A Bordeaux Dynasty: A Novel

by Françoise Bourdin

  And yet she’s going to have to do it eventually, Jules thought, whether there are two of us here or fifteen. …

  He smiled as he pictured her in bed, rolled up in a ball under the blankets, with Botty snuggled up against her. Jules wondered for a second if Pauline couldn’t give Laurène a few tips, but he rejected the idea. Pauline had a self-confidence that Laurène lacked, but she was just as much a woman-child; domestic issues bored her, and her Parisian snobbery was often out of place.

  He finished his cup of coffee, stretched, and then went over to the fireplace to toss in an extra log. Clothilde grumbled when she had to clean up the hearth, but Jules loved his fire too much to give it up. He poked at the embers, set down the heavy fire tongs, and remained in front of the flames for a moment, leaning against the mantel. Thinking of his brothers’ arrival made him happy. He knew that Robert was leaving Paris that very evening, and he couldn’t wait to see him.

  He’s going to drive like a madman part of the night. … He’s going to be at Fonteyne before Louis-Marie has even had time to put Pauline’s luggage in his car.

  He smiled at the thought, knowing that Robert would want to catch him before dawn and let him drive his brand-new sports car.

  Come help me stop that jerk Alex, he thought, angrily.

  Jules’s anger was still intact, but now it also carried a great amount of bitterness. Though he worked tirelessly, Fonteyne was no easy ship to steer. Alexandre had time to waste but not Jules.

  I promise you, Aurélien, he’s not going to get his hands on Fonteyne. …

  Contrary to what Alexandre imagined, Jules didn’t want to keep Fonteyne for his own sake. He didn’t want to wrong anybody, didn’t need to control everything. But Fonteyne was something sacred that had to be preserved, that had to prosper, and Jules knew that he, of Aurélien’s four sons, was the only one up to that challenge. This certainty had nothing to do with ego or any personal consideration on his part, and that made it all the more absolute.

  “Good morning, honey,” Laurène said as she opened the door.

  Jules had to make an effort to hide his displeasure. He would have preferred for her to knock instead of taking him by surprise this way. She went over to Jules and kissed him. She looked terrific in her oversize pink sweater and tight black jeans. He kissed her long and hard, feeling that she needed affection. Then he leaned back and gazed at her.

  “You don’t look so good,” he said. “Did you have a bad night?”

  She snuggled against him. She did feel tired, but thought Jules had enough problems of his own, and so she remained quiet. He slipped a hand under her sweater and caressed her soft skin. Laurène shivered and he kept at it. She was defenseless against Jules, too much in love to ever resist him. This gave him a sense of power, but it almost made him weary at times.

  He pulled away from her and said, “There’s still some hot coffee, if you’d like. I’ll be down in the cellar till eleven. It’d be great if you could pull out the payments file—you know, the one with the new scales—so I can take a look at it when I’m back.”

  He got up and left, and Laurène sighed. She was so exhausted she wondered if she shouldn’t make an appointment with Dr. Auber.

  Alexandre left Samson’s office feeling confused. The lawyer seemed confident, but she’d bombarded him with questions. Alexandre hoped he’d answered properly. He’d always had a hard time understanding the complicated statutes of the company his father had created. And Aurélien had done nothing to help him understand. Protective of his authority and prerogatives, he’d administered Fonteyne by himself. Well, except for Jules, of course.

