A Bordeaux Dynasty: A Novel

by Françoise Bourdin

  “You can give us any old glasses, Dominique,” Aurélien said. “You know that white wine has no form and doesn’t require the same consideration as a red. …”

  Pleased with his own dig at Antoine’s wines, Aurélien slapped Jules’s back.

  “I’m happy the Parisians are here at Fonteyne, aren’t you?”

  Jules simply nodded. He knew how much his father loved having the entire family around. And he also knew how quickly he would tire of it! He handed Aurélien a glass so he’d be the first to taste the wine.

  Dominique was observing them both with amusement.

  “I have to say,” Aurélien muttered, “Antoine’s wine …”

  The children barged into the living room, screaming at the top of their lungs, Jules’s dog tagging along. Alexandre’s sons were thrilled by the presence of their cousin Esther, and both competed for her attention. Aurélien put up with the racket for a few moments before raising his voice.

  “Dominique, for God’s sake! They can play anywhere on the entire estate. I want peace and quiet in the living room. Is that clear?”

  Silence fell immediately in the room. Alexandre glanced at his wife. Robert, taken aback, also watched Dominique lead the children toward the hallway. He’d forgotten how awful his father could be at times. He’d figured—wrongly—that the old man would be kinder to his grandchildren than he’d been to his sons thirty years earlier. But the passage of time had no effect on Aurélien.

  “And get that animal out of here,” Aurélien told Jules.

  The young man got up, whistled at Botty, his English pointer, and left the room. He opened the front door and let the dog out, then went over to the kitchen where Dominique had set up a table for the little ones to eat. They were exchanging smiles and hushed comments about their granddad. Jules ruffled Esther’s hair as he went by her, then peered over Fernande’s shoulder at the pots.

  Pauline pushed him away from the oven and said, “Get away from there, Jules! This is the crucial moment and I don’t want to mess up Fernande’s recipe.”

  She was smiling, gorgeous as ever, wearing an oversized apron.

  “Is that your Halloween costume?” a chuckling Jules asked before leaving the room.

  Pauline turned to Dominique, who was serving the kids.

  “Our brother-in-law certainly is a looker.”

  “I adore him,” Dominique said, her voice bitter.

  Surprised by this, Pauline followed her to the pantry.

  “Did he do something to you?” she asked, softly.

  Dominique raised her eyes to the ceiling.

  “Do you have any idea what my life is like around here?”

  Pauline, dumbfounded, shrugged.

  Dominique smiled briefly and said, “Jules this, Jules that … God, is it ever a pain in the neck.”

  She got ahold of herself, hesitated for a second, then continued, “I do like Jules, but he always knows everything about everything. And he’s always ‘relieving’ Alex of things, but it’s mostly just to push him off to the sidelines.”

  Pauline produced a friendly smile.

  “Maybe you’re imagining things? I mean, Alex knows just as much as Jules, doesn’t he?”

  “Of course! But Alex is less … brilliant than Jules, and he’s less domineering than Aurélien. And so he keeps quiet, most of the time. He lets the other two have center stage.”

  “Does that change anything?”

  “No, not really. … But when Jules tells Alex that he should spend more time with his kids, even if it’s out of kindness, Alex feels excluded. He feels like a loser. I mean, it’s one thing to let those two do their thing, but Alex shouldn’t have to make himself invisible.”

  Pauline was listening intently, her insatiable curiosity on full alert.

  “Why doesn’t he say anything?”

  Dominique raised her shoulders.

  “Whenever Jules realizes that Alex is furious, he humors him, he asks his opinion about things. And then he forgets about it in a minute.”

  Dominique’s voice was filled with bitterness, and Pauline felt bad for her.

  “You know, Pauline, Alex is a good man and he knows the business inside out. And around here people like him a lot, but they mostly ignore him. It’s as though he wasn’t there!”

  Fernande materialized between the two, snatched the bottle of olive oil from Pauline’s hand, and went back to the kitchen.

