A Bordeaux Dynasty: A Novel

by Françoise Bourdin

  “I’m taking you to the hospital, okay? I’ll be much quicker than an ambulance. You trust me, don’t you?”

  Jules wrapped Fernande in her housecoat and a heavy blanket and picked her up. She was limp and heavy. Lucas opened the front door, then the Jeep’s back door. They managed to settle Fernande on the backseat, as comfortably as they could, and Jules, extremely worried, sat behind the steering wheel. He knew that the roads wouldn’t be cleared until daybreak, and he forced himself to drive slowly even though he was dying to get to the hospital. Next to him, Lucas remained silent. Both could hear Fernande’s difficult breathing over the engine’s noise. There was something gloomy about the white landscape illuminated by the Jeep’s headlights.

  Jules stole a glance at Lucas. Inscrutable, the old man had his eyes fixed on the road ahead. Jules wondered if Lucas still loved his wife, or whether all he and Fernande shared was the habit of being with each other. They’d gotten married twenty-eight years earlier, at Aurélien’s insistence. After Lucie’s death, he’d wished to obtain Fernande’s services permanently. He needed a woman in the house to take care of his four sons. And so he’d pushed Lucas to ask Fernande to marry him, never imagining that his cellar master might see things differently. But Fernande wasn’t young, and she wasn’t good-looking. He gave them the house by the woods, where Fernande wasn’t able to spend much time. Aurélien demanded that she report to the castle at dawn and thought it was perfectly reasonable for her to serve dinner. Jules had changed no part of a schedule that had been established so long ago. Fernande and Lucas never had any children of their own, and nobody in the house ever wondered why, as their dedication to Fonteyne was taken for granted. They were neither servants, nor employees, nor family members.

  His throat constricted, Jules had a hard time swallowing his saliva. He’d never thought much about it, but now he fully recognized the huge importance of Fernande in Fonteyne’s life, as well as his own. He thought of all the love she’d given him. How many times had she consoled, cajoled, rocked him? How often had she made him feel all better when he was sad as a child? The Laverzac’s debt toward this old lady was immeasurable.

  Jules felt hugely relieved when he saw the lit sign above the hospital’s emergency entrance. Lucas still hadn’t said a word.

  Two hours later, Fernande was in a private room, thanks to Dr. Auber’s intervention. The internist’s diagnosis was unambiguous—Fernande suffered from double pneumonia. Jules sent Lucas to take care of the admissions formalities, as he refused to leave Fernande’s bedside. He held her hand and kept his eyes on her at all times, knowing that she hated hospitals, that she was afraid of them.

  “I have to go now,” Fernande suddenly said with a voice altered by the oxygen tube in her nose.

  “I don’t think it’s a great idea,” answered Jules, smiling.

  “I want to leave.”

  As she grew agitated, Jules caressed her forehead.

  “I must be very sick,” she said. “Otherwise I wouldn’t be in this room.”

  “You’re sick because you’re not taking care of yourself,” Jules said. “You’re going to be fine now that you’re here.”

  “You’re just saying that to make me feel better. …”

  “No, I’m not!”

  “Yes, you are. But it doesn’t matter. …”

  “Fernande!”

  “Stop shouting, Jules.”

  He smiled, meekly.

  “Listen,” Fernande said. “There’s something you need to know about. I’ve been meaning to tell you about it for a while. And then, with the baby’s birth, I never found the time. …”

  “You’ll find it later. Now you have to rest.”

  “My goodness, you’re pig-headed! You’re never going to change!”

  She truly was getting aggravated, and so Jules remained quiet.

  “It’s about your mother. … Your real mother. …”

  She felt Jules’s hand squeezing hers.

  “Listen, kiddo,” she said. “One day I’m going to die, like everybody else. Maybe not today, but you and I can’t be sure of that completely. Right?”

  Jules nodded, his eyes fixed on those of the old lady.

  “What did you learn about her?” she asked. “That man you saw last year, that cop, what did he tell you? He gave you the official version? The accident?”

  Frozen with torment, Jules kept quiet.

