“Sorry to disturb your contemplation, but Louis-Marie is calling us over. I think he’s got something at the end of his line.”
Jules managed to get to his feet and absentmindedly followed his brother to the river. Aurélien then went over to Laurène. He, too, was gawking at her, and she felt embarrassed.
“You shouldn’t provoke him that way, kid,” he said. “There’s no telling what he’s going to do if you push him over the edge. And I won’t take your side, just so you know.”
She didn’t hold his stare and quickly grabbed her T-shirt. This game wasn’t fun anymore.
They all gathered on the blankets, around a mountain of sandwiches of various types. Jules had gone for a swim and was last to come out of the river. The picnic was quite loud, as everyone was influenced by Pauline’s good mood. And thanks to the wine, everyone ended up feeling sleepy two hours later.
Jules was lying under a tree, far from the others. As tired as he was, he couldn’t fall asleep. He heard Laurène come his way. She kneeled by his side. He kept his eyes shut, and he felt her hand gently touch his hair.
“Since when are you napping?” she said. “You must’ve had quite a night.”
She meant to mock him, but in reality she felt sad and not at all convinced that she’d chosen the right approach. She ran a fingertip along the scar on his back.
“Stop,” he whispered, without moving.
“What?” she said. “No one can touch you anymore?”
She made sure no one was watching them, and then she quickly bent down and kissed Jules on the back of the head.
“Let’s make peace,” she said. “Okay?”
Jules spun around so quickly he almost toppled Laurène. They wound up nose to nose. Jules looked at her, devoid of anger, ready to capitulate.
“You know,” he said. “About Camille …”
He hesitated, searching for the right words, and once again Laurène misread the situation.
“Oh,” she blurted out, “I see. You’re hooked, are you? The great seducer—”
Upset, Jules interrupted her.
“Will you shut the hell up, for one second?”
“You might be able to order everyone else around, but not me!”
Jules grabbed her by the wrists and shook her.
“What are you trying to prove, Laurène? Why do you act like a slut? If you insist, no problem, I’ll do you right here, right now. In front of the entire family, if that’s what you want!”
He let go of her wrists and got up.
Now aware that she’d misunderstood him, she wanted him to stay.
“Wait!”
“Why? You have something more to show me?”
The stare-down he gave Laurène made her blush.
“You really treat me like I’m a moron,” he said, picking up his shirt off the ground. He’d exhausted all his patience.
“Listen …” Laurène said, holding back her tears.
“Leave me alone, Laurène,” he muttered in an oddly muted voice.
He made his way to the Jeep and sped off.
Laurène thought that no matter what they did, they’d never be able to clear up the misunderstanding between them.
Jules worked relentlessly the entire afternoon. He wore out both Alexandre and Lucas, who wondered about his frenzy. Aurélien came over to the vineyard at the end of the day and left without having said a word but looking satisfied. A bit later, Jules met with him in the cellar and talked to him at length about his intention to buy grape destemming machines. Aurélien listened to him, skeptical.
“You’re going too fast,” he said. “You impose too many changes on me, every year. First I’ll go over to the Soubeys to see how those machines are working out for them.”
Annoyed, Jules shrugged and said, “You demanded that the top of the barrels be varnished, and God knows that’s unusual!”
“I hate those damn purple stains you see everywhere. I want my cellar to be impeccable!”
“And it is, isn’t it?”
Aurélien stared at his son.
“You’re so nervous,” he said. “Is there something specific about the harvest that’s worrying you?”
Jules sighed.
“The wine is going to be supple and rich, but it’s going to lack depth.”
“It’s way too early to say,” Aurélien protested. “Besides, you’re always a prophet of doom and gloom before the harvest.”
They left the cellar and headed for the castle. Jules kept on talking about the vines.
“And there are the vines down the hill. Those are in pretty bad shape. The rain is going to make everything rot. We went for quality over quantity, but nine thousand vines per acre, that’s still too many!”
Aurélien gave him a pat on the back.
“Quit that, Jules, or I’m going to have nightmares all night long.”
But Jules wasn’t in a laughing mood, and throughout dinner talked about all the things he worried about. It was as though he wanted to atone for the time wasted during the picnic. He didn’t even seem to notice Laurène’s absence. She said she had a migraine and went up to bed before dinnertime.
The rain came down unexpectedly at the end of the meal, though that day’s weather had been splendid. Pauline played cards with Louis-Marie, Robert, and Dominique, but Jules continued his conversation with Aurélien. Alex talked about Mazion, where the harvest would begin in two days. The three of them sitting at the back of the main living room looked like conspirators, and Pauline joked about it. At eleven, Aurélien announced that he’d heard enough and he left them. Jules drank some cognac with Alexandre, to raise his spirits a little, and then he also left.
Upstairs, he noticed light under Laurène’s door and he knocked. As there was no answer, he knocked some more.
“Are you going to open up or should I kick in the door?” he asked out loud.
He’d decided to put an end to his feud with Laurène once and for all. Since he’d left the riverbank, he hadn’t stopped thinking about her, in spite of all the work he’d put in since. Convinced that she would drive him insane if he didn’t do something, he wanted to stop this back-and-forth game that prevented him from leading a normal life.
