The story behind the scenes: Lady Carnarvon and Emily Howes talk about the Painter's Daughters

 I’m delighted to welcome the novelist Emily Howes to the castle to talk about her book The Painter’s Daughters, inspired by Gainsborough’s portraits of his two girls and the striking shift from their lively childhood images to a stiffer, unhappier adulthood. 

Emily shares how she researched 18th-century Bath, its muddy, smelly, party-like medical culture, through visits and sources such as James Hamilton’s biography, Letters from Bath, and books on travel, while noting how little survives from the daughters’ own voices. 

We discuss Molly’s documented illness and Emily’s discovery of a possible porphyria link to the Prince of Wales, as well as Gainsborough’s finances, his wife’s hidden savings, and the sisters’ relationship, which Emily likens to Downton Abbey’s sister dynamics. 

Emily also previews her next novel, Mrs Dickens, exploring Catherine Dickens’s erasure after Dickens left her for Ellen Turner and the fate of their children.

00:46 Why the Daughters

03:20 Bath After Covid

05:57 Money and Marriage

08:18 Research and Sources

09:27 Molly Illness Mystery

12:21 Sisters and Downton

16:05 Blue Boy and Imagination

17:25 Gainsborough at Highclere

22:23 Next Book Mrs Dickens

24:35 Dickens Family Fallout

27:53 Catherine After Separation

You can hear more episodes of Lady Carnarvon's Official Podcasts at https://www.ladycarnarvon.com/podcast/

New episodes are published on the first day of every month. 

Transcript

Host: Welcome to my podcast! I'm delighted to be joined by a wonderful storyteller, Emily Howes. I thought we'd talk a little bit about her latest book, The Painter's Daughters. To my mind, it is really about the relationship between two sisters. In that way, it’s very Downton Abbey, because the storylines there related so much to two sisters who followed us through so much of the series and the films. But these daughters were born in a different century.

So, welcome Emily, and thank you so much for joining me. It's lovely to meet you here.

Emily Howes: Lovely to meet you. Thank you for having me. It's such a joy to be here.

Host: I was listening to what you've spoken about on YouTube and social media, and of course, reading the book. You've written about the two daughters of Thomas Gainsborough, the famous portrait painter. We actually have two portraits painted by him here. But rather than write a book about the painter, you've chosen to write one deep within his family, focusing on his daughters. What inspired you to do that?

Emily Howes: I suppose the straightforward answer is going to that beautiful exhibition at the National Gallery and seeing some of the portraits he'd painted of them as children. Then, there is this strange leap into adulthood where they go from being lovely, intimate paintings of two sisters into a much stiffer, more fixed—and for me, much unhappier—portrait of two women in "Gainsborough gorgeous" fashions.

I was really curious about what had happened in that leap. But I think what I also found in writing is that I'm fascinated by "ordinary" women. So much historical fiction seems to be about women who defy the odds or do something extraordinary; I find myself much more interested in women who are living with the odds—having to face them, struggle against them, and find their place.

There is something fascinating about setting that against Gainsborough, who personifies "artist privilege." He was powerful and could do what he wanted. He was a womanizer, a big drinker, and full of the joys of life. He was the guy making all the money. There’s a contrast there with the women around him that encapsulates what it might have been to be a woman throughout history.

Host: Yes, I found the contrast in your book very clear between his family—his daughters and wife—and the extraordinarily glamorous, silk-dressed women who came into his studio to be painted. He captured the beauty of their clothes so well; that’s what I imagine when I think of Gainsborough. Yet, for those living in those times who weren't those glamorous women, figuring out how to survive felt like the roof of a house coming down on you. It could be quite depressing and a struggle.

I looked at the painting, as you did, of the little children chasing a butterfly, which is so famous, and then the stiffer, unhappy faces later on. So, where did you go for your research? Where did you start?

Emily Howes: Oh, I went all over. But it was just after COVID when I started writing, so I wasn't able to go to Bath, which is a big part of the novel. I was trying to conjure it in my head. The book goes all the way from their wild childhood—simple, straightforward, and out of the spotlight—to being plunged into the extraordinary world of Bath. It was just beginning to be the "Jane Austen world," but it wasn't quite there yet. It was a world of fashion and high society, but it still had the wildness of the 18th century.

