A Bordeaux Dynasty: A Novel (35 page)

Aurélien … That old charmer. Everybody was afraid of him, but Laurène liked him a lot. She didn’t approve of Frédérique, but couldn’t see her as anything more than a lost girl, a bit like she’d been herself some time ago. The happiness she experienced with Jules blinded her to the point of forgiveness.

She slipped out of bed, put on a bathrobe, and walked over to the window. Fonteyne was still shrouded in darkness, though there was a hint of light on the horizon, the early hours frigid, a bit oppressive.

She tiptoed out of the room and went down to the kitchen to make some coffee. Fernande was already there, sitting at the end of one of the long table’s benches. Right away she proposed to prepare a breakfast tray for Jules and asked how he was doing. He was so rarely sick that the old woman was terribly upset. Laurène tried to put her mind at ease and began to butter some pieces of toast. Frédérique’s unexpected arrival in the kitchen surprised her. The young woman looked annoyed to find people in the kitchen this early in the morning, and she sat at the other end of the table. In a low voice she said that Aurélien was in his office and wanted his tray, and Fernande got to work immediately. Used to the family’s hostility, Frédérique ate without saying a word, and it was Laurène who went over to her to engage in conversation. Fernande, who was observing her from the corner of her eye, raised her shoulders. Laurène’s naïveté was part of her charm, no doubt, but now she was betraying the others.

Fernande hurried over to Aurélien’s office. To her great surprise, she found Jules there, completely dressed and chatting with his father. She put the tray down and left discreetly.

Aurélien waited until she shut the door to say, “I saw Antoine yesterday. Of course, he agrees with everything.”

There was a minute trace of contempt in his voice.

“Springtime would be good for everybody,” he continued. “You and Laurène can pick the date. It goes without saying that the reception will be held here. I also insist that you guys sign a prenuptial agreement.”

Jules agreed with a nod of the head. No one, not even Laurène, could pretend to have any kind of claim to Fonteyne, not now, not ever.

“As for the Mazion vineyards … we’re going to have to come up with a compromise eventually. …”

Aurélien was speaking slowly, with caution.

“Your brother seems to be in a hurry to leave and take care of things over there … for good. … But Antoine doesn’t seem to be ready to retire yet, and I don’t want Alex to go play second fiddle to his father-in-law. His place is right here. …”

“I’m not so sure about that. …” Jules muttered.

Their eyes met and they understood each other without having to add anything.

“I took a gem out of the jewelry box, so you can have it mounted for Laurène’s ring. It’s the same as with Dominique and Pauline. Those were your mother’s pendants. There’s one left for when Robert decides to tie the knot.”

Jules was looking out the window. He didn’t feel like talking about his mother’s jewels.

“Are you listening to me, son?”

“Yes, Aurélien.”

Absentmindedly, he searched his pockets for cigarettes.

“You’re not going to smoke,” Aurélien said. “Can’t you hear yourself cough? Put that pack away, will you?”

Jules smiled. He was happy that nothing had changed between his father and him. They simply avoided talking about Frédérique.

“I took a look at your budget forecast. Seems good to me. Make an appointment with the accountant to finalize all of it.”

Pensive, Jules nodded.

“I’m going to have to check the stakes out there today,” he said.

“Oh no you won’t. If I let you out, that doctor brother of yours is going to be all over me. Rightfully so, too. There’s lots you can do from this office. Especially since I’m not going to be around for a while. I’m taking Frédérique to Bordeaux. You guys are so nasty toward her, she’s going to enjoy a little outing!”

He was taunting Jules, who remained calm and silent.

“Want me to make a reservation for two at the
Chapon Fin
?”

Aurélien smiled and asked, “My love life isn’t upsetting you too much, cowboy?”

Taken aback by such a direct question, Jules was unable to come up with an answer.

“Anyway,” Aurélien said, “do not set foot outside. You hear me?”

“Yes,” Jules answered in a soft voice.

“All right then, have a good day, son.”

“You too, Aurélien.”

As his father left, Jules’s dog slipped into the office.

Jules petted him and asked, “What are you doing here?”

