December 29, 1834.
The 11th Parliament was dissolved, and the entire United Kingdom began preparations to elect a new one.
Determined to win the coming election and secure his position as prime minister, Robert Peel made a bold decision.
He abandoned the old name "Tory Party."
Instead, he and his senior allies entered the election under a new banner:
The Conservative Party.
Their resolve was unmistakable.
Use every available means to win this election.
The directive sounded less like party strategy and more like a declaration of total war.
When that order was issued, I volunteered—at least symbolically—to assist the Conservatives' campaign in Ireland.
In truth, the timing couldn't have been better.
If Ireland was to become my political base, I needed to start building my presence there sooner or later.
And now the party itself was encouraging it.
To the party elders, I became once again the admirable young student who sacrificed his time for the party.
Of course, the situation wasn't merely a coincidence.
Long before the election season began, I had quietly spread rumors that Daniel O'Connell would campaign more aggressively than ever in Ireland.
In the previous election, the Conservatives had won barely twenty Irish seats.
And even those were largely from Northern Ireland, where the party enjoyed traditional support.
South of that region, the party had been almost completely annihilated.
Regardless of prejudice toward Irish politicians, elections were simple.
Seats meant power.
Ireland alone held over one hundred parliamentary seats, far more than Wales and Scotland combined.
For the Conservative leadership, the goal was clear.
Even if they couldn't defeat O'Connell—
They at least wanted to secure more Irish seats than the Whigs.
So when I, the heir to the long-established Arran family of Northern Ireland, volunteered to help—
They welcomed the offer with open arms.
But politics wasn't the only reason I traveled to Ireland.
There was someone I wanted to see.
Though we exchanged letters regularly, it had been over two years since we had met in person.
And when I finally saw my father waiting at the estate—
I was shocked.
Not because of anything he said.
But because he looked far thinner and weaker than I remembered.
"Father, if your health had declined this much, you should have sent for me," I said. "At the very least, you could have told me."
"London is far away," he replied calmly. "It wouldn't make sense to summon you over something like this."
"I hear from James that you barely sleep these days."
"That doesn't matter," he continued. "Your schedule is far worse."
"But this is different," I said.
"You didn't even call me for Mother's funeral."
"That situation was complicated," he said quietly. "Her family wanted to handle it themselves, and the timing wasn't good."
He paused.
"And your presence might have made things… awkward."
"In fact, they were probably relieved you didn't come."
He added gently:
"Besides, Cecilia didn't attend either. Everyone knows you've been helping her in London."
Strictly speaking, the Countess of Arran had never been my mother.
We shared no blood, and I had never even met her before she died.
Still, legally she had been my mother.
I had expected at least to attend the funeral.
Being excluded entirely was something I had never imagined.
"No matter how busy I am," I said quietly, "family matters should come first. If I ignored my father's declining health while living comfortably in London, what would people here think of me?"
"You worry too much," my father said with a faint smile.
"My strength may be fading, but I can still manage the estate perfectly well."
"In fact, I've been working harder than ever lately."
He leaned back slightly.
"If you don't believe me, ask the people here."
"For the past two years, I've been preparing everything so that when you inherit this land, the transition will be smooth."
Was that the reason his health had deteriorated?
Perhaps he noticed the thought on my face.
He shook his head.
"I know what you're thinking. But that's simply what happens with age."
"I'm already over seventy."
"Compared to two years ago, of course my strength has declined."
"Then you should reduce your workload and rest," I insisted.
"That would not be for my benefit," he said firmly.
"I've recently experienced a sense of fulfillment I've never felt before."
"And you expect me to give that up and slowly rot away like a living corpse?"
His face looked exhausted.
But his eyes—
His eyes were more alive than I had ever seen them.
"Every time James writes to me about your achievements at Eton, the people around me grow jealous," he said proudly.
"And although he never tells me everything, he keeps repeating one thing."
"You were never meant to remain confined to this small corner of Northern Ireland."
"So as your father, I want to build whatever foundation I can to help you reach further."
"I already owe you more than I could repay in a lifetime," I said sincerely.
"Then don't repay it," he replied with a smile.
"That's the happiness of a parent."
He paused.
"I hear there's a great deal of talk about the upcoming election."
"If you achieve a good result here, it may strengthen your position in the future."
"I've spent the past two years planting seeds."
"You won't receive fewer seats than last time."
"…Thank you," I said quietly.
"That will help enormously."
Those simple words were enough.
My father's face brightened into the most satisfied smile I had seen that day.
Unexpected support.
But it would make everything easier.
After preparing the stage this thoroughly—
Failing to perform would be the true act of unfilial behavior.
So I decided it was time to repay him properly.
* * *
"Honored voters! The Whigs have failed!"
A roar erupted from the crowd.
"The Whigs' methods cannot secure Ireland's rightful interests!"
"Exactly!"
"Blindly shouting 'reform' will never achieve real reform!"
"Anyone can shout about reform!"
"But reckless reform collapses in the face of opposition!"
"If you force a child who has just learned to walk to start running, it will only fall!"
"We promise something different!"
"Gradual, realistic reform—results you can truly feel!"
"The future of Ireland lies with the Conservative Party!"
The response was thunderous.
My father had not exaggerated.
Public opinion against the Whigs was worse than I expected.
Technically, the Whig reform bill had failed because Conservatives and other establishment forces blocked it.
But politics favored whoever struck first.
