A Bordeaux Dynasty: A Novel

by Françoise Bourdin

  “I wouldn’t take a thousand elsewhere. It wouldn’t be Fonteyne! Besides, the old man isn’t that hard to deal with.”

  Robert was observing Jules and, at the sight of his brother so at peace and so solid, he didn’t hesitate to ask, “Did he ever tell you about your birth?”

  “That’s the last thing I’d ever ask him. Thirty years ago he adopted me. That’s where the story ends for me and I’m not curious about the rest.”

  Even though he wasn’t being completely honest, he thought it was the wisest answer to give Robert.

  “You have a nice life here,” Robert said. He meant it.

  They finished their beers but remained seated, glad to be together.

  “It was nice of you to write me all those years,” Robert said. “It’s because of you that I felt like coming—”

  “No,” Jules interrupted with a smile on his face. “You came back to see Pauline.”

  Robert didn’t feel like arguing so he shrugged. Jules glanced at him, intrigued.

  “You still haven’t forgotten about her after all this time?”

  “No. … I mean, it’s not like I was thinking about her nonstop. But nobody replaced her. And it’s not that I didn’t try. But each time, I make comparisons. I can’t help myself. My heart just isn’t into it.”

  “Yes, the heart …”

  Jules rolled the empty beer bottle in his hands, pondering.

  “And I had to forgive and forget eventually,” Robert said, decidedly.

  “Only if you were really ready to. Otherwise … what do you wish for, right now? You want to take her back from him, win her back?”

  Jules was speaking in a monotone, but Robert felt like he was being hounded. He was about to get on his feet, but Jules grabbed him by the arm.

  “I can see right through you! And Pauline is nuts. You two are going to create drama over nothing. Louis-Marie is … tolerant enough because he adores his wife and he wants to keep her. He has a lot of respect for you, and he’s really suffered over the situation. He’d talk to me about it for whole evenings. He thinks that you’re a victim, so don’t betray him. And, anyway, you’re always going to be on the losing end with her. Even if you ask Pauline every time you see her, she’s always going to choose Louis-Marie. …”

  Robert leaned against the wall and sighed.

  “Well, you sure have a way of telling the truth. I suppose you’re right. Only, it’s easy for you to say all this. You’re passionless.”

  “How would you know? What you mean to say is that I’m not complacent like you.”

  “Complacent?”

  “Yes, and flaunting your pain the way you did.”

  Offended, Robert opened his mouth, then shut it without saying a word. He grabbed the bottle that Jules was still fiddling with to make him stop.

  After a long silence, Robert got up and took a few steps. He went over to Bingo’s stall and patted the horse’s head.

  “Go for your ride,” he said to Jules. “It’s getting late.”

  Jules picked up the bottles and got to his feet.

  “Are you mad at me?”

  Robert shrugged. “You say what you think. I guess that’s good.”

  Robert stepped aside to let Jules get to the stall. He watched his brother take the horse out of the stable and hoist himself onto the saddle.

  “Were you honest, earlier? What you said about Laurène?”

  “Yes.”

  Right away, Jules thought he was an idiot for saying such a thing. Robert looked at him, incredulous. After Bingo took a few steps, Jules tightened the horse’s girth.

  “We can’t always fight over the same women!” Robert said.

  Jules produced an ambiguous smile.

  “Hard to avoid,” he joked, “when you hit on everyone. …”

  “See? I knew it!”

  Jules didn’t want to look weak to his brother. His conversation with Aurélien about the Fonteyne succession, an hour earlier, had already left him shaken up.

  “I won’t tell you twice because that’d be a lot to ask of me,” he said, “but there’s really nothing between Laurène and me. Less than nothing, as a matter of fact. I’m not in the running anymore. I swear.”

  His light laugh didn’t sound as cheerful as usual. Bingo began walking away. Skeptical, Robert looked at the back of Jules. Then he heard the horse trotting in the driveway.

  I like that guy. … Robert thought.

  His brother projected the image of calm and strength that he lacked.

