"W-wait! Just a moment!"
As I turned to head back toward the palace, Robert Peel hurried after me, grabbing my arm.
"My story isn't finished yet!"
"What is it?" I asked coolly. "I'm rather busy."
If Victoria discovered that Peel had interrupted her tea simply to exchange childish banter, her already simmering anger would only grow worse.
Better to end things here.
"If I proposed a draw," Peel insisted, "shouldn't you at least hear my reasoning?"
"Do I really need to?"
"And if you wish to discuss such matters, shouldn't you speak to Mr. Wellesley, who is currently delivering speeches day and night?"
"He refuses to see me," Peel said bitterly.
"That's why I'm speaking to you."
"Deliver my message to Charles Wellesley. Tell him this path leads to the destruction of both sides."
"Both sides?" I said dryly.
"From where I'm standing, I only see one."
Peel scoffed.
"This is exactly why your inexperience shows."
"Yes, I admit it. Under the current circumstances, I cannot defeat you."
"But that doesn't mean you will automatically win."
"If you cannot win," I said calmly, "then you should simply concede defeat."
"Not hide behind absurd talk of a draw."
"No," Peel replied.
"I may not be able to defeat you—but that doesn't mean victory belongs to you."
"Have you forgotten something?"
"This election will not be fought only by the Conservatives."
"The Whigs will be fighting as well."
Ah.
So that was his strategy.
If he couldn't have the party—
He would burn the house down.
Sure enough, when I remained silent, Peel quickly elaborated.
"You still don't understand, do you?" he said.
"Let me explain."
"Why do you think the House of Lords remains silent?"
"Because they admire Wellesley's boldness?"
"Of course not."
"They remain silent because, as long as the Conservative Party wins the election, it doesn't matter which faction triumphs."
"But if Wellesley fails to secure a parliamentary majority…"
"Then the Lords will condemn him."
"And once Wellesley falls, you will fall with him."
"Terrifying," I said flatly.
"My knees are shaking."
"You think I lack the ability to make that happen?" Peel snapped.
"Have you forgotten that more than one hundred MPs still follow me?"
In the current Parliament, the Conservatives held 310 of the 658 seats.
Wellesley's faction and Peel's faction had previously divided the party almost evenly.
But after the vote of no confidence, Charles Wellesley's side had gained the advantage.
Still, Peel retained a significant number of loyalists—many of them veteran MPs hostile to Wellesley.
"I must say," I replied lightly, "your popularity is impressive."
"One hundred followers is no small number."
"You still don't grasp the seriousness of the situation," Peel said.
"If I choose to act, I can send those MPs into districts where the Conservatives and Whigs are competing."
"They will split the vote."
"And when that happens, the Whigs will win."
"You will lose the election—and history will remember you as the men who destroyed the Conservative Party alongside me."
"So if we don't want to die together," I said,
"we should call it a draw."
"Exactly."
"I'm not asking for much."
"Guarantee the election of the MPs who follow me."
"And give me a position in the next government—even an honorary one will suffice."
"If you agree to that, I will accept defeat and peacefully hand party leadership to Wellesley."
"So," I said slowly,
"you want an escape route for a dignified retirement."
"Yes!" Peel said eagerly.
"Now you understand."
"What do you say?"
"This is not a bad offer for you."
He was right.
It wasn't a bad offer.
If he had come to me immediately after the vote of no confidence and begged for such terms—
I might have considered it.
But now?
Cornered and still speaking with that stiff arrogance?
All it did was make me want to snap his neck.
"I'm afraid you've had plenty of time already," I said.
"At this point, such words don't move me at all."
"…What?"
Peel stared at me in disbelief.
"Have you lost your mind?"
"You think I cannot actually carry this out?"
"Allow me to offer one final piece of advice," I said.
"You would do well not to try."
"You forced the ministerial position on me to keep me in check."
"But in the end it brought me tremendous advantages."
"So I offer this advice sincerely."
"You think that will solve anything—"
"If you resort to sabotage because you cannot win," I interrupted,
"what do you think will happen if Wellesley still wins anyway?"
Peel fell silent.
He knew the answer.
Even if he succeeded in splitting the vote—
If CHarles Wellesley still won—
Peel would go down in history as the man who deliberately sabotaged his own party.
A traitor.
"Of course," I continued calmly,
"you won't lose your seat in the House of Lords."
"It's a lifetime position."
"But until the day you retire, you can forget about maintaining friendly relations with anyone in the Conservative Party."
"In fact, some people might even attempt to destroy you completely."
"Is that truly the path you wish to take?"
"…Perhaps," Peel said slowly.
"But if I go that far—can you really still win?"
"Oh, we'll suffer some losses," I admitted.
"At worst, perhaps twenty seats will fall to the Whigs."
"Twenty seats?" Peel laughed incredulously.
"You've grown arrogant."
"No," I said calmly.
"You simply miscalculated."
"You claim one hundred MPs follow you."
"In reality, your core faction numbers between ten and twenty."
"The rest are merely satellites orbiting them."
The senior MPs most actively attacking Wellesley numbered fewer than twenty.
The rest—first- and second-term MPs—had simply followed their faction leaders.
Those core figures might remain loyal to Peel.
But the others?
Would they truly sacrifice everything for a defeated commander?
"I assure you, their loyalty—"
"Is made of sand."
I smiled faintly.
"Do you know how many letters Charles received this morning alone?"