  “Don’t look at me that way,” Fernande pleaded. “You’re breaking my heart.”

  She hesitated, knowing the impact her words would have on the young man. She’d kept the secret inside her for so long, she didn’t know where to start.

  “You loved him so much,” she finally began, “too much. He was like a cult leader to you. But you have to know the truth. …”

  Jules let go of her hand and stood up, and Fernande understood that he didn’t want to hear the rest.

  “Wait! Don’t go. What’s the point of staying in the dark?”

  She took a deep breath and blurted out, “All that your father did for you, he owed it to you!”

  She saw him walk to the door, put a hand on the knob. Out of breath, her head fell back on the pillow. There was a long silence, disturbed only by the muffled sounds coming from the hospital hallway. Jules came back to the bed and asked the question she was waiting for.

  “Aurélien killed her?”

  She closed her eyes. She thought she didn’t need to say anymore just now, that he could imagine the rest. But without even realizing it, she kept on talking.

  “I was waiting for him to come back so that I could go home, as I always did. Mrs. Laverzac was upstairs. He looked so gaunt when he arrived he scared me. He was crazy about that girl, you know. … He was furious at her for what she’d done. He went over to her shack, he pushed her around, beat her. He was so rough … And then she fell on that stone bench. I’d never seen him like that before. The sadness he felt, the horror, he cried half the night. I didn’t want him to turn himself into the police. Aurélien Laverzac, a murderer … it was unthinkable! With Mrs. Laverzac and the three little ones sleeping upstairs. He was pacing in his office, he was going crazy. He said he was going to adopt you, but I couldn’t see how it was possible. I didn’t think he’d do it. You saw everything, Jules, even though you don’t remember anything. But you were in that awful place when it happened. And we had to keep quiet, wait for someone to find the two of you … My God, that was an awful wait for him, and for me as well. Two days, it lasted. You can’t imagine what I went through, thinking there was a little baby out there, by himself. … After that, he had to do what was right, you know. He had to atone for what he did. He should’ve hated you, but a funny thing happened: You forced him to love you. You made him love you, day after day, because you were always after him, silently begging for his attention. … Only, he was your mother’s murderer, not your savior. …”

  Fernande’s revelation was like poison to Jules, but he’d found the courage not to interrupt her, and though his ears were pounding, he heard every single word she said. He was so stunned he didn’t hear the door open. He felt Lucas’s presence just behind him, and he turned his head so that the old man couldn’t see his expression. He stepped out of the room muttering that everything was fine.

  He wasted an insane amount of time at city hall. He only had bits of information. Christian name: Agnès. A family name that was Hungarian. Young. Buried in the fall, thirty-one years earlier. The employee was finally able to find the plot number at the cemetery.

  He walked among the snow-covered tombstones for a while before finding the one he was looking for. The stone was basic, made of expensive black marble. There was no inscription. Jules stood still in front of it for almost half an hour. He waited in vain, feeling nothing, not even a trace of ancient emotion. He kept telling himself that his own mother was there, six feet under that stone, but all he felt was immense compassion for Aurélien.

  He slowly walked back to his car. Compassion was a new feeling
. Until then, Jules had wrapped himself up in some kind of blind respect, of boundless gratitude. Fernande’s revelations showed that Aurélien was more than a stone statue, some sort of irreproachable model.

  Jules sneezed as he sat behind the Jeep’s wheel. He still wasn’t wearing a coat, and under his boots, his feet were bare.

  This entire story has nothing to do with me. … he thought.

  He tried to convince himself of that, but was still greatly affected. What would he have done in Aurélien’s place?

  He could’ve turned himself in, gone to trial, then to jail. Fonteyne would’ve crumbled. Lucie still would’ve died from bronchitis a short time later, the Laverzac name would’ve been disgraced forever, and Agnès’ baby would’ve ended up in the hands of welfare services. Total disaster. … And so he chose the only solution, he kept quiet. Poor man. …

  That last word was new and incongruous. … Jules sighed. Fernande fulfilled her goal by forcing him to discover another Aurélien.

