A Bordeaux Dynasty: A Novel

by Françoise Bourdin

  Robert raised his shoulders, annoyed at Pauline’s cheery mood and his brother’s conclusions.

  “At his age? Are you kidding me? He’s more lucid than you and me. I bet that it’s all premeditated. …”

  Robert kept quiet for a moment, and Louis-Marie tapped him on the knee to bring him back to reality.

  “Maybe Dad is afraid that Laurène will want to take over the house after she marries Jules? And he decided to have his lover move in with him to quash his future daughter-in-law’s plans?”

  Robert set down his glass of whisky with a sudden movement.

  “What are you talking about?” he said. “Don’t you know Dad? He’s not scared of anyone, let alone a woman. Just think of Dominique’s situation there. …”

  Pauline was watching Robert as he spoke, finding him as attractive as ever. Just to be on the safe side, she hadn’t gone to see him at the hospital, hadn’t even called him since the harvest. Not out of love for Louis-Marie, but because she was weary of her brother-in-law’s charms.

  Robert was troubled by the way Pauline was gazing at him.

  “Did Alex tell Jules?” he asked his brother.

  “No, he didn’t want to add fuel to the fire. Jules is going to be furious when he gets back and finds out about that woman, and he won’t be shy about it. He’ll be the only one with the nerve to say anything.”

  “Good!” Robert said.

  Pauline, once again, laughed. “What’s he going to say? That Aurélien is having some sort of midlife crisis and that Fonteyne is now at the mercy of a woman? What drama that’s going to be!”

  “There will be less drama if Jules knows in advance,” said Louis-Marie. “I think I’m going to go to London to talk to him.”

  Pauline grabbed Robert’s arm and guided him to the kitchen.

  “Let’s have dinner,” she said, “while the food’s still fit to eat.”

  Robert sat where Pauline told him to. He felt uncomfortable whenever he was near her, and there really wasn’t anything he could do about it. Louis-Marie didn’t seem to notice his brother’s embarrassment.

  “I have an idea!” Pauline blurted out. “Why don’t we all go to Fonteyne for Christmas?”

  Robert gave her a bewildered look.

  “Are you kidding?”

  “Just a few days,” she said. “I’m sure that hospital of yours can survive without Dr. Laverzac for forty-eight hours. No one is irreplaceable, you know.”

  Her enthusiasm was telling. She continued, “We’d be able to assess the situation there for ourselves and be a buffer between Jules and your father at the same time. And we’d spend Christmas as one big family!”

  Delighted with her own idea, she looked at both Robert and Louis-Marie.

  “Say yes!” she said. “Esther would be so happy, and her cousins, too.”

  Louis-Marie could never resist his wife for very long.

  “I could pick up Jules and Laurène in London and take them to Fonteyne. We’d surprise Dad, like the good sons that we are, and so he wouldn’t be able to say no. … And we’ll spend Christmas Eve all together, something that hasn’t happened in ten years.”

  Robert hesitated, tempted in spite of himself, knowing that Pauline’s presence would kill him, but thinking that anything was better than not seeing her, not knowing what she was doing.

  “When could you free yourself, Bob?”

  “At the earliest … the twenty-third, I think. That’s next Tuesday.”

  “Perfect! So I’ll head for England this weekend. That’ll give Jules time to rearrange his schedule. When you leave Paris on Tuesday, can you pick up Pauline and Esther?”

  Robert managed to put on an air of indifference as he acquiesced.

  Pauline, delighted, leaned toward him and said, “You’re not going to drive like a madman in that sports car of yours, right? Promise?”

  He had the feeling that Pauline was mocking him. Louis-Marie’s presence prevented him from saying anything back and he just nodded. He’d completely forgotten the reason for this meal and, at that very moment, he would’ve been incapable of remembering who Frédérique was. He took the dish that Pauline was handing him. He was already feeling miserable.

  Aurélien stepped away from the fireplace as the flames suddenly whooshed. He loved this hour of quiet, early in the morning, after Fernande had just set the breakfast tray on the corner of his desk.

