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Translator: 8uhl
Chapter: 48
Chapter Title: Succession
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"Sigh… I told him so many times not to overdo it."
John Gore attended his brother's funeral with a rather complicated mix of feelings.
While it was a truth of the world that we may be born in order but we don't die in one, he had still thought his brother had a few more years left.
If he had to pinpoint a cause, it was surely how he'd been working himself to the bone lately.
If that was the case, he should have at least enjoyed the fruits of his labor.
Wasn't it a cruel irony to pass away just after laying the foundation for the Tory Party at the cost of his own health?
"Father, you've arrived."
"Oh, yes. You've had a long journey yourself. I heard you were promoted to chargé d'affaires in Buenos Aires?"
"Yes. I was due to return to the homeland anyway, so I'm not sure if I should call the timing fortunate or utterly terrible…"
"A man's life is in God's hands, so it can't be helped. In any case, the heir has yet to come of age, so he'll need a guardian."
"They say he's grown close with Aunt Cecilia lately, so won't she be appointed as his guardian?"
Just as his son Philip casually predicted, John had been thinking the same thing.
After all, if he himself had been named guardian, he would have been contacted the moment the will was made public.
He had never expected to be named guardian to the one who had usurped his brother's title and fortune, so he wasn't particularly hurt.
Still, various thoughts crossed his mind as his nephew, who was still years away from adulthood, was set to inherit everything.
"…Philip, what do you think? It may be inhuman of me to think this at my own brother's funeral, but I can't help but be troubled."
"Father, surely you don't mean…?"
"Killian is still young. And even if he is close to Cecilia, she is just a student bound to Eton. Her standing here is nothing compared to yours, an established diplomat. The boy is still a minor. If you and I apply the right amount of pressure…"
He didn't need to say more; his brilliant son would understand his intent.
John paused, studying Philip's expression.
Frankly, it wasn't an entirely baseless idea, was it?
Originally, the rightful heir should have been his son, Philip. Killian was just an unwelcome interloper.
"Father. I understand how you feel, but Killian has already been formally named the heir. What can we possibly do?"
"Even so, the boy has no real connections within our family. You and I are the ones who can properly wield the family's power, not some young, inexperienced child."
"But what about Aunt Cecilia?"
"It's the same for her. Her marriage has yet to be recognized as legitimate by the Royal Family. Do you think she has the luxury to worry about her home? She probably won't even come to the funeral, and if she does, she'll come alone. His Highness the Duke of Sussex would never deign to visit such a humble place."
Still, he wasn't so shameless as to bring this up before the funeral service had even concluded.
Once the funeral was over, it wouldn't be too late to apply pressure disguised as negotiation.
For now, John Gore concealed his true intentions and headed for the family chapel in the mansion where Killian was waiting.
Mourners would be arriving during the period of condolence, and as the eldest surviving member of the family, he needed to greet them.
Not that any true titans would travel all the way to remote Ireland, but they would likely send representatives. It would be a good opportunity to make some acquaintances and introduce his son, Philip.
And so, John, on his way to the chapel to bid his brother a final farewell, saw figures he never could have imagined and froze on the spot.
"K-Killian. Who are these gentlemen?"
"Uncle, you're here. Many have graciously come all this way to pay their respects to Father. I was just offering my gratitude. Please, join me in greeting them."
"Ah… yes. I am John Gore, Arthur Gore's younger brother. And this is my son, Philip Gore, who is currently the chargé d'affaires in Buenos Aires."
"I've heard a great deal about you from Killian. I am Charles Wellesley. I had a chance to speak with the Earl at a party not long ago. I never imagined it would be our last conversation…"
He already knew of Charles Wellesley, the rising sun of the Tory Party.
It wasn't strange for him to attend the funeral, as he had reportedly come to Ireland recently to negotiate with O'Connell.
What startled John were the other people standing behind Charles Wellesley.
"My father wished to come himself, but given the distance, my brother, the Marquess of Douro and heir to our house, has come in his stead."
"Arthur Richard Wellesley. My father was deeply grieved to hear the sad news. I pray the Earl finds eternal peace at God's side."
"Ah, yes… th-thank you. My brother would surely be pleased as well."
With that, Richard turned his gaze from John and Philip back to Killian, giving them no further notice.
"My father was very worried about you. The Earl's absence will be keenly felt, but that only means Father and our party will look after you all the more. You have nothing to worry about."
"Thank you. I never expected you to be so considerate. I will do my best to become someone who can be of greater service to the party."
"Then we'll speak more after the funeral. There is a matter my father wished to discuss with you at length."
John stared blankly as Richard smiled warmly, patted Killian's shoulder, and entered the chapel.
Charles Wellesley was one thing, but he had never imagined that the Marquess of Douro, the Duke of Wellington's own heir, would come as well.
Richard Wellesley was currently only a lieutenant colonel, but he was a titan whose future was set, destined to wield immense influence in the House of Lords as the next Duke of Wellington.
