#annabelle darlington

[aheathen-conceivably]

Dearest Zelda,

First let me say what a joy it was to receive your latest letter! Truly I was so delighted upon seeing it in the mailbox that I ran straight for Isaiah. He is not one to worry, but when our latest contact to the address we had for you in New Orleans once again went unanswered, I fear even he had begun to grow concerned. 

I am delighted to read that your silence was not without good reason, and to see the wedding portrait you sent of you and Antoine as well as the photo of your daughter. How she has grown since we last saw her! She is not much younger than our eldest now, who I fear every day is so like your brother there is simply no one thing in this world that can tame her.

It does sound like your Violette is much the same, and how much joy it brings me to think that perhaps it is Florence’s spirit manifesting through them.

Our youngest have also begun to grow like weeds, much to my chagrin. Does it ever seem like sometimes you awaken and it’s as though the grass has grown a foot overnight? That is oft how I feel looking at them, and Rosalie seems to desire all the independence of her namesake. 

She wasn’t but a day over six when she began poking into Rosella’s old room, curiously pulling forth toys and books from the gathered dust like a miniature treasure hunter. Truthfully, I could not tell you why your brother and I had yet to bring the room back into the light of day. Once you took the portrait from it it was like a pall had lifted, but I feared that stirring it would upset your brother’s long-standing grief over your mother, so I daren’t say a word. 

But as children often do, Rosalie saw little of that other than a space to call her own, and we have now finally found the heart through her to give it a new life. I do hope your sister would love to see her in there, playing dolls and writing grand romantic stories for them aloud to her ever attentive twin. It is a joy to see them rediscover the beauty in the world that pain often hides, is it not?

Have you written to Virginia as well? I fear she may not be quite as conscious of the time that has gone by. With the dissolution of The Women’s Political and Social Union, her work has turned increasingly to involvement with the Women’s Labor League, eventually coming to the attention of the Labor Party themselves. 

I will admit that I am not as informed on the goings on of London as I perhaps should be, but even still it came as no surprise when the party nominated her as their candidate for Member of Parliament. As she so painstakingly explained it, the party itself has suffered great losses from their prominence in the 20s, what with the general bias of their associations with the communists and their seeming inability to stop the rampant unemployment that has taken hold even here. 

I suppose she is fully aware that this was the cause for her nomination, as she was able to run more on the merit of her charitable associations than the negative reputation the party has recently taken on. Yet if she was surprised that this platform worked, she has never let on; but her work in the House of Commons has all but taken over her life since her election in 1931. How I do miss her and Wally, but that doesn’t stop me from wishing that she keeps her seat in the upcoming election of ‘35, even if it means we will see less of them than ever.

I imagine that what little free time she has is now spent nearby at Oxford, where Wally was accepted upon his graduation from secondary school. While I’m sure being the son of a governing member of parliament was not a mark against him, I have no doubt he was accepted there on the merits of his intelligence alone. Even from the small amount of time he spent here in his teen years, it was clear to me what a bright boy he was. 

I am told he is majoring in physics there, a field that even in the briefest explanations Virginia has given me is quite beyond my comprehension. I suppose what else are we to expect with Virginia as his mother? I’m sure he’s had but the most informative, intellectual upbringing, even when it must have been colored by the high expectations that I can only imagine your sister set for him.

Despite her near constant work and best attempts to shield her vulnerability, there are moments when we speak and it seems as though Wally's departure brought forth much of the buried sentimentality within her. I suppose under it all she is but a mother like us all, proud of her child and yet sorrowful as his life grows beyond her own.

Before I sign off your brother has instructed me to ask you to include the most minute of details regarding your predicaments with the soil in your next letter. He has also asked me to attach a veritable field guide of advice, although I have told him that everything you have written points to the fact that you are in waters we could not navigate any better even if we tried.

I must admit that when I hear the word soil I think simply of the ground beneath verdant green grasses or darkened Bramblewood canopies. It makes me realize just how little of the world I have seen, but also how lucky we have been even in the throes of what seem to be such tumultuous times. I can only hope that such good fortune will last in England for many years to come, and that some of our knowledge may bring success to your efforts as well.

