A Bordeaux Dynasty: A Novel

by Françoise Bourdin

  The ring of the phone startled him. He immediately picked up and froze upon hearing Louis-Marie’s voice. Dreading what his brother might say to him, he began talking about Frédérique’s situation. Louis-Marie’s tone of voice was friendly, and so Robert relaxed a little. Jules was worried about the baby, Louis-Marie said, as he and Robert had expected. Robert couldn’t help chuckling when he informed his brother that Frédérique had decided to name her son Julien, a pretty clever compromise between Jules and Aurélien. Louis-Marie laughed along, and Robert forgot all about his fears when the question came.

  “Do you see Pauline often?”

  Though asked casually enough, the question seemed like a trap.

  But Robert didn’t have time to think much, and he blurted out, “I invited her to lunch the day before yesterday. She was in a good mood.”

  There was a very brief moment of silence, and Louis-Marie began to talk about something else. When hanging up the phone, Robert was both relieved and irritated. Without Pauline’s approval, he couldn’t say anything, and yet the lies were weighing on him more and more.

  He glanced out the window. Paris was in the middle of a heat wave. Fonteyne, because of its thick stone walls, always remained cool, even in the summertime. If Robert managed to win Pauline back for good, something he wanted more than anything else in the world, he’d never be able to go back there. It was an awful thought, downright painful. Was his family destined to always tear itself apart? While Aurélien was alive, all four sons made sure they behaved. But now there was dissent, scandals were about to break out into the open.

  No, he thought, that’s not really true. … We’ve managed to keep Frédérique and the baby out of sight. … Louis-Marie and I allowed Jules to take Dad’s place without causing trouble. If Alex weren’t such a pig-headed moron, everything would be fine. …

  He sighed, suddenly feeling depressed. Robert’s life had been spent in Paris for a long time, but not one day passed without thinking about Fonteyne, and about Jules. He now realized that it had always been that way. Contrary to what he’d thought—or wanted to think—his roots mattered deeply to him.

  The phone rang once again and Robert snatched the receiver. This time, thank God, it was Pauline.

  Filled with pleasure, Laurène bit her lips to keep from screaming. She held on to Jules with all her might and then went limp. The bedside lamps were on, and she observed Jules as he caught his breath. He then turned to his side, reaching for the pack of cigarettes on the nightstand. She knew he was going to smoke in silence, watch her fall asleep, and then slip out of bed. He would only come back late at night, after spending time working in his office or reading in the library.

  Putting a hand on his wife’s barely swollen stomach, he gently said, “I can’t wait, you know …”

  She caressed his curls.

  She was already sleepy, and he pulled the blankets over her. He was overcome to think that soon Laurène would be a mother. Maybe he’d think less about Frédérique’s baby once his was born. He examined Laurène’s face. He didn’t feel the need to speak to her, and he felt bad about it. He was trying so hard to protect her, but in doing so, kept her out of practically everything in his life. He made love to her, treated her kindly, but he simply wasn’t able to feel close to her. She’d remained the kid he’d always known, adorable but lacking mystery, in awe of him just as she had been as a little girl with pigtails.

  He got up silently and put on his jeans. Walking by Louis-Marie’s room he saw a ray of light under the door but didn’t stop. His brother also seemed to struggle with insomnia.

  Dominique was crying on her mother’s shoulder.

  “Why didn’t you talk to me earlier?” Marie asked, gently. “When I hear the car pulling up in the middle of the night, I know he’s coming back from drinking in Bordeaux. One day, he’s going to crash…”

  Marie was running out of patience, and that night she’d knocked on her daughter’s bedroom door. She found her sobbing, bank statements and bills strewn across the bed. She realized it was time to do something.

  “Your father is blind and he loves his son-in-law. He hasn’t forgotten how Alex helped us out last year. And yet, God knows how he’s changed since. … I’m worried, honey, about you, him, and the twins, too.”

  Dominique wiped her tears with the back of her hand angrily.

  “He doesn’t give a damn about the kids. He never has time for them. He doesn’t even kiss them anymore. Which is just as well, really—he reeks of booze!”

  She grabbed one of the pieces of paper in front of her and waved it under her mother’s nose.

  “You should see our bank statement! We’re in the red! Alex takes out money every day so he can bar hop in town. And then there’s those insane checks he writes his lawyer!”

  Marie ran her eyes down the column of numbers all the way to the balance. Negative.

  “And all this for what, Mom? To try to take down Fonteyne? Jules is performing miracles for the estate, doing everything by himself. Alex would like some revenues, cash, and that’s exactly what Jules can’t give him right now. And so he gives all our savings to that Valérie Samson to take his brother to court, not able to understand that he’s putting his own capital in jeopardy! He’s such an asshole!”

  Marie was startled. Dominique never used that kind of language, especially when it came to people she loved.

  “When we came here, Mom, I didn’t see the danger. I wanted to help him grow. I figured that a year or two away from Fonteyne would be good for him, that his relationship with Jules would get better with a bit of distance between them. If I’d known that he was going to challenge the will, I never would’ve agreed to leave the Little House. He never would’ve dared attack Jules if we still lived over there.”

