"Yes. A libel action." The baronet picked his every word with care. "A libel action which might be brought against Mrs. Cavendish's estate and against the publishers of her book by your--er--former husband."
"Brought by Hector!" The exclamation, low and immediately suppressed, barely escaped Aliette's lips. But her shoulder trembled under Ronnie's hand; for now, in one inspired moment, she had grasped the secret of the book. Memory, casting back, recalled and understood every personal question put to her by the dead.
Sir Peter had stopped speaking. His eyes under the gold-rimmed glasses were perturbed, yet kindly. Obviously he found the situation difficult. She waited for Ronnie or James to intervene; but they, too, remained dumb.
And, "Do I understand," asked Aliette, summoning up all her courage, "that this novel is a personal story--the story of my"--her whole body quivered--"matrimonial difficulties?"
Ronnie removed his hand from her shoulder. James nodded assent. Admiration and gratitude mingled in Sir Peter's: "You've defined the matter exactly. One of the questions on which I should like your views is," the careful words paused, "whether or no this book should be published."
Fleetingly, Aliette thought, "Shall I tell them ... about myself? Does it make any difference?" Her intuition, suddenly active, remembered two hints dropped--purposefully perhaps--by Ronnie's mother. "Public judgment is usually inaccurate because the public is not told the whole truth"; "My dear, if only the whole world realized, as I realize, your story, they would not misjudge you."
"My views----" she parried aloud, playing for time.
"Publicity," she thought. "The flaunting policy once more. Dear God, that too." And, revisualizing the ordeal at Patrick O'Riordan's first night, her nerve frayed. Why couldn't these three men leave her in peace--in peace? Looking at Ronnie, she saw his eyes very resolute. He said:
"My decision is that the book must be published."
"Please let me finish, Cavendish," broke in Sir Peter; and to Aliette: "There are other points besides the publication of this book to be decided." Then he read to her, always in the same soft purr, the codicil; and explained, in tense, reasoned sentences, the consequences of its publication in the press, ending: "It means, to use a rather old-fashioned phrase, social ruin."