  To think and to talk about Aurélien had made him uncomfortable. He felt the need for a little pick-me-up, so he walked into the first bistro he saw. He ordered a cognac and downed it. Jules and Varin better watch out, he thought, since Valérie Samson’s reputation was unbeatable: She won every case she tackled. She wasn’t liked, but her colleagues treated her with respect and caution, considering the impressive list of her victories in the field of business law. Consequently, her fees were staggering. The first check Alexandre had given Samson was for a considerable sum. And he wasn’t rich, far from it, which was one more reason he felt so angry at Jules. To be a Laverzac heir and have no money was just too much to endure. All the money that Jules handled day in and day out was going from one Fonteyne account to another. The estate both earned and consumed huge amounts of money. Alexandre had always thought that Jules and Aurélien’s investments were overly excessive. The results, in a way, had justified this expansionist attitude of theirs, but what was the point of owning that much land and so much wine-producing equipment, to then be short on liquidity? During all those years he’d worked at Fonteyne, Aurélien had given Alexandre a hefty salary. But when he handed Jules his resignation and stormed out of Fonteyne to go to Mazion, he hadn’t thought of the consequences of his move. He foolishly thought he’d be okay financially because his father had died. Without really thinking about it, he’d figured that there would be some sort of sharing of the estate, an immediate influx of cash. And, of course, Jules had hidden behind his role as manager to explain to everyone that no way was he going to modify the estate’s management approach and that he was going to need time to figure out the correct way to compensate his brothers. Even though, deep down, Alexandre understood Jules’s position, he didn’t want to, and he held on to his anger, his distrust, his rancor.

  He ordered another cognac. He was incapable of admitting that the one he now always called “the bastard” made him sick with envy. It had been the case forever. At least since he’d first seen, as a little kid, the looks of amused curiosity, indulgence, tenderness, and, finally, admiration that Aurélien gave Jules. Alexandre had loved his father much more than he’d shown. But Aurélien never took an interest in him, had never done anything for him. Aurélien had eyes only for the little Gypsy that followed him like his shadow and that had virtually taken over Fonteyne as soon as he was old enough to walk. Alexandre remembered his father’s fits of anger, the arrogant way he had of looking at everybody, including his sons. Alexandre had always been afraid of him, always avoided any type of argument. Jules, on the contrary, never cowered, possessing all the self-confidence that Alex never had. Jules endured the screams and the corporal punishment without flinching, as though those were the rules of a game he played willingly. As a child, Alexandre tried to hide or deny the stupid stuff he did, whereas Jules would go right to his father to admit what he’d done, head held high. Then there was the day Alex had told Jules that he was an adopted child. He remembered Jules crying so hard his face twisted up, Aurélien’s fury, the painful hour they’d spent, humiliated, in their father’s office. Jules then refusing to say “Dad” ever again. And while he’d called him by his name from then on, Alex’s revelation had changed nothing, as Aurélien and Jules had remained inseparable.

  He left the bar on shaky legs. Dominique would see that he was drunk. All she’d do would be to furrow her brows at him, her expression severe. God, he hated that. He didn’t want people to judge him. After all, he was only defending himself, and Dominique had to understand that. She’d always been on his side, she couldn’t stop now.

  Laurène’s eyes widened, and she had to force herself to breathe more slowly. The blue line was clearly visible. She went toward the strip again but didn’t touch it. She’d bought the pregnancy test the day before, because she was a few days late. Of course, she’d stopped taking the pill. Of course, she’d hoped, without admitting it to herself. Heart beating fast, she looked at the results again. No doubt, according to the directions, she was pregnant.

  She managed to refrain from shouting with joy. Giving Jules a child would be the greatest gift she could ever offer him. Marie had made this clear to her and, by neglecting to use contraception, she’d followed her mother’s veiled advice. Glancing at her watch, she realized it was seven o’clock. She’d waited until Jules got up, a bit before six that morning, and as soon as h
e’d left the room, she’d run to get her test kit, trying not to hope, but her hands shaking. Leaving the urine and the kit next to the bathroom sink, she took a bath, got dressed, and then took her time to put on her makeup. Now she fought against the need to run down the stairs and barge into the office. But Jules was probably still out in the fields, not yet done with his usual daybreak tour of the property. She hadn’t heard Bingo come back. She adored the sound of the hooves on the driveway’s gravel, and she always ran to the window to see Jules go by on his horse.

  She sat at her dressing table and didn’t much like what she saw in the mirror—the pale skin, the bright eyes, the overexcited expression. But she smiled at herself. Abandoning all hypocrisy, now needless, she reveled in having achieved her goal, so that now Jules wouldn’t put off their wedding by a single day.