  She was on a roll, telling her mother about her regrets and despair. She continued, “I love Fonteyne. I was wrong. We belong over there. But now …”

  Marie took a handkerchief out of her housecoat pocket and handed it to her daughter. Nothing about Dominique’s speech surprised her, except for its vehemence.

  “How is he with you?” she asked, wanting to get to the bottom of things.

  “Awful,” Dominique answered simply.

  They looked at each other for a long time.

  “I don’t know what to tell you. …” Marie said, sadly.

  She felt helpless, useless. Not only did Antoine defend Alex, he gladly drank with him. Alcohol always won out.

  “I’ll give you some money,” Marie said. “Directly to you. I don’t want you and the kids to have to do without anything!”

  Dominique shook her head, but her mother insisted.

  “It’ll be our secret. Until …”

  “Until what?”

  Marie sighed and took her daughter in her arms. Dominique and Laurène had always found comfort in their mother.

  “Do you still love your husband?”

  Surprised by the question, Dominique took some time to think about it.

  “Yes. I think so. …”

  Her voice lacked warmth, conviction. Marie wondered if it wasn’t all too late.

  Mr. Varin brought the judge’s summons to Jules in person. He told him that the summons was nothing but a formality, but that he could meet the judge with a lawyer if he wanted to. He added that, while on the subject, Jules would have to hire a lawyer sooner rather than later. He suggested picking one that would be radically different from Valérie Samson.

  “As you know,” Varin said, “she’s a formidable attorney, but not always appreciated by the judges. Let’s hire a man, of a certain age, with a spotless reputation. And, above all, not a business specialist.”

  Jules listened to Varin carefully. Aurélien had always respected him, considering him a very clever and resourceful notary.

  “If you ask me,” he continued, “we shouldn’t use the same tone as our adversaries. Let them talk about money, interest and so forth. We should emphasize things like tradition, the protection
of cultural heritage, the respect of a person’s last will and testament …”

  Jules nodded, conscious that they had to prepare their legal defense, since they were being attacked.

  “And you have someone in mind for an attorney?”

  “Vernon would be excellent. He could be caught up on the case within forty-eight hours and be ready to go see the judge with you.”

  Jules agreed and offered the notary a drink.

  “Let’s join my wife and my brother on the terrace,” he said. “But first I have to tell you something, in confidence.”

  Suddenly worried, Varin leaned toward his client.

  “This truly must remain between us,” Jules insisted. “Only you, Louis-Marie, and Robert will know about this after we’re done here. And it concerns that young woman you like, Frédérique. …”

  Varin gave Jules a slight nod to continue.

  “We want to establish a fund for her and make her the owner of an apartment in Paris. I want you to take care of the paperwork. My wife knows nothing about this, the same with that idiot Alex, it goes without saying.”

  Unflappable, Varin remained still. The silence between them lasted a good minute.

  When realizing that Jules wasn’t going to offer any more information than that, he said, “There are going to be some taxes to be paid on the donation. As for the fund, we’re going to have to free some capital.”

  Jules got up. He looked tired.

  “Stop negotiations to purchase that piece of land I had my eye on. I’ve decided not to expand the vineyards this year. …”

  Varin knew how much that decision must have pained Jules. He decided not to say anything and followed his client to the terrace, where Louis-Marie and Laurène greeted them. Fernande brought out a bottle of very fruity Entre-Deux-Mers. Jules, now cheerful, told his brother about his meeting with Valérie Samson and the uncertain impression she’d made.

  “She’s a woman of character,” Varin said. “There’s no doubt about that. Smart, beautiful, self-possessed … But she wants to win every case, and so she picks them with care. That’s why I still can’t understand why she took on Alex’s. …”

  “She must’ve realized in two seconds that she was dealing with a loser,” Jules said, “and that she could take advantage of him. Or else she’s got a thing for longshots. …”

  Jules’s comment surprised Laurène, as he was so rarely mean. She hoped that his foul mood would pass quickly. She also hoped for an eventual truce between her husband and Alex. It was her favorite topic of conversation with Dominique. Both tried to come up with solutions that might bring the two brothers back together.

  “Lawyers always add fuel to fire,” Louis-Marie said. “After that, it’s impossible for both sides to reconcile. And, also, a short-and-sweet case isn’t very profitable. Better for them if it drags on and on.”

  Annoyed with this trial business, Jules looked worried. Mr. Varin, giving him sideways glances, thought the expression matched Aurélien’s exactly. He’d often seen, back in his office or here at Fonteyne, the patriarch with that same severe and pensive look on his face. The young man had the same attitudes, the same inflexible rigor, the same unwavering interest in the estate’s success. Varin knew that turning his back on that piece of land he’d been eyeing for many months must have been devastating to Jules. But he also knew Fonteyne’s financial situation and that Jules was making the right decision. To invest at this point would be suicide.

  “I’m going to put together a wine sale,” Jules said.

  “That’s an excellent idea!” Varin said, before anyone else had time to chime in.

  Louis-Marie looked stunned.

  Jules smiled at him and said, “You know, we have so much of it. Instead of expanding the cellar, I’m going to make some room down there.”