  “I’d forgotten about her. …” Pauline muttered. “Anyway, if you feel that strongly about this, Dominique, you should do something. If only for your children’s sake. …”

  “Oh, the twins. Aurélien scares them to death and they worship Jules. Besides, who’s not completely crazy about Jules in this freaking house?”

  “Is that why he gets under your skin? But if all you do is stay in the kitchen by yourself and grouse …”

  “What do you want me to do?” Dominique shouted.

  “Who’s the head of this house? It’s you! You’re the only woman here. So impose your authority or leave. Jules is the youngest son, last time I checked. If Alex wants to take over, he can do it. …”

  Fernande was back in the pantry, shooting Pauline an irate look.

  “Mrs. Pauline,” she grunted, “you should tell everybody that dinner is ready.”

  Dominique’s anger dissipated at the sight of Fernande’s sullen expression. Without looking at the old lady, she said to Pauline, “If you say anything against her darling Jules …”

  The two women left the kitchen with smiles on their faces and went over to the living room to rejoin the others.

  At the very beginning of the nineteenth century, a certain Pierre Laverzac bought a vineyard where he had a castle built in the neoclassical style then in vogue. Wisely, he managed to restrict the architect’s excessive fondness for Corinthian columns and balustrades. The castle’s façade was understated, its only embellishment a terrace linked to an exterior stairway in the shape of a horseshoe. Apart from this extravagance, a simple slate roof rested above the walls’ stark white stones. The first of the Laverzacs at Fonteyne had wanted no part in the competition that raged among castles then, which explained the existence of all the turrets and steeples throughout the Médoc region.

  By either force of habit or some sort of false modesty that could just as well be called pride, Aurélien had always used the word house when referring to the castle that four generations of Laverzacs had meticulously looked after.

  Fonteyne’s imposing and old-fashioned charm captivated all its visitors. Some buildings, at the periphery, were set up for wine producing, near the huge vaulted cellar. In front of the castle, an impeccable lawn spread all the way to the vineyards down below.

  Year after year, Aurélien filled his home with treasures. He loved to surround himself with beautiful objects and hated to get rid of anything. But as the Laverzacs before him had also accumulated furniture, paintings, sculptures, and tapestries as signs of success, Aurélien had little choice but to sort through things. What he took out of the castle he sent to the Little House, where Alexandre and Dominique lived, filling it to the rafters with bric-a-brac not to be removed. Aurélien acted with his typical selfishness, convinced he’d made the right choices and decisions.

  Hedonist, ladies’ man, with a passion for his vines and his many books, Aurélien was a Laverzac of a particular vintage. He’d always had original and very personal ideas that he’d applied to his family and business, with equal glee. He’d been an unpredictable father, capable of both tenderness and intolerance, which often left his family and friends baffled. The way he’d imposed Jules on his wife thirty years earlier had scandalized many people close to the family. But every day he congratulated himself for it. In hindsight, he considered Jules his biggest achievement. And only he knew to what extent.

  During Aurélien’s nap—a daily ritual—the people of Fonteyne pursued their own interests. Jules, tireless, charged up and down the fields. Alexandre and Dominique took refuge for a whi
le in their house. Laurène typed letters.

  Louis-Marie and Pauline went to their room, the one Louis-Marie had occupied as a child. Like all the house’s rooms, it was large, with two windows and a fireplace. Pauline, kneeling on the carpet in front of the hearth, was looking at the fireplace’s log grate.

  “Did you have fires in the wintertime?”

  Louis-Marie burst out laughing. He loved his room, with its captain’s bed and all the memories it contained.

  “No, not really,” he said. “You had to carry logs all the way up here. Besides, it was plenty hot in the house. … It’s not like it’s some old drafty castle out of a gothic novel. And Fernande thought it was dangerous. At least that’s what she said. In reality, she had so much to do in the house that she didn’t feel like picking up ashes on top of it all.”

  “She must’ve pampered you boys.”

  “In her own way, yes. Robert was always trying to get her attention, but Alex and I were pretty self-sufficient. We didn’t need a whole lot of coddling.”