I must once again thank you for the photo of you and Antoine on your wedding day. We’ve placed it in our living room next to the photo of your mother and father when they were wed, as seems only right. In return I have also included a photo of all of us when we were last together to visit Wally’s new home in Oxford; although I’ll be the first to admit I do hope we spend the next high holiday together in Henford instead. Anything that close to London makes me long for the forest more than anything else.

Your mother once told me that she sent you every photo we took, and that you have been collecting them over the years. I hope this can make a welcome addition to such a tradition, and do always know that you are welcome here should you ever find need of solace in the place you once called home. 

Your sister in marriage,

 Summer Darlington

[blushingbookspublishing]

☆•.¸¸🔥☆ HOT NEW RELEASE!☆🔥¸¸.•☆ The Scandal by Annabelle Marin Book 2 in The Hollis Sisters series Twenty-one-year-old Audrina Hollis plans to marry for love even if she has to go through a dozen suitors to find true love. However, her parents have other plans as they secretly arrange her betrothal to the wealthy and distant Dominic Darlington in the spring of 1851. Audrina is heartbroken at the news and leaves New York, believing her future husband will stop searching for her if he can't find her. Unfortunately for her, Dominic is a very persistent man and once he gives his word, he honors it. Dominic won't stop searching until Audrina becomes Mrs. Darlington. After all, they can always ignore each other after the marriage. Audrina wants a marriage centered around love. Emotionally distant Dominic plans to see Audrina as just his wife, but before he knows it, she is slowly melting his cold heart. https://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B0BS24NTZX

[nofatclips]

Home Away From Home by Cut Chemist (featuring Laura Darlington) from the album Die Cut - Directed by Govind Rae

[wheredoiputit-blog]

NZ-W-Y vs AU-W-Y Dream11 Today Prediction [Expert Team] Women's Under 19, One Day Match Preview

NZ-W-Y vs AU-W-Y Dream11 Today Prediction [Expert Team] Women's Under 19, One Day Match Preview, Team news and Playing 11

NZ-W-Y vs AU-W-Y Dream11 Today Prediction [Expert Team] One Day Match

NZ-W-Y (New Zealand Women):

NZ-W-Y vs AU-W-Y Dream11 Today Prediction [Expert Team] One Day Match[/caption]

Cricket Australia has named a 14-member squad to travel to New Zealand

A 14-member squad has been picked by The Cricket Australia Women’s

Katie Gurrey and Jess Watkin will open the inning for the squad.

Arelene Kely, Polly Inglis & Lauren Down will handle the middle order batting line up for the squad.

Jess Kerr and Thamsym Newton will handle the late hitting for the squad.

Thamsym Newton, Arlene Kelly, Rosemair Mair &Bella Armstrong will lead the pace attack of the squad

Jess Watkin and George Atkinson will handle the spin attack.

Polly Inglis will do the Wicket Keeping for the squad.

AU-W-Y (Australia Women):

NZ-W-Y vs AU-W-Y Dream11 Today Prediction [Expert Team] One Day Match[/caption]

A 14-member squad has been named by the hosts too

The captain to lead New Zealand Emerging Players side

The squad also consists of four current White Ferns in the likes of Rosemary Mair, Jess Watkin, Lauren Down and Thamsyn Newton

Josephine Dooley and Maddy Darke will open the inning for the squad.

Rachel Trenaman, Hannah Darlington & Annabel Sutherland will handle the middle order batting for the squad.

Hannah Darlington and Tahlia Wilson will handle the late hitting.

Tahlia Wilson, Annabel Sutherland, Hannah Darlington & Stella Campbell will lead the pace.

Darice Brown and Hayley Silver Homles will handle the spin attack.

Niolce Faltum will handle the wicket-keeping for the squad.

