrance front presents five bays, a fanlighted doorway framed by a limestone surround, engaged columns topped with stiff-leaf capitals, and an open pediment above. Steps rise over the basement to reach the door, and the sash windows on the first and second floors are each flanked by narrow side lights, giving the whole front a rhythm that would have read as confident and prosperous in its day.

The house dates from the mid to late eighteenth century, built in the manner of the Anglo-Irish gentry who were putting considerable effort, and money, into projecting permanence through architecture during that period. To the rear, the ambition is even more legible. Curtain walls fitted with arcaded niches connect the main house to the ornate ends of farm buildings, dressed up as pavilions so that the utilitarian and the formal appear, at least from a distance, to belong to the same composition. These wings extend back to enclose a courtyard, and the keystone above the arch leading into it is inscribed with the date 1817, suggesting the ensemble was still being elaborated or completed well into the nineteenth century. A hipped roof with a central valley, a limestone cornice, and a parapet wall finish the main block, while a bow projection at the rear marks where the central stairway once rose. A freestanding structure to the west carries an armorial plaque in its gable, the remnant of whoever claimed this place as theirs, though the family behind the arms is not now recorded here.