  Jules smiled as he saw the beautiful black automobile coming up Fonteyne’s driveway. He’d listened for the roar of an engine throughout his tour of the vineyards. He knew that Robert would soon arrive. He’d let Bingo run like mad for a while and then set him free to roam the field next to the stable instead of putting him back into his stall. He’d set the saddle and the bridle in the small shack he’d built three years earlier. Then he’d closed the fence carefully, thinking of all the conversations he’d had with Aurélien about this tiny pasture. When Jules cleared out part of the woods for Bingo, his father had protested vehemently. But later, when he saw the horse running around happy as a colt, he’d backed off.

  Jules sighed. Aurélien was no longer there to call him “cowboy” with his warm and ironic voice. No longer there to laugh with him, oppose his initiatives, and damper his enthusiasm when it went overboard. Fonteyne was now his responsibility alone.

  As he walked back to the castle, he made out the dark mass heading for Fonteyne. He didn’t move out of the way and Robert, for fun, slammed on the brakes just in front of him.

  “I wanted to arrive before you were up!” Robert said as he got out of his brand-new Audi.

  “You should have come earlier then, Doctor!”

  The sun was now coming up, shedding a smidgen of light on the vines all around them.

  Robert took Jules by the shoulders and shook him vigorously.

  “I’m happy to see you, little bro.”

  There was genuine warmth in his voice, three decades of affection. Robert pushed his brother toward the car.

  “Hop in,” he said. “You’ll see, it’s fabulous!”

  Jules started the Audi and listened to the engine, music to his ears. Robert sat in the passenger seat, and Jules put the car in gear.

  “Just a little trip,” he said, putting the twelve cylinders to the test.

  They drove at insane speeds for five miles or so before Jules reluctantly decided to head back home. Robert was laughing. He’d slept only two hours the night before, having left Paris in the middle of the night. He was happy to be at Fonteyne, surprised as he always was by how much he felt like he belonged there. They parked the Audi in the garage and headed for the castle, walking side by side. They went straight for the kitchen, where Fernande welcomed Robert joyfully. Breakfast was ready, and the two brothers sat at the table.

  “I don’t answer your letters,” Robert said, “but you have no idea how much I love getting them. That you find time to write me, just that …”

  Robert was well aware that Jules’s work was as taxing as his as a surgeon back in Paris. He knew full well that his brother was, at times, weighed down by Fonteyne. He got straight to the point, not worrying about Fernande’s presence as she was so much part of the family.

  “So,” he said, “what the hell’s got into Alex?”

  Jules lit a Gitane, took a blissful drag, and poured himself some coffee.

  “I’d like to tell you about all of this without losing my cool,” he said, “but I’m not sure I can do it.”

  He laughed a little, that laugh that was just like Robert’s.

  “In fact,” Jules said, “I think he’s going crazy. He went out and hired himself a lawyer, and not just any lawyer—Valérie Samson, who’s got the reputation of a hyena! And so he’s challenging Aurélien’s will. …”

  “I just hope that Mr. Aurélien doesn’t see all this from up there,” Fernande muttered.

  “And according to Laurène, who sees him regularly at Mazion,” Jules continued, “he’s hitting the bottle quite a bit. But the drinking has got nothing to do with it. He’s never accepted certain things. My appointment as manager for life, for one.”

  “Yes, but when Dad was around he kept his yap shut. But with you … He left Fonteyne to avoid a confrontation, I guess?”

  “That, and because he thought he was unhappy at Fonteyne.”

  Robert looked at Jules.

  “Unhappy because of what?” he said. “Listen, Jules, Alex was always a bit low-key, a bit … mediocre. Between us, you know … a nice, mediocre guy. That’s okay. But if he’s dragging us to court …”

  Jules planted his eyes on his brothers’ and said, “We’re going to talk about all this later on today with Louis-Marie.”

  “They’re coming?”

  Robert had blurted out the question with a bit too much enthusiasm. The use of the plural form used by Robert included Pauline.

  “Yes,” Jules said. “They’re going to be here for lunch. I have a pretty busy day, but we’re going to have some time to talk tonight.”

