A Bordeaux Dynasty: A Novel (70 page)

It was getting late. Pauline and Esther had to have an early dinner, as Esther’s train would be leaving very early the following morning. Robert had suggested they spend Christmas in Venice, but Pauline hadn’t responded. The phone rang and she hurried to pick up. With the very first words she heard, she began to smile. She loved Robert’s warm voice, his worries as well as his bursts of laughter. And yet, she definitely wasn’t certain that she felt like spending the rest of her life with him.

Jules barely had time to sit before the secretary came to get him. He followed her to Valérie’s office, glad that she had agreed to see him so quickly.

“Mr. Laverzac,” said the attorney with enthusiasm, “I am quite happy to see you.”

She gestured for her secretary to leave, and she waited until she was alone with Jules to offer him a broad smile.

“Sit down, please,” she said. “Is this a formal meeting or a friendly visit?”

“Whichever you wish,” Jules said.

She frowned. For the past two weeks, she’d been thinking about him night and day. No man had ever had this effect on her. It was worse than just being under his spell; she felt downright destabilized.

“Either way,” she said, “I’m happy to see you.”

Still, she had the feeling that he wasn’t there to tell her pleasant things.

“I didn’t want to call you,” Jules began.

“That’s too bad. I was actually wishing you would.”

She remained in control of herself, but she was afraid of what was to come, and she preferred speaking first.

“I heard about your daughter’s birth. Congratulations!”

“Thank you. …”

She was standing next to the window, and he joined her there. He put a hand on her shoulder, making her tremble.

“I had to see you,” he said. “To explain …”

“Is that really necessary? All you had to do was keep quiet, stay out of my life. I wouldn’t have tried to hound you, you know.”

She took a quick step away from Jules, glared at him, her expression haughty.

“Today you’re a young dad and you’ve discovered the virtues of fidelity, is that it? You shouldn’t have bothered for so little. We made each other no promises, if I remember correctly. …”

“Valérie, listen to me …”

“No! You’re going to have to excuse me now. I have a lot of work to do.”

She went and sat behind her desk, put her glasses back on the bridge of her nose, and opened a folder.

A few steps and he was right next to Valérie, forcing her to look at him.

“I’m very much attracted to you,” he said, rapid-fire. “I’m dying to make love to you, to have conversations with you. But neither of us would gain anything from it.”

“How do you know that?” she asked, her voice cracking.

She fought with herself to keep from begging him. For the first time in her life, she was stupefied to find herself so vulnerable, on the verge of stooping to anything for just another chance.

“Please, Jules …”

She’d uttered his name with despair. He took a step back.

“I can’t,” he said simply.

It was worse than a slap in the face. He’d just rejected her, with a couple of words. She was twelve years older than he was, and that fact struck her hard at that particular moment. She looked at Jules, her expression cold.

“In that case, Mr. Laverzac, I won’t keep you any longer.”

She saw him hesitate, but then he stepped out of the office without a word. After he was gone, she needed five long minutes to gain a modicum of composure. She’d have all the time in the world to grieve. At the moment, what hurt most was the humiliation. She hated failure, and this one more than any other she’d ever experienced. She looked for the phone number of the judge handling the Laverzac case. When she got him on the line, she was able to produce her cheerful voice and asked him out for dinner. She’d ignored him for so long he sounded astonished by her invitation. Valérie used all her charm, found some vague professional pretext, and had no difficulty convincing him.

Jules came back from Bordeaux late in the afternoon and allowed himself a horse ride before darkness fell, to try and forget about that afternoon’s painful encounter. Then he showered and joined Laurène just as she was bottle-feeding their daughter. He insisted on doing it himself, still marveling at the thought that he was holding his very own child. He handled her with tender, precise, and attentive gestures. Laurène watched him with jubilation, thrilled to see him enjoying his new role as father so much. She’d recuperated well from the delivery, and she’d taken care of herself the past few days, taking advantage of her daughter’s long naps to pamper herself and try on some sophisticated makeup. Dominique pushed Laurène to make herself beautiful, saying that Jules must be tired of the forced abstinence of the past weeks, then she’d burst out laughing, Laurène following suite. The two sisters talked a lot, and were closer now than they’d ever been in their lives.