Louis-Marie wasn’t able to resist Pauline’s barrage of questions, so he told her everything. Sitting on the bed as she put on her lined boots, Pauline exclaimed, “One of his wife’s necklaces? A piece of jewelry that she’d had since she was a girl? That’s crazy. … And you guys aren’t going to do anything about it? What’ll be next? The vineyards?”

Louis-Marie shrugged and said, “Come on, Pauline! One thing has nothing to do with the other. The vineyards, that’s sacred, but Dad doesn’t give a hoot about some old piece of jewelry.”

“But it was your mother’s jewelry! You have to tell him that what he did was vile!”

Louis-Marie gave his wife a smile.

“I just told you that Jules tried to tell him that and—”

“That’s right. I forgot about that! Getting slapped in the face at thirty, you think that’s normal? Go see your father and talk to him.”

“About what?”

Louis-Marie took Pauline in his arms. He thought she was adorable when angry.

“We came here to fix things and we’re not fixing anything. Jules went about it the wrong way. …”

“The wrong way! He’s the only one with any guts. He dared to speak his mind. He said what the four of you are thinking. And Aurélien treats him like a kid because he’s afraid.”

Pensive, Louis-Marie kissed Pauline’s neck, but she tore herself from him.

“Pauline … don’t turn this thing into high drama. They’ll wind up agreeing. As long as I can remember, whenever their disagreements are too hot to handle, they sweep them under the rug.”

Once again, she pushed him away. She knew exactly what he had in mind, but she didn’t feel like it.

“And the great mystery surrounding Jules’s adoption, are you sure you know nothing about it?”

Surprised, Louis-Marie burst out laughing.

“Oh yes! This was settled thirty years ago: Jules comes from nowhere. And no one questions that.”

“Not even Jules himself?”

“Especially him. His relationship with Dad is based on that silence, that ambiguity. It’s as though each of them wanted to punish the other for something. Or both are feeling guilty about something. …”

“But that’s so bourgeois! Everybody keeps things hidden, secret. Everybody acts as if everything were normal while there’s this huge scandal simmering underneath. I know the mentality. And then, how could he think he could get away with bringing Frédérique into such a self-righteous world?”

Louis-Marie felt vaguely hurt by Pauline’s obvious contempt for his family.

“You’re the one with the bourgeois ideas, my darling,” he said. “Dad has himself a young and pretty lover, and he should hide it from people? As with everything else, he’s making folks envious.”

She gave him a look of surprise.

“You Laverzacs are weird,” she said before marching toward the door.

“You’re going for a walk?”

“Of course. I’m not going to the kitchen dressed this way. You’re not going to give me a kiss?”

He went over to Pauline and took her in his arms. She rested her head against him. He was much taller than she was and she felt safe with him. She thought about Robert and felt like smiling. No man, even if he tried hard, could understand any woman, she was certain of that. She asked Louis-Marie for a cigarette, having decided to stay in the room a few more minutes.

“Tell me, Louis-Marie,” she said, “you and your brothers were never jealous of Jules?”

“Jealous? No. You can’t be jealous of what’s obvious. Besides, Dad’s excessive feelings for Jules didn’t seem very enviable to us. None of us would’ve had his patience, you know.”

“You need more than patience to put up with being slapped in the face at his age,” Pauline said.

“What did you want him to do? Hit the old man back?”

She laughed.

“It’s really the Middle Ages around here. I wonder why I love Fonteyne.”

“You love it?”

“Yes, obviously. I also love your brothers and even that tyrant Aurélien. And then, this castle …”

“Really?”

She snuggled against him.

“What about Robert?” Louis-Marie asked. “You love him, too?”

He’d managed to ask the question with a calm voice, but she still didn’t fall into his trap and said, “Of course! I like him a lot.”

Jules had remained standing for a long time, a pile of bills in hand. Among them, he’d found one sent from an unusual merchant. The letterhead had caught his attention: ‘Jewelry—Ancient, Original, Facsimile.’ It was obviously Frédérique’s pearl necklace. Jules could’ve kicked himself.

He never would’ve given his wife’s necklace to a lover!
he thought.
I’m such an idiot. … But did he buy this piece of jewelry to flatter Frédérique or to provoke us?