You may also like to read:

CC vs DOL Dream11 Today Prediction [Expert Team] Momentum One Day Cup

ENG vs WI Dream11 Today Prediction [Expert Team] 2nd T20

When and Where:

NZ-W-Y vs AU-W-Y Dream11 Prediction | New Zealand vs Australia, Women's U19 Series, Team News, Playing 11 Bert Sutcliffe Oval, Lincoln 12th March, 03:00 AM IST

(Pitch is neutral)

NZ-W-Y vs AU-W-Y Dream11 Squads:

New Zealand Women:

Bella Armstrong, Georgia Atkinson, Lauren Down, Katie Gurrey, Polly Inglis, Arlene Kelly, Jess Kerr, Rosemary Mair, Jess McFayden, Thamsyn Newton, Jacinta Savage, Saachi Shahri, Jessica Simmons, Jess Watkin

Australia Women:

Isabelle Afaras, Darcie Brown, Stella Campbell, Maddy Darke, Hannah Darlington, Josephine Dooley, Nicole Faltum, Charli Knott, Phoebe Litchfield, Hayley Silver-Holmes, Courtney Sippel, Annabel Sutherland, Rachel Trenaman, Tahlia Wilson

Probable Playing XI:

NZ-W-Y:

Bella Armstrong, Georgia Atkinson, Lauren Down, Katie Gurrey, Polly Inglis(wk), Arlene Kelly, Jess Kerr, Rosemary Mair, Thamsyn Newton, Jacinta Savage/Saachi Shahri, Jess Watkin

AUS-W-Y:

Stella Campbell, Maddy Darke, Hannah Darlington, Josephine Dooley, Nicole Faltum(wk), Charli Knott, Hayley Silver-Holmes, Courtney Sippel, Annabel Sutherland, Rachel Trenaman, Tahlia Wilson

Key Players Of New Zealand Women:

Polly Inglis

Lauren Down

Katie Gurrey

Jess Kerr

Jess Watkin

Arlene Kelly

Rosemary Mair

Thamsyn Newton

Key Players of Australia:

Annabel Sutherland

Hannah Darlington

Stella Campbell

Charlie Knott

Josephine Dooley

Tahlia Wilson

Best Performing Batsmen:

Lauren Down

Nicole Faltum

Josephine Dooley

Rachel Trenaman

Jess Watkin

Annabel Sutherland

Best Performing Bowlers:

Annabel Sutherland

Jess Watkin

Stella Campbell

Rosemary Mair

Bella Armstrong

Hayley Silver-Holmes

Captain & Vice-Captain Options:

Jess Kerr & Maddy Darke

Lauren Down & Josephine Dooley

Jess Watkin & Arlene Kelly

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[aheathen-conceivably]

The English Darlingtons in early 1933 on the grounds of Oxford, where Wally Webber now attends university. Pictured is also his adoptive mother Virginia Darlington, who lives in nearby London, as well as Isaiah and Summer Darlington and their three children, who have made the trip from rural Henford-on-Bagley.

[aheathen-conceivably]

Back at the cottage, the sound of playing children and laughter could be heard from nearly every room of the house. Summer and Isaiah’s children were just as rambunctious as Zelda expected, roping Violette into all of their games and lifting the remaining melancholia from the air.

Even Wally, who would usually rather read alone than engage in such joviality, found the energy infectious; so he stayed amidst the noise rather than seek out the studious quiet that he and Virginia were used to in their own home.

The sounds echoed up the stairs into the small second story hallway, where Virginia and Zelda were standing outside of Rosella’s old room. They were both staring at the door as though it sheltered a trove of terrifying secrets, silently daring the other to be the first to open it.

Zelda went forward, her hand on the knob before Virginia could say a word. She turned the handle and eased open the door, letting out the smell of dust collecting in the sunshine.

They stopped in the doorway, marveling at the accumulation of toys and memorabilia, before Zelda pushed the door open wider and walked into the center of the room, “Goodness, Virginia. Have Mother and Isaiah been using it for storage all these years? With brother’s growing family you do think they would have need of it, perhaps transformed it into something more useful.”

