Kirby Misperton

For some time I’d felt I’d been born with all the snobbery of the rich, but none of their money. My mother would give me hints of wealthy ancestors and unspeakable scandals, of squandered fortunes and unscrupulous relations come to pick over the remains, but I could only wonder at how they’d spent it all so quickly and before I’d even had a chance to touch it. Near as I can tell, one day they all simply stopped doing the thing that had made them rich and settled into just being rich, until soon they weren’t rich any more.

My Great-Great-Great-Grandfather, Richard Harris Tindall, for instance, was the last manager of the Scarborough shipyard before the harbour silted up and they closed the place down. He had a house in town—a sizeable pile named Paradise House just down the hill from the Castle—where he could oversee the whole operation. Four generations of Tindalls had called it home, but by 1918, long before I could have any say in the matter, it was simply another asset to be liquidated. Now, it’s just flats, where for a mere £139,500 I could, if I wanted, reclaim two-bedrooms’ worth of my legacy.

My irresponsible ancestors also owned a sprawling estate consisting of eleven farms on 1,791 acres, including the manse—Kirby Misperton Hall—located among 50 acres of pleasure grounds, gardens, and lakes. This had once been the seat of the Rev. F. N. Blomberg, Chaplain to King George IV, prebendary at St. Paul’s, and rumoured son of George III; but by 1863, the Tindalls had moved in. My Great-Great-Great-Grandmother’s brother, Robert, was Lord of the Manor, as were his sons to follow, until 1903, when they basically had to sell the whole spread. Today it’s a theme park called Flamingo Land.

Photo by Discover Yorkshire Coast on Flickr. Scarborough Castle is on the top of the hill. Paradise House is the first white mansion on the left.