In 1890, in a small photography studio in Lancaster, England, a photograph was taken of two young sisters, one approximately 9 years old, the other about six.
The photograph shows what appears to be a tender moment of sibling affection.
The older sister is leaning toward her younger sister, her lips pressed against the smaller girl’s cheek in a gentle kiss.
The younger sister sits perfectly still in a chair, wearing a beautiful white dress with lace detailing, her hands folded neatly in her lap.
Her eyes are closed, her expression peaceful, as if savoring this moment of sisterly love.
For more than 130 years, this photograph existed in Lancaster County archives as a touching portrait of Victorian childhood.
A sweet image capturing the affection between sisters, a moment of innocent love preserved forever.
But in 2024, when this photograph was submitted for professional digital restoration to recover details lost to extensive water damage and fading, specialists discovered something in the enhanced image that transformed this seemingly beautiful portrait into something profoundly tragic and heartbreaking.
The restoration revealed details that had been invisible for over a century.
Details that completely changed what this photograph actually showed and why it was taken.
What appeared to be a kiss of affection was actually a kiss of farewell.
And the younger sister’s peaceful expression wasn’t contentment.
It was something else entirely.
Subscribe now because this photograph tells a story about a sister’s final goodbye.
About Victorian family’s desperate attempts to preserve love beyond death, and about how one last kiss was captured forever in a way that seems shocking today, but was an act of pure devotion in 1890.
The photograph arrived at the Lancaster County Archives in Manchester in March 2024 as part of a large donation of Victorian era family photographs and documents from the estate of Elellanar Braftoft whose family had lived in the Blackburn area for over two centuries.
Among hundreds of typical Victorian portraits, formal family groups, stern-faced adults, babies in elaborate christening gowns, this particular photograph stood out for its apparent tenderness and emotional warmth.
The image showed two young girls in what appeared to be a photographers’s studio, identifiable by the painted backdrop showing a garden scene and the formal posing chair typical of Victorian photography studios.
The composition was intimate and touching.
The younger girl, appearing to be approximately 6 years old, sat in an ornate wooden chair with carved details.
She wore an exquisite white dress, clearly expensive and carefully made, with multiple layers of lace, delicate embroidery, and silk ribbons.
The dress was pristine and beautifully arranged, spreading gracefully around the chair.
Her light colored hair was styled elaborately with curls and adorned with a white ribbon bow.
Her hands were folded peacefully in her lap, fingers intertwined delicately.
Her eyes were closed, her face turned slightly upward, her expression serene and peaceful, the look of a child completely relaxed and content.
Standing beside the chair, leaning down toward her sister, was an older girl of approximately 9 years old.
She wore a similar white dress, though less elaborate, and her dark hair was pulled back neatly with a ribbon.
The older girl was captured in the act of kissing her younger sister’s cheek.
Her face pressed gently against the smaller girl’s face, her lips clearly touching the cheek, her eyes closed in what appeared to be a moment of sincere affection.
The older girl’s hands were positioned tenderly, one hand resting on the back of the chair, the other appearing to gently touch her sister’s shoulder.
Her posture suggested genuine love and protectiveness, the natural affection of a devoted older sister.
The photograph’s composition created a tableau of Victorian childhood at its most idealized.
Innocence, affection, sibling love, beauty, and peace.
Everything about the image suggested warmth and care.
written on the back of the photograph in faded ink.
Emily and Charlotte Ashworth 1890, Blackburn, Lancaster.
Sisters forever.
Dr.
Rebecca Norton, the senior archivist cataloging the Bankraftoft donation, made her initial assessment with genuine appreciation.
Extraordinarily touching example of Victorian sibling photography.
Very unusual to capture such an intimate gesture.
Most Victorian photographs show formal stiff poses.
This photographer managed to capture what appears to be a genuine moment of sisterly affection.
The younger girl’s peaceful, relaxed expression combined with her sister’s kiss creates an image of remarkable emotional warmth for this era.
Excellent condition considering age.
Recommend for high priority restoration and possible [clears throat] feature in Victorian childhood exhibition.
This photograph beautifully contradicts the common perception that Victorian family photographs were always cold and formal.
Dr.
Norton was particularly struck by the apparent spontaneity of the image.
Victorian photography required subjects to remain absolutely still during long exposures.
Any movement would blur the image.
Yet somehow, this photograph had captured what looked like a genuine moment of affection with both girls appearing natural and relaxed rather than stiff and formal.
The photograph was indeed in need of restoration.
Significant water damage had created large stains and discoloration across portions of the image, and extensive fading had made many details difficult to see.
The edges were torn and deteriorated.