Zelda’s question snapped Virginia back to reality and she followed her sister into the room. Her characteristically sharp countenance returned to her face as though the fear had never been there, “I see the new world has made you a bit bolder hasn’t it, sister? We can’t all be so comfortable around things that continue to pain us.”

She turned away before Zelda could respond, searching the room for what she had come for, “Hell, where is it? So many trinkets amongst so few people. I could have sworn they told me it was up here somewhere…”

“Ah-ha! Here it is,” Virginia bent down, moving books and toys out of her way, “I wouldn’t think that you had heard, but a few years ago Harrington Estate fell on hard times….”

Virginia paused momentarily to allow herself a triumphant, gloating smile, “Modernity finally caught up with the old ways, I suppose. Lord Harrington had to break up the whole thing and sell it off piece by piece. During the process he sent a servant down here with this package...”

Without an ounce of the fanfare that the moment called for, Virginia pulled a bright, gilded frame from behind the dresser and propped it up on a trunk, “He said they found this in one of the rooms, thought we might like to have it after what happened.”

The very gravity of the room seemed to shift, recentering itself on the pair of bright green eyes looking off into the distance longingly. Throughout the last seventeen years Zelda had only seen Rosella in a handful of family photos; but none of them compared to this: her sister lovingly painted in a fine formal gown, her curls flowing over her shoulders and rubies draped around her neck.

The painting was rendered in exacting, lifelike colors that Zelda could hardly recall looking at the sepia photographs of their youth, giving the illusion that Rosella was once again back in her room with her sisters, telling them stories of her life at the manor.

Zelda stared forward, unbelieving, “Virginia, I don’t…I don’t understand. What was this doing there? For god’s sake who would have painted it? And how utterly strange that her hair is down; she never would wear it down, even at home. You must remember that, don’t you?”

Virginia didn’t take her eyes off the painting, perhaps so that her own expression wouldn’t give away what she knew of the Harringtons. In answer she kept her gaze averted and shrugged her shoulders, “Whatever it may be, I thought you might like to have it. Perhaps you’re the only one left who can really still look at it and feel joy.”

Zelda eyes shined, “You’re right, sister. And it gives me another idea.”

(My immense and immeasurable thanks to the amazing @scythesms for this lovely painting. Without you this scene would be nothing more than an idea and I appreciate you greatly ❤️)

[aheathen-conceivably]

Summer and Isaiah Darlington with their three children Annabelle, Rosalie, and Olivier in the Bramblewood during the Spring of 1928.

[aheathen-conceivably]

🎶 The Woods 🎶

The sun broke over the tree line of Henford-on-Bagley, illuminating the remaining mist in the air and sending a shimmer of iridescence along the river. From outside, life at Darlington cottage had seemingly continued unchanged for decades.

Yet inside, Florence had been in and out of consciousness for days. Her body was slowly trying to let go, but she wouldn’t let it.

She could hear the constant low hum coming from the living room that accompanied any death bed. My death bed, she thought with a small sigh. She turned to look at Oliver, is this how you felt my love? Knowing they were all out there, just waiting for something to happen?

Although the photo was even more faded now than when it was first taken, she could still see how blue his eyes had been. They called out to her from across time, making her painfully aware of how long it had been since she’d heard his voice. Not yet, my love. Not yet. There were voices that she didn’t hear in the hum outside her room, voices that she had to hold on just a bit longer to hear.

But no matter how much she tried, there was one voice that she wouldn’t be able to hear. Rosella. Rosella should be here, huddled in the living room with her siblings, playing with her nieces and nephews the way that she had once loved to play with Zelda and Isaiah.

Florence shut her eyes tightly against the tears that clouded her vision and engulfed her in dreams of the way that night could have gone. If only she had been more caring, more reassuring, then maybe her daughter would never have left, maybe she would still be alive…

No, Florence told herself. She had tread that path of regret her whole life, she wouldn’t tread it on her death bed too. Besides maybe, just maybe, she would see her daughter again soon; then she could hold her and stroke her hair the way that she should have that night, the night that she walked out the door never to return.

