In Ireland, I learned what life was like for my kin. (But sleeping in a castle was more fun)

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Lots of us long to be a little Irish. For me, there is something about the skill of Irish storytelling, the accent, the self-deprecating humour, the craic that draws me in. So, when I discovered I had a blood connection to the country, I knew I had to find out more.

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Well, to be honest, I had someone much more qualified than me look into it. Lorna Moloney, genealogist, family historian and resident genealogist at Dromoland Castle hotel in County Clare, took what little information I had and combed through census data, military records, and birth and marriage files to fill in the gaps.

We spoke online during the pandemic, and she broke it to me gently that my longed-for Irish lineage was really rather British – a grandfather born in Curragh Camp (which was then the headquarters of the British Army in County Kildare) to an English soldier and a London cook before that soldier went off to the Boer War. The photo she’d dug up and colourized of that child as a young man took my breath away – he could have been my son, my brother or my father in earlier years.

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Since pandemic restrictions lifted, I figured it was time to get my craic on and see Ireland for myself. In particular, I wanted to meet Ms. Moloney and hear more about her work.

We met over breakfast in the grand dining room at Dromoland – with views over the lake, golf greens and old forests of the 450-acre estate. The room almost upstaged the meal: Four glass chandeliers twinkled above, dark felted wallpaper was rich to the touch, multipaned windows revealed the large lake and wooden rowboats out front, all framed by heavy floor-length silk curtains. We lingered over cinnamon brioche French toast in sturdy, upholstered chairs to catch up.

Ms. Moloney explained she’d learned a long time ago to take things slowly when revealing the past to her clients. “Every family has skeletons in the closet. I try not to shock, I have to be careful about that.”

And sometimes there’s a delightful surprise, such as discovering a Boston client (with Canadian ancestors) had royal bloodlines, right back to medieval Irish king Brian Boru, whose descendants built and lived at Dromoland for centuries.

I noted to Ms. Moloney that the research she did on my behalf must have been rather prosaic in comparison. But, rich or poor, Ms. Moloney reminded me, it’s all history. “You don’t get the entire picture without looking at the daily life of ordinary people,” Ms. Moloney said. “It is what makes history relevant.”

Later, I joined the history tour at Dromoland and wandered the grand halls of the O’Brien ancestral home, hearing about the rise and fall in family fortunes. Enormous oil portraits of the family stared down from every hallway and room in the castle and I wondered what it must be like to know these were your people.

My people would have hung out in the servant corridors and kitchens – Ms. Moloney mentioned that some of my ancestors worked in service. And so while I swanned around Dromoland living like an aristocrat – staff rushing over to stoke the fire whenever I sat near one of the many hearths, hauling my bags up and down grand staircases and treating me with deference to which I am not accustomed – I couldn’t stop myself from scampering up the servant’s back staircase when I thought no one was looking. A maid’s politely raised eyebrow and knowing smile put an end to that.

Driving into the Curragh about an hour outside Dublin a few days later, I had another chance to see a key family history locale.

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The Curragh is a great clearing of grasslands that goes on as far as the eye can see. For more than 2,000 years, armies and clans have gathered here and ancient archeological ruins lie just below the topsoil. Flat as a pancake, the grasses cover limestone and a large underground lake, which makes it a terrific grazing and breeding ground for horses. No fences line the roads, so in addition to Ireland’s wandering sheep road hazard, I needed to watch out for horses and riders, too.

I’d come to Curragh Camp – an open military barracks for the Irish Defence Forces – to see where my grandfather was born. The military museum on the barracks was free to enter, and I wandered in past restored tanks and an uncommon British cannon protecting the front door.

It’s a treasure trove of Irish history, rare, scary-looking weapons, vintage uniforms and pieces of history such as one of U.S. General Patton’s ivory-handled guns, the Uilleann pipes of Irish republican Eamonn Ceannt, and even the lost, now restored 1914 sword of a Royal Canadian Army Veterinary Corps vet, amongst other fascinating ephemera.

My guide was apologetic that records of my great-grandfather’s regiment were not on site – Britain handed over Curragh Camp to the Irish in 1922 – and I’d need to go to London for those details. No matter. I was here to get a feel for the country that I hadn’t known was part of my family’s story until recently. And what better place to grasp a condensed version of Ireland and England’s entwined and troubled past than in this museum?

After the tour, we drove around the barracks, past several crumbling 19th-century buildings, perhaps a mess hall or storage rooms among them, still standing from my great-grandfather’s time. I was drawn to the overgrown, abandoned gardens and mossy copse where – generations ago – a young soldier may have gone courting. When the soldier returned from war, he collected his son, married the woman he loved and emigrated to Canada. So ended my official Irish lineage, but now so begins my enchantment and exploration of the country.

If you go

Dromoland Castle in County Clare is the ancestral home of the O’Briens of Dromoland, now a luxury castle hotel with gorgeous walled gardens, 18-hole golf course and ancient forests to explore. The genealogy session with professional family historian Lorna Moloney starts at €220. dromoland.ie

Some of the writer’s visit to Ireland was covered by Tourism Ireland, which did not review or approve the story before publication.