He waited for a couple of seconds, then he took a few steps back. Fonteyne’s doors were solid, but he got the better of Laurène’s with a violent kick. Stunned, Laurène watched him stumble into her bedroom.
“Are you out of your mind?”
“Yes.”
He took a step toward her and she raised the blankets to her chin. They heard Robert’s voice, at the bottom of the staircase, asking if everything was okay.
They answered together, “Everything’s fine!”
Jules went back to shut the door. Its handle was dangling.
“I don’t give a damn about Camille,” he said. “In fact, I didn’t spend the night with her. I slept with a lovely young woman that I hope Aurélien will hire to replace you, since apparently you decided to leave. …”
He realized he was off to a bad start when he saw Laurène’s alarmed expression. He smiled timidly.
“Listen, Laurène,” he began. “I’m tired of lying to you. The harvest is right around the corner, and I’m going to have very little time. I just wanted to tell you that … that …”
Laurène had never seen Jules fumble for his words this way.
“That I love you, you know that, that I can’t sleep at night because of you, and that I won’t be able to stand it much longer. You chose Robert over me, that’s your right. I was wrong to make things so difficult for you. If you’re leaving Fonteyne because of me, it’s a great way to get back at me, because the idea of not seeing you anymore is making me sick to my stomach. But I think you’re right. …”
He’d remained on his side of the bedroom. Laurène knew how difficult it must’ve been for him to say those words. Proud as he was, he’d just admitted that he was dependent on her. He was quiet, waiting for her to saying something back, and he see
med to be ready for anything.
“Come over here,” she said in a low voice. “Please, come. …”
He took a few hesitant steps.
“Jules,” she said, “it’s like I don’t know you anymore.”
“You’re making me crazy, Laurène. …”
They stared at each other, making sure not to say anything that could be misunderstood.
“Would you believe me if I told you that I’ve loved you for years? Since I got here? That you’ve always intimidated me to the point that I’m clumsy and aggressive?”
He looked at her, incredulous.
“Bob,” she said, “that was … nothing.”
He stiffened at the sound of his brother’s name. She held out her hand and said, “I should’ve found the courage to talk to you a long time ago. Come here. …”
He walked over to the bed. Pushing the blankets aside, he took the time to look at her. She let him, still, consenting. She shivered when he put his hands on her, consumed with passion. He was very gentle with her, even though his desire for her smoldered. He’d dreamed about this moment for so long he didn’t want to cut it short. She reached for the nightstand lamp, but he didn’t let her turn off the light.
Jules had been awake for a few moments, and he was caressing Laurène’s hair. He heard the muffled sound of the library’s grandfather clock ringing down below. Asleep, Laurène cuddled against him.
“You’re the love of my life,” he whispered in her ear.
She was still sleeping. He slowly tried to move away from her, but she opened her eyes, saw him, and smiled. Then she pressed her body against his, her face against his shoulder. Flashbacks from the night they’d just spent together came to her, and she felt her face redden. She’d never imagined how great lovemaking could be before this man had climbed into her bed. He looked at her expression and began to laugh.
“I have to get up. …” he said.
But he let his hands wander on her body, and she bit her lower lip. He then stood and stretched, amused at the sight of her disappointment.
“Jules … what are we going to do?”
“Make love every night, of course. In secret!”
He laughed again, but she asked, “Why do we have to hide?”
“Right now, it’s a bit difficult to …”
“To what?”
“Listen, you announced that you were going back to Mazion, and I’m leaving for England in November. I think we should wait until Christmas to tell my father and yours. … And I’m going to have to deal with Maurice Caze between now and then!”
She looked at him, eyebrows furrowed, trying to understand. But she didn’t want to contradict him.
“Be honest, Jules,” she said. “You’re hesitant because of Aurélien, right? Because of the harvest?”
“Yes. … And no matter what I told him right now about us, he wouldn’t respond well. He’s irritated by what’s going on between us, and he only knows half of it!”
He’d meant to make her smile, but she remained stone-faced.
“I’m always going to be second fiddle to Aurélien?”
It was more an observation than a question.
“To Aurélien and Fonteyne, probably,” he said, honestly. “But above everything else, I swear!”
He came back to Laurène and took her in his arms.
“By January, everything will be settled. I give you my word. And, if you agree, we could get married in the spring.”
She broke into a radiant smile, and he looked at her with great passion.
“You’re going to give me four sons,” he said.
“And a daughter!”
“Yes, a pretty girl, just like you.”
He kissed her and then said, “I really have to go. …”
She followed him with her eyes. She’d always loved his lean frame, the way he walked, the way he moved. He put on his jeans, his shirt.
“As long as the grapes aren’t harvested, I won’t relax and I won’t be able to do what I really want. You understand that, right?”
She nodded yes and then said, “Jules … are you mad at me because of Bob?”
He shrugged, more annoyed than indifferent.
“Of course,” he said. “It was so unnecessary. …”
“When I’m back in Mazion,” she said, “are you really going to hire that woman?”
