A Bordeaux Dynasty: A Novel

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A Bordeaux Dynasty: A Novel Page 15

by Françoise Bourdin


  They looked at each other, almost amused, both convinced that they’d paid too high a price for what was simply a good time.

  “How is he treating you?” Robert asked.

  “He ignores me completely. I don’t exist anymore.”

  “And … and that bothers you, right?”

  “Of course!”

  Robert wondered how he could ever justify how cavalier he’d been with this twenty-year-old woman.

  “I’m truly sorry. Not for making love to you, but having been so … thoughtless. I shouldn’t have believed you when you said Jules didn’t care for you, but it was convenient for me. I knew full well that if he caught us, things would be awful.”

  He looked so upset that Laurène didn’t doubt his sincerity.

  “Listen,” she said, “I’m also to blame.”

  He hesitated, not used to such honesty.

  “You … You wanted to make him jealous?”

  She produced a puzzling smile and decided to be as frank as possible, having nothing to lose.

  “No,” she said. “It wasn’t that. I just felt like it, that’s all.”

  At a loss, he let go of Laurène’s shoulders. He felt like an idiot. He was fifteen years older than her, and she was the one being mature about things.

  “Give him a bit of time,” he finally said. “He loves you.”

  She shook her head, her face suddenly filled with sadness.

  “Time? Time he’s going to use to marry Camille?”

  Robert burst out laughing, delighted at being able to relax a bit.

  “Jules is not going to marry someone as silly as Camille Caze!”

  “Maybe, but he’s still completely furious with me.”

  Robert regretted having put Laurène in such an intolerable position. And he knew there was nothing he could do to help her.

  “I know Jules,” she muttered. “He’s never going to forgive me. He’s going to forgive you, because you’re his brother. But me …”

  He felt like taking her in his arms and consoling her, but knew he couldn’t. He thought she was nice and pretty, and figured she was very vulnerable. There wasn’t anything she would be able to do to change Jules’s mindset. Unlike Pauline, she hadn’t mastered the art of convincing men to accept anything. Her naïveté was most certainly not the best weapon to make Jules forget about his humiliation and his fury.

  She gave him a resigned smile before leaving the terrace. Robert watched her, feeling terrible, thinking he might wind up hating himself.

  In the kitchen, Fernande was preparing lunch. Dominique had left her some instructions before heading out, as she always did, to buy groceries. Fernande couldn’t understand why Dominique and Laurène complained about Aurélien’s demands. It seemed normal to give extreme care to the preparation of two meals a day. Even when it came to the breakfast tray, Aurélien had certain requirements: the use of expensive dishes and perfectly polished silverware. Nothing had changed since Lucie’s death; Fernande had made sure of that.

  Lucas came in behind her, loudly pulled out a bench, and sat down.

  “I’m sick of it all,” he grumbled.

  Surprised by this outburst, Fernande turned around and glared at her husband.

  “Something wrong?”

  “Everything is wrong!” he exploded. “The boss’s son is driving me nuts!”

  “Jules?”

  Fernande’s eyes were wide open, and Lucas imitated her.

  “Yeah, Jules! It’s getting worse year after year. With the blessing of his father. They’re cut from the same cloth.” Lucas looked furious. He continued, “It’s been like this since the beginning of the summer. I can’t take it anymore! It’s one thing for him to yell at the other guys. If we didn’t put a tight rein on them. … But I’m not exactly a peon around here! I should have my say. Only, as soon as I open my mouth, he’s against me. Everywhere else, the cellar master is respected and people listen to what he’s got to say. But not here!”

  Fernande, upset, listened to her husband before saying, “Don’t let him get to you like that. He must be having some problems. …”

  She wanted to defend Jules, and Lucas became furious.

  “Problems! With the amount of land they have and the kind of wine they produce? Are you kidding me? Maybe it’s not an easy business, but things are going just fine. They’re making tons of money!”

  Fernande frowned, distressed by what she was hearing.

