There's something horrible trapped inside Angelica, something she couldn't talk about even if she had a voice to speak with. And inside E. H. Underwood, there's nothing there at all; whatever's left is lost somewhere down the sterile white chambers of Heartache House.
Now, back in Harrow's End and the quiet melancholy of his stifled home-life, the emptiness is killing him. And Angelica - who's already dead, and speaks only through scribbled murmurs of fountain pen and ink - seems both a kindred spirit and the reckless promise of adventure.
What follows is an unconventional approach to dealing with issues; a wayward journey through the crooked streets of London in search of answers. One that plunges them headlong into the fathomless depths of human horror and the unrelenting psychomachia of buried memory, where they face the gaze of mournful matriarchs, a sinister undertaker with a dreadful secret, and a friendship that might just save them both...
...or be their very undoing. |