Florence was jolted from her reveries by the sound of the front door of the cottage. Suddenly, the hum outside the room grew louder, the voices tinged with the merry tones of reunion, forgetting why they were all gathered there in the first place.

Florence pushed herself up on the bed. Finally, it was time.

Part 1/2

(The ~vibes~ today are heartbreaking please indulge me and click the little 🎶)

[aheathen-conceivably]

In the early months of 1929 the Darlingtons gathered at St. Sophie’s Cathedral in the Bramblewood for the burial of their mother Florence. The family had been together in this cemetery twice before: once for the burial of their sister Rosella and again for the internment of their father Oliver.

Although deep in grief, there was less sadness in the churchyard that day than either of the burials they remembered from their youth. Florence’s tomb near that of her husband and daughter gave the impression that she was at rest, and that her death came as a peaceful sleep rather than a life cut short.

Once the last handful of dirt had been thrown over the coffin and the final roses placed near the headstone, the family left the church yard to return to Darlington cottage. As they crossed the entrance gates, Virginia realized that Zelda wasn’t amongst them.

She turned to look for her and was shocked to see her sister walking in the other direction, holding her child’s hand as she wandered amongst the verdant spring flowers. With a sudden jolt, Virginia remembered their father’s funeral, and how much Zelda had avoided cemeteries after that; so she told her own son to go with his uncle and followed her sister through the graves.

Virginia kept her footfall light, trying to ensure that her heels didn’t make a sound in the grass below her feet. She followed Zelda to the other end of the graveyard, where she sat down near a tombstone that Virginia hadn’t visited in years.

As she got closer Virginia could hear Zelda talking to Violette, “This, my little love, is your Aunt Ella! She would be 37 now! How you would have loved her stories. They were always so glamorous and grand, I just know that you would have loved her more than anyone else.”

Virginia watched silently, tears forming in her eyes before she could stop them. She had never been one to speak her emotions or really ever bond with the rest of her family, and here Zelda was, showing more honesty and bravery than she had ever mustered at their sister’s grave. It was clear that she was a different person than she had been a decade ago, one capable of bearing life’s sadness more than Virginia could have expected.

“Zelda?” Virginia asked quietly.

Zelda turned, a bit surprised, but her face nonetheless peaceful and happy. Virginia was stunned. She sat next to her sister as Violette walked to Rosella’s grave, speaking a quiet but empathetic hello to the aunt she would never get to meet. Virginia watched her for a moment before she turned her attention back to Zelda, “I think there’s something back at the cottage you would like to see, sister. I didn’t quite realize until this moment, but I believe it belongs to you.”

Part 1/2

[aheathen-conceivably]

Not long after the death of their mother, the Darlington siblings had a portrait of themselves and their children taken in front of their childhood home. They didn’t know when, or if, they would ever be together again, so they each kept a copy, that way they could always be with one another in some manner.

[aheathen-conceivably]

My dearest Zelda,

I write to you once again with happy news. Although the seeds were planted in 1918, women now well and truly have the right to vote in our beloved England! No one is as ecstatic as your sister Virginia, who never backed down from a fight for the cause.

The suffragette party hosted a grand rally in London to celebrate the victory and they invited Virginia to speak on her achievements in philanthropy. They also arranged for her to tour the city from one end to another, speaking to crowds at universities and union halls about the wins gained and what has yet to be achieved.

After the lecture tour, Virginia and Wally stayed in the city’s university district to look at townhouses. You see, Virginia has also agreed to the women’s political and social union’s offer to run their alms hours in the city.

Unfortunately, this means that she and Wally will be moving to London full time. I will be so sad to see them go, but I know that the city offers so much more for brilliant minds like your sister and her dear Wally than a small town like ours ever could.

But nonetheless life here in Henford remains full and happy. We have had an entire slate of birthdays recently, but it still seems as though it were only yesterday that Annabelle and the twins were born.