  Louis-Marie had no intention of arguing with Jules, but the idea of a sale upset him. He cared much more about Fonteyne than he’d ever realized until recently. Little by little, his interest in the estate was growing. The incredibly complex and well-oiled machine that was Fonteyne no longer left him indifferent. Over the course of the past weeks he’d spent working there, he’d revived some of the values he’d forgotten about in Paris. Fighting for their land, their name, their estate was infinitely more important than seeing his name at the top of an article or on a book cover in some bookstore.

  I’ll wind up staying here for good if this keeps up, he thought, though the notion scared him a little.

  It was very hot outside, and Laurène tried to shoo away the wasp buzzing near her ears.

  “Will you have lunch with us, Mr. Varin?” Jules suddenly asked.

  Laurène blushed. She should’ve been the one coming up with that question. She turned to her husband, but he was already on his feet.

  “I’m going to let Fernande know,” he said.

  They all watched as Jules walked into the house, and then Louis-Marie leaned toward Varin.

  “You know that Robert and I are determined to do anything we can to be useful. With all that’s on his plate, Jules needs our support. And so don’t hesitate to call on us if need be.”

  Varin gave him a serious nod. The judge’s summons marked the beginning of the trial, the start of the avalanche of problems that could come crashing down on Fonteyne. Subtly, the notary glanced at the castle’s façade. There shouldn’t be anything to fear. All of Aurélien’s demands had been carefully met and everything had been done properly. And yet, on more than one occasion, Varin had seen tribunals hand down judgments that made little sense. He’d read Fonteyne’s statutes so many times he knew them by heart. They seemed to him unchallengeable, but still he prayed that Valérie Samson wouldn’t somehow find even the smallest of flaws.

  Alexandre woke up with an awful taste in his mouth and his temples pounding. The night before, he’d had even more to drink than usual. When Marc barged into their regular bar, he was in a state of overexcitement. He said he’d just heard from a buddy working at a Bordeaux hospital that his sister had given birth a few weeks earlier. Right away he’d wanted to see Frédérique, but she’d left her apartment building without telling anyone what her new address was.

  Marc had come to the obvious conclusion. But he had no proof and could do nothing except tell Alex about it. He ordered a drink and said that until then they’d been buddies, but now they were part of the same family. They drank some more and came up with all kinds of speculations, most of them far-fetched. Marc said he thought his sister was a bitch and that she’d no doubt been sleeping around. What he didn’t understand, though, was why she hadn’t tried to get some sort of compensation.

  Alexandre, trying to hide his distress, kept raising his glass to Marc. He came back to Mazion at dawn in a horrific state. He remembered promising Marc that he’d always be his friend, but recalled nothing after that, not even driving home.

  He ever so slowly turned his head toward the alarm clock. It was almost noon, and he could hear cheerful voices coming from downstairs. Dragging himself to the bathroom, he dropped the clothes he’d worn yesterday in the hamper and took a long, warm shower, trying to make his headache go away.

  Down in the kitchen, he found Dominique and Laurène chatting away. His wife only gave him a glance as she handed him a cup of black coffee. The two sisters had clammed up as soon as he walked into the room, which put him in a foul mood.

  “What are you looking at?” he barked at Laurène.

  She thought he’d changed even more and hadn’t been able to hide her surprise.

  “Please, Alex!” Dominique said, her voice hard.

  Furious, he turned to her. He knew she was upset with him because of the hour he got home, and the way he looked. He could only imagine her disgust when he fell in bed fully clothed. His own humiliation made him cruel.

  “What’s with the long faces?” he asked. “Somebody die?”

  His hand was shaking, and he quickly put his mug down. Laurène’s presence compelled Dominique to remain calm. />
  “Why don’t you go outside to get some fresh air?” she suggested to her husband.

  “In this heat? Are you nuts?”

  He opened the fridge and grabbed a bottle of white wine. His urge for a drink was uncontrollable, in spite of the two women’s presence. He was going to take a glass out of the cupboard, but Dominique stood in his way.

  “You could at least sober up before starting again!” she screamed.

  He gave her a hard shove, and she had to grab the table to keep from falling down.

  Laurène jumped to her feet.

  “Don’t touch my sister!”

  As tiny and frail as she was, she stood in front of him, her stomach sticking out a bit.

  He burst out laughing and said, “Hey, squirt, shut the hell up!”

  He took a long drink from the bottle, then glared at his sister-in-law.

  “You should’ve been faster about getting knocked up,” he said. “I know someone who beat you to it. …”

  Dominique and Laurène shared a bewildered look. They didn’t know what Alexandre was talking about.

  “Just ask your dear husband,” he continued. “He knows firsthand all about being a bastard. …”

  Then he started to laugh, pleased with himself. Dominique snatched the bottle of wine out of his hands and threw it in the sink, where it shattered. Then she grabbed Laurène’s hand and dragged her out of the house. Running into the yard, they collided with Marie.

  “What’s all the racket, girls?”

  Their mother was looking at them, stunned. They looked haggard. Alex appeared at the door, right behind them.