  Lucas lowered his voice and continued, “That Jules. I’ve known him since he was a little kid, and I taught him a good deal of what he knows. And now he treats me like dirt. But I’m not going to let him get away with it. No way. If they want me to leave, all they have to do is say so. They can just put that moron Alex in my place!”

  He seemed to be thinking while he spoke, and Fernande feared that he was making foolish resolutions.

  “Go talk to Mr. Laverzac about it,” she suggested.

  “Are you crazy? You think he’s going to be critical of his son? You don’t know them.”

  Lucas got up and threw a hateful glance at his wife. He was incensed that she would take the bosses’ side against him. But he was all too aware of the affection that Fernande had for Jules to be surprised. He was without illusions—and allies. He went past her and stepped out of the kitchen.

  At the end of the day, Jules asked his father for the car keys. Vaguely annoyed, Aurélien handed them to him without a comment, convinced that Jules was about to engage in a stupid affair with Camille. He thought that his son was as out of sorts as the weather this summer. He didn’t sleep well, having to force himself not to stay up to wait for Jules to return, but he kept his ears open. Around midnight, he heard the Mercedes slowly pulling up in the driveway, just outside his window. He remained in bed for a long time in the dark, thinking.

  The following morning, while having breakfast in his office with Alexandre and Jules, he decided to come out and say what he’d decided.

  “I thought of something,” he said, looking serious. “When we’re done with earthing-up, in November, I’d like for one of you to go on a trip for me. … I’m actually thinking about you, Jules, since Alexandre probably doesn’t feel like leaving Dominique and the kids. …”

  His sons looked at him dumbstruck.

  “It’s a special assignment,” Aurélien continued, stone-faced. “In London and Hampshire County. It’ll take you one month maybe. No more than two.”

  Aurélien almost smiled at Jules’s expression but was able to control himself. His adopted son could smell a rat, but there was no way to escape.

  “Since I’m not planning to expand the vineyards this year, we won’t have to clear any land, and I won’t be needing you until racking in February.

  Alexandre listened to his father, becoming more and more stunned. He thought that the idea of a trip was outrageous. Jules, for his part, knew very well that Aurélien wanted him away from Fonteyne, and more specifically Laurène and Camille.

  “Can you tell me why—”

  “I’m very interested in English wines,” Aurélien interrupted. “And you know how I worry about exporting. We’ll talk about it in detail between now and then, but it won’t be a useless trip, believe me.”

  This was followed by heavy silence. Jules fiddled with his lighter, looking at neither his brother nor his father.

  “I’m too old to go myself now,” Aurélien said as he got to his feet.

  He was expecting a response. Jules finally turned his eyes toward him and produced an enigmatic smile. If he’d been insulted by being treated like some turbulent kid being sent away to learn a lesson, he didn’t show it. He didn’t even seem upset. Aurélien decided to prod him.

  “Are you okay with that?” he asked.

  “Do I have a choice?”

  “Not really.”

  Jules shook his head and said, “That’s what I thought. …”

  He got up from the armchair and gestured at Alexandre.

  “Are you coming?
We have to oversee the barreling process.”

  Aurélien let them leave without adding anything. Once alone, he chuckled.

  He hates the idea and loves it at the same time, he thought. In any case, it’s going to give him time to cool off. … But I am going to miss him. …

  A ray of sunshine lit up a corner of his desk. Aurélien glanced outside at the clear sky.

  Just a few more days …

  He preferred to think about the upcoming harvest rather than the trip he was imposing on his son. He’d convinced himself the previous night that Jules would get into trouble if he didn’t leave Fonteyne for a while. Even if the way he’d gone about it had been a bit cavalier, the scheme was a decent one.

  Aurélien waited the entire morning for Jules to come back and either argue against the trip or say he was okay with it, but his son remained strangely calm and distant. And when Aurélien cracked a joke about it during cocktail hour, Jules didn’t react. He seemed to be accepting the trip without putting up any kind of fight, which was a bad sign. He even announced, out of the blue, that he was going to miss dinner again that night. Aurélien, taken aback, didn’t know what to think of Jules’s unusually shifty attitude. His son had always preferred arguments and sometimes outbursts over compromise. Aurélien told himself he was going to have to keep an even closer eye on him.

