There is no enclosing wall, no graveyard, no ring of raised ground to suggest burials nearby. Just the shell of a building, uncoursed rubble defining its western end, the eastern wall reduced to little more than a foundation course, and a blocked doorway in the north wall that no one has passed through in a very long time.

The building is modest in its dimensions, roughly eight metres from east to west and under four metres wide internally, which would have made for a tight congregation. Two windows survive, one in the western gable with a low arch, and one at the western end of the southern wall. The detail that makes the place quietly unusual is in the fabric of those windows: red brick, the kind of material that announces a later intervention into an older structure. Local tradition holds that the chapel was restored in the 1780s, and the brick bears that out, a Georgian patch on what is presumably a much older form. Inside the ruined walls, set 1.1 metres above floor level, is a square niche between the blocked doorway and the western wall, the sort of recess that might once have held a statue or a devotional object. By 1838, when the first Ordnance Survey mapped the area at six inches to the mile, the building was already being recorded as a Roman Catholic chapel in ruins, which suggests the 1780s restoration bought it only a short period of further use before it fell silent again.