Why on earth would such a man come all the way from London to this remote place?
Especially when Charles Wellesley was already in attendance.
It gave off the strong impression that this was not a mere courtesy call, but that Killian was genuinely cherished within the party.
And this suspicion turned to certainty less than five minutes later.
"You are Lord Killian Gore, I presume? I have been sent by Prime Minister Robert Peel. Due to his demanding duties, he is unable to attend in person, but he has sent a personally written letter of condolence and a memorial donation. He also said he would arrange for an additional memorial service upon your return to London."
"I am grateful for his consideration."
First the House of Wellington, and now the Prime Minister himself—albeit an interim one—was personally looking after Killian.
What in the world was going on?
Had he been living in a different world all this time?
As John Gore stood dumbfounded, a commotion arose from outside.
Just as he began to feel a sense of dread, wondering who could be arriving now…
"Brother, you're here too. It's been a while."
"Ah, Cecilia. So you were the cause of the commotion outside…"
Striving to maintain his composure, John Gore turned to his half-sister, his eyes widening as if they would pop out.
"The gentleman… next to you… surely not?"
"Of course, it's my husband. Say hello."
"M-my apologies! I should have offered my greetings first. I was overwhelmed! I am Cecilia's brother. And this is my son, Philip Gore…"
"Don't be so formal. We are family, after all."
What nonsense.
They might be family, but the man was a member of this country's royal family, the current king's own brother.
How could anyone treat him like a typical family member?
He had been so certain this man would never come. Why was he here?
Even though his brother was Cecilia's brother, they were only half-siblings.
Glancing at the petrified John and Philip, the Duke of Sussex walked past them nonchalantly toward Killian.
"Cecilia was worried about you the entire way here. I'm sure the grief is great, but I am relieved to see you bearing it well."
"Not at all, Your Grace. Your presence alone is of the greatest comfort."
"After what you've done for my wife and me, of course I had to come. Oh, and when I mentioned I was coming, the Duchess of Kent asked me to deliver a letter. I wasn't keen on delivering that woman's letter, but she said it came with one from my lovely niece, so I couldn't refuse."
"A letter from Princess Victoria herself? Please convey my thanks… no, please tell her I will offer my thanks in person upon my return to London."
"Of course. It will be difficult, but I know you will overcome this. I have agreed to be your guardian, so if you face any difficulties, you may consult me about anything. If I am busy, Cecilia will handle it for you."
Who had become whose guardian?
Even after hearing it with his own ears, John Gore couldn't fully comprehend the situation and muttered blankly.
"…Guardian?"
"Ah, you wouldn't have known, Brother. When Killian was in Ireland, I spoke with our eldest brother and had him amend the will. I was originally supposed to be the guardian, but my husband is a better choice, isn't he? He graciously agreed, so until Killian comes of age, my husband and I will be his guardians."
"Oh… oh… th-that's wonderful. Hahaha… I never imagined the Duke of Sussex would go to such lengths…"
"To me, who has no son of my own, Killian is like a son. It's only natural. My husband has children, but they are all grown and independent, so he feels the emptiness as well."
No matter the circumstances, a member of the royal family offering to become a guardian was by no means a normal situation.
And what did it mean that not only the Duke of Sussex but Princess Victoria herself had written a letter of condolence?
It meant that he was not only favored by the Duke of Wellington, Robert Peel, and the Duke of Sussex, but was also acquainted with the next queen of this country… This was a grave miscalculation.
His mind simply couldn't keep up with reality.
What on earth had been happening in London during the years he had spent in Ireland?
John Gore instinctively turned his head to look at his nephew, who was conversing amicably with the Duke of Sussex.
The young boy who, just moments ago, seemed so easy to manipulate with words, now appeared as something inscrutable and ominous.
***
The day after the funeral concluded.
After seeing off all the mourners one by one, I sat facing John and Philip Gore across the drawing-room table.
"Thank you for all your help during the funeral."
"It was your father's funeral, but it was also my brother's. There is no need for thanks."
"Still, I am grateful. It all happened so suddenly that I haven't even had the chance to inform you of the contents of the will. I can only apologize."
"…That's true. It would have been nice if you had told me beforehand that the Duke of Sussex had agreed to be your guardian."
If I had told you beforehand, the shock you received on-site would have been diminished. Why would I do that?
Of course, my mouth skillfully recited a prepared excuse, contrary to my true thoughts.
"My apologies. There were many additional matters to handle, which delayed my telling you. I thought it best to inform you, Uncle, as the party concerned, only after everything was settled."
"Party concerned? Me?"
"To be precise, I should say Cousin Philip is the concerned party, more so than you, Uncle. In any case, the arrangements are complete, so I will inform you now. James?"
At my words, James, who had been standing by with a document, took a step forward.
"First, His Grace the Duke of Sussex, the Young Master's guardian, has appointed me as his plenipotentiary representative in all matters concerning the Young Master. Therefore, I will be overseeing all affairs of the Earldom of Aaron from now on."