My father had framed the entire crisis as the result of the Whigs' reckless amateurism.
Which aligned perfectly with my strategy.
The Conservatives would appear careful and professional.
The Whigs would appear reckless and impulsive.
Of course, such a strategy would have had limits if the Conservative Party had remained exactly as it had been in the original timeline.
But the modern Conservatives had successfully cultivated a more moderate image—supporting reforms like the Factory Act and the abolition of slavery.
It was a two-track strategy.
Senior leaders reassured traditional voters with conservative rhetoric.
Younger politicians promoted moderate reform to attract centrist voters.
As for me—
I was still too young to campaign openly.
Instead, I accompanied promising candidates and made appearances at events.
At the same time, I distributed gifts generously—even to ordinary citizens without voting rights.
"Fresh bread! Courtesy of the young master of the Arran family!"
A man looked surprised.
"But… we don't even have the right to vote."
"That doesn't matter," one of my attendants replied.
"This isn't about votes."
"Even without voting rights, you're still our fellow Irishmen."
"T-thank you!"
The man's voice trembled.
"We're grateful… we've been eating nothing but potatoes for days."
"Our young master promises that one day you will live just as well as the people in England!"
In this era, spending money on people without voting rights was considered ridiculous.
Which was precisely why no one doubted my sincerity.
To them, it looked as though the Arran family was spending its own fortune to help ordinary Irishmen.
In reality, it was simply a long-term investment.
But only James knew that.
Gradually, but unmistakably—
Whig influence in Ireland began to fade.
And the final blow came from the man himself.
Daniel O'Connell.
"My beloved countrymen!" he shouted.
"We must change our approach!"
"My time in London has taught me something!"
"Our hearts must remain passionate—but our minds must stay cold!"
"If we truly seek independence, we must act wisely!"
Thunderous cheers erupted.
"O'CONNELL! O'CONNELL!"
"Savior of Ireland!"
"Hope of Ireland!"
The man who had once cooperated with the Whigs now openly opposed them.
For the Whigs, it was an unimaginable betrayal.
And because it was so sudden—
They had no time to respond.
Central Ireland, once their stronghold, descended into political chaos.
Conservative and Repeal Party support surged.
And the election period was far too short for the Whigs to recover.
"Things are ending faster than expected," James said quietly as we watched O'Connell deliver another fiery speech.
"I thought that might happen," I replied.
"Our side is gaining momentum too."
"We might win more seats than we expected."
James hesitated.
"Master… forgive me if I'm worrying unnecessarily."
"But aren't we giving O'Connell too much power?"
"You're worried he might betray us?"
"No."
He shook his head quickly.
"I know you've prepared for that possibility."
"But if O'Connell becomes too powerful, it might make it harder for you to control Ireland later."
If our predictions were correct, the Repeal Party would gain 50–60 seats.
Not dramatically higher than the previous 42 seats.
But the real impact lay elsewhere.
If O'Connell held sixty seats while the Conservatives and Whigs battled each other—
Neither party could form a majority.
Which meant O'Connell's support would become indispensable.
I had already prepared evidence suggesting he secretly cooperated with the Conservatives—just in case he betrayed us.
But James' concern wasn't betrayal.
It was O'Connell's rising influence itself.
Which was exactly what I wanted.
"James," I said quietly.
"Everyone keeps telling me the same thing."
"An Irishman can never rise too high in this country."
"If someone does, the establishment will destroy him."
"You believe that too, don't you?"
"…It's an uncomfortable truth."
"Exactly."
"But no one can explain how they would destroy him."
"Because no Irishman has ever actually risen high enough to threaten them."
I looked toward O'Connell's stage.
"So if someone like that truly appears…"
"We need to see how they try to destroy him."
James stared at me in shock.
"Master… don't tell me you mean—"
"O'Connell already understands the risks," I said calmly.
"I'll support him where I can."
"And if nothing happens, that would be ideal."
Of course—
Britain in the nineteenth century was not a particularly tolerant society.
If O'Connell truly became powerful enough—
There would be conspiracies, slander, and attacks.
I intended to watch all of it closely.
Because one day—
Those same attacks might be aimed at me.
James finally understood.
He nodded slowly.
But there was another reason I hadn't mentioned.
If the attacks became too severe—
If O'Connell fell—
Then when I stepped forward as Ireland's new hope…
The desperation of his supporters would become my greatest weapon.
Either way—
I lost nothing.
"Hopefully O'Connell performs even better than expected," James said quietly.
"I agree," I replied.
We watched as O'Connell concluded his speech to thunderous applause.
And we both offered him our sincere encouragement.
* * *
February 6, 1835.
After more than a month of campaigning, the general election finally ended.
Across Britain, 610,000 voters cast their ballots.
The Conservatives fought fiercely.
The Whigs proved far stronger than expected.
And the Repeal Party emerged as a third force.
The final result shocked the entire nation.
No party achieved the 329 seats required for a majority in the 658-seat Parliament.
Whigs – 320 seatsConservatives – 285 seatsRepeal Party – 53 seats
Newspapers exploded with headlines:
"WHIGS AND CONSERVATIVES FAIL TO WIN MAJORITY!"
"UNPRECEDENTED RESULT—IRELAND HOLDS THE BALANCE OF POWER!"
Across Britain, the political world trembled.
In Westminster.
In Buckingham Palace.
All eyes turned toward Ireland.
The wheel of history had begun to turn.
And slowly—
It was beginning to move in the direction I wanted.