  So what? I still love him, no matter what.

  When Aurélien punished Jules as a child, who was he really punishing? Had it been unbearable to have to look at the little boy who had witnessed the tragedy in the shack and reminded him of it constantly?

  But he gave Fonteyne to me!

  To Jules or to the memory of Agnès, or just as some kind of reparation? Jules chased away the image of his mother collapsing on that stone bench. That scene, though he’d seen it, must have had it inscribed in his subconscious, didn’t trigger anything in him. No sadness, no agony.

  Aurélien paid me back beyond what he owed me, dear Fernande. He loved me, and you can’t take that away from me. …

  Jules knew that the way Aurélien had looked at his adopted son for thirty years showed genuine love. They’d looked at each other as one looks in a mirror, recognizing the other through their mutual affection, everything culminating in their passion for wine making.

  He turned on the Jeep’s engine and thought, All that isn’t important. It’s ancient history. …

  Bingo’s cleats dug into the icy surface of the ground as the horse galloped. Jules was directing him along the vines toward the woods and slowed him down when the massive castle’s silhouette appeared on his right. He’d been touring the grounds for a good while, taking joy in riding his horse. He got a kick out of seeing Botty cut across the fields, his tongue sticking out, in order to catch up with them.

  Both the horse and the dog were still breathing hard when they reached the stable. Bernard was there, spreading salt on the path leading to the castle, and Jules gave him a broad smile. He liked having the young man around, even though he still went all googley-eyed every time he spotted Laurène.

  “Want me to take care of him?” Bernard asked, pointing at Bingo.

  Over the months he’d lived above the stable, Bernard had developed a strong liking for Jules’s superb horse. He dreamed of riding him, but had never dared ask his boss about it. Jules still intimidated him quite a bit, and so he rarely talked to him. Not inclined to chitchat with his employees, Jules appreciated Bernard’s quiet personality.

  “I thought I’d clean the saddle,” Bernard said.

  “Good idea,” said Jules.

  The young man’s instincts were usually spot-on. He took his work very much to heart and had taken advantage of the weather to tackle a series of repairs. As Jules bent down to remove his spurs, he gave Bernard a sideways glance. He gave Bingo a quick rub down and put him in his stall, carefully closing it.

  “I need a hand to cut down a fir tree,” Jules suddenly said. “I’m going to take the Jeep and the winch. Want to come with me?”

  Without a word, Bernard nodded, his eyes sparkling. When he’d first arrived at Fonteyne, Lucas had warned him about Jules’s difficult character. He’d explained that to gain the Laverzacs’ confidence was no easy thing. But Bernard had liked Fonteyne from the very first day and had decided to stay.

  He followed Jules, thrilled to feel needed. In front of the barn, they saw Louis-Marie heading out in the Mercedes.

  “You’re going to Bordeaux?” Jules asked. “Be careful if you don’t want to wind up in a ditch. Even with the winter tires, that car’s a pain. …”

  Louis-Marie had rolled the window down. He smiled at his brother.

  “I’ll drive like an old man, I promise,” he said. “Esther’s train arrives at eleven.”

  They shared a contented look. Jules gave the car top a light tap.

  “Go on,” he said.

  Louis-Marie took the car down the driveway, elated to be picking up his daughter. Pauline had called early in the morning to make sure he was going to be at the train station. They’d chatted with a bit more warmth than they’d shared in a while. Pauline seemed to almost regret not being on her way to Fonteyne as well. Sticking to his policy, Louis-Marie hadn’t asked her any questions. It was December 18 already, and he was dying to find out whether she’d be there for Christmas. But he’d promised himself not to press her, not to struggle in vain against Pauline’s madness.

  Coming off the train, Esther immediately spotted her father. She thought he looked great, almost younger. She launched herself into his arms, squealing with joy, and immediately told him she loved the black leather jacket he was wearing. He began to laugh, conscious that his looks had changed a bit since in Jules’s company at Fonteyne. He grabbed Esther’s travel bag and took his daughter’s hand with pride.

