Robin Longbottom examines a story about a family’s lost inheritance and a country house called Stone Gappe

IN 1987, an elderly lady living in Steeton recounted a story about her family’s lost inheritance and a country house called Stone Gappe.

The story was later given some credence when letters from a late cousin turned up; they referred to hushed conversations overheard some 60-or-so years earlier about Stone Gappe, a family trust and a mysterious man called Frank.

If there was a connection to Stone Gappe it began with a family living at Ingthorpe Grange, West Marton, near Skipton. In 1850 it was the home of Francis John Lace, his wife and their 15 children. Lace was a gentleman of independent means. He had studied law at University College, Oxford, and afterwards at Lincolns Inn in London but never entered the profession. His father had been a merchant in Liverpool and on his death in 1807 left his infant son a considerable fortune. He was brought up by his mother’s family in Liversedge and on his return from London married Elizabeth Crofts, of Bolton Abbey.

In 1854 he purchased Stone Gappe, on the edge of Glusburn. The three-storey house was ideal for his large family. It had three reception rooms, a billiard room and 15 bedrooms. When he died in 1882, he left a long and complex will in which his £60,000 estate was tied up in trust for his children, all of whom were now adults. The principal trustee was his eldest son, John William Lace, who was rector of the small parish of Pill, near Bristol. It was his duty to issue annual payments to his siblings from the trust, over which he had complete control.

After the death of their father the siblings, with the exception of the second son, Frank, left Glusburn. Several went to the Bristol area, presumably to be near to the Rev Lace who held the purse strings. Frank took lodgings with a coal merchant and his wife at Bank House in Cross Hills. He was an eccentric character and well known in the village. Despite being of independent means he had run a small business for many years, selling matches and tapers for lighting fires and candles. He sold them to inns and shops throughout the district, delivering them in a “crudely formed trap” pulled by a shaggy little pony. If the local lads saw the trap unattended, they often took the pony out of its shafts, turned it around and put it back in again. They eagerly watched for Frank to come back, frantically turn it around again, climb aboard, whip up the pony and dash off at a furious gallop.

When Frank fell ill just before Christmas, 1910, two surviving sisters in Bristol were immediately notified. They took the train to Cross Hills on Boxing Day and brought with them their lawyer. Their journey does not appear to have been out of concern for their brother’s health but more about his wealth and who would inherit it. A will was drawn up in their favour the same day and duly witnessed by the lawyer and the wife of the local doctor. However, Frank lingered on for over a year and when he died on March 12, 1912, the contents of his rooms at Bank House were packed up and together with his body dispatched to Bristol.

In his younger days, Frank and his siblings had been engaged by their father “to alleviate the sufferings and troubles of his fellow creatures”. To this end they had travelled through the villages of South Craven to distribute alms. Intriguingly the elderly Steeton lady’s grandmother had brought up her sister’s illegitimate son during this period, and it was his daughter who wrote the letter recalling the hushed discussion about Stone Gappe, a family trust and the mysterious man called Frank.