Now they can all move about the farmyard or through the Brambewood on their own. I fear that Summer and your brother may give them too much freedom in this regard, but with their own wild spirits, I cannot say that I am much surprised or even in any way disappointed in their choices as parents.

While I do love Olivier and Wally with all of my heart, I must admit I have thought so much of Rosalie, Annabelle, and your Violette these last few months. Your grandmother Adelia once jested that the Darlington name has long been afflicted with the curse of the girl child. As I now grow old, I will admit that I once wished for a boy, only because I thought his choices in life would come easier than they have for you, Virginia, and even my Rosella, would she have been with us long enough to make them.

As I think now of this supposed curse, with the world widening before us and the freedoms we have increasing by the year, I am filled with nothing but hope for each of my young granddaughters, that they may reap the fruits and gains that were so hard fought for them by the woman of the last generations. I feel at peace knowing that they shall have the lives they deserve, and that I may live out the rest of my days seeing them grow into women that will make us all proud.

Forever your loving mother,

Florence Darlington

[aheathen-conceivably]

Zelda,

I appreciate your correspondence throughout my pregnancy more than I can express, especially all of the new book titles that you recommended.

On your mother’s insistence, I spent most of my final months on bed rest. Everything about this pregnancy was simply worse than my first, and I spent many long, nauseous hours with nothing to distract me but a novel. Your brother, ever the man that I fell in love with, brought home a stray dog named Bertie in the sixth month of my pregnancy.

He is so marvelously calm, content simply to lie with me or watch over Annabelle as she sleeps. After Daisy and Milou died some years ago, I did not realize quite how much I missed having a dog in the cottage. Now with Bertie to keep me company, it is though a piece of our lives has been restored.

My many miserable months were finally explained one early morning when I gave birth to twins. Your brother seems mystified that there is one boy and one girl, as the Darlington superstition of the girl-child seems to have infected even him. Their hair and eyes are but a cross of Isaiah and myself, which seems to bring Isaiah much joy, as there is now another Darlington who has inherited your mother’s blonde curls.

We have named the twins Olivier and Rosalie. I do hope that as they grow they honor their namesakes, and can bring some closure to your family after the losses that you all have endured.

It has been some months since the birth, and the twins are frankly so rambunctious that I feared not even Isaiah is built for them. But every day he proves me wrong; juggling the two of them in the farmyard even as the spring crops demand our attention. I do appreciate his boundless energy not only for myself but for Annabelle, lest she feel as though the twins have taken all of our time from her.

Would you write back to me with more book recommendations? I have begun teaching Anna how to read, and we both treasure that time together. There is something in the pages that appeals to my sense of adventure, all the while being able to stay here with my beloveds, and so I treasure each story deeply.

Your sister in marriage,

Summer Darlington

[aheathen-conceivably]

My Dearest Zelda,

The time since I returned to Henford has been full of both joy and sorrow. Young Summer is pregnant again, and I have never quite seen your brother so excited. He is such a dear with his first born, content to play as though he were a child himself.

Yet he and Summer are so diligent with this old farm, seemingly endlessly content by their freedom to work outside and be with eachother whenever they please. I have found that I cannot work as well as I once could, so their dedication to this land brings me much joy.

However, not all has been well here in England, and it is at times like these that I miss your calm smile and your beautiful voice. My dear friend Elaine has passed away on her farm. I was there with her, surrounded by our Webber cousins at the place you all loved so much growing up. She is at peace now, but I can’t help but feel as though I have lost my last confidante.

With her son in laws’ growing business in Windenburg, they have decided to sell old Webber farm. It saddens me to think of Wallace and Virginia playing there as children, or your father and my uncle humming while working the fields. But time must march on, and new families come and go where old memories were made.

With every passing day, the burden of memory feels heavier upon my shoulders. Since Elaine’s funeral, I have taken to going to the graveyard on sunny days. She is buried not far from your father and Rosella, who both slumber there amidst the dappling of oak leaves.