  “Are we going to have a Fonteyne-style dinner?”

  Robert turned to Fernande.

  “What are you planning for us, Fernande? Some big, fancy meal? An à la carte menu?”

  The old lady chuckled.

  “I love it!” Robert exclaimed. “This is the best place to eat in all of France!”

  “You’re worse than a kid, Doctor,” Jules said.

  “You promised,” Robert said. “You promised to keep Fonteyne intact! Remember?”

  “I did promise,” Jules said.

  “Even if you hadn’t, I wouldn’t worry. You love the place so much, and the way things are done around here.”

  “Yes. Fonteyne belongs to all of us. Even Alex. …”

  Robert was going to say something when Laurène walked into the kitchen. She went over to Robert and kissed him, both happy and disappointed to see him here so early. She wouldn’t be able to talk to Jules right away, though she was so eager to do so.

  “You’re the head of the house now, right?” Robert asked her, gently.

  “It’s a bit of a struggle,” Jules said before Laurène had time to respond.

  He’d said that without meanness, just as a simple, light-hearted observation. And so he was stunned to see her bite her lower lip, tears filling her eyes.

  “There’s so much to do here,” he hurried to add. “Laurène is doing just fine. I was only kidding. But you know how it is, Robert, running this house isn’t easy.”

  Laurène gave him a puzzling look that made him uncomfortable. He hadn’t meant to hurt her. It was obvious that, without Fernande, she wouldn’t be able to run the castle. Robert thought, fleetingly, that Laurène had something in common with Alex—she’d always be a second-class citizen around here, in spite of her youthful, charming appearance, pretty smile, and graceful body. And once again Robert wondered why Jules had chosen Laurène.

  Louis-Marie and Pauline arrived at eleven o’clock, as planned. Pauline wore a cream-colored satin outfit that hadn’t suffered from the trip, and she was drop-dead gorgeous. She jumped into Jules’s arms and then Robert’s, with disarming spontaneity. She was made for seduction and played the role to its fullest, and in the most natural manner. Louis-Marie was resigned to that fact or, at least, he pretended as though he was. Heartbroken, Robert was reunited with Pauline’s perfume, the softness of her skin, the intonations of her voice. The things he was unable to forget, to renounce. Though she was the cause of his broken illusions, his destroyed dreams, he loved her.

  “Why do we always need some excuse to get together?” she as
ked Jules, smiling. “Why don’t we just do it naturally? For fun?”

  “Who’s preventing you from coming whenever you want?” Jules asked. “This is your home.”

  Pauline winked at him. Jules was the only man she hadn’t seriously hit on. The only one, perhaps, that she thoroughly respected.

  “I’m happy to see you again, little brother-in-law,” she said, solemnly.

  Jules burst out laughing. He was profoundly happy to have his family around him. Aurélien’s death had left him with an intolerable feeling of loneliness that Alex and Dominique’s departure had only made worse.

  “Here’s the cutest one!” Pauline said as Laurène showed up. She went over to hug her.

  Pauline intimidated the young woman.

  A bit embarrassed, Laurène said, “Welcome, Pauline. … I think that we’re going to be having lunch in a few minutes.”

  “I have to go say hi to Fernande first,” Pauline said. “I bought her an apron like she’s never seen before, I’m sure. But I have to find it in my luggage. Give me five minutes will you, sweetie?”

  Laurène felt her face redden. She never knew what to say, or when. Pauline was right, you didn’t swarm your guests and hurry them to the dining room without giving them time to settle in. Jules came to her rescue by guiding his brothers to the library. Louis-Marie and Robert sat on the chesterfield, and Jules on his ladder rung. A bottle and glasses were resting on the bridge table.

  “Lucas thought you might like this,” Jules said. “It’s last year’s wine. You guys haven’t tasted it yet.”

  Robert began to open the bottle of Margaux, slowly.

  “So?” Louis-Marie asked, impatiently.

  “So this is a family council of sorts,” Jules said, looking right at him.