But despite the damage, the central image, the two sisters, the kiss, the peaceful expressions remained visible and moving.
Dr.
Norton submitted the photograph to the archives digital restoration specialist with a note.
Please restore with highest priority.
This is one of the most emotionally touching Victorian photographs I’ve encountered.
Recover as much detail as possible, especially facial expressions and the tender gesture.
This image deserves to be preserved and shared.
It shows a side of Victorian childhood that often gets overlooked.
She had no idea what the restoration would actually reveal.
Dr.
James Patterson, the digital restoration specialist, began his careful work on the Ashworth sisters photograph.
As he started removing the water damage digitally, recovering details that had been obscured by decades of deterioration, he began to notice things that made him increasingly uncomfortable.
The first thing that struck Dr.
Patterson was the younger sister’s posture.
As he enhanced the image and removed the discoloration that had been obscuring details, he could see Charlotte’s body more clearly.
She was sitting extremely upright in the chair, unnaturally so.
Her spine was perfectly straight.
Her shoulders were level and squared, and her overall posture had a rigidity that seemed wrong, even accounting for Victorian formality.
When Dr.
Patterson enhanced the chair itself, looking at how Charlotte was positioned, something became apparent.
There appeared to be some kind of support or structure behind her back.
The chair’s wooden back should have been visible through the open carved details, but instead there was something blocking the view, something positioned directly behind Charlotte’s back.
He then focused on Charlotte’s hands folded in her lap.
As he enhanced the detail and color correction, something seemed odd about the hands.
They were positioned very carefully, very precisely, fingers intertwined in a specific way, but there was no tension in the hands, no natural relaxation.
They appeared to have been carefully posed and arranged, then left in that exact position.
Most disturbingly, when Dr.
Patterson worked on restoring Charlotte’s face, removing the fading and water damage to see her features more clearly, her expression began to look different from his initial impression.
Yes, her eyes were closed and her face appeared peaceful.
But as the image became clearer, that peaceful expression started to seem less like contentment and more like emptiness.
There was no subtle movement in the facial muscles, no slight tension around the eyes that would indicate someone who had just closed their eyes.
The face had a waxy, completely still quality that seemed wrong.
Her skin tone also seemed off.
As Dr.
Patterson worked to restore accurate colors and tones to the photograph, Charlotte’s skin appeared notably paler than her sister Emily’s.
not just slightly paler, but significantly so with an almost translucent quality that suggested something was wrong.
Dr.
Patterson then examined Emily, the older sister, who was kissing Charlotte’s cheek.
As he enhanced the details of her face and expression, what he saw troubled him deeply.
Emily’s eyes were closed, yes, but when magnified, the expression on her face didn’t look like simple affection or peaceful contentment.
There was a tightness around her closed eyes, a tension in her facial muscles that suggested she might be crying or trying desperately not to cry.
Her lips pressed against Charlotte’s cheek seemed to be trembling slightly, the kind of movement that would create just a hint of blur even in a long exposure photograph.
When Dr.
Patterson enhanced Emily’s hands, one on the chair back, one on Charlotte’s shoulder, he could see that both hands were clenched, not relaxed.
The knuckles showed white, the fingers showed tension.
This wasn’t the gentle, loving touch of a sister giving an affectionate kiss.
This was someone holding on desperately, gripping tightly, trying to maintain physical contact.
Most telling was Emily’s overall posture.
She wasn’t just leaning down to kiss her sister.
She was pressed against her, clinging to her with her whole body language suggesting desperation rather than simple affection.
Dr.
Patterson sat back from his monitor, feeling a cold suspicion forming.
He had restored hundreds of Victorian photographs.
He knew the signs.
He recognized the indicators that this particular photograph specialist had learned to identify.
He zoomed in on the background of the photograph, specifically the area that had been most damaged by water stains and was now being cleared by his restoration work.
As the damage was digitally removed and the original image recovered, shapes began to emerge that had been completely invisible before.
Behind the girls, partially hidden by the painted backdrop and the extensive water damage that had obscured this area for decades, there appeared to be other people in the room, indistinct figures standing in the background.
And as Dr.
Patterson enhanced this area further, trying to see who these background figures were.
What he discovered made him immediately contact Dr.
Norton.
Dr.
Norton, he said when she answered, his voice tight with concern.
I think you need to see the restored image, and I think you need to understand what kind of photograph this actually is, because this isn’t a portrait of sisterly affection.
This is something else entirely.
Dr.
Norton came to the restoration lab immediately.
As Dr.
Patterson walked her through the enhanced images, showing her the details that had emerged, her initial enthusiasm about the touching photograph transformed into somber understanding.