  In the heart of winter, Fonteyne didn’t require as much attention. Snow, which had fallen overnight, was covering the entire vineyard. Aurélien glanced at his watch. Alexandre would come over only later, no doubt busy drinking his coffee and chatting with his sons back at his house. And Frédérique was probably still sleeping.

  Aurélien thought that he liked them all, his sons, daughters-in-law, grandchildren, but that Jules’s absence really weighed on him. Not being able to simply enjoy the sight of the snowy vines in the company of his adopted son saddened him. He asked himself for the hundredth time why he’d sent him over to England.

  So he’d be away from Laurène. … That was some plan! They’re on a honeymoon before they’re even married. …

  Jules’s phone calls, laconic but friendly, only added to his distress.

  You talk to me about merchants, about markets shares … I miss you, you little jerk. …

  He smiled, exasperated. Sometimes he felt like his adopted son was his only son. Why did their relationship always have to have an element of rivalry?

  He sleeps with Laurène, makes love to her. … I hope I never start hating him. …

  He gazed at the flames once again, and as the thought of Frédérique came to him, he produced a satisfied smile. She was young, beautiful and, above all, she’d become his lover.

  As soon as Louis-Marie uttered Aurélien’s name and explained to his brother what was going on at Fonteyne, Jules started preparing to leave England.

  Until then, Laurène had adored their trip. Jules had been considerate and charming, as only he could be. But it had been business first, and she was getting tired of the never-ending discussions she had to listen to. Wanting to maximize his stay in England, Jules had booked meeting after meeting without granting them a day off. He’d stuck to a very tight schedule and had met a large number of merchants. From hotel to hotel, Laurène had packed and unpacked their suitcases twenty times.

  Of course, after Louis-Marie’s unannounced visit, Laurène understood that their trip was over. Aurélien, Fonteyne—those were magical words, and Jules was obviously happy to put those shackles back on. He canceled his meetings and reservations, and decided to leave with his brother right away. Laurène had to pack up their things one more time in a hurry, and they managed to catch the last ferry from Portsmouth to Saint-Malo.

  “And, of course,” Louis-Marie said, “she’s now his lover. …”

  There was a trace of reproach in his voice, and Jules defended Aurélien right away.

  “So what? There have always been women in Aurélien’s life. You know that. Not in the house, that’s true, and Alex is right to worry. But don’t criticize me for having introduced her to him. …”

  “I’m not criticizing you about anything.”

  Laurène was sleeping in the back of the car, and Louis-Marie had let Jules drive. They were speaking in low voices, happy to be heading together for Fonteyne, in spite of the worry they felt.

  “Maybe Dad figured that after you marry Laurène, you wouldn’t be his protégé anymore, and you won’t be at his disposal all the time, and you won’t be at his beck and call twenty-four seven. …”

  They laughed, that same quick and light laugh they both shared.

  “No matter his reasons,” Jules said, “if he decided to do what he did, he’s going to stick to it. But he’s never going to give control of Fonteyne to that woman, you know that as well as I do. He’s not senile, far from it. Only Alex believes that junk.”

  “I don’t know, Jules. … Just for the sake of being defiant, he might let the game go too fa
r and get played himself. After all, she’s very pretty and very young, and he must feel quite … flattered.”

  Jules, not altogether convinced by Louis-Marie’s arguments, shook his head. He knew Aurélien better than anyone, of that he was certain.

  After the town of Saintes, he headed for Royan to take the Pointe de Grave ferry. He wanted to drive the length of the Médoc region, all the way down to Fonteyne. He took in the landscape avidly. Louis-Marie threw glances at him and smiled, though he felt a bit ill at ease. Jules had Fonteyne and, deep down, he didn’t care what people around him did. Nothing really troubled him as long as he could count on Fonteyne—the land, the vineyards. As for Louis-Marie, all he had was Pauline. Pauline, who must be on her way to Fonteyne with Robert and Esther. What role was she playing, right now, with her bewitched brother-in-law? That of perfect mother? Woman-child? Faithful wife?

