"One hundred and fifty-seven years." 

"Longer than I would have expected."

"Most of the family was rather deterred by your murder."

He tilts his head. "Reasonable. And why weren't you?"

"My fiancée was murdered. And she had done nothing of the sort."

"Then we shall address that. You summoned me for my knowledge?"

"Precisely." 

"Have any advances in theory been made since my day?"

"Purely speculative, but yes. Your notes were compiled after your death by your wife and heavily annotated and expanded upon during the intervening generations." He collects the notes from the table where he was using them as a reference and hands them to his ancestor. 

He takes them, stroking one finger along the edge, but doesn't open them just yet. "I thank you. Come, let us retire elsewhere, and see to food and drink."

There's an odd thirst in the back of his throat. Annoying. He suspects this may be the driving sensation behind the vampirism, though it's low enough to be ignored for now.

He's also vaguely aware that he's still naked, so he glances around for any provisions of clothes.

It having been difficult to determine his size beforehand, a robe that should fit a variety of body types has been set out. 

That suffices.

He skims the notes quickly once settled, expressing interest in the supplemental texts people have found, but says: "Indeed it appears the problem of vampirism was not solved. I suspect that is the main obstacle between you and your beloved?"

"I was uncertain as to the completeness of the notes--I was unsure if that was the only problem remaining. If everything else seems to be satisfactory, then yes." 

"Some have expressed dissatisfaction with the sensation of being within the body. It is not fully like life; senses are duller, especially touch and taste. The body is not so spry, and heals more slowly from injury. The mind seems anchored poorly at times, though that problem is much reduced now."

"--That does seem troublesome. Can you quantify the extent to which the senses are dulled? Perhaps spectacles could mend the gap for eyesight...what does the mind seeming poorly anchored consist of?" 

He gives a few measurements; indeed, touch is for him so dulled that everything feels predominantly like a deep pressure, with no sharpness nor distinguishing of texture. His sense of taste is as dull as if he had a head cold, but not exceptionally so. His most recent resurrection attempts had reported less extreme differences, so it seems that his notes were not complete - indeed, he didn't have time to record many of his most recent changes before his death.

The mind being poorly anchored appears to involve a feeling of distance from oneself and a muffling of ones emotions and thoughts, as sometimes happens with extreme shock or grief, but more common or constant, and triggered by inane matters. Hiram presently isn't experiencing it - his theory is that the quality of the incantation determines the binding of the mind, whereas the distillation of the salts matters more to the creation of the body, but that an imperfect distillation can be compensated for through assorted processes, so long as the original body was whole.

Do they still have access to his old country house? Especially the catacombs? He had several subjects who had consented to repeated summonings, and who were quite good at providing feedback towards the refinement of the process. Of course, he himself does not mind being repeatedly dismissed and then summoned again, though you must take care that the dismissal not scatter the essential salts.

"The house is not presently in our possession, but nobody has reported finding the catacombs, and it might be possible to purchase it. Mother, do you know anything about it?"

"Somewhat; it hasn't been developed, being beside a town not disposed towards growth, and is rumored to be cursed besides. I do not know who the current owner may be, but that should be a matter of public record."

"I suppose it would be better if it could be obtained quietly. If it's undeveloped that should be easier." 

"Given the rumors around the property, yes - I will see about obscuring any mention of the sale, or even whether the records should point to us."

"For that matter, if it's completely ignored by its current owners, acquiring it might not be necessary to access the catacombs, at least not right away." 

"What was the original extent?" she asks Hiram.

He leans back, thinking. "Broad. The soil was not suited for delving deeply. They did not overrun the boundaries of my land, but such boundaries may have shifted, and certainly a new tunnel could be delved that way. But so too there were many secret entrances, and surely not all have fallen to time nor attack."

"I can obtain a map, if that would help. The town has probably encroached in the past century and a half." 

"It would. The river might have also shifted course, which could complicate access to a fair few points."