“This is a memorial photograph,” Dr.
Norton said quietly, looking at the enhanced image of Charlotte’s unnaturally rigid posture.
her waxy skin tone, her absolutely motionless face.
Charlotte is deceased.
This photograph shows Emily saying goodbye to her dead sister.
Dr.
Patterson nodded grimly.
That’s what I think, too.
Everything points to it.
The younger girl shows all the signs of being deceased.
the complete absence of any muscle tension, the palar, the absolutely rigid positioning, the support structure behind her back holding her upright in the chair.
Victorian memorial or post-mortem photography was a common practice in the 1800s, though it’s shocking to modern sensibilities.
When someone died, especially a child, families would often hire a photographer to take a final portrait.
For many families, particularly working-class families, this memorial photograph would be the only image they ever had of their lost loved one.
The practice varied widely in how the deceased was portrayed.
Some memorial photographs showed the dead person lying in a coffin or bed, clearly deceased.
Others attempted to make the deceased look as lifelike as possible, posing them sitting in chairs, sometimes with eyes propped open, sometimes surrounded by family members who were still alive.
The photograph of Emily and Charlotte Ashworth appeared to be an example of a particularly poignant variation.
A surviving sibling posed with the deceased sibling in what was meant to look like a final moment of affection.
One last kiss, one last touch, preserved forever in a photograph.
Dr.
Norton began researching the Ashworth family in Lanasher historical records, census data, and parish registers.
The information she found confirmed their worst suspicions and added heartbreaking context to the photograph.
The family lived in Blackburn, Lanasher, an industrial town where John Ashworth worked in the textile mills.
His wife Margaret took in washing and sewing to supplement the family income.
They had three children, of which Emily and Charlotte were the two oldest.
Parish death records revealed the tragedy.
Charlotte Anne Ashworth died on March 18th, 1890 at age 6 years and 3 months.
Cause of death, scarlet fever.
Scarlet fever was one of the great killers of Victorian children.
The bacterial infection caused high fever, a distinctive red rash, and often led to serious complications, including kidney damage, and heart problems.
Before antibiotics, scarlet fever killed thousands of children every year in Britain.
The disease was particularly deadly for younger children.
The photograph had been taken on March 19th, 1890, one day after Charlotte’s death.
This timing was typical for memorial photography.
Bodies had to be photographed quickly, usually within 24 to 48 hours of death before decomposition made it impossible to achieve a peaceful lifelike appearance.
Records showed that Charlotte was buried on March 21st, 1890 in the family plot at Blackburn Cemetery.
The grave marker, which still exists today, reads Charlotte Anne Ashworth, 1883 to 1890.
Beloved daughter and sister, too pure for earth.
Research into Victorian photographers in the Blackburn area revealed that memorial photography was openly advertised as a service.
One photographer, Thomas Bradshaw, who operated a studio in Blackburn during the 1880s to 1890s, advertised in local newspapers.
Sympathetic memorial portraiture.
Deceased loved ones photographed with care and dignity.
Family groupings available.
Special attention to creating peaceful lifelike appearances.
The phrase family groupings available was significant.
It meant that living family members could be posed with the deceased for the photograph.
This is exactly what the Ashworth photograph showed.
Emily, the living 9-year-old sister, posed with Charlotte, the deceased six-year-old, in one final moment of connection.
For the Ashworth family, this photograph represented several things simultaneously.
The last time Emily could touch her sister, the last time they would be together, the only photograph the family would ever have of Charlotte, and a permanent record that Charlotte had existed and had been loved.
The kiss that looked so tender and affectionate in the original image now took on heartbreaking new meaning.
It was literally Emily’s final kiss goodbye to her dead sister, preserved forever in a photograph.
As Dr.
Patterson continued the restoration process, recovering details that had been lost for 134 years, the full reality of how this memorial photograph was created became undeniably clear and heartbreakingly detailed.
The support structure behind Charlotte became completely visible in the restored image.
It was a specialized posing stand, a metal frame with adjustable clamps that was positioned directly behind her back and possibly also behind her neck, hidden by her hair and dress collar.
This stand was literally holding Charlotte’s body upright in the chair.
Without this support, a deceased person’s body would slump forward.
There is no muscle tension, no core strength, no ability to maintain an upright seated position.
The stand was carefully hidden by positioning it directly behind Charlotte, and by the careful arrangement of her elaborate white dress, which concealed the base of the stand.
But in the enhanced restoration, the shape of the metal frame was clearly visible through the thin fabric of the dress back and around the edges of the chair.
Charlotte’s hands, folded so precisely in her lap, showed clear evidence of post-mortem positioning.
