It is an odd arrangement, a family monument positioned outside rather than within consecrated ground, and its strangeness only deepens once you begin pulling at the threads of what else once stood nearby. A mound of collapsed rubble between the mausoleum's eastern wall and the public road, noted by the historian Seymour in 1907 as resembling a small tumulus, turned out to conceal carved fragments from a second mausoleum entirely, one belonging to the Barry family, along with something far more troubling beneath the soil.

The rubble mound appears to have formed from the collapse of the Barry family mausoleum, and when a small portion of it was opened before 1865, two columns were recovered in good condition. A correspondent writing in that year recalled his brother searching for a richly carved stone and additional monument fragments, only to find the graveyard so overgrown that nothing could be located, despite both men clearly remembering the pieces there. More striking were two figures also pulled from the mound, described by Seymour in 1907 as nude, armless female figures in very high relief, which he identified as copies of sheela-na-gigs, the carved female figures of uncertain meaning found on medieval Irish churches and castles, here apparently repurposed or reimagined by a sculptor intending them to flank a tomb. The mound itself, it seems, had an even grimmer origin. According to a local account recorded by Seymour, a man named Stepney, impatient with what he regarded as wasted agricultural land, had cleared an old graveyard in the adjacent field, attempted to burn the remains, and when the river washed them back after he threw them in during a flood, was eventually forced to bury them in the field, forming the very mound that later yielded the Barry fragments.

The site lies immediately south of Abbey Owney graveyard and the ruins of the abbey itself, roughly thirty metres north of the Mulkear River, with open views to the south and west. The two carved columns recovered from the mound, decorated with caryatid-like figures, meaning columns shaped in the form of human figures, can now be found in the south-west quadrant of Abington graveyard. The 1840 Ordnance Survey six-inch map labels the Walsh mausoleum nearby as a convent, a misidentification that hints at how thoroughly the function of these structures had already become obscure. No surface trace of the mound remains visible today in the field to the east.