Excerpt
Catherine at last brought forward a question which had long weighed upon her mind. "What will you make of yourself, James?"
"How do you mean?"
"You go off to Oxford. What shall you be when you return?"
"A student, of course. I shall return for Christmas, if not sooner."
This satisfied Catherine's inquiry not in the least. "But what shall be your occupation? A physician, perhaps? Or a clergyman like Father? I think your voice is too high for you to be a clergyman, but you do know your Bible well, so perhaps your voice doesn't signify. Does one go to Oxford to become a coachman?"
"I do not believe so," James replied. "If I asked for your confidence, would you be able to keep my secret?" What could Catherine do but agree? Her brother's smile was all mischief as he leaned toward her and whispered, "I wish to become a vampire hunter."
Catherine found herself utterly insensible to the admission, though her brother clearly expected it to evoke some declaration of horror. "Father hunts ducks in the fall," she said. "Is it like that, only with vampires?" The look of pity on his face wounded her. "But vampires live in the city, and I suppose they are far more clever than ducks, so it would be nothing like that, would it? Still, it does not seem respectable. Tell me that it's respectable, won't you?"
"Respectable? Why, it's the adventure of a lifetime! The great vampire hunters are welcome in the presence of King George and on the floor of Parliament. A hunter came through the inn last year, and he needed only to show his papers. He didn't pay for a drink or a meal the whole week of his stay. Yes, dear sister, it is a most respectable profession."
"But is it dangerous? Are there many vampires left? How does one hunt a—"
"Hush! You are so full of questions, and I'm not sure I have all the answers yet. But if you like, I have a book that, though fiction, I think captures the spirit of the venture admirably. If you like it, I can suggest a dozen others to stand alongside it."
That night, after every other candle in the house was extinguished, one continued burning into morning, for anyone who has laid hand upon The Blood Soaked Fiends by von Helmut can attest to its powers to drive away any thought of sleep. The next morning, after being roused to accompany James and her parents to meet the public coach, she returned to her room, where she read until she was compelled to sleep, and slept until she was compelled to read. Each page brought new revelation, realizations of what adventure and intrigue awaited a woman fortunate enough to be cursed with a tyrant father and a bed-ridden mother. She saw what charmed a path her life might have taken had she been untimely orphaned, and how the virtues of her soul might be demonstrated only through contact with vice.
Page by page, she awakened to the dullness of her quiet, pastoral life. Page by page, Catherine Morland learned what it meant to be a heroine.