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After the two poets had kissed, the night was over and the audience were making their way out, Lanessa and Venetia also gathered their things and made their way out of the town hall.
The two girls came to a hard stop, when they noticed who stood outside the building, waiting for them. He stood still, leaning against the family's carriage, arms crossed over his chest and a furious expression on his face.
Immediately, Venetia stepped in front of her sister "Father. This was my fault. Please, whatever you do. Punish me, not Lanessa." She begged her father, stepping closer to him so they wouldn't cause a scene.
Her father did not reply to her immediately, watching her with continuous angry eyes, before glancing at his youngest daughter behind Venetia. He moved off of the carriage, nodded for the footman to open the door and turned back to his two daughters. "Get in." He said, leaving no room for argument.
Venetia knew there was no point in trying to talk with him anymore so, grabbing her sister's hand with her good arm, she moved into the carriage, mumbling an "I'm sorry father" when she moved past him.
Lanessa followed Venetia's lead, also mumbling apologies, but there was no response from their father, just a tense silence you could cut through with a knife.
The silence continued throughout the journey home, only broken when they arrived and he told them he wanted to see them presentable in his office in half an hour.
The two girls, head bowed slightly in respect, nodded slowly and answered "Yes father" in unison, before getting out of the carriage and going to their rooms to change out of their evening wear into one of the dresses their father had specifically approved of beforehand.
Half an hour after stepping into the estate, the two girls were sat side by side in front of their father, who was pacing back and forth behind his steps in angry silence.
The girls watched their father in apprehension, their hands clasped in their laps, but their backs straightened as they were taught to do.
After a few minutes of pacing, he finally stopped behind his chair to his desk and fixated his glare onto his daughters.
"Not only have you gone against my orders of staying away from all this frivolous literature nonsense, you went to an actual reading of it. I am utterly disappointed in the two of you. If it was a harp concert or a gathering for other fine women to practice the musical arts, I may have understood, but THIS? Poetry?!" He spat the word at them as if it was an ill tasting thing.
“I will not hear of it in my house. You know my rules, you have managed to follow them for years now, but all of a sudden you have gained an interest in this- this gibberish? I hired tutors to teach you music and how to be good wives to your future husbands, that is how it will be!”
For the first time during their father’s speech, one of the girls raised their gaze to meet his. Lannessa spoke in a quiet and soft voice “what if… What if- I don’t want a husband father?”
Silence. One, two… 10 seconds of silence. Ten seconds of their father staring at her incredulously and with… a hint of fear in his eyes? Maybe they imagined it, before going “Absolutely not! Under no circumstances will you become some old spinster! How did you even get such an appalling idea?!” He questioned her, but his eyes widening seemed like he had already answered that in his head.
“It must be all of this literature you two have gotten your hands on. Messing up your heads with ideas on living without a husband, bunch of codswallop it is!” He told his daughters and straightened himself, fixing his gaze onto his eldest daughter.
“You were meant to pose as a good example of how to be a proper lady and then you convince your sister to go and view this loudmouth, who calls himself an artist? You should be ashamed of yourself, daughter. Especially in your condition, with how your arm is right now!” He was talking in an eerily calm voice, despite his words being laced with anger.
Venetia avoided her father’s gaze, knowing her usual puppy dog look would not work in a situation like this. “Yes, father” she whispered to him, but loud enough for him to hear it clearly.
He cleared his throat and glanced towards the window overseeing the big courtyard of his estate. “No matter. By the end of the night, such hogwash will be nowhere near the two of you.” He told them, now avoiding their frightful faces, which immediately turned to him, searching for any answers on what he was talking about.
“W- what do you mean, father?” Venetia asked him, the anxiety growing inside her.
“I have ordered the maids to search your rooms. Any and all writing, poetry or prose, will be removed and confiscated immediately. By the time you return to your rooms tonight, they will be clean of anything like it!” He told them, narrowing his eyes back on his daughters, daring them to challenge his decision.
Despite the look on her father’s face, Venetia spoke up once again “What?! But, father! What about my books?” She was on edge, she did not truly want to hear what he had ordered them to do with her things.
“I have ordered them burned.” He told her, and glanced out the window again. While he could not see the fire from his office on the second floor, he could see flames flickering on the back walls of the courtyard.
“What?!” Venetia got up from her seat, “you can’t father! Please don’t do this!” She begged him, tears welling up in her eyes.
“It is already done. This will not be up to discussion. From tomorrow, I or your brother will follow either of you to any outing you go on and I will get new tutors to monitor you closely and ensure you become good wives.” He told her, not backing down from his decision, even if a flicker of pain crossed his face for a moment barely noticeable to the two girls.
He sat down at his desk and pulled out papers from one of the drawers, starting to write onto them “you are dismissed” he said distractedly, waving them off. Lanessa had already stood by the side of her sister at this point and gently tugged on her right arm, the good one. “Come, sister” she told her, nudging her towards the door.
Venetia seemed like she was about to continue to fight with her father, but instead turned and left along with her sister. The moment the door closed behind them, Venetia ran down the hall towards the stairs. When she got down to the first floor and into the courtyard, she saw it.
A huge fire sat in the middle of the courtyard. Its fuel? Books, papers and notes. Venetia yelled out in despair and ran towards the fire, tears now stroking down her cheeks. She noticed a single maid about to throw the last thing onto the fire, but Venetia was quick. She ran towards the maid and, in a flash of panic and adrenaline, managed to force her left arm to reach up and catch the book before it landed in the fire along with the pile of her other precious books and pages of poetry.
She held it tight to her chest and looked at the maid with pleading eyes “please! Just let me keep this! Please Miss Miriam! Just this one book!” She pleaded with her, taking a few steps back from the maid.
“I’m sorry my Lady, but your father gave very strict orders-” she tried to tell her, but was cut off, “- he doesn’t have to know! Please. Just this one!” Miss Miriam gave her a pointed look, glanced towards the office window, empty. She sighed and let her arms fall to her sides. “You will bring yourself into so much trouble my Lady.” She told her in gentle reprimand, then gripped onto her right arm and led her back into the estate.