  “I don’t believe you.”

  She let herself fall onto the bed next to him.

  “You should,” Louis-Marie said. “But we did have our eyes stuck on all the young women that my father hired.”

  He chuckled and she drew even closer to him. For a few moments, he admired his wife’s face, her feline eyes, her wild curls. He felt so overwhelmed by her, he turned away.

  “And Jules?” she asked.

  “Jules simply adored Fernande and was always giving her a hand with things. He never did anything like the others. But we didn’t mind it. Jules’s helpful and independent side made our lives easier. … He was an adorable kid, you can’t even begin to imagine …”

  Pauline sat up to take off her blouse.

  “What about Robert?” she asked. “How was he? Did you get along with him?”

  She had no qualms about asking questions. Louis-Marie sighed.

  “He was frivolous, charming … pretty funny … You’re still interested in him?”

  With an amused expression, she tossed her bra toward the foot of the bed and snuggled against her husband.

  “I really did like him, you know! He was creative and caring, very comfortable with his friends, but very clumsy with me. It’s nice that we … that we can talk about it and that you boys have buried the hatchet.”

  He nodded, though not altogether convinced.

  “Yeah, it’s nice … but I wish I was certain you’d completely forgotten about him.”

  She put her arms around Louis-Marie’s neck and pressed herself against his body.

  “You know he didn’t mean anything to me,” she whispered.

  He put his hands on Pauline’s breasts and caressed them gently.

  “No,” he said. “I don’t know anything for sure.”

  She stretched like a cat under his fingers. She had no desire to think about Robert anymore.

  “Dominique confided in me today,” she said. “Apparently your father and Jules are suffocating her. You think it’s true?”

  Louis-Marie shrugged, annoyed with Pauline’s gossip.

  “Someone has to be in charge,” he said. “And Alex doesn’t have the right temperament.”

  He kissed his wife’s shoulder.

  “Why doesn’t your father simply give Alexandre part of the estate? Each would have his own piece of land …”

  Louis-Marie straightened.

  “Divide up Fonteyne? My God, don’t you know them? Not a single vine, not one bunch of grapes, not even a rosebush at the end of the alley! Jules would go nuts if he heard you say that. As for dad …”

  “So it’s true, nobody likes Alex. …”

  “They all like him fine, but not to that extent! It’d be insane to sacrifice plants just for little Alex’s peace of mind.”

  “First of all, Alex is not the ‘little’ one. Jules is the youngest son. Besides, everyone’s happiness should be more important than vineyards and property. That kind of reasoning is good for Aurélien, but not for you, for crying out loud! Could you put up with living like Alex, always the fifth wheel? ‘Sacrifice plants’? What an awful thing to say.”

  Louis-Marie grabbed Pauline’s shoulders and forced her to lie down on the bed.

  “My family’s affairs are complicated enough as it is,” he said. “Don’t get involved. Besides, I have enough on my mind these days…”

  Pauline was looking at him, a bit surprised by the brisk tone he’d used.

  He gave her a sheepish smile and said, “Pauline … I’m sorry …”

  He got up and began undressing as he spoke.

  “That’s part of the reason that I left the house once I became an adult. Dad doesn’t let go of things for a long time, and he’s a complete despot. Only Jules is comfortable around here, and that’s because he’s a rock. Bob did the same as me, but Alex didn’t have the courage to leave. Or the ambition … He never wants to compete, to confront anyone. He stayed here because he didn’t have anything better to do. But he knew that Jules was going to crush him. He knew it all along. Too bad he’s not happy with the situation. What has he done to be the top dog? Nothing. And so why would you expect the others to respect him? He’s useful and nobody scorns him, but he’s always going to be second fiddle. Even as a kid he was like that—nice and a bit of a straggler …”

  Louis-Marie was back in bed. His hand slid down Pauline’s tanned thighs.

  “How about we move on to something else right now?” he whispered, still caressing his wife.

  Pauline shut her eyes.

