-Why didn't you tell me anything?- the man asked as his gaze was now turned towards the outside of the carriage, out of the light glass window that divided them from the outside.
Outside stood large fields filled with fresh, verdant grass, as well as a clear, pure blue sky with very few, fuzzy white clouds over it.
Connor watched bored and somewhat softly with anger and resentment outside the window of the carriage, hoping that the surrounding landscape would at least calm his nerves.
The wind blew lightly through the thin layer of glass and entered the carriage, thus slowly allowing it to beat on the lord's face and blow his blond hair from his forehead.
His uncle had come to see him in the middle of the night to warn him of the urgency of having to leave, away from court, a reason that the young man did not understand in the first place but that a few hours later, when everything was finished, had been unveiled by his own uncle.
-Oh nephew! Don't do that, you too knew it would be a matter of time before this happened- the man admitted from the other side patiently, while, with one of his cold hands, he checked the time thanks to an elegant and precious pocket watch.
It was as if his uncle was waiting for something, Connor had noticed, it was as if he was in some sense impatient for something to happen, but what exactly?
How many other secrets did he want to keep from him and for how long?
-If only you had left me there I could have protected her life and now Isabelle is dead! Because of me, because of you!-.
They had to return to Wales knowing that central England was in complete turmoil and rebellions, not wanting to die they had to return to the Jones mansion, a mansion as large and beautiful as it was poorly populated.
Connor's mother had died at a young age, when the boy was only fifteen and since she died, the return home for the lord had never been the same.
The Jones family heads were still his maternal grandparents, then came his uncle, his second wife with whom they mostly did not have great relationships and the young Ezekiel, his little cousin, who when he was still present and in life was perhaps the only one to bring some warmth and happiness in that dull family.
Connor had good relations with Ezekiel, his younger cousin, but his uncle had deemed that boy too weak and in poor health to inherit the power one day, so he had ordered his attendants to throw and drown that one in the open sea, being sure that if he wanted to, he could father another child whenever he wanted.
So nearly three weeks ago a rather small ship had taken the boy away at sunrise and from that moment nothing more was known about his body, whether it had sunk in the sea or floated to the shore of an island.
But of that he was sure, that Ezekiel was dead, otherwise there would be no other chance for him.
-If I had left you there you would have died Connor and I just could not allow this- Jacob Jones admitted observing with his cold blue eyes in the face of the other, he read on it the anger and resentment of that day -and also you are still pretty young Connor, you will have all the time to be able to marry again and generate all the children you want...-.
But those words of comfort still did not seem to convince the young lord enough to calm him down, he was angry with him, angry to be honest because in that family he was never the one to choose, he was always manipulated by others, for his precious blood.
And then he imagined the situation, when the British would acclaim him as their sovereign, just after all those fifteen years of tyranny, when and how would they accept being subjugated again by a different family?
-As regards Ezekiel, uncle, was it in your opinion really necessary to kill him in such a way? He was just a kid...- Connor tried to admit, turning his big and fascinating blue eyes towards the man.
He knew this question would irritate him, he knew it and recognised it by the blush and anger that slowly had taken over the elderly and pale face of his uncle.
-A child, Connor, who would soon grow up to be too weak to be given such a task as yours... you must govern, take control of the situation while you are still so young and take advantage of the fact that in this era one of the major world powers is thus wavering...- admitted the other impatiently and with rancour putting his precious watch in his jacket pocket.
But Connor didn't want to lead, not under those conditions, not when he wasn't deciding what to do with the crowd, not when his actions were controlled by someone other than himself.
For his entire life Connor had been manipulated, he had been kept alive and raised to hate and compete, he had been taught as well as all the many skills that befit a young lord, to fight and to understand that there was nothing bad in death.
Was it all a plan? Since his birth, they only cared about his paternal lineage, the Hannovers, in order to put him on the throne and beg for some power.
On the other hand, the aristocracy was a tangle of betrayals and killings and one had to be very careful, something that Connor in his thirty years still hadn't understood.
-I am not going to rule! Not when you decide for me...the Joneses have always acted in the shadows and I cannot accept to take this role, not when you yourself were the cause of the death of my beloved!- admitted the young lord Jones starting slowly and with hatred to raise his voice -damn uncle! Why?-.
Every time Connor Jones began to raise his voice at that moment, more and more salty and cold tears began to form in his blue eyes, redden them, moisten them, slowly descend on his pale cheeks.
He had never been an emotional or sensitive type but quite the contrary, for which that unknown situation was as if it instilled in him a strong emotion, a sort of fear.
All of a sudden and with a quick move, Jacob Jones grabbed his nephews's wavy blond hair, dipped his hands inside it and squeezed them, forcefully, almost to the point of hurting him.
-Now get it over with Connor! I know what you are trying to do and I want you to know that you will not have any success with me! I am not like your mother was: I am not patient with you and if it had not been for her prayers and for the use of your precious blood I too would have reserved for you the same service as your father, since you were born of my sister!- the uncle began to grab the soft and wavy blond hair of the young lord so much that it started to hurt terribly, until even more tears began to fall on his pale cheeks.
At least he had admitted it, had it not been for his kinship with the Hannovers he, like many other illegitimate children of that time, born of a rape he would have been killed or drowned in a river directly after his birth.
But it was as if Jacob Jones had always had a future plan for his younger sister's son, it was as if the birth of that little bastard had immediately awakened in him all the hunger for power that he had always wanted.
A hunger for power, perhaps such as to kill his own son for this, the young Ezekiel.
-You will rule over this nation as the son of Georg Hannover and you will do it, even at the cost that I have to force you!- the man admitted pushing Connor in such a way that his back slammed violently against the precious and comfortable seat of the carriage.
-Suck it up Connor, it is moments like these that serve to remind you that you are a Hannover, just like your terrible father-.