  The following day, at lunchtime, Jules was called to the phone and stepped out of the dining room for a few moments. When he came back, he went around the table, heading straight for Aurélien.

  He leaned over his father and whispered, “Come with me for a few seconds.”

  Surprised by his son’s tone, Aurélien followed him to the main living room. Jules carefully shut the door behind them.

  “Something happened in Mazion,” he said, softly.

  Stalling a little, he lit a cigarette before adding, “It’s Antoine. … He’s in the hospital. He had a heart attack. …”

  Aurélien looked at his son blankly and then said, “Antoine? But he’s my age!”

  A moment of silence followed, as Aurélien sat down.

  “He’s your age, yes,” Jules said, “but you haven’t gained a bunch of weight over the last ten years like Antoine.”

  “And I have you!” Aurélien said. “I’m not out there killing myself in the vineyards all day long.”

  He was upset and lost. Though, out of selfishness, he was thinking more about himself than Antoine. Jules came over to him to put a hesitant hand on his shoulder. The two rarely put on any displays of affection, their relationship based more on glances and words than physical contact.

  “Let’s send Alexandre over there to help out,” Jules suggested. “At least for a little while. I’ll drive Laurène over to be with her mother now, and Dominique can go a bit later. …”

  Aurélien nodded in agreement. Jules removed his hand from his shoulder.

  “Was it Marie who called you?” Aurélien asked.

  Why him? Why not me? he thought, fleetingly.

  But he didn’t feel like thinking about that right now. Standing before him, Jules hesitated.

  He’s waiting for me to do something. He’s not trying to take over everything. What’s wrong with me? Am I afraid?

  Aurélien stood up.

  “Laurène!” he shouted.

  Then he turned to Jules.

  “Take her to her mother’s, and I’ll talk to Dominique. And Robert can go to the hospital to find out what exactly is going on.”

  Jules walked over to Laurène as soon as she set foot in the main living room. He lovingly took her by the shoulders, but she freed herself right away, alarmed by this sudden warmth. She turned to Aurélien instead, and he was the one who explained the situation. Worried, she followed Jules to the garage, saying nothing. Instead of the Jeep, he decided to drive Louis-Marie’s car, knowing that the keys were always in the ignition. He’d been hurt by Laurène’s reaction and he kept quiet. She looked straight in front of her, wounded and uncomfortable.

  Once in Mazion, they were greeted by a very agitated Marie, and Jules had a lot of difficulty calming her down. Then, he went over to the employees and talked to them for a long time. He wanted to know what Alexandre would find there, what the situation was. The timing of Antoine’s hospitalization was bad, a few days before the harvest. Jules, with his disconcerting ability to fully wrap his mind around any sort of problem, gave precise orders and told everyone to get to work. Then he went back to Marie to hug her one last time before heading back to Fonteyne. Walking toward the car, he was surprised to see Laurène by his side.

  Marie was watching them from the front door, and Jules didn’t know how to behave.

  “Alex will be over tomorrow morning to take charge of things,” he said. “I have to go back home. …”

  He was dying to take her in his arms, desperate to lose himself in so much love and stupidity.

  “You hate me, don’t you?”

  She’d blurted out the question in a low voice. She was glaring at him, both clumsy and aggressive.

  “No. …”

  Taken aback by the way she’d just spoken to him, he turned and got in the car. He slowly drove off, although it took a tremendous force of effort to leave.

  Very early the following morning, Jules went over to the hospital in Bordeaux. He felt like he had to visit Antoine, if only once, to reassure him about his vineyards. He didn’t judge the way the Billots ran their business, but he knew that Antoine had stuck to the old methods and ideas of his generation.

  According to Robert, his condition was pretty good, and the nurse did let Jules go in for a few moments. Antoine greeted him with a tight smile. His face was grayish, and he looked doleful.

  “How are you doing?” Jules asked him.