  Energized, Valérie Samson brandished the document under Alexandre’s nose. She’d stormed out of the elevator and demanded to see her client, even though she hadn’t arrived during visiting hours.

  “Frankly,” she told Alexandre, “there’s nothing much we could’ve done concerning the validity of the will. On the other hand, the judge was swayed by our arguments, and he finds it legitimate that you should quickly receive your part of the capital.”

  She was all smiles, very proud of herself. The evening spent in the company of the judge had gone on and on, but Valérie had struck it rich. She’d explained that she couldn’t possibly lose on all sides without being professionally discredited. That it would reflect badly on everyone. That poor Alexandre was without a home and devoid of any means of livelihood—an intolerable situation. That it would be unfair to allow Jules to push back any sort of reparation owed to his brother for years. She’d had to deploy all the artifices of her charm, call on her knowledge of men, and swallow her pride. This latter concession had been, by far, the most painful. Valérie had won many highly complicated and delicate cases in the past. Her reputation was that of a shark, but this time she’d been reduced to pleading like a little girl. Nonetheless, she was determined to bring Jules to his knees, and the price she’d have to pay to attain it didn’t matter to her. She felt no sympathy for Alexandre. He was a client like any other, and he didn’t argue over her fees. As she’d said, she’d taken on the case so she could meet Jules. She’d wanted to add him to her list of conquests, as some sort of special trophy. But then she’d unfortunately fallen in love with him, to the detriment of her professional ambition and her personal independence. The sacrifices she’d imposed on herself for so long, the scorn she had for men, the barriers she’d erected around her—all of it had gone up in smoke due to Jules Laverzac’s irresistible charm. And then he’d come to her office to say, “I can’t.” The story couldn’t end there without her teaching him a lesson.

  “Your brother is no doubt going to be in a bit of a financial pickle,” she said to Alexandre, “but he always has the option of selling part of the estate.”

  Alex watched her without smiling. He’d lost a lot of weight since the beginning of his hospitalization. He had the pale complexion and lifeless look of a person stuck indoors for an extended period, but Valérie noticed his hands were no longer shaking.

  “I hope this makes you happy,” she said.

  Alexandre’s eyes were on Valérie’s handsome face and her red mane, but it was Dominique he was thinking of.

&nbs
p; Annoyed by his lack of enthusiasm, Valérie waited for him to say something.

  “Very,” he finally said.

  “Soon you’re going to be rich!” she said. “All this work we put in, now we’re getting big-time results!”

  “Yes.”

  Valérie got up. Jules was going to have a hard time sleeping for a while, which was only right and fitting.

  “And I could’ve gotten much more,” she said, “if you’d told me what brought you here. Some drunk attacking you, sure … I just know your brother is responsible for this. …”

  She waited in vain for him to spill the beans, and then shrugged. She put the legal document on the table next to Alexandre’s bed.

  “When are you getting discharged?”

  “In a few days.”

  “Well, if you need anything, let me know.”

  He nodded, then turned to the window.

  Infuriated, she walked out of the room. Even though she hadn’t won the victory for him, she would’ve still liked for him to celebrate with her. But it was clear to Valérie that the vengeance she’d reaped upon Jules only brought Alexandre bitterness. She stormed down the hallway and rammed into a cart and apologized to the nurse. She left the hospital feeling awful. Contrary to what she’d hoped, she was still thinking of Jules. But on top of it all, she was now feeling bad for him. To force him to sell part of his land was perhaps too harsh a punishment.

  She was so lost in her own thoughts that she almost didn’t see him in the parking lot. He was leaning against a fence, smoking a cigarette. She stopped in her tracks, petrified. Then she got inside her car, heart pounding, relieved that he hadn’t turned his head in her direction. She thought he was as beautiful as she’d ever seen him, sitting there, with the cold wind playing with his long curls. He looked melancholic, solemn. She would’ve sold her soul to the devil for one week with Jules. Or even two days.

  She turned on the engine and muttered, “Shit!” to herself.

  She’d waited forty-three years to fall in love, and now she was in over her head.