What makes this absence particularly striking is how thoroughly it was erased: according to the antiquary William Carrigan, writing in 1905, even the foundations were uprooted around 1849 or 1850. The site may in fact have been cleared earlier still, since the first edition Ordnance Survey six-inch map of 1839 shows nothing there at all.

The house is known primarily through an antiquarian sketch that survives in the record. It shows a substantial three-storey structure of seven bays, each bay capped by a gable both front and rear, with mullion and transom windows throughout, the kind of grid-pattern stone window frames typical of late sixteenth and early seventeenth-century Irish and English architecture. The central bay of the main east-facing facade held the entrance doorway at ground level, while the south gable featured a full-height canted bay, a projecting angled bay window running the full height of the building, flanked by three-light windows with hood-mouldings, the small projecting stone drip-courses above windows that deflect rainwater. An earlier castle adjoined the house at its northern end, the whole complex sitting within a large bawn, the fortified enclosure wall that was a standard feature of defended Irish estate properties of the period. The property was associated with the Grace family, a well-established Kilkenny dynasty, and the combination of an older keep with an ambitious Elizabethan house attached was a familiar pattern of the era, as older tower houses were updated or extended rather than replaced outright.

The site sits on a slight natural terrace roughly a metre above the flood plain, about forty metres west of the River Nore. Nothing is visible at ground level today, and the house exists only in that one sketch and in the brief, elegiac sentence Carrigan wrote more than a century ago.