  Antoine gestured for Jules to sit down, but he preferred standing by the bed.

  “I hope you’ve learned your lesson,” he said. “You should stay away from Marie’s cooking. Or just drink water from now on. …”

  Antoine made a face and waved Jules’s banalities away.

  “I know how busy you are over at Fonteyne,” he said, “and that you have no time to waste. But, listen, I need someone to take care of things for me.

  “Alex is going to do it. He was over in Mazion at seven this morning. He’s going to go every day. It’s all settled.”

  Antoine released a long sigh of relief.

  “That’s great,” he said. “Between you and me, my foreman is a moron. Warn your brother about him, tell him not to get pushed around by him. But you’re going to keep an eye on things too, right?”

  Jules was a bit annoyed by Antoine’s attitude toward Alexandre.

  “Alexandre will be totally fine by himself,” he said.

  Antoine gave him a skeptical look, forcing Jules to add, “The Laverzacs and the Billots are one family. Don’t worry about anything.”

  Antoine stared at Jules and said, “That’s good. I wanted to hear that from you.”

  Following a moment of awkward silence, Antoine added, “That was nice of Robert to come over yesterday. Because of him, I’m treated like a king around here. I think that all the nurses are crazy about him. On the other hand, he really doesn’t know anything about vines, so I’m glad I talked to you.”

  Jules smiled at him, and Antoine knew that he was about to leave.

  “Wait just a minute, kid,” he said. “There’s one more thing, but it’s hard for me to say. …”

  Instantly, Jules was on the defensive.

  “Don’t get bent out of shape,” Antoine muttered. “I guess you know what I have in mind. … Listen, I don’t know what’s going on between you two, but every time Laurène comes home to see her mother, she’s crying. … She tells me nothing, but …”

  “Antoine, stop.”

  Jules was calm, cold, and Antoine grabbed him by the sweater.

  “If something happens to me,” he said, “she’s going to be all by herself. And the same for Marie and my vines! I won’t ask you anyth
ing. But keep an eye on them, even if it’s from afar.

  “That’s enough, Antoine! You’re not that sick. … And you forget about Alexandre too easily.”

  He’d taken a couple of steps back toward the door, and Antoine watched him, powerless. Jules hesitated to leave. He loved Marie, and while he may not have thought all that much of Antoine, thanks to Aurélien’s influence, he understood his distress.

  “If Laurène is crying,” he said in a low voice, “it’s not because of me. And, believe me, I’m sorry about it.”

  Antoine, taken aback, watched Jules go. He left the hospital feeling angry. He had the painful impression that everybody was meddling in his life. His feelings for Laurène left him unsettled to no end, made him less focused on Fonteyne, less attentive, less confident. And he had no idea how to change his state of mind.

  Once home, Laurène couldn’t resist her mother’s affection. She told Marie everything, including the awful episode in the stable. Marie listened to her quietly, horrified. On top of her husband’s hospitalization, her daughter’s confidence shocked her. If Dominique had brought her only joy, Marie had always known that Laurène would be a problem child. She knew all too well her youngest daughter’s naïve, timid, and obstinate personality. And her complete ineptitude when it came to men. That Laurène could prefer Robert, Marie understood. Robert’s seductive side didn’t escape anyone. That and the fact that his obvious and mysterious sadness could be captivating for a young woman. But that Laurène had had casual sex with him floored her. She was from a generation that didn’t accept such ideas and behavior. However, since she didn’t want to be seen as backward and didn’t want her daughter to think that she was against her, Marie decided not to come out with the unpleasant comments that came to her mind. All she said was that it was a mistake to turn her back on a man like Jules, and that he didn’t deserve to be treated this way. And then she advised her daughter to come back to Mazion, where she really ought to be, instead of living at the Laverzacs’. Laurène cried a lot, hesitated, then said that she would leave Fonteyne after Jules’s departure for England. That way, she gave herself a deadline, while not knowing how she would take advantage of it. What was certain was that Jules would never come for her at her parents’, and she couldn’t stand the idea of losing him.

 

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