Slowly, he sat behind the desk, took out a checkbook from the top drawer, and began paying bills, including the one from the jeweler. Then he opened the trunk, for which he’d had the key for the past ten years. On the top shelf was a row of old boxes that contained all of Lucie’s jewelry. Jules hesitated. He’d never touched those dark-colored velour boxes. He changed his mind and shut the trunk.

Just then Laurène came into the office.

“How are you feeling?” she asked, lovingly. “You slept so little. … Here, why don’t you put this on?”

She handed him a sweater, which he slipped into.

“I chatted with Frédérique this morning,” she said. “I thought she was nice. … Pauline talks to her like she’s a dog, and Fernande ignores her. Even my sister doesn’t give her the time of day.”

Jules found it surprising that Laurène would sympathize with Frédérique, but he decided not to comment.

“There are a bunch of checks to mail out,” he said instead. “Can you take care of it?”

He picked the jeweler’s bill off the top of the desk and put it in his pocket.

“What about you?” he asked. “Do you find Aurélien attractive?”

The question, so abrupt, made Laurène blush. When she’d confided in Aurélien, a few years before, and rested her head against his shoulder to cry, she’d realized that there was comfort in seeking refuge with a man like him. In spite of his age, he appealed to a lot of women. This vague sensation had remained in Laurène’s memory. The consideration that Aurélien had always showed her, the banter they’d both kept up out of fun and habit, the particular way he looked at her, and the manner in which he protected her had made their relationship ambiguous.

Intrigued, Jules was waiting for Laurène’s response and was still looking at her.

“You think it’s a stupid question?”

“No. Not at all. … I was thinking about it. … He can be attractive, yes. …”

“Even to women your age?”

“I don’t know,” Laurène said, prudently. “Maybe Frédérique is not in love with him, but I’m sure she feels some attraction to him.”

“Some attraction,” Jules repeated. “And that’s enough for them!”

“Well, Jules,” Laurène said, softly. “You know your father. This is not the first time he’s had an affair with a woman that young.”

“An affair, yes. But never a real relationship. Never. I’d like to know what this girl has in mind, what she’s looking for.”

“Maybe she doesn’t know. She’s lost, she’s lonesome …”

Jules gave her an indecipherable smile.

“Lost? Her? I don’t think so.”

He looked at Laurène. She was pretty, naïve, pleasant. And he was going to marry her. He should have felt happy. And yet he didn’t.

The following day, the weather finally got better. The thermometer rose to right around freezing, snow started to fall, and the children could go play outside again. Jules was preoccupied wondering what the effect the cold had had on the vines, but spent long moments chatting with his brothers. Aurélien stayed off to the side most of the time but watched everybody with pleasure, not used to seeing Fonteyne invaded like this in the middle of winter.

December twenty-seventh and twenty-eighth were spent that way. Apart from Aurélien, Frédérique basically spoke only with Laurène.

On the twenty-nineth, Jules had to go to Bordeaux, and Pauline went along, looking for ideas for New Year’s Eve. They agreed to meet at a bar downtown at the end of the afternoon. Jules was first to arrive. He sat at a table and ordered hard liquor, something he didn’t do very often. The bartender recognized Jules and said his name as he put the glass in front of him. Almost immediately, a man in his thirties who was sitting not too far from him rose and came over to Jules’s table.

“Your name is Laverzac?” he asked in a voice that Jules found odd.

“Yes. …”

“You’re one of the four sons?”

“Yes.”

“And you live at Fonteyne, right?”

Jules, a bit on the defensive, didn’t answer that last question.

“You need to talk to me?” he asked, calmly.

He could sense the other man’s enmity. A second individual had approached the table and stood in the background, silent. Jules slowly got to his feet.

“There’s a girl living at your place,” the man said. “Frédérique. … She’s my sister.”

“Nice to meet you,” Jules said with a neutral voice.

They were eyeing each other, both conscious of the rising tension.

“What do you want, exactly?” Jules said.

“I’ve heard some very unpleasant things. That your father … is a pretty fresh old man, for example. …”

Jules glanced at the man in the background while saying, “Your sister works for us. With a very decent salary. She’s never talked to us about you, but it doesn’t matter.”

“A decent salary …”

The man, clearly hostile, was chuckling.

“How old is the geezer?”

Jules knew these two men were looking for a fight, but he couldn’t ignore the insult.