The fingers were intertwined in a specific pattern that had been carefully arranged and then remained exactly as positioned.
There was no relaxation.
No natural settling.
The complete absence of any muscle tension in the hands was now obvious in the enhanced image.
Most revealing was Charlotte’s face.
The enhanced restoration showed details that had been completely invisible in the faded, water-damaged original.
Her skin had the distinctive waxy pour of death, not just pale, but with an unnatural translucency and slight yellow gray undertone that no living person has.
Her lips had a slight bluish tinge, visible even in the black and white photograph once color values were properly restored.
Her eyes, closed as if peacefully resting, showed subtle signs that suggested they may have been manually closed and possibly held shut during the photograph.
The eyelids had a slight irregularity and flatness that indicated they weren’t naturally closed, but had been positioned.
Most heartbreaking were the enhanced details of Emily herself, the living sister, giving her final kiss.
The restoration revealed that Emily’s face, pressed against Charlotte’s cheek in that affectionate kiss, showed unmistakable signs of crying.
Moisture tracks were visible on her cheeks, tears that had run down her face.
Her eyes, closed for the photograph, showed swelling and redness around the eyelids consistent with prolonged crying.
Her lips, touching Charlotte’s cold cheek, appeared to be trembling, creating just enough movement during the long exposure to cause a slight blur at the edges of her mouth.
This blur, invisible in the damaged original, became clear in the restoration.
Emily was crying while kissing her dead sister, trying desperately to hold still for the camera, but unable to completely control her grief.
Emily’s hands gripping the chair and Charlotte’s shoulder showed white knuckles and visible tension.
The desperate grip of someone holding on to something they don’t want to let go of.
The hand on Charlotte’s shoulder appeared to be clutching the fabric of the dress, fingers digging into the material.
The background details that emerged from the restored areas were equally telling.
The indistinct figures that became visible behind the painted backdrop were identified.
Two adults, almost certainly the parents, John and Margaret Ashworth, standing in the background watching their surviving daughter say goodbye to their dead daughter.
Their faces showed expressions of profound grief.
The mother appeared to have her hand over her mouth.
The father’s face showed the rigid control of someone trying not to break down.
Partially visible at the edge of the frame, barely detectable even in the enhanced image, were white flowers, liies, traditional funeral flowers in Victorian England.
They had been positioned near Charlotte, probably held just outside the camera frame, ready to be placed in her coffin after the photograph was completed.
The enhanced restoration also revealed a detail that added another layer of tragedy.
Pinned to Charlotte’s dress, just visible on her chest, was a small lock of hair tied with a ribbon, Emily’s hair, given to her dead sister to keep forever.
The photograph that had seemed to show a sweet moment of sisterly affection was actually showing Emily’s desperate final contact with Charlotte.
The peaceful expression on Charlotte’s face wasn’t contentment.
It was death.
The tender kiss was Emily trying to kiss her sister back to life, or at least to have one last physical connection before Charlotte was placed in a coffin and buried forever.
With the photograph’s true nature now undeniable, Dr.
Norton intensified her research into the Ashworth family, trying to understand the complete context of this heartbreaking image.
What she discovered added even more emotional depth to an already devastating photograph.
Census records and family documents revealed that Emily and Charlotte had been extremely close.
Emily was exactly 3 years older than Charlotte.
And according to later family correspondents that survived in the Bankraftoft family papers, Emily had essentially helped raise Charlotte, acting as a second mother to her younger sister in a household where both parents worked long hours in the textile industry.
A letter written in 1891 by Margaret Ashworth to her sister described the relationship.
Our Emily was devoted to Charlotte from the moment the baby came into the world.
She was only three when Charlotte was born, but she always wanted to help care for her little sister.
They were inseparable.
Emily would read to Charlotte, play with her, teach her songs and games.
When Charlotte took ill with the fever, Emily refused to leave her side.
Even when we tried to protect her from the contagion, she sat by Charlotte’s bed for three days and nights, holding her hand, talking to her, begging her not to leave.
The letter continued with a detail that makes the photograph even more poignant.
When Charlotte died, Emily was inconsolable.
She kept saying she needed to kiss her sister one more time to tell her goodbye properly.
Mr.
Bradshaw, the photographer, said he could arrange this for us.
That Emily could kiss Charlotte in the photograph so Emily would always have that goodbye.
Always have that last kiss captured forever.
The photograph, rather than being a morbid curiosity, was actually a compassionate response by a Victorian photographer to a grieving child’s desperate need for closure.
Thomas Bradshaw had arranged for Emily to say goodbye to her sister in a way that would be preserved permanently.