As soon as little Lucie-Malvoisie fell asleep in her crib, Jules looked his wife over from head to toe.

“You’re truly beautiful,” he said, completely sincere.

Laurène had neither Valérie’s elegance nor her self-confidence, and Jules rarely felt like talking to her about serious matters. But she was so tiny, so young, and so pretty that he felt something moving within him every time he looked at her.

“You’re a kid who had a kid,” he said to her, lovingly.

She went over to him, kissed him, and snuggled against him like a kitten. He fished a small black box from his jeans. Surprised, she took it but didn’t open it.

“For me? Why?”

“Just to say thank you.”

Laurène hesitated, and Jules laughed the way she adored. She lifted the lid and choked on a cry of joy. An emerald was glistening at the bottom of the velour box. Jules took the precious stone, which had been mounted as a pendant, amused by his wife’s stunned expression.

“You are out of your mind,” Laurène muttered.

Without saying anything, Jules clasped the chain behind his wife’s neck. She ran to a mirror, and he broke out laughing. It was the first time he’d bought her jewelry, the gem of her engagement ring, given to them by Aurélien, having belonged to Lucie. She went back to him, her eyes sparkling. At first he thought it was from excitement, but then he saw that she was crying.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, a bit alarmed.

She threw herself into his arms, sobbing uncontrollably.

“So you still love me?” she asked, her face wedged against his chest.

Jules grabbed her chin and forced her to raise her head.

“Laurène,” he said. “Tell me what’s going on. … Look at me!”

He’d raised his voice, not truly worried.

“Of course I love you,” he said. “And I love that little girl of ours. And I already love the other babies we’re going to have together, because I want a bunch of them!”

He tried to calm her down, anxiously wondering if someone had talked to her about the lunch he’d had in Pessac with Valérie Samson. He hated himself for what he’d done that day. He was a married man now, a father—he needed to change the way he lived. Taking this woman to a hotel not far from Bordeaux had been a stupid, reckless decision, that of a bachelor. He couldn’t be certain that he was always going to be faithful to Laurène, but at least he could make sure not to hurt her.

“It’s not easy being your wife,” Laurène said. “I feel like some little unimportant, cumbersome thing that’s in your way. Like I annoy you. …”

“Laurène!”

“What you needed was someone exceptional. Dominique told me that much, and my mother, too. … With me, you can do whatever you want and I just gawk at you. … I’m just like a groupie to you. …”

He raised his eyes to the ceiling, and then picked her up in his arms and carried her to the bed.

“I want you,” he said. “I promise to be very gentle.”

He slowly undressed her, and she didn’t resist him, more astonished than anything else.

“You’re not some kid,” he said, “you’re a woman … who I love. You’re not some useless and cumbersome thing. … And I want you to prove it to me, right now. …”

He waited for Laurène to take charge, looking straight at her. She got over her uneasiness and decided to please him.

Extremely embarrassed, Lucas hesitated in front of the door. It was six in the morning, still dark out and freezing. He rarely went up to the castle’s second floor, but he’d walked down the hallway to Jules’s bedroom. He finally did knock, and Jules opened the door, a puzzled look on his face.

“I’m very sorry to disturb you …” Lucas said. “It’s my wife … She’s not doing well at all. …”

“Fernande? Give me a sec. …”

Jules put on a pair of jeans, a turtleneck, and his boots without bothering with socks and was in the hallway within seconds.

“She coughed all night long again, and when I said I was going to call the doctor, she didn’t say no. But then she passed out while I was getting dressed.”

Lucas had sprinted all the way over, and his cheeks were crimson.

“Are the roads still icy?” Jules asked as they hurried down the stairs.

“Even worse than before!”

Jules didn’t even bother grabbing his coat before they both stepped out into the cold. They ran to the barn and climbed into the Jeep, the chains still on its tires.

As soon as Jules saw Fernande in her bed, he knew that she was in a very bad way. She’d regained consciousness, but her wheezing was painful to hear. He took her hand, forcing a smile.

“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.