I suppose it is not very English of me, but sometimes I sit near your father’s grave and talk quietly to him. At first I felt a bit foolish, but now, it is as though part of him is still here with me. I do wonder if he can hear me and if there is any remnant of him left in this land that he loved so much. I do not think of myself as superstitious, but I cannot help but hope that he does remain in some way, if only so that we may be together for even a moment more.

How is your little one? The photo that we took together is my greatest treasure. I keep it on my writing desk next to a portrait of your father and I on our wedding day. It is strange to think of just how young we were then, younger even than you and your Antoine are now.

I often look at these photographs and think of how your father would have loved his grandchildren, none of whom he ever got to meet. Even thinking of their names together brings me much joy; Oliver and Violette, what a lovely pair the two of them would have been.

Please write to Summer if you have time. It would be nice for her to have a correspondence other than an old woman like myself.

With all of my love, your mother,

Florence Darlington

[aheathen-conceivably]

Isaiah and Summer Darlington at the christening of their first born daughter Annabelle in late 1923. Also in attendance was the extended Webber family, Annabelle’s grandmothers Florence Darlington and Belle Laurent, and her godmother Virginia Darlington.

[aheathen-conceivably]

Dearest Zelda,

I write to you with the most joyous news! Not long after the wedding we discovered that Summer was pregnant. Of course I was quite worried; she and Isaiah are still so young and only just settling in to their lives together on the farm, so I was unsure if the two of them would be able to adjust to their new roles as parents.

However, your brother was the pinnacle of love and care throughout her pregnancy. During Summer’s third trimester, we were hit with a horrible heatwave, one so strong that I do not think I’ve felt anything like it since I myself was pregnant with Isaiah.

Dearest Summer was stuck indoors, sweltering, and still your brother did all the housework, cooking for her when I was out with the animals or helping her to walk about the house.

When the heat finally abated for one afternoon he planned a picnic near the tree they used to climb as teenagers. I do not know if I have ever seen a happier pair than them, and truth be told I think that Isaiah may have been even more excited about the prospect of a child than she was.

Of course I am delighted as well. I love Wally with all my heart, but I relish the thought of new children growing in this cottage the way that you and your siblings once did.

One warm afternoon our waiting finally came to an end, when Summer gave birth to a little girl named Annabelle. Virginia insisted that she labor at the hospital, but luckily the birth went smoothly, and no medical intervention was required. It is such a wonder how much medicine has grown since the things your grandmother Adelia taught me in the last century.

I do wish that you could meet little Annabelle. She has the most shocking head of curly brown hair, just like her mother. I must say, I am tempted to think that girls must run in the Darlington family, even after all these years.

It was not long until we were able to welcome Summer and little Annabelle back home to the cottage. In the weeks before the birth, we transformed Isaiah's old room into a nursery for her. Summer spends much of her time there now, playing with her daughter in the afternoon sun before she falls asleep for her nap.

Although she is but a few months old, Annabelle already reminds me so much of Isaiah at that age. She is so spirited and lively, and I could swear that she knows exactly what to do to make her mother and father laugh.

I have also included a photograph from Annabelle’s christening for your records. I am sure that you must have acquired quite the collection by now. Please keep them safe. Sometimes I look at a photograph of you or your father, or even all of us together when we were young, and simply marvel at the wonder of their existence.

What curious things they are, these photographs, like external remnants of our memories, tiny fragments remaining from people and times that have long gone by. Sometimes it feels as though they will be all that remain of our lives in generations to come. I hope that no matter what the future brings, you can look at them and remember us always.

Your Mother,

Florence Darlington

[aheathen-conceivably]

Darlington Family Tree Update 🪴

To celebrate the birth of little Annabelle I’ve gone and updated the Darlington family tree, as well as add the Duplanchier branch, and expand the Webber family tree.

I haven’t added/updated everyone’s stories quite yet but I wanted to share because we now have two bebes in generation four and I positively cannot believe we’ve made it this far 💖