  Louis-Marie felt Jules’s hand on his arm.

  “What’s bugging you? Is something wrong?”

  Jules’s soft voice soothed Louis-Marie.

  “No,” he said. “I just hope that Bob is driving carefully.”

  Jules turned his head back for a second to look at Laurène, still stretched across the backseat, sleeping. He loved her and all was well. He thought of his father and Frédérique, trying to remember her as well as possible, and the hotel room in Bordeaux where they’d spent a night together. Not even one night, just a few hours. Jules remembered that Frédérique was smiling during their lovemaking. Was she smiling when she was with Aurélien as well? To imagine Aurélien in bed was difficult.

  “All this snow is amazing,” Louis-Marie said, gesturing at the white fields.

  Rows and rows of vines were buried under the sheet of snow. Jules gave his brother a radiant smile. No matter if the vines were hidden, he was happy to find them once again.

  Aurélien greeted his sons without showing surprise or annoyance. He blankly stated that he liked the idea of a family Christmas, and then he took Jules to his office. There, he asked for a precise and detailed report of Jules’s stay in England. He made no comment about the trip’s sudden interruption and the cancellation of the last few meetings. But his abrupt way of asking questions and interrupting the answers irritated Jules. Being treated like an employee had always infuriated him. Aurélien was, it went without saying, well aware of that.

  “Tell me you took the time to go to Berry Brothers & Rudd. …” he said.

  Jules talked about the shop, very Old England, the mecca of wine traders and connoisseurs, located at 3 James Street since 1698. He described the shop in detail, before telling his father about the new British trends and preferences. They continued talking for a long while, Aurélien keeping that same stern expression in spite of Jules’s attempts at humor.

  “What about your wedding?” Aurélien finally asked. “What have you decided?”

  “We were thinking June. If that’s okay with you. …”

  He’d just changed their plans, trying to buy time without even knowing why.

  “Whatever date is convenient for you is okay with me,” Aurélien said.

  Aurélien’s tone was pleasant. His son’s return made him happy beyond anything else. He was back and life would return to normal. Fonteyne without Jules wasn’t really Fonteyne anymore.

  “Is it okay if we live together till then?”

  The question surprised Aurélien, and it also reassured him. Jules, though in love, knew very well the narrow-minded world they belonged to.

  “If Antoine agrees, his daughter can live under my roof. The world has changed. …”

  He was smiling, amused at being able to sound more liberal than his son.

  “You can pretend like you each have your own room, for the sake of Clothilde and the staff … but ask for Antoine’s okay first.”

  They looked at each other, communicating a thousand things without opening their mouths.

  “I need to talk to you about … But why don’t you sit down, cowboy? You’re making me tired staying on your feet like that.”

  Aurélien only used that nickname when he was in good spirits, and so Jules obliged him by sitting in an armchair.

  “There will be decisions to be made about your marriage,” Aurélien said. “Things I’d like to talk to you about now, son.”

  Jules leaned forward, attentive but not worried.

  “You can fix your floor any way you want. There’s enough room. Laurène can have whatever she wants, as long as you guys don’t touch Robert and Louis-Marie’s rooms. The rest, I don’t care. Knock down some walls if you’d like, if you feel like having some sort of … apartment?”

  He’d put too much sarcasm into his words to sound truly indifferent.

  “Any renovations you guys want to make are on me, it goes without saying. It’s my house, no matter what. … But, you know, I’d like things to remain the same in here. Fernande takes care of the house with the help of Clothilde. Laurène can continue handling the bills and expenses, if she feels like it, just like she did when she worked for me. She knows how to do it. As long as you don’t have any kids. …”

  Without enthusiasm, Jules brought himself to ask the question that Aurélien had been waiting for.

  “What about Frédérique? You’re going to let her go?”

  Aurélien looked his son squarely in the face.

  “No. She knows what I have in mind.”

  A painful moment of silence followed.

  “You care a lot for her?” Jules finally asked, in spite of himself.

  “Of course! Alex must’ve told you. Frédérique and I are together.”

