Life at home wasn't entirely happy. After learning that Elena's health had almost fully recovered, her mother, Lady Campbell, decided she should continue studying with their governess, Susan.
Susan was a distant relative of Elena's father. By family rank, she should call him "cousin," but her family's fortunes had long since faded. Due to last century's war and a bank collapse, what was once a middle-class household had overnight fallen into poverty. Susan had received a "lady's" education from childhood and would feel deeply ashamed if seen working alongside working-class girls in shops or factories.
So Susan became a private governess. Her knowledge and skills were recognized throughout the region, and she soon found work. However, the job was not easy. Despite her excellent teaching, the master of the house made unwelcome advances toward her, leading to her dismissal by the lady of the house. Without a recommendation letter, it was hard for Susan to find another position.
Fortunately, Lady Campbell sympathized with her plight. At that time, her eldest son was six and Janet two years old, so they indeed needed a governess. Susan joined their household, caring for the three children and devoting herself to their education. It was Susan who personally taught Elena painting and piano.
Susan had a strict schedule: lessons started at eight every morning with reading and writing, followed by arithmetic and history. In the afternoon, the children would stroll in the nearby park or engage in piano, drawing, dancing, and etiquette lessons. Evenings were for homework supervision and reading books — mostly moral instruction.
As Elena and Janet grew older, mastering basic reading, writing, and arithmetic, Susan adjusted their curriculum. Mornings switched to foreign languages, history, and geography. Before Elena fell ill, this routine continued steadily, with these lessons planned to last until they reached adulthood and entered society.
"Dear Elena, you've finally recovered," Susan said as she entered the classroom and embraced her. In her thirties and unmarried, Susan dressed very plainly, likely influenced by her first job. She mostly stayed in her own room and never stepped outside except to teach.
Elena smiled at Susan. "I really missed you."
Perhaps this was one of the costs of coming home. Having missed months of lessons, and with memories from another life interfering, Elena's studies had fallen behind. She was busy every day catching up and had no time or energy to write anything else.
That afternoon, her sister Janet suggested a walk in the nearby park, a routine they often enjoyed. The governess was supposed to ensure regular exercise, typically horseback riding or walking. Since they had no horses, walking was the best option.
Unexpectedly, Susan gently declined. "Dear, I don't think now is a good time to go out. There are rumors of a red-skinned vampire monster active outside lately."
Elena looked up, puzzled. What? Such an absurd rumor had even reached the usually reclusive Susan?
Indeed, Elena knew the governess had her own social circles, but she hadn't expected that even well-educated people would believe such ridiculous — or perhaps not so ridiculous — tales.
In truth, Susan didn't truly believe the obviously false rumors, but since such stories circulated outside, as a single woman responsible for two girls, going out did carry real risks.
Elena instantly understood.
Although she had rewritten the latter part of *Helen*, and the women's magazines' audience was mostly female, with *Ladies' Monthly* only published monthly, the issue might have already stirred quite a commotion by the time of publication. Even if she wrote about a pale-skinned vampire noble, it wouldn't immediately connect in people's minds to the red-skinned vampire monster.
After pondering for a while, Elena came up with a better idea.
But first, she had to finish the afternoon lesson.
Declining Janet's proposal, Susan decided to hold music class instead. In this era, music — especially singing — was seen as a form of physical exercise, a wise substitute for walking.
Once the music lesson began, Elena immediately showed strong interest. Troubled about how to please the god of music Phoebus, she asked Susan to tell her about current popular songs.
Previously, music lessons mostly covered ballroom dance tunes such as waltzes and polkas. The songs were very artistic — mostly opera arias or elegant, refined pieces. Elena had never been exposed to popular folk songs or experienced the popular music performed in concert halls.
Susan knew some folk songs and had been to music halls in her youth. Encouraged by Elena, she sang a few folk tunes while playing piano for the two students. These songs had cheerful melodies and simple lyrics, easy to learn by humming a few lines — like "Jingle Bells" or "Happy Birthday."
However, Susan warned them that such songs were best sung privately and not appropriate for formal balls. Of course, if they attended informal village dances, they could sing them for fun and novelty.
"When will you take us to the music hall?" Elena asked excitedly. "I've never been."
The Duke of Berkeley had described his visits to music halls and opera houses in his letters, praising popular songs there. He painted the music hall as a microcosm of Lunton culture — blending the unique charm of taverns, the joy of entertainment venues, the collective revelry of theaters, the mellow melodies of cafes, the bustling energy of bars, and the fine dining of restaurants.
Janet also looked forward to it, clearly never having been to a music hall either. In two years, she would enter society and likely have even less free time to explore such places.
Susan smiled slightly at them and promised, "If your mother agrees, I'll take you."
Music halls, like opera houses, were formal entertainment venues and not dangerous places. Now that the girls were older, they couldn't be kept cooped up at home forever; they needed to see the world.
"Mother will definitely agree," Elena said confidently.
Susan dampened her enthusiasm. "Not until that red-skinned monster outside disappears will I believe she'll feel safe letting you out."
Elena felt discouraged but understood Susan's reasonable concern.
So that very evening, as soon as she returned indoors, Elena began writing a letter. She would write to the plump owner of the Black Horse Inn, asking him to add a red-skinned vampire monster to the ghost tour.
"…After *The Strand* widely reported this rumor, the entire city has been shrouded in panic," she wrote fluently, "Isn't this the perfect opportunity for our 'Ghost Tour' to shine? Imagine if we add the words 'Vampire Monster Sightings on the Ghost Tour' to the flyers — just think how sensational that would be! People would be eager to see the true face of the vampire monster and wouldn't want to miss such a chance."
Yes, this was Elena's idea — to turn the vampire monster into entertainment.
In newspapers, it might be a terrifying rumor, but once incorporated into entertainment, its chilling nature would disappear. Like people who fear the horror movie *Sadako*, but when told Sadako actually exists in real life, they scoff in disbelief.
"And I've heard other places are copying us with so-called 'Ghost Tours' in Whitechapel and on the Lunton Bridge," Elena continued, trying to entice the poor plump innkeeper with her persuasive words. "But they lack creativity and just copy our ghost tour. Don't you want to completely crush them and be the true leader? We want everyone in Lunton to know that only Covent Garden's 'Ghost Tour' offers the most popular, creative fear experience."
"Imagine, if we successfully integrate the red-skinned vampire monster into the 'Ghost Tour,' what an exciting journey that would be!" she wrote enthusiastically. "We could design a thrilling chase game where visitors experience the tension of outsmarting the vampire monster firsthand. In the darkness, they'd hear the monster's roars and feel its icy breath — a truly unforgettable experience."
She painted a vivid picture of the scene: "When visitors finally uncover the monster's true identity — a carefully crafted performance — the transition from fear to relief would impress them deeply, making them appreciate our creativity and dedication. It would leave a lasting impression of the 'Ghost Tour,' wouldn't it?"
Ignoring the plight of the actors playing the vampire monster, Elena quickly stamped and sent the letter.