A Bordeaux Dynasty: A Novel (17 page)

Pauline, delighted that the sun was out, had set up her beach chair again behind the castle. In the quiet of the early afternoon, she’d taken off the top of her bathing suit and spread sun tan lotion on her body. Her sunglasses, too large for her tiny feline face, kept sliding down her nose. When she decided to remove them, she noticed Robert standing a few feet from her.

“The womanizer has turned into a voyeur?” she asked with a disarming smile.

He shrugged and walked over to the beach chair while she continued to tease him, flirty and spiteful at the same time.

“Are you happy about your exploits yesterday, Casanova?”

“You know about that?”

“You’d have to be blind not to.”

She straightened up a little so she could have a better look at him.

“I never would’ve thought you’d be attracted to young women. You’ll wind up standing outside high schools if you’re not careful.”

Robert was not amused, and he let out a heavy sigh.

“What’s with the long face? It’s your own fault for always hitting on the women your brothers want.”

“Please!” Robert said, harshly. “Don’t rewrite history in your favor. In our case, the role of the son of a bitch was played by your husband.”

Pauline, surprised by Robert’s furor, said, “A little humor goes a long way, Bob. …”

“I don’t have the energy. …” Robert said.

He went over to Pauline and put a hand on her arm.

“God, I miss you,” he whispered.

Taken aback, she found nothing to say. Robert’s hand slid all the way up to her shoulder, and she shivered. She fumbled for something to say to him, knowing that she needed to speak. Robert turned to the castle. Louis-Marie’s window was hidden by a lime tree.

“Pauline,” he said in a low voice.

She didn’t move, letting him caress her, now at her neck.

“I want you. …” he said.

Pauline opened her eyes and said, “What about the girl, she didn’t manage to cool you down?”

Robert shot up and pulled Pauline out of her chair.

“Either you slap me in the face or you come with me.”

He didn’t give her time to respond as he threw his arms around her. He was frantic and clumsy. Pauline got away from him and went to pick up her skirt and blouse.

“Where do you want to go?” she asked.

Stunned for a second, Robert then grabbed Pauline’s hand and led her to the garage. He opened the car door for her, got into the Porsche himself, and took off. She glanced at him, delighted. She’d managed to push him to the limit without even trying. She derived great satisfaction from knowing that the power she’d held over him remained intact. She couldn’t wait to make love to him. She remembered the softness of Robert’s hands, and his desperate anger thrilled her.

In a mocking tone she said, “I wonder if you’re always going to be, for women, a one-afternoon affai. r…”

He stopped the car and turned to her.

Sarcastically she added, “We don’t have a whole lot of time, Doctor…”

Robert stared at the road up ahead and hesitated only a second before driving off. She could say whatever she wanted; his desire for her dispelled everything else.

“Louis-Marie never wonders where you are?” he asked in a low voice.

“He asks me. Sometimes.”

“You’re going to tell him about this?”

Robert feared the answer, but Pauline said, “Of course not!”

Once in Bordeaux, they stopped at the first hotel they spotted. They went up to an impersonal room. Both excited, they joked and giggled while getting undressed. Forgetting all about foreplay, they made wild and passionate love. Louis-Marie could be a good lover, but Robert had a special affinity with Pauline. He managed to control himself enough to completely satisfy her.

“You’re something else,” Pauline said, laughing. “I’d almost forgotten.”

Spent, Robert buried his head in the crook of Pauline’s arm. He didn’t feel the muted contentment he usually experienced after sex. With Pauline, in that instant, he felt on edge.

“Please,” he muttered, “just stop it for a second. That tone of yours. …”

“Why? To give you the illusion of what?”

He tightened, knowing that he was going to say what she didn’t want to hear.

“I love you,” he said, hopeless.

Pauline picked up Robert’s pants from the floor and rummaged through the pockets looking for his cigarettes. She lit one.

“I don’t want to hear your declarations, Bob. I know that you love me. I love you, too, in a way. … But I’m happy with Louis-Marie. My life is set. Don’t make everything a big drama. … You knew that we’d wind up in a hotel room together at some point this summer. That’s why you came to Fonteyne.”

He stared right at her and said, “No need to lecture me. I’m crazy about you and it’s a bit hard to reconcile with … the sordidness of the hotel. The family dinner we’re going to have tonight at Fonteyne …” He turned away from her before adding, “I’d like to scream at the top of my lungs that I love you, rob flower shops, howl at the moon, do all kinds of insane stuff … but I know that it would all be for nothing, dear sister-in-law. So let me gather myself for five minutes, and then I’ll use that jokey tone that you enjoy so much. …”

Pauline, much more troubled than she would’ve liked, got out of bed and began to get dressed.

“Okay,” she said. “But you do need to calm down a bit, by yourself. Let me go downstairs and wait for you in the car.”

She couldn’t wait to leave the room and get away from Robert’s charms. She ran to the Porsche and sat down, out of breath and annoyed. She thought she’d have to be very careful to avoid going too far with Robert, to not fall into his trap. But apart from this vague anguish, she felt nothing, no guilt.

Jules had finally agreed to play chess with Louis-Marie. Since their skill sets were