  Jules’s breath was taken away by the simplicity and bluntness of that last sentence.

  “And so,” Aurélien continued, “she does whatever she wants in this house. It’s her home.”

  “Really?” Jules stared at his father, and then added, “You’re not going to marry her, are you?”

  The question startled Aurélien. He hadn’t expected such a direct hit.

  “What business is it of yours, Jules?” he asked.

  Both hesitated to say anything else, knowing they were heading for a fight. After a moment, Aurélien made the effort to say, “It bothers you that much? I didn’t mess things up for you, and you have Laurène. … I never do anything to hurt you, you know that. …”

  Jules got up, shoved his hands in his pockets, and fumbled for the right words to say.

  “You do whatever you want, but I wouldn’t want you …”

  He stopped talking and Aurélien straightened in his chair.

  “To make a fool of myself? You’re afraid to say it?”

  “That’s not what I meant to say.”

  “Good!”

  Aurélien was still in his seat, glaring at Jules.

  “That’ll be all for the moment,” he said, sharply.

  Jules managed to leave the room without slamming the door shut. The first person he saw in the hallway was Frédérique. She was coming from outside, her cheeks rosy, and she seemed delighted to see Jules. With a big smile on her face, she walked briskly toward him but stopped in her tracks when she realized that she wouldn’t be greeted warmly.

  “How are you?” she asked, with the softest of voices.

  She was looking at him as if dazzled. She was as attracted to him as she had been three months earlier, and even though she was daunted by him, she’d been prepared to confront him.

  “And your trip?” she asked.

  “Educational. I just told Aurélien about it and I think he’s satisfied.”

  Jules was staring at her, a grin on his face.

  “I asked Fernande to prepare something nice for us, and we’re going to eat soon. …”

  Jules offered a light laugh, which she considered horribly insulting.

  “You’re not going to start using that stepmother tone with me, are you?”

  Then out of the blue, he grabbed her by the waist and pulled her against himself. He whispered in her ear, “He’s good in
the sack, I hope.”

  She didn’t have time to say anything. Jules let go of her just as Robert and Pauline were walking into the house, Esther on their heels.

  “What a ride!” Pauline said as she went over to Jules. “Snow, black ice, and Siberia-cold. What about you? Was the ride from London okay? Where’s my husband?”

  Adorable, cheerful, Pauline grabbed Jules’s arm and dragged him to the main living room without having even glanced at Frédérique.

  “You’re still just as handsome and attractive, dear brother-in-law,” she said.

  She was laughing, unbuttoning her fur coat with one hand.

  “This is going to be a fantastic Christmas,” she said. “You’ll see. I’m going to organize everything. Come Esther, come near the fireplace. Your uncle is going to light a nice fire. It’s freezing in this castle, as always in the winter. …”

  In the hallway, Robert had stopped to take off his coat and he greeted Frédérique.

  “Hello Robert,” she answered with a disarming smile.

  He was surprised that she remembered his name but didn’t say anything about it. The thought of his father sleeping with such a young and beautiful woman made him smile.

  She walked ahead of him to the living room, where Aurélien was already chatting with Pauline, and she sat down, a bit to the side. Dominique and Alexandre’s animosity toward her since the harvest had weighed on her, and the idea of spending Christmas with the entire family scared her. She could easily imagine the attitude Aurélien’s sons were going to have toward her. She’d vaguely hoped that Jules would be more indulgent, and she felt sad.

  The way the conversation went, led by a merry Pauline, gave no one the chance to start an argument. Jules and Aurélien were keeping an eye on each other, ready to respond to any sign of aggression.

  “And,” Pauline said suddenly, “I’ll ask you all to let Dominique and me organize the Christmas Eve festivities. It’s going to be a surprise! This is the first time we’re all together for Christmas, it’s quite an event!”

  Charming, playful, she knew how to entertain Aurélien and speak to his love for women. He smiled, noticed Frédérique’s tight smile and Laurène’s inscrutable face, and said with calm, “It’s a deal, sweetheart. You have carte blanche. …”