  Behind Jules, Robert came to a stop.

  “I’m beat,” he said. “How about a break?”

  He’d had enough of walking with long strides, following his brother crisscrossing the vineyards. He’d been happy to see the village once again, then they’d made their way to the plateau, and on through the southern fields before reaching the woods. Robert sat on a tree stump and took out a pack of cigarettes.

  “You want one?”

  Jules said yes, but stayed on his feet as he smoked, staring into the distance. Robert watched him with curiosity.

  “You’re happy, aren’t you?” he asked, to break the silence.

  “Of course I am,” Jules replied. “How about you?”

  Robert shook his head.

  “I always have a hard time talking to you, Jules. …” he said. “What I wanted to tell you is that I’m happy for dad and for Fonteyne … and for you. Everything here seems to be in such great shape.”

  Jules sat down and, absentmindedly, tugged at the top of his boots.

  “In great shape? Yes. … But you know, Robert, Aurélien is no fool. …”

  For a long time now, Jules had called his adoptive father by his Christian name. This began after a fight with Robert and Alexandre, way back when. The two brothers, carried away by the fighting and the cruelty of kids that age, had told him that he’d been an abandoned child. Jules, who was only six, cried a lot at first, and then came up with a way to get even. Aurélien was angry at his sons for the fight and punished them all without trying to find out who’d been at fault. But Jules never relented, even after making up with his brothers, and he’d never again called Aurélien “Father” or “Dad.”

  “The way you look at Pauline,” he continued. “You better be careful.”

  Robert was about to say something back, but Jules was already on his feet.

  “Let’s go,” he said. “It’s getting late and I’ve got work to do.”

  They headed back toward Fonteyne and remained quiet for about a mile. Finally, out of breath and peeved by his brother’s infernal cadence, Robert said, “What about Laurène?”

  Jules stopped in his tracks and Robert bumped into him.

  “What about her?”

  “When are you going to marry her?”

  Jules burst into his light laughter.

  “You laugh just like Louis-Marie,” Robert said.

  “And like you!”

&nbs
p; Both brothers shared an amused look.

  “I like Laurène a lot,” Jules admitted.

  “I can see that. … I remember when her hair was still in pigtails. She’s become very pretty.”

  Jules pushed a pebble with the tip of his boot. Talking about Laurène made him uncomfortable.

  “And, naturally,” Robert said, “Dad took her under his wing.”

  Robert glanced at Jules and decided to be more specific.

  “It’s not surprising, since you two like the same people, the same things and, above all, the same women. …”

  Jules said nothing. He waited a few seconds before taking off toward Fonteyne. Tired of following him, Robert let him walk away.

  I hope he does marry her, Robert thought. He’s going to be thirty soon.

  His brother took a bend in the road and disappeared behind a tree. Robert sighed.

  His hair is too long, he always wears the same turtleneck and those boots he had six years ago, and he still behaves like a college kid most of the time, but the son of a gun is good-looking. … If only because of him, I’m glad I came. … And he’s right, I have to be careful and not stare at Pauline so much when I’m around her and the others …

  “Jules tire you out?”

  Lost in his thoughts, Robert was startled by Laurène’s voice behind him.

  “It’s impossible to keep up with him,” she added with a smile. “I guess you don’t charge up and down your hospital’s hallways like that, huh?”

  Robert, disconcerted, smiled back at her. Once again he was reminded of how attractive she was. But, distracted, he did not pay her any particular attention. He was still too affected by Pauline’s presence to be receptive to anyone else. Just the same, his experience with women being what it was, he noted that Laurène was looking elsewhere as she talked to him, seemingly uneasy. The observation annoyed him.

  “He’s in great shape,” he said, dryly. “Just like my father. …”

  The young woman turned to Robert and set her pale eyes on him.

  “It’s too hot out,” Robert said. “I’m going back to the house.”

  And he headed for Fonteyne with the kind of energetic strides that would’ve killed him an hour earlier. A pace, in fact, just like Jules’s.