Louis-Marie and Jules looked at each other. Peace, for now. …
Jules woke up and looked at the ceiling for a moment before recognizing it. He’d slept in Laurène’s room, which had been, many years ago, Alexandre’s. His eyes wandered toward the trompe l’oeil, the plaster cherubs, the decorative woodwork, and finally, the young woman sleeping curled up next to him. He grazed her shoulder with his fingertip. He was just as much in love with her as on the night he’d kicked her door open.
He quietly slipped out of bed and gathered his things. He walked naked to the bathroom down the hallway, knowing he wasn’t going to run into anyone at this hour.
In the shower—cold—he thought back on the conversation he’d had with Aurélien the previous day. “You can fix your floor any way you want,” his father had said. Fix what? What for? Jules’s room was gigantic, and Laurène could set it up anyway she wanted. And the room she was now occupying would be perfect for the babies they would have. Later. …
Jules sighed. Later was too far away for him. Not for one second could he imagine Laurène wanting to live anywhere but at Fonteyne. He wasn’t selfish, but he couldn’t even begin to conceive that his life would one day take him away from this paradise. Besides, he would eventually own Fonteyne, as per Aurélien’s will—the vines, the land, the castle, and the debts. But that seemed to him too far in the future to even think about. The future he cared about was the next harvest. To support Aurélien in his difficult moments was a ridiculously low price to pay. And, deep down, Jules liked his father’s tyrannical ways. He felt he was too young to live without them. Aurélien was his safeguard.
He went to his bedroom, where he’d dropped his luggage the day before. He went through one of his suitcases looking for the cashmere scarf he’d purchased for Fernande and realized that he’d brought nothing back for his father—no present, no souvenir, nothing. True, his trip had been shortened, but he still felt guilty. All the cases of wine he’d shipped to Fonteyne came with a fond note to Aurélien. However, those deliveries were all about business. Jules sighed, knowing that even with more time, he wouldn’t have dared bring his father anything back. Aurélien wasn’t some little kid you could amuse with some trinket from another country.
Jules had just put on his jeans and boots when Fernande softly knocked on his door. She kissed him lovingly on both cheeks, as she always did when they were alone.
“I figured you’d be up already. I’m going to put away your things. …”
He set the suitcases on the bed so she wouldn’t have to pick them up herself, and he gave her the scarf. But he didn’t listen to the old woman’s emotional thanks, as he was looking out the window at Fonteyne.
“Are you happy to be back, kiddo?” Fernande asked.
Still taking in the landscape, he took a few seconds to reply.
“It’s so beautiful,” he said simply. “I’m going to marry Laurène soon, you know.”
He turned to Fernande and said, “She’s not going to take your place here.”
“No, not Laurène. I know her. But there’s the other. …”
Jules, suddenly attentive, asked.
“She’s bothering you?”
“It’s not so much that. … It’s an odd situation. To think that your father brought a woman here. And such a young woman, too. If you only knew what people are saying, in Margaux and everywhere else. … You won’t let things get too far, will you?”
“That’s why I came back, Fernande. But you know him as well as I do. You can’t force him to do what he doesn’t want to do. If he wants a woman in his life, he’s the only one to decide. But that one … no. I know what she is. I’m the one who suggested Aurélien hire her. I was wrong. Maybe I overestimated Aurélien’s intelligence. …”
“No,” Fernande said. “You know very well that he’s not being fooled. Actually, you should hear the way he speaks to her at times. But, other times, he looks at her the way a dog looks at a bone.”
Jules felt like laughing but refrained out of respect for his father.
“He’s far from senile,” Fernande continued, “but he seems set on pestering everybody, and he’s found the right way to do it.”
One after the other, she hung Jules’s clothes. She didn’t like to talk about Aurélien this way, but only Jules could bring peace back to Fonteyne. And she wanted peace above everything else because she knew she’d be unable to accept, after forty years of service, this young woman as the head of the household.