Rather than the Jane Austen spark, which is perhaps a little more proper and all about decorum, Bath was a wild medical town where everyone was having a totally bonkers party. People were either terribly ill or having a fantastic time, and those two things came together. It was really muddy, dirty, and smelly at that time. But then, when I finally turned up in Bath after COVID, I was horrified to notice it's actually wonderful there! Even beautiful. I thought, "How is this going to work?" because I’d spent all this time conjuring up the smelly, dirty mid-18th-century version.

Host: And the baths were probably not very clean either!

Emily Howes: No! And only a tiny section of what we now know was there. The rest was discovered in the 19th century. It was very small and really used for ill people to go and sit in, which doesn't sound particularly clean.

Host: It’s quite amazing. Curiously enough, George’s ancestor, Robert Herbert, lived here in the 18th century and also went to Bath because it was a flamboyant, fun place to go. He loved dressing up—he had amazing gold silks and huge lace shifts. He was a very flamboyant person. From what you’re saying, he would’ve fitted in rather well. I think he liked chasing the ladies, too!

Emily Howes: That explains it! The "King of Bath" was the master of festivities, and his job was to create exactly that kind of atmosphere. I'm sure they would have gotten on very well.

Host: Gainsborough began life in Suffolk, then went to Bath, and then to London as his star rose, didn't he?

Emily Howes: Yes, and you can still see the house he moved to in Bath—it's in The Circus, which is a beautiful part of the city. He did rise fast, but really, all his life he was a "jobbing" painter. Although he mixed in affluent circles, he wasn't truly part of that world. When he died, he had almost no money, which is not what you’d expect when you look at his paintings. He spent so much time painting people with money, but he died very worried about how his wife and daughters would support themselves.

In fact, in the early 19th century, someone actually cut a Gainsborough in half—the one on the cover of the hardback—because they thought it was worth so little. They thought they’d get more for two smaller paintings! Someone eventually sewed it back together, but it was a sign of how he wasn't hugely valued at that point. His wife, of course, was brilliant with money and had been "squirreling" it away the whole time. When he was on his deathbed worrying, she revealed she had a couple of thousand pounds hidden away—enough for her and the girls to live on. So, Mrs. Gainsborough was a bit of a heroine.

Host: I think she completely was, actually. She had to put up with quite a lot.

Emily Howes: Yes. He adored her and famously said she was "worth fifty of him." I was very interested in that dynamic—the long-suffering wife—and how that is slowly revealed to the daughter, Peggy, as she grows from childhood to womanhood. Her view of her father shifts from hero-worship to a more nuanced understanding of the cost of the man he was.

Host: I definitely felt the "earthiness" of life at that time in your book. In terms of your research into the daughters' lives and their illnesses, what did you rely on?

Emily Howes: Lots of brilliant books. There's a fantastic biography of Gainsborough by James Hamilton which is very witty. I also found extraordinary books about "The Great Bath Road"—what it was like to travel from Ipswich to London to Bath and the people you'd encounter. A book called Letters from Bath was a great resource; it contained real 18th-century letters full of gossip, descriptions, and people being fed up.

It is interesting, though, that compared to the Victorian era, so little survives from the 18th century. There isn't a single letter from Peggy or Molly (the daughters) that survives. We only have Gainsborough's words.

Host: And where did you find information about Molly’s illness?

Emily Howes: Molly’s illness is documented through gossip and occasional references in Gainsborough’s own letters. People reported incidents where she claimed she was the Prince of Wales's daughter. The idea of it being Porphyria is something I found buried in a Gainsborough House Magazine article. There was enough evidence to make it a really interesting question for the novel—linking her directly to the "Royal Malady" passed down the generations.

Host: You can never really resolve the past; you can only look at it and wonder. I found it interesting that Gainsborough chose to paint his daughters so much, even though he wasn't being paid for it. He chose to paint them honestly—from the young girls chasing a butterfly to the stiffer, unhappier faces later on. He seemed like a self-centered man who enjoyed his life, yet he was clearly sensitive to his daughters.