  Louis-Marie, Dad, Fernande, me … he was our favorite. Maybe not Alex … but maybe so, in spite of it all. … As for Laurène, I can’t believe it. I thought for sure he was in love with her. And her with him! Although …

  Robert looked around him, pensive. Jules’s rare indulgences—like this horse or, a few years earlier, the vintage Morgan he’d worked on fixing up for a while—never lasted very long. Aurélien watched those passions with amusement, knowing they were short-lived. Everybody knew that Jules only existed for his vineyards.

  He’s lucky, he’s protected from everything. …

  Robert stepped inside the stall where Jules kept his equestrian gear, trying to come up with an idea for a present.

  Louis-Marie unhooked Pauline’s pearl necklace and stole a kiss.

  “Are you enjoying your vacation?” he asked while holding her by the waist.

  She replied, with radiant eyes, that she was having an amazing time. He burst out laughing and pulled her against his chest.

  “Amazing? That’s a bit of a strong word, isn’t it?”

  But the Laverzac family was, for Pauline, an unending source of wonderment. Her own parents had settled in Australia years ago and she hardly ever saw them. She was always enthusiastic at the idea of spending time at Fonteyne. Before her first visit, she was afraid that she’d be bored so far from the hectic Parisian lifestyle she enjoyed with Louis-Marie. On the contrary, she’d discovered there a marvelous way of life, made up of traditions and luxury, a world populated with well-mannered men over whom she could rule during the course of a summer. As much as she would’ve hated having a mother-in-law, Pauline liked Aurélien.

  “How are things with Robert?” Louis-Marie asked her in passing.

  “Very good. …” she said, without looking at her husband.

  “Pauline …”

  He delicately held her chin between his fingers and forced her to face him.

  “How does it make you feel to see him?” he asked.

  She smiled sincerely.

  “It’s nice!”

  “Not too nice, I hope.”

  Louis-Marie was joking, but Pauline could see he was nervous.

  “Just the way it should be,” she said. “Don’t worry.”

  “I’m not worried. But don’t play with fire.”

  Pauline flinched.

  “What do you mean by that? You think a girl shouldn’t be friendly with her husband’s brother? You didn’t seem to object to it when we first met!”

  “Come on, Pauline … I didn’t mean to … Bob is my brother and …”

  “He was your brother back then, too.”

  Louis-Marie, apologetic, wrapped his arms around his wife’s shoulders.

  “Are you worried, Louis-Marie?” she asked. “Are you that insecure? Or did you think you had locked me in some sort of prison once and for all?”

  “No,” he said. “Not at all.”

  She snuggled against him, and he kissed her softly.

  “You’re the man in my life,” Pauline whispered. “And there can only be one. You believe me?”

  “Yes.”

  She saw in Louis-Marie’s pale eyes that he did believe her and that, above all, he loved her. Nothing was more precious to him than her, nothing more important. Not even Esther.

  He lifted her silk blouse over her head, then unbuttoned her skirt. She let him, yielding to her desire for him. He knelt down before her, grabbed her by the hips, kissed her chest and then her s
tomach. He knew what she wanted. She turned to the mirror and looked at their reflection. Then she put a hand on Louis-Marie’s blond hair and shut her eyes.

  The end of September was truly harsh. The sky was gray the following afternoon, and the wind was blowing. Aurélien and Jules had left for Margaux right after lunch for business. Robert had offered to drive Pauline to Bordeaux to take care of last minute purchases for Jules’s birthday. Louis-Marie had let her go without objecting, even offering to keep an eye on the kids. Dominique had gladly accepted, overwhelmed as she was by that evening’s meal. Laurène and Fernande were helping her with the task. Alexandre had gone with Lucas to the garage to pick up the Jeep, as it was finally fixed.

  Louis-Marie, in a bit over his head, sat on the terrace after having told the children not to go beyond the lawn. He wanted to jot down a few notes for an article he was having a hard time starting. He was daydreaming more than anything else, munching on his pen. He was the only one in the family to get bored with Fonteyne after more than three days there. The running of the estate had become, after all these years away, incomprehensible to him. To see the name Laverzac on the label of a great wine still pleased him, but he’d deliberately forgotten all about the business. So he considered his vacation a sort of welcome and forced rest. And he had retained genuine affection for his father.