“You know, you and Laurène … Your father took it hard.”
Jules understood what she was talking about, and she didn’t have to go on about it. If Aurélien had been passionate about someone these past few years, it was Laurène. Frédérique was but a substitution. Worse, a form of vengeance.
“Your father …” Fernande added. “He adores you, but … you take the spotlight away from him quite a bit.”
Frédérique had also woken up early. She adored her room, with its rounded, blonde wood window frames and the large French doors that opened onto a gallery. With its vestibule and adjacent bathroom, the room was completely independent from the rest of the castle. Aurélien had settled her there on the very first day she arrived, saying that this way she’d be freer. Freer! The word had amused her. Since she lived at Fonteyne, she’d had just one thing in mind: Jules. It was because of him that she’d accepted the secretary position, and Jules’s sudden departure to England with Laurène had left her dejected. But in his absence, she’d taken the opportunity to settle in and come up with a plan. Of course, she’d had to accept Aurélien. Accept? No, he hadn’t forced her to do anything. She’d had an opportunity one evening, a moment to seize. She didn’t regret it, though she knew it wasn’t necessarily the best way to get to Jules. But she’d had no other choice. Jules was abroad with a woman he loved and that he meant to marry upon his return, so Frédérique had given in to Aurélien’s advances without thinking. And the experience had turned out neither sordid nor boring. Aurélien always behaved with plenty of tact and kindness. Whenever they were together in bed, he never made an inappropriate gesture or said anything improper. He often talked about Jules, as though he knew she was interested in him. He gave her a lot of tasks to perform in her role as secretary, and had increased her monthly paycheck very nicely. Things were simple, easy. Aurélien loved women, no doubt, but he was no fool. And in spite of his age, he was Aurélien Laverzac, and all that it represented.
Frédérique got out of bed. She was cold and so she hurried to put on a bathrobe. Jules was back. He was in the house, probably up already. As soon as she was ready, she ran downstairs to the kitchen, where Fernande made breakfast for her, without a word as usual. Frédérique could feel the animosity of Aurélien’s entourage toward her beyond any doubt. This was generally unpleasant for her, but today Jules would be here. Even with two other brothers to deal with, Frédérique felt strong. Never before had she wanted something with such intensity as she did Jules. She didn’t have to close her eyes to remember him in that Bordeaux hotel back in October. Ah yes, he’d conquered her! In her mind’s eye she could see him with his jacket thrown over his shoulder, his sad eyes, his lovely smile. And his intensity during lovemaking, his courtesy afterwards, neither distant nor affected. And when he’d taken her home, the way he was driving with one hand, lighting a cigarette with the other. She’d loved everything about him with a passion.
Frédérique watched Fernande prepare a breakfast tray with a great deal of care.
“Mr. Aurélien is up?” she asked.
“It’s for Mr. Jules,” Fernande grumbled back.
Remembering, a bit disappointed, that Jules always had breakfast in his father’s office, Frédérique got to her feet.
“It’s okay,” she said, “I’ll take it to him.”
Ignoring Fernande, she grabbed the tray and forcefully left the kitchen. She went the length of the castle and walked into Aurélien’s office without knocking.
Jules didn’t seem a
t all surprised to see her, as though he was expecting her.
“Are you in a better mood this morning?” she asked with a wide smile.
“I didn’t know you were the one serving breakfast now. If that’s the case, why don’t you take a tray up to Laurène, too?”
She turned pale, but didn’t stop smiling.
“Why are you so hostile? Do I scare you?”
“Of course you don’t scare me,” he said.
In a swift movement, she sat on a corner of the desk, right in front of him.
“We weren’t at war when you left for London. … What’s changed? Is it because of your father?”
She truly was trying to be nice to Jules, but what she got in return was an expression filled with contempt. She resorted to humor.
“But, Jules, everybody knows that you like to share your girlfriends with him. That’s what people say anyway. … Is it not true?”
Taken aback by the attack, Jules jumped to his feet.
