Today, I am delighted to interview Pamela Stephen! While you're here, have a look at her book! If you scroll down, you can read an excerpt!
By Pamela Stephen
The story of Charlotte Le Juge du Coudray, stepdaughter of an 18th century French artist. Inspired by the life and work of Hyacinthe Rigaud, portrait painter to Louis XIV, the tale imagines the world of his stepdaughter Charlotte, a woman who despite her stepfather’s fame, led a life of quiet mystery. A story of danger and romance in equal measure.
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I discovered the work of the painter Hyacinthe Rigaud on a trip to the Pyrenees. In Perpignan, there is a museum named after him that displays his work prominently. And then I read a good deal about him afterwards. His most famous painting is the portrait of Louis X1V that hangs in the Louvre. I’m also fascinated by the Georgian period, so it was logical that I should set ‘Artists and Spies’ in that time. I came across an intriguing proposition about the artist’s family and I took a leap of imagination from there. So my heroine is his daughter, a woman who leaves the convent where she has been educated and brought up, and travels to England to find a new kind of life.
There were so many social and technological changes going on during the period, but I wondered whether people’s interests and concerns have changed that much. I’m not sure they have. There was political intrigue and upheaval, and London was a place where there was so much going on. It also helped that I had some knowledge of the area where my novel is set, and I was able to gain access to pictures and maps from the time, as well as documents relating to Rigaud’s family and legacy.
Did you find researching this era particularly difficult? What was the hardest thing to find out, and did you come across anything particularly surprising?
Researching the period wasn’t harder, I think, than looking at any other era; easier than some in fact. My current work in progress is set during the 5th Century BC in Ancient Greece. And that I would say IS hard. It needs a much greater leap of imagination not only to visualise the place and the customs and lifestyles of the time, but also to try to understand the mindset of a person of the period.
Can you share something about the book that isn’t covered in the blurb?
My central protagonist in ‘Artists and Spies’ goes through a huge range of experiences in her quest to become an artist in Georgian London. The fact that she is a foreigner means that at least one character finds her a threat.
If you had to describe your protagonist(s), in three words, what would those three words be and why?
She’s resourceful, talented and driven; a woman artists in a man’s world. Oh and she has a secret weapon, but she doesn’t even know it!
What was the most challenging part about writing your book?
Preparation for publishing. I wanted to get on with other things, but it needed to be done; for me, it’s not the most interesting job and needed painstaking work to ensure it had no errors of any kind, whether typos or formatting. Get someone else to do this for you if you can!
What are you currently working on?
I’m currently editing the novella I mentioned earlier. It concerns another strong woman, a Delphic oracle. It’s a narrative told in two time frames, the here and now, and the 5th century BC. I’ve always had a love for the architecture of the period, and it seemed an appealing prospect. It took a long time to absorb enough information to give the setting credibility, but then it seemed to take on a life of its own.
What would you tell an aspiring author who had some doubts about their writing abilities?
I’d say, what have you got to lose? The more you write, the better you get. If you don’t think it’s good enough, keep at it until it is. If it is good enough, show it to someone else, enter competitions, publish it yourself, use an alias if you like. Just get it out there. I know, easier said than done, but trust me you don’t want to be nursing regrets that you had a novel in you, but didn’t do anything about it.
November 1743
‘Painting contains a divine force which not only makes absent men present, as friendship is said to do, but moreover makes the dead seem almost alive. Even after many centuries they are recognised with great pleasure and with great admiration for the painter.’
Leon Bautista Alberti, De pictura, 1435, Book II.
Brushing down her habit, and descending from the coach that day, Charlotte Le Juge du Coudray felt a sense of anxiety. She wondered what she would find at her stepfather's home. Reading between the lines of his servants’ letters, she could detect the Duponts’ concern for him. The old couple had remained in the establishment alone with him, and tending to his needs, had outlasted the cook, the footmen and all the staff of his once bustling studio. The studio had shut first, her stepfather deciding to work alone whenever he needed a respite from the care of his sick wife. She had been ill for several years and throughout that time there had been a gradual diminution of their public and private lives until the world revolved around her sickbed and his careful attention of her, his beloved. The household had reduced as the need to entertain clients and colleagues disappeared. Still throughout those days, the loyal pair of servants struggled on, writing to her of his growing infirmity, of her mother's illness and the burden of their work. The huge Paris house was largely empty, full of memory and echoes. The studio itself had not been used by her stepfather since her mother’s death eight months before. The dim hallway, which had once been a noisy busy hub, was quiet.