  At six that evening, when he’d finally found a semblance of inspiration and scribbled in his notebook in his small and nervous handwriting, he was interrupted by a large Japanese car pulling up in front of the steps. He looked at the people getting out of the automobile and right away recognized Maurice Caze and his daughter Camille. He got up to greet them, apologized for his father’s absence, and walked them to the castle. After he got Caze and his daughter settled on the terrace, he offered them refreshments, and Maurice asked for some wine, knowing the kind of bottles that were opened at Fonteyne.

  “Are you sure we didn’t get here too early?” he asked, in a good mood. “I brought my godson a nice present. He’s going to be thrilled. He’s not here?”

  His jovial and crude manners surprised Louis-Marie, who wondered why his father had invited him. Then he remembered that Maurice Caze owned an imposing castle and eighteen acres of excellent vines in Saint-Julien. He felt a sudden urge to laugh.

  That man is vulgar as can be, and his daughter looks like a moron, he thought. I’ve never seen Aurélien hang out with anyone like that. If that’s the woman he’s got in mind for Jules, he’s nuts!

  He barely listened to Maurice babbling about the wine served by Fernande.

  “… your father must’ve told you? Everybody in the region was happy. It was a great year! Have a glass with me and you’ll see for yourself.”

  Maurice downed his glass and Louis-Marie, unruffled, poured him another. Camille just sat there, in silence. She wasn’t drinking. Louis-Marie gave her a polite smile. Maurice was chattering again, this time about Jules.

  “What would your old man do without Jules?” he said. “You tell me. You know that he’s Médoc’s darling, that brother of yours. He’s got everything going for him.”

  I just hope he doesn’t wind up with your daughter, Louis-Marie thought.

  “You know,” Caze continued, “I saw Alex in Bordeaux yesterday morning. Did he tell you about his exploits? To be fair, Jules is the only one that could ever stand toe to toe with old man Amel!”

  The sight of Aurélien’s Mercedes coming up the driveway relieved Louis-Marie to no end. Jules was behind the wheel. He braked abruptly at the bottom of the stairs to let his father out of the automobile. He then made a loud U-turn and headed for the garage. Louis-Marie saw Camille run behind the car along with the children, and once again he felt like bursting into laughter. Aurélien cheerfully shook Maurice’s hand. It seemed to Louis-Marie that his father’s eyes glinted with mischief.

  Jules was crossing the front yard, holding Camille and Esther by the hands, Alex’s sons hopping along in tow. Maurice waited for him at the top of the stairs, and as soon as Jules reached the terrace, he gave him a bear hug.

  “Well,” he said, “I can’t say you’re coming to see your old godfather too often, huh? There are some nice vineyards in Saint-Julien, you know, and my daughter would be happy if you came over once in a while. You promised to lend me your dog for hunting last time I saw you, but that was so long ago.”

  Jules, totally relaxed, managed to escape Maurice’s embrace by pushing him off gently.

  “When I leave Fonteyne,” he said with a smile, “it’s rarely to go see other estates.”

  He took a quick glance at the table on the terrace and, seeing what Louis-Marie had served Maurice, his smile broadened even more.

  “What do you think?” he asked, pointing at the bottle.

  “Exquisite,” he said. “I was just telling your brother about it. What a year! Let’s just hope we have others like it.”

  “Not this year we won’t,” Aurélien grumbled at the sight of dark clouds gathering in the sky once again.

  He leaned against the stone balustrade and scrutinized the horizon, a look of worry on his face. The summer had been gray, rainy, and all the wine producers had hoped for a good September. Alas, each sunny spell was followed by a storm. The soil couldn’t absorb all that rain, and it stunted the ripening of the grapes.

  Maurice stood by Aurélien and said, “If the weather doesn’t change drastically, we’re heading for catastrophe.”

  But Maurice’s eyes were not directed at the sky. Instead he was admiring Fonteyne. He’d always been captivated by Aurélien’s castle, which he found more striking with every visit. He turned around and leaned back in order to take in the entire façade. Mouth agape, he contemplated what he dreamed of having but could never, ever afford: a residence exhibiting perfect taste.