“Don’t wear yourself out,” he said, slowly. “I had you hired at Fonteyne because we needed a secretary. You remember that, I hope? There’s no other position to occupy. If you had something specific in mind, we can talk about it now.”
“With you? Why? Aurélien is the one in charge around here, at least as far as I can tell.”
She was rebelling against Jules’s harsh tone.
Exasperated, he said, “Yes. He’s the one who’s going to decide if things last between you two. He also decides how much to spend for his enjoyment. He decides whether you leave or stay. But he’s never going to decide to marry you, that’s certain. What are you expecting out of this relationship anyway? To put some money aside? And then what? A car? A pearl necklace? And how long are you willing to wait to get all of this?”
Jules was angry but, in spite of the way he was talking to her, she couldn’t help but find him attractive.
“Is it so terrible that your father has a lover?” she asked in a small voice.
“No. Only that she settled in my home.”
Their night in the Bordeaux hotel was decidedly a long time ago. Trying to put on a brave face, she took out a cigarette. Jules struck a match for her.
“Listen, Frédérique …” he said, “you don’t know anything about us and about Fonteyne. And even less about Aurélien. I’m warning you, I won’t let you manipulate him. Ahead of you here is Dominique, Laurène, Fernande, and even Clothilde. There’s nothing I can do about you being in my father’s bed, but everywhere else, you’re going to find me in your way. …”
Frédérique had no doubt he meant every word he said. She left the corner of the desk where she’d been perched throughout their conversation. She stood right in front of Jules and put a hand on his shoulder.
“You have extraordinary eyes,” she whispered. “I’m crazy about them.”
She gave him an enigmatic smile and stepped out of the room, leaving Jules completely aghast.
One hour later, the kitchen had turned into a happy dining hall. Louis-Marie, Pauline and Esther, all draped in thick bathrobes, were joined by Alex, Dominique, and the twins for breakfast. The three kids, with incessant questions about Santa Claus, harassed a half-awake Robert. Laurène was telling Dominique all about her trip to England, and Pauline was engaged in a lively conversation with Fernande about the Christmas Eve meal.
As soon as Jules walked into the room, he was comforted by the loud and warm atmosphere that prevailed there. Fonteyne needed the shouts and bursts of laughter of children to cheer it up in the middle of winter. Even Clothilde, for once, didn’t look morose or absorbed in her tasks. She leaned against her broom, with a silly grin on her face.
Jules untied Fernande’s apron as he walked behind her, the same practical joke he used to play on her when he was a teen.
“If you guys want to go to Bordeaux to buy stuff today, take the Mercedes. I just put some winter tires on it.”
Pauline, who was having a grand time, turned to her brother-in-law and said, “You already changed four tires and it’s not even nine o’clock yet! I’m so impressed!”
Jules chuckled.
“Yes” he said, “and I brought up tons of wine for tonight. And champagne, too.”
“Without knowing what we were going to eat?”
“I think I covered all the bases.”
“And I bet you went through all the vineyards as well?” Robert said, laughing.
“Of course,” Jules said, as he pointed at his wet boots.
They all smiled and laughed, genuinely happy to be together. Fernande thought, reassured by everyone’s presence, that Frédérique wouldn’t have much weight around here.
“Laurène and I are going to town,” Pauline said. “You have your list, Dominique?”
At that very moment, Frédérique walked into the kitchen, and all the conversations immediately died down. The young woman went over to the counter and set down her tray. She felt uncomfortable and unhappy. She took a deep breath and turned to the others.
“Are you all staying until New Year’s Eve?”
Seemingly harmless, the question implied that she considered herself to be the head of the household and that she wanted to know what to expect.
Pauline was first to react. With a disarming smile she said, “But of course! Don’t you worry, though. I’ll take care of everything. …”
Louis-Marie and Robert both gave Pauline a look of surprise. There had been no talk of staying the entire week.
“I always say that nothing is more important than family,” Pauline added, with an air of perfect innocence.