Charlotte had been shocked to receive the message that he was unwell. Her life at the convent had separated her from the everyday world, and now it intruded in a way which had brought her to the present suddenly. Her stepfather was very elderly and Charlotte had naïvely thought that he would go on and on. It had not occurred to her that his death was an inevitable consequence of the loss of his wife. So she had allowed time to drift. And he had been too proud to ask for her until now.
He asked the servants to write, probably suspecting that they were in regular contact already. She could no longer remain at the convent in good conscience. He was apparently beside himself with grief, and Madame Dupont was quite frightened by his outbursts. Even though she had been unwell for a considerable time, Madame Rigaud's demise had been shocking for everyone around her; its effect on her stepfather had been profound and eight months on, Charlotte was really not prepared for the fragile old man she saw on her arrival.
She was shown into his study, the familiar room with its reminders of his past glory - his framed Order of St Michael, the Medici bronzes, the pair of Meissen parrots, the neat stack of reference books. He was sitting at his desk, with papers in a pile before him. The muddle of materials on its surface was quite uncharacteristic. She noticed how thin his hair had become, a lattice beneath which a shiny freckled surface was visible. He was concentrating on inking his quill, trying to steady it as it left the bronze well. His hands shook, but he set his jaw and grasped the writing instrument again, only to set it down when she made a slight noise to attract his attention.
‘Here you are,’ he remarked, as if they had last seen each other only minutes earlier.
‘I came at your message,’ she replied, leaning over to kiss him.
She sat in the chair opposite his desk.
‘Is Geoffroy with you?’ He peered at her carefully, and she realized that his precious sight might be failing him.
‘No, but he will be here shortly. How are you?’
‘Well enough,’ he said. ‘The days get no easier. Your mother is a comfort.’
She wondered then if his mind was not what it used to be, but he was gesturing to the Daulle engraving on the wall.
‘There she is, keeping one eye on me,’ he chuckled, and leaned forward ‘Of course the real woman is in the next room.’
A sense of horror came over her. He was obviously joking, but spoke as if they both knew she was nearby. Monsieur Dupont's letter had described him as wandering the rooms, apparently looking for something he had mislaid, frequently lifting covers, opening drawers. But this was more alarming. Was he aware that Mother had gone?
‘Come, let's look together.’ He stood up very slowly, moving from the seat to a crouch in one movement, then slowly upright, shuffling round the desk. She put out her arm for him to lean on and he took it; it was the first time she had ever supported him, and he seemed smaller and thinner than she remembered.
In the dining room, she realized she had misunderstood. There were many rectangular shadows on the Chinese wallpaper, where her stepfather's pictures had hung, but centrally over the mantel, in place of the gilded scrolled mirror which had once blazed with the reflected light from ornate girandoles, was a self-portrait that she had only seen before as an engraving. In the composition, her mother's picture stood on an easel and he had depicted himself in the very moment of completing his wife's likeness. Tears came to her and she looked at the carpet, hoping to keep her reaction from distressing him.
‘Yes,’ he said. ‘I talk to her frequently. She scolds me for this and that. But I'll be with her soon, and we can have a good argument, just as in the past.’
Pamela Stephen is the author of ‘Artists and Spies’, a novel about Charlotte Le Juge, stepdaughter of the celebrated 18th century artist Hyacinthe Rigaud. Pam was born in Berkshire, in the United Kingdom, but has spent most of her life in the East of England. She now lives in Lincolnshire with her husband, and is currently working on a new historical novella. You can find her on Twitter @PamStephen13. Her visual scrapbooks for writing can be found on Pinterest - @pstephen860.
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