"…I see. The Duke of Sussex cannot be bothered with such trivial matters, so I expected as much."
"Yes. As you know, the late Earl bequeathed his title and nearly all his assets to Young Master Killian."
At this, the faces of John and Philip hardened slightly.
A portion had been set aside for Philip, the original heir, but it was a minuscule amount.
However, crushed by the immense prestige of my backers at the funeral, my uncle could only dart his eyes about without a word of protest.
Frankly, with the Duke of Sussex and the Duke of Wellington watching my back, what could he possibly do?
Legally, I was the rightful heir, so there was no reason to give him even a single coin.
But my uncle knew this as well as I did, making this the perfect opportunity to bring them into my fold.
"Father left me almost all his wealth and entrusted me with the management of the estate, but as you know, I must go to London. And even after I graduate, I will likely spend most of my time there. So, unfortunately, it seems I won't be able to spend much time on my own lands."
"…That doesn't seem very helpful for managing the goodwill of the people on the estate."
"You are correct. And to be frank, it doesn't sit well with me to simply let the assets here sit idle, as that's all I can do with them. Therefore, after discussing it with James and my aunt, I have decided to transfer all assets, except for the title, to you and Cousin Philip."
"Yes, transfer them to me and Philip… hmm? What… what did you just say?"
"I will take only the title of Earl of Aaron that my father left me. The rest of the assets, I ask you and Cousin Philip to manage. In return, you must continue to manage the sentiment of the people here and provide regular reports to James."
The assets of the Earldom of Aaron were now less than a tenth of my own fortune anyway.
And considering I had opportunities to multiply my assets several times over in the coming years, there was no need to cling to them.
Thus, the most efficient course of action was to hand them over while making a grand show of generosity.
In any case, it was practically impossible for me or James to manage the estate from London.
I would have had to find a proxy anyway, and it would be difficult to find someone more suitable than my uncle, who had lived his whole life as the Earl's brother and a local figure of influence.
"Wait… you're really going to give us all the assets my brother left behind?"
"Of course. I will gladly do so, provided you adhere to the conditions I just mentioned."
"Well, I'll be… Those are things we would naturally have to do living here. Aren't these terms far too favorable for us?"
"Uncle. We are family, are we not? As I told Aunt Cecilia, I believe families should support and rely on one another. Rather than me clinging to assets I cannot properly use, isn't it more beneficial for our family if I give them to you and Cousin Philip, who can put them to much better use?"
My gain is the family's gain, and the family's gain is a gain for us all.
For my uncle, it was like receiving a considerable fortune for free, so there was no way he would refuse the offer.
On top of this, I gave them another reason to devote themselves to developing this place.
"And this is a secret between us, but it seems likely that a few years after Her Highness Victoria becomes queen, I will be granted an English peerage."
"So that's why the Princess herself sent a letter of condolence… Does this mean our family will finally enter the House of Lords?"
"Yes. When that time comes, it wouldn't be right for me to monopolize the titles, would it? Good things should be shared. When I enter the House of Lords, I will arrange for the title of Earl of Aaron to be inherited not by my child, but by Cousin Philip's."
"Wh-what are you… Really? Killian, are you serious?"
"Of course. If you wish for it in writing, I can draw it up right now."
It wasn't as if I was giving it away now; it concerned matters after my death, so there was no loss to me.
By then, I would be able to pass on far more to my own children than just the title of Earl of Aaron, so there would be no cause for resentment.
"No matter how I look at it, this seems to bring you more loss than gain…"
"Uncle. Besides Aunt Cecilia, you and Cousin Philip are the only close family I have. But in the end, I am an outsider who has rolled in. I felt I had to open my heart and approach you first, so that you and Cousin Philip could accept me. I believe that in this world, the only people you can truly trust are your family."
"Well… I see. Now I understand why Cecilia is so fond of you. To think you have such a deep love for your family… Killian, I know it's shameless of me to apologize now, but the truth is, I…"
"It's alright. It's all in the past. Let's just bury it and share only good things from now on. The better you manage the estate, Uncle, the harder I will work in London to climb to a higher position. Then, won't a day come when our entire family can hold key positions in this country? Hahaha."
A wave of emotion washed over the eyes of both John and Philip simultaneously.
I didn't need to say more; their expressions were answer enough.
With this, I had flawlessly arranged for the management of the estate during my absence.
Part of this was a deliberate display of power to prevent my uncle from harboring any foolish ideas, but it was also time for sharp-witted people to start feeling a sense of unease, a sense that there was something more to me.
It would be the same moving forward. If I continued to hide in the shadows pretending to be nothing, I would eventually be found out.
When hiding a fortune of 100, the most effective method isn't to pretend you have nothing, but to make it seem as though 5 is all you possess.
When I return to London, many things will likely change.
The time had come to reveal my true colors—even if only a part of them.
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