Jules sniggered.
“Of course! Aurélien needs a good-looking secretary! He’d be miserable otherwise.”
She forced herself to smile. She certainly didn’t want to stir up some stormy discussion between them. He lit a cigarette, walked over to her, and took her hand. Then, ever so gently, he kissed her wrist.
“I love you,” he said, softly. “When do you have to leave?”
“Tomorrow or the day after. …”
He seemed deep in thought suddenly but offered no comment. He headed for the door looking anxious. He turned to Laurène, hesitant, and said, “I need you to know … I’m not sure you know this about me … but if you ever behave with a man the way you did during the picnic, it will end badly.”
“You’re the jealous type?” Laurène asked. Her eyes were shining. “What a compliment, Jules!” she said. “Yes, yes! I want you to be jealous!”
Bewildered, he watched her hide her head under the covers with a loud burst of laughter. He stepped out of the room, smiling as he glanced at the door handle still dangling, and he ran down the stairs to his father’s office. He forgot to knock and was taken aback by his father’s stern expression.
“You look more and more tired,” Aurélien said. “That bodes well! You guys made an awful lot of noise up there!”
Jules was startled and avoided looking at his father.
“It sounded like you were kicking down doors when you went to sleep. I almost went back upstairs to calm things down. Anyway, you do what you want. … Coffee?”
Jules sat down, wondering what Aurélien really knew.
“I’m going to a wine producers’ meeting tonight,” Aurélien said, “and so you’re going to have dinner without me. Before that, I’ll go over to Antoine’s. Poor guy won’t be allowed to have a decent meal anytime soon. … Hey, are you sleeping? All right, are we checking out the cellar or what?”
Jules followed him out to the terrace, trying to come up with something that might lighten Aurélien’s mood.
Finally, he asked, “Have you thought of someone to replace Laurène?”
“I haven’t had time for that. Why?”
“Because if you’d like to sleep with your notary’s secretary, I know her, and she’s very pretty.”
“Oh yeah?”
Aurélien had stopped in his tracks, the semblance of a smile on his face.
“I never know what you mean exactly when you say you ‘know’ someone,” he said.
“You’re going to like her a lot.”
“That much? You’re sucking up to me, aren’t you? Or you’re offering me compensation for something. … But what could it be? Did you steal something from me?”
Jules burst into his usual light laughter, which almost always stirred something inside Aurélien.
“You’re a happy fellow this morning, aren’t you?”
“It’s the harvest! We’re almost there!”
Aurélien took Jules by the arm, and they made their way to the cellar.
“I’m warning you, son, I’m going to hold you responsible for everything this year. So you’d better be sure of yourself, otherwise we’re done with your initiatives and your innovations!”
Jules began to defend himself, forgetting all about Laurène.
As he was getting dressed for his meeting, Aurélien thought about Robert and Louis-Marie’s impending departure and felt little sadness. He liked them both, but was getting tired of living with them. And with the harvest right around the corner, he couldn’t stand anything that would distract him, even if only a little.
When he was ready, he left his room and walked over to
the garage. He gave Robert’s Porsche a derisive glance. He thought that indulging in such whims at the age of thirty-six was completely idiotic.
I’d done so much by the time I was thirty-six! he thought.
He’d put Fonteyne back in order, expanded it by purchasing lands as soon as he found them, raised his four sons. Thinking of his youth made Aurélien smile. He’d been, just like Jules, both a ladies’ man and a brawler. His cheerfulness evaporated at the thought of his adopted son. He didn’t want to talk to him directly about it, but he worried about how tired he looked.
Laurène will be gone, but that doesn’t mean we’re necessarily going to have peace and quiet. And what about that secretary? I’m going to have to ask Varin about her. …
He took a look at the clock on the dashboard. He had plenty of time to go visit Antoine before heading for Bordeaux, where the meeting was being held.
Marie greeted Aurélien kindly, flattered by his visit, and she took him to Antoine’s bedroom. Aurélien stopped for a second on the threshold, taken aback by how bad his old friend looked.
“So, you’re still here, you lazy bum?”
“As you can see. …”
They looked at each other, both made uneasy by Antoine’s sickness. They had been friends for a long time, though these past few years they’d spent time together only during lavish feasts, mostly at Fonteyne.
“Alex is very nice, you know.”
“You’re telling me! He’s spending way too much time around here.”
This was said only half-jokingly, and Antoine got upset.
“It’s for his own good,” he said. “Alex is going to be in charge of my vineyards sooner or later.”
“Hopefully not sooner than later,” Aurélien said. “You’re not dead yet! And I can’t see Alex producing white wine his entire life, the poor guy. …”
Antoine started to laugh, amused by Aurélien’s spite.
“He doesn’t seem to mind it,” he said. “At least in Mazion, he does what he pleases. You have to be made out of rock, like Jules, to be able to stand you. At least that’s what I hear. …”
Aurélien, on the verge of anger, frowned.
“Say what you want,” he said, “I do miss Alex back at Fonteyne.”
A Bordeaux Dynasty: A Novel Page 19