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“Actually, my first reason is pretty similar.” She frowned.
I thought about it. “You need your inheritance.”
She nodded. “Reason one is I need the money and want the money, but I don’t want to need or want the money. There are people who have nothing and can never get more than nothing,” she said gently.
“Ah, so you have, Dalsgaard syndrome,” I said very seriously, knowing she had no idea what that was.
Sure enough, her brows furrowed as she stared back. “Are you a prince and a doctor, too?”
“No, I did go to law school, though.”
“Great. More lawyers.” She muttered something else.
“What was that?” I asked, leaning closer.
She shook her head. “Nothing. What is this syndrome you say I have?”
“A hundred years ago or so, there was an earl in my country by the name of Frans Dalsgaard. He inherited not only a title but also a vast fortune when his uncle passed without a male heir. However, the earl felt guilt-ridden by this because his female cousins, there were four, were left with nothing.”
“What did he do that left him infamy for a hundred years or so?” she asked.
“He gave his uncle’s fortune back to the sisters—well, to their husbands—and allowed the eldest sister to have the estate. Stating he was well-to-do before he received the inheritance, and he would be so afterward—funny enough, he was a doctor by trade. He took care of the townspeople.”
“And for his kindness, they loved him, and he lived a happy, normal life?” she finished with her head held high.
I shook my head. “The world savaged him.”
“Why?” she cried, bowing over in irritation. She lifted her face back up and pouted at me. “Was it really that bad?”
I did my best not to laugh at her ever-changing expressions. She was hilarious. “The economy crashed that year. People couldn’t pay him for his services, but they still went to him. He asked his cousins for loans, and they refused him. His wife and son became ill, so he tried to collect debts the townspeople owed him. They almost beat him to death. His wife and son died, and he soon joined them, penniless, crippled, and sick. His remaining daughter eventually ended up marrying a local schoolteacher but also lived most of her life in poverty.”
Her pout shifted to a full-blown grimace. “That is a horrible bedtime story!”
That did it. I almost keeled over from laughter. “It is, is it not?”
“So, the moral of the story is to take your money and screw everyone else?” She still had a sour look on her face.
“Yes and no. It is more nuanced than that.” I felt like one of my past lecturers explaining this. “The core debate on this is centered on humanity. Everyone applauded Dalsgaard when he gave up the inheritance. But then when he was in need, they debased him. Why? Some scholars say it is because human beings are selfish and greedy. They did not have money, so they were glad he could not have the money, either. Also, there is a whole argument centered around his cousins and why they did not help him. So as my professor told me, do good to as many as you can, most importantly yourself.”
“In other words, take your money and run. Like I said,” she summed it up and drank.
“Yes, in short, I suppose.” I drank along with her, admiring how funny she was without trying. “What were your other reasons?”
“You don’t want to sleep anymore?”
“We have already gotten this far in, why not continue?” I replied, and I suddenly was no longer tired.
“Reason two is I’m mad at my sister.”
“You are mad at your sister?” I repeated slowly.
“She got married already. She didn’t tell me and already collected the money.”
“Did she need to tell you?”
She shot me another one of her icy glares. “Do you have siblings, Gale?”
“An elder brother named Arthur, but we just call him Arty, and a younger sister named Elizarosa, who goes by Eliza.”