"About thirty."
"And I'm sure you can guess what they say."
Peel's face went pale.
"You mean… MPs from my faction?"
"Exactly."
Most of the letters followed the same pattern.
They insisted their hostility toward Wellesley had never been sincere.
They had only followed faction pressure.
They wished to join Wellesley's side—and hoped to retain their constituencies in the coming election.
When Parliament dissolved, the election process would begin immediately.
There was hardly enough time for us to install entirely new candidates.
So accepting these repentant defectors was both practical and useful.
Not only did it strengthen our side—
It reduced the number of MPs Peel could deploy as suicide candidates.
"T-that's a lie!" Peel shouted.
"You're bluffing!"
"Trying to stop me with false information!"
"If you believe that," I said calmly,
"then go ahead."
"I won't stop you."
"But remember one thing."
"Those MPs can secure their seats by joining us."
"Or they can sink with you and be branded traitors to the Conservative Party."
"…."
Peel opened his mouth to respond—
Then fell silent.
Because he knew the truth.
At best, only a dozen men would remain loyal to him.
That was reality.
"Just remain quiet," I said.
"If you do that, I won't pursue you further."
"…You promise?"
"Yes."
"I have far too much work ahead of me to waste time on someone who has already left the stage."
That was the complete truth.
The election was only the beginning.
There would be countless problems to solve afterward.
Still…
Judging from Victoria's mood, the Queen herself might not be so forgiving.
If Peel wanted mercy, he might consider begging her personally.
Perhaps she would take pity on him.
As the saying goes—
Preparation eliminates worry.
Since I had completed all campaign preparations beforehand, the events following the dissolution of Parliament felt almost tranquil.
Victoria formally dissolved Parliament at Peel's request.
Britain entered a two-month election campaign.
Recognizing the growing number of defections, Peel abandoned his sabotage strategy and quietly withdrew from the political stage.
His faction collapsed completely.
The Whigs launched an energetic campaign, presenting William Gladstone as a rising new face.
Unfortunately for them, that alone could not compete with the wave of momentum we had created.
Headlines swept across the country.
"The Repeal Association Dissolved!"
"Daniel O'Connell Joins Charles Wellesley!"
O'Connell declared publicly:
"Ireland's future will be entrusted to Minister Killian Gore.I believe the cause lies with Charles Wellesley, who stands beside him.Therefore, I have decided to join the Conservative Party."
Scotland, energized by Queen Victoria's recent visit, also began viewing the Conservatives more favorably.
The Whigs had no means of reversing this tide alone.
Even so, their improved image meant they were unlikely to suffer catastrophic losses.
When Charles Wellesley reviewed the election projections, he sighed in disappointment.
"I was hoping for a far greater victory than the last election."
"That was never the real objective," I replied.
"The only thing that mattered was securing a majority."
"But imagine if we crushed the Whigs entirely," he said.
"Parliament would belong entirely to us."
"Perhaps we should aim for that in the next election."
"Charles," I said calmly,
"if you intend to remain in politics for a long time, abandon that idea."
"Why?"
"The Whigs will always be our enemies."
"And eliminating them would strengthen our position."
That was the danger.
The intoxicating effect of newly acquired power.
Even Wellesley was not immune.
"I must remind you of something," I said.
"If you pursue politics, remember this phrase for the rest of your life."
"Power tends to corrupt."
"And absolute power corrupts absolutely."
"If you want to be remembered as a corrupt ruler in history—"
"Then by all means eliminate your enemies."
Charles Wellesley frowned.
"That's not—"
"Capable enemies are valuable," I continued.
"As long as they exist, our own side will remain united."
"And we cannot behave recklessly, because we must constantly compete for public support."
No politician could control hundreds of MPs individually.
If discipline was required, there were only two options.
Make them fear a dictator.
Or make them fear the people.
Which path better served the nation was obvious.
"I'm not telling you to abandon self-interest and become some saintly patriot," I added.
"If you want to become a respected statesman, align your personal interests with the interests of the nation."
"My interests… becoming the nation's interests?"
"Exactly."
"The Whigs are perfect as they are."
"A strong opposition capable of checking us—but not powerful enough to govern."
"Keep them close."
"Let them serve as our alarm bell."
"If you remember that, you can remain a respected Prime Minister for a very long time."
Without enemies—
Allies inevitably divide.
That had already happened once.
When the Whigs seemed harmless, senior Conservatives had turned their attention toward controlling Charles and me instead.
If the Whigs disappeared entirely, nothing would prevent such divisions from happening again.
Perhaps between Charles and Benjamin.
Or perhaps between Charles and me.
After all—
Power was far harder to maintain than to seize.
That was why so many rulers fell into the temptation of dictatorship.
Because crushing opposition with force was far easier than continually winning public support.
In the end, Charles Wellesley, the new Conservative Party, and I had only just reached the starting line.
And there was still a very long road ahead.
At last—
July 22, 1841.
The election that followed the collapse of the Peel Cabinet came to its conclusion.
Approximately 600,000 voters had cast their ballots.
The results were clear.
Conservative Party — 361 seatsWhig Party — 297 seats
Some breathed sighs of relief.
Others lamented the outcome.
But the result itself was unmistakable.
The Conservative Party—now strengthened by absorbing the Repeal Association—
Had secured a decisive victory.
And with a clear parliamentary majority—
The curtain was finally rising on a new era.