The cost of the photograph was documented in family financial records, 12 shillings, an enormous expense for a workingclass family in 1890, equivalent to perhaps 2 weeks wages.
But for the Ashworth family, it was money well spent.
This photograph would be the only image they ever had of Charlotte and the only image they would have of their two daughters together.
Research into what happened to Emily after Charlotte’s death revealed both tragedy and resilience.
School records and local documents showed that Emily struggled significantly after losing her sister.
A teacher’s note from 1891 mentioned that Emily Ashworth remains withdrawn and melancholic following the death of her sister.
She often speaks of Charlotte as if she were still present.
However, Emily survived childhood, no small achievement given Victorian mortality rates, and grew to adulthood.
Census records show her marrying in 1905 at age 24 to a man named William Thompson.
They had four children and Emily lived until 1957, dying at age 76.
Most remarkably, a 1951 oral history interview was conducted with Emily Thompson Nay Ashworth as part of a project documenting workingclass life in Lancaster.
In the interview, then 70 years old, Emily briefly mentioned her childhood and Charlotte.
I lost my little sister when I was nine, Scarlet Fever took her.
I remember they let me kiss her goodbye one last time while they took our photograph together.
I kept that photograph with me my whole life.
People nowadays find it strange, the idea of photographing the dead, but back then it was all we had.
That photograph was precious to me.
It showed that Charlotte had been real, that she had been mine, that I had loved her.
The kiss in that photograph, that was real.
That was me saying goodbye to the person I loved most in the world.
The interview revealed that Emily had kept the photograph displayed in her home throughout her entire life and that she had shown it to her children and grandchildren, telling them about their aunt Charlotte, who died so young.
The photograph passed through Emily’s family and eventually came into the possession of Eleanor Braftoft, a great great niece of Emily, whose estate donation brought the photograph to the Lanasher Archives in 2024.
The photograph of Emily kissing Charlotte’s cheek, now properly understood and restored, has been put on permanent display at the Lancaster County Archives with a detailed caption explaining its true nature as a memorial photograph.
The image is used as part of an exhibition on Victorian childhood mortality and the ways families coped with the loss of children.
Dr.
Norton, who initially cataloged the photograph as a charming portrait of sisterly affection, now says, “This photograph is one of the most moving historical documents I’ve ever worked with.
It’s not morbid or disturbing when you understand the context.
It’s an expression of pure love.” Emily needed to say goodbye to her sister.
The photograph gave her that opportunity and preserved it forever.
Modern viewers often have an immediate negative reaction to post-mortem photography, but we need to remember these families weren’t being macob or strange.
They were doing what they could with the tools available to them.
This wasn’t about death.
It was about preserving love, about creating a tangible record that someone precious had existed and had been loved.
The archives visitor comments book shows that modern viewers, once they understand the photograph’s true nature and context, often find it deeply moving rather than disturbing.
Many comments mentioned crying while reading the story, relating it to their own experiences of losing siblings or understanding what Emily must have felt.
One visitor wrote, “I lost my little sister when I was 10.
If I could have had one more kiss, one more moment to say goodbye, I would have treasured it forever.
This photograph isn’t sad.
It’s beautiful.
It’s love made permanent.
The photograph that seemed to show a sweet moment of childhood affection actually shows something far more profound.
A desperate, loving farewell between sisters.
A final kiss captured at the moment owned when one sister was crossing from life to death.
Preserved by a grieving family who wanted to remember that their daughters had loved each other.
Emily’s kiss lasted only a moment in 1890.
But the photograph made it eternal.
That final touch, that last goodbye, that expression of love stronger than death.
It has outlived everyone who was in that room.
outlived the photographer who captured it and continues to move people more than 130 years later.
Charlotte died at age six, but she lives on in that photograph, forever receiving her sister’s kiss.
Emily lived to be 76, but in that photograph, she is forever 9 years old, forever saying goodbye, forever preserving that one last moment of connection with the sister she loved most in the world.
The photograph isn’t about death.
It’s about what love looks like in the face of death.
Desperate, tender, eternal.
It’s about a kiss that meant goodbye, but also meant I will never forget you.
It’s about a sister’s love that was so strong even death couldn’t break it completely because that last kiss would be preserved forever.
As Dr.
Norton notes, every time someone looks at this photograph, Emily kisses Charlotte again.
That moment of love, that farewell, that desperate tenderness, it never ends.
That was the gift the photograph gave to Emily in 1890.
And it’s the gift it continues to give to everyone who understands what they’re really seeing.
Not death, but love that refused to let go.
Captured forever in a single eternal moment.