She took Laurène by the arm, snatched the list that Dominique was still holding, and left the kitchen. Without waiting for the door to shut, Jules broke into laughter.
Frédérique shot a hard look his way, then said, “I’m going to Bordeaux. Aurélien asked me to buy presents for the children.”
She was taunting him, determined to not lose face.
“With what car?” Jules asked, slowly. “Not with the Jeep. I actually need it.”
A moment of silence followed, uncomfortable for Robert and Louis-Marie who couldn’t decide whether they should offer Frédérique a ride.
“I’m going to catch up to Pauline,” she blurted out, and ran out of the room.
Jules turned to his brothers and said, “You guys are so mean. Now the girls are stuck with her. … That was a nasty thing for you to do.”
They burst out laughing, along with Fernande.
Aurélien, in his office, had made a pile of urgent files for Jules to look at. With the castle’s new heating system, the fireplaces weren’t supposed to be needed, but the size of almost every room made them ice-cold, and Jules could satisfy his love of fires just about everywhere in the house. From November on, starting a fire was the first thing he did after walking into his father’s office. How many times, for so many years, had Aurélien found his son kneeling before the fireplace, tongs in hand?
He does everything well, everything quickly, everything with passion. …
Aurélien’s gaze fell on the photo of his wife, which hadn’t left his desk in forty years. Lucie hadn’t had time to be a good mother, as she’d died too early. She probably would’ve ended up loving Jules as much as the other three. Aurélien had forced him on her without her knowing about it in advance, but she’d done her duty without complaining. What would she be thinking now, up there, if she saw Frédérique settled at Fonteyne? She’d probably get a good laugh out of it. …
Aurélien was surprised to find himself thinking about Lucie. It almost never happened. He concentrated on Jules instead. Their meeting yesterday had been a bit painful. Though it wasn’t as if Aurélien had never spent the night with a woman much too young for him. It was like a game between the two of them, when they were alone on those long winter nights. Then, both the father and the son looked at each other, decided who the winner was without saying a word, and the other left the room quietly.
In the case of Frédé
rique, Aurélien had changed the usual rules of the game, without informing Jules. Just like Jules had gotten away from tradition by deciding to marry Laurène without telling him. Fair enough. …
The two soft knocks on the door forced Aurélien away from his thoughts.
“Come in,” he said.
Jules slipped into the office, walked to the fireplace, and looked at the embers, proof of his presence in the room earlier that day. He put in another couple of logs and got the fire going again.
“Never mind that,” Aurélien said, “and come over here. There’s lots of work to do, you know. You’re not too absorbed by Laurène, son?”
Jules smiled and asked, “Have I ever disappointed you?”
He took hold of the manila folders his father handed him, and he started to flip through them. After a few moments, his eyes left the documents and landed on his father.
“You waited for me for this?” he asked. “There are all kinds of things in here that you or Alex could’ve …” He hesitated and then added, without smiling this time, “Maybe you’re the one who’s too absorbed?”
“I’m not going to take that from you,” Aurélien barked. “I’m just asking for your advice, as usual. But I can live without it, you know.”
Jules put the stack of folders down on Aurélien’s desk.
“Concerning lot thirty-two,” he said without losing his cool, “I think we have to decide right away. And I’d like for Alex to go to Bordeaux about the barrels and—”
“Not Alex. I don’t trust him.”
“Okay,” Jules said, calmly. “I’ll go myself. The Marteau brothers are difficult to handle, but with this fixed price, we’d be losing out, and that’s not acceptable. Lucas did some very good work while I was away, but I don’t completely agree with the way he reorganized the cellar. I’m also going to have a lot of letters to dictate this afternoon. Do you want me to ask Frédérique or Laurène?
Aurélien raised his head at his son’s question.
“Whoever you want,” he said. “I don’t care. Decide for yourself, but just make sure you don’t mess everything up for once!”
A Bordeaux Dynasty: A Novel Page 25