Emily Howes: That is the joy for a writer—looking at that gap and wondering what’s behind it. Having only fragments gives you the flexibility to fill in the gaps. A lot of the dialogue in the book comes from his letters. He once said he didn't want his daughters to become "tea-drinking, husband-hunting Miss Fords," which is a curiously feminist wish for an 18th-century father. He had ambitions for them to be more than just wives, but there were so few avenues available. They tried being musicians and painters, but weren't particularly brilliant at either. So, where does that leave you? Drinking tea.

Host: It’s fascinating. We are sitting here in Highclere, or "Downton Abbey," and one of the strongest relationships Julian Fellowes explored was the rivalry and bond between sisters like Mary and Edith. In your book, you explore that same "elastic" pull between Peggy and Molly.

Emily Howes: Exactly. I don't have a sister myself, but I’ve watched sisterhoods develop. A sister is almost "you but not you." You define yourself by not being the other person. You see that with Mary and Edith—they almost need each other to define who they are. It’s similar with Peggy and Molly; the book takes that relationship to a breaking point, but they always pull back toward each other.

Host: I’d forgotten the story of the Blue Boy. You brought the "real" Blue Boy back to life in the book, and it was great to see the person behind such a famous painting.

Emily Howes: It was a joy to look at a painting and imagine what the person was seeing. What does the room smell like? Can she see Peggy crouching in the corner watching the painting happen?

Host: We have two Gainsboroughs here, both of the first Earl of Carnarvon. One sitting in the library was painted when he was still Colonel Henry Herbert. At that time, Gainsborough was moving up in the world, painting royalty. Later, we have another in the dining room, but that one was finished by Gilbert Stuart—the man who painted George Washington on the dollar bill! It’s interesting how these artistic circles overlapped.

Emily Howes: It’s a brilliant spark for a writer. Molly and Peggy's story—Molly's mental health struggles and Peggy becoming her carer—seemed like such a little-known story for such a famous painting. It feels quite modern, doesn't it?

Host: It does. So, what is your next project, Emily?

Emily Howes: My next novel, coming out in June, is Mrs. Dickens—about the wife of Charles Dickens.

Host: What inspired that angle?

Emily Howes: I studied the Victorians at university and thought I knew a lot. But on a trip to the Dickens Museum, I realized I couldn't really locate "Mrs. Dickens." I discovered that was how Charles wanted it. After 22 years of marriage and ten children, he essentially erased her from his life. He famously said his marriage was a "blank page" that no longer had a single word upon it. He just wanted her gone.

His relationship with the young actress Ellen Ternan is well known, but Catherine (his wife) is usually just a cinematic shorthand for a "middle-aged woman who put on weight." I wanted to know who this woman was. And when I found out she’d written a cookbook, I was so excited! The novel actually includes her recipes.

Host: Did the children stay with her?

Emily Howes: Under the law, Dickens owned the children. Only the oldest, Charlie, went to live with his mother. Charles was very defensive and even leaked letters to the press to slander her. He even burnt his correspondence to hide the truth. Later in life, one of his daughters, Katey, spoke out and called her father "wicked" for how he treated her mother. It's a tough story.

Host: It is disturbing, especially because we value Dickens so much as a philanthropist and a campaigner for the poor.

Emily Howes: Exactly. Because he was a champion of morality, the shame of being personally flawed was unbearable to him. He felt he had no choice but to erase her.

Host: Well, I’m looking forward to reading that. Now, I ask everyone who comes on the podcast: we have a summer dance every June. If you could bring anyone from the past or present, alive or dead, as your partner, who would it be?

Emily Howes: That is a wonderful question! If I can only have one, I would say Christopher Marlowe—Kit Marlowe. The playwright, Shakespeare’s rival, a "rock and roll" poet. I’d want someone dashing, but I’m also intrigued by the rumors that he was a spy. My son is actually named after him.

Host: He’d probably show up in a mask and go undercover! Emily, thank you so much for joining me today. It’s been lovely chatting with you.