  “Careful not to fall over the balustrade,” Aurélien told him.

  Robert had taken Pauline to the old saddler, but she hated that type of dark shop. She preferred the modern and luxury boutiques downtown, where she hoped she could find a present for Jules. Robert had followed his sister-in-law, too happy to be with her to complain. While they were shopping, she shared her life story, but he gaped at her more than he listened. Then she felt like eating some pastries, and they wound up in a tearoom, where they stuffed themselves with éclairs while trading quips and double entendres.

  Robert didn’t try to hide the feelings he had for Pauline. She accepted the obvious, amused and flattered that he was still so vulnerable. But her smile didn’t hide the slight unrest she felt.

  They forgot about the time and came back to Fonteyne at the end of the afternoon. Pauline, arms filled with shopping bags, hurried over to her room to get changed, but not before giving Louis-Marie a reassuring wink. As for Robert, he was overtaken by Maurice as soon as he set foot on the terrace.

  A strong and steady wind had risen, and clouds raced over the vineyards. Aurélien, exasperated by the endless threat of rain, offered to give Maurice a tour of the cellar he’d modernized the year before. Jules let them go without him and, ignoring Camille’s blissful smile, took Robert by the shoulders and guided him inside the house. Louis-Marie watched them leave the terrace with a distressed look on his face.

  Jules, laughing, pushed Robert toward the library.

  “Louis-Marie can handle the guests by himself for a little while,” he said. “I want to talk to you for a minute. …”

  Robert, wary, was expecting to be somehow blamed for his escapade with Pauline. But Jules calmly lit a cigarette and then leaned a shoulder against the sliding ladder, caressing the spine of a leather-bound book with his fingertips.

  “Remember this one?” he asked, wistfully.

  Robert leaned forward to read the title and saw himself, ten years earlier, in the bookshop where Jules had taken him. The edition, ancient and rare, had cost them an exorbitant amount of money.

  “As you can see,” Jules said, “he put it in a good spot.”

  The sudden rainfall made
them both turn their heads. Robert went over to the French doors to shut them. The room was dark, and the paneling meshed with the bookcases in brown and reddish sheens.

  “I really love Fonteyne,” Robert blurted out.

  “But you didn’t set foot here for six years. And for what?”

  Robert, weary, ran a hand across his hair.

  “I’ll never get over her,” he said. “Not here, not anywhere else. But I really do have to move on. …”

  Since his voice lacked sincerity, Jules shot back, “You don’t even want to!”

  Robert went over to the chesterfield, where he’d examined his father the day before. He deliberately changed the topic.

  “You wanted to talk to me about Dad, I suppose? Well, I think he doesn’t take care of himself well enough.”

  Jules frowned, waiting for the rest. He cared much more about his father’s health than his brother’s troubled love life.

  “He’s not doing anything bad,” he said.

  “Yes, he is. He eats too much, he drinks too much. And from what I’ve heard, he’s still a womanizer. …”

  Jules burst into joyful laughter.

  “Oh, that? He’s only sixty. How do you want him to live, like some old fuddy-duddy?”

  Robert made a face and said, “You’re right. There’s little chance that. …”

  Jules pushed himself off the ladder and joined his brother on the chesterfield.

  “You think he should be more careful?” he asked.

  “Yes.”

  “So, tell him!

  Jules’s vehemence surprised Robert.

  “What for?” he asked. “You think he’d actually listen to me?”

  Jules thought about it, then said, “No. Of course he wouldn’t. But I don’t want anything to happen to him.”

  Robert shrugged. Nobody—not him, not Jules, much less some cardiologist—could make Aurélien change his lifestyle.

  “You should scare him,” Jules suggested.

  “You think he’s afraid of anything? Remember what he used to tell us when we were kids? To do anything we wanted, but to never whine when we were scared or if we got hurt.”

  Jules’s smile was filled with tenderness. With a faraway look in his eyes, he whispered, “He once said to me that it was better to kill than to back down.”