A Bordeaux Dynasty: A Novel (3 page)

“Maybe you and I should …” said Louis-Marie. “I mean, whatever you want. …”

He sat down beside his brother, waiting for his reaction.

“I’d rather not talk about it,” Robert said, slowly. “It’s really a thing of the past. …”

He didn’t mean that, but he simply wasn’t able to say anything else.

Louis-Marie was hoping for a word or gesture of good will.

“I’ve kept up with what you’ve been doing these past six years, through Jules. But you know how he is—a man of few words. … When Pauline told me she’d gone to talk to you at the hospital, I thought … I’m hoping we’ve let enough time pass. A huge weight would be lifted off my shoulders if we could wipe the slate clean, you know.”

Louis-Marie spoke in a soft voice.

Robert was peering at the vines, unsettled by his brother’s sincerity. It suddenly dawned on him how much this landscape moved him. The crests and valleys he could make out on the horizon, the scrawny and tenacious vegetation beyond the vines, the blending of colors and shades—all of it brought him back to his childhood.

“I came here to make peace,” he finally said.

Robert felt no real tenderness toward his oldest brother, as it was impossible for him to forget about Pauline. Louis-Marie understood Robert’s reluctance to talk, and he didn’t press things. He wanted to end their quarrel for good.

“We were here in the summertime,” he said, “but never, ever, at any other time of the year. Nothing was preventing you from coming, to see Dad or …”

Robert sighed.

“My work is pretty insane, you know. … This department-head position fell in my lap, and not everybody was thrilled about it …”

Once again his career served as a pretext. Louis-Marie kept quiet for a few moments before saying, “Does the expression ‘no hard feelings’ seem like a bit of an overstatement to you?”

“Indeed!” Robert shot back.

He didn’t feel like yielding for Louis-Marie’s sake, but rather out of a sense of loyalty to Fonteyne, a desire to become a Laverzac once again.

“Indeed,” he said once again, “but since it’s what people say …”

He was about to add something when he spotted Jules resting against the house a short distance away.

“You’re eavesdropping now?” Robert snapped.

Jules shrugged and said, “It’s not like I was hiding behind a door.”

The three brothers looked at one another in silence.

“I think we’re just about ready for lunch,” Jules said.

Robert got up and leaned on Louis-Marie for a second, as a gesture of peace. But his heart wasn’t in it.

As they went inside and made their way to the dining room to meet the others, Jules, who was right behind Robert, whispered, “You did the right thing, you know. Now, pretend like you don’t even think about it anymore.”

Robert turned around and shot his brother a furious look, but Jules gave him a shove and smiled. They were blocking the entrance to the room and Dominique, stuck behind them, said, “You guys coming or going or what?”

They stepped aside to let her in. In her hand was a bottle of Côtes-de-Blaye.

“It’s from Daddy,” she said, triumphant.

Dominique had married Alexandre ten years earlier. She also was the child of a wine producer and had known the Laverzacs forever. Her father, Antoine Billot, was an old friend of Aurélien’s, and the marriage had delighted both families. Antoine and Marie Billot had only two daughters, no sons. Aurélien, ever aware of heritage, was all for Alexandre’s choice. Aurélien was already Dominique’s godfather, and he was thrilled at the idea of being her father-in-law, keeping an eye on the Blaye estate at the same time. But first he had to wait and see what Laurène, the second daughter, was going to do. And what she began doing was something nobody had expected—“foolishness.” At least that’s what Aurélien called it, after she confided in him. She came to him one winter evening, in tears. She was eighteen then, and already very pretty. In one breath, she told him all her troubles: She had an affair with one of her father’s employees, and now he was threatening to sue the family. She feared that it was going to turn into a scandal or end in tragedy. Aurélien began by calming her down. He wanted to help Laurène, as he knew her well enough to consider her something of a daughter. But, more than anything else, he was moved by her charm. He didn’t admit it to himself, and played the role of mediator with a light heart. As Laurène had just received her high school diploma, he offered her a job as a secretary at Fonteyne, taking her under his protection. She accepted right away, delighted to come live near her sister, relieved at having found employment and a solution to her problems at the same time.

If Antoine was surprised by his youngest daughter’s sudden decision, he showed no sign of it. He couldn’t afford to hire her himself and he assumed, logically, that Laurène must have had feelings for Jules. This thought came naturally to every father in the entire region, as Jules was seen as a great catch.

Antoine wasn’t actually wrong, he was only a bit premature. No young woman remained indifferent to Jules for very long. Everyone approaching Jules felt an irresistible attraction to him, and Laurène was just another victim.

They could’ve very easily fallen in love with each other, but a number of things stood in their way. First was the ambiguous attitude displayed by Aurélien, who pretended to look after Laurène as though he were her father. Then there were Dominique’s repeated warnings—she wanted to avoid any trouble at Fonteyne and considered Jules a chronic womanizer. Finally, their mutual extreme shyness kept them apart. Laurène watched Jules without daring to approach him, and Jules mostly just watched his vines. Laurène smiled at Jules, and Jules smiled at everybody. When Laurène tried to open up to him, Aurélien always found some excuse to send Jules somewhere else on the estate or would insist on dictating a supposedly urgent letter to her. Jules was vaguely aware of his father’s attitude, but didn’t bother analyzing it. Laurène was getting desperate, but didn’t have the courage to go against Aurélien’s will. The seasons passed, and the misunderstanding continued.

During that time, however, Laurène was learning about winemaking as well as if she’d remained in Mazion with her father. She was extremely grateful to Aurélien for having taken her under his wing, and perhaps a bit flattered by the unusual kindness he showed her. The year before, though, at a party where everyone had a lot to drink, he nearly went too far. And because she hadn’t resisted, being just as drunk, but above all too timid to protest, he’d stopped himself just in time. They wound up sitting on the office couch, saved by Aurélien’s burst of laughter. Though having a young mistress wouldn’t have bothered him, he’d told Laurène, Antoine’s daughter would be the wrong choice. Of course, that was only if she’d have been willing, something he didn’t want to know, he said, in order to protect his old male ego. Laurène was touched by Aurélien’s honesty as well as his clumsy compliment. In order to sweep the incident under the rug, Aurélien suggested that she turn her attention to Jules, something she’d already been doing for a long time. But Jules had gotten used to the young woman’s presence at Fonteyne, and what he had interpreted as deliberate indifference on her part. And though Jules sometimes enjoyed homing in on his father’s conquests, he decided it was best to avoid Laurène.

“Is everything okay, son?” Aurélien asked Jules from across the room, snapping him out of his reverie.

“Yes,” Jules said. “We sprayed the vines today.”

He went over to sit by his father and began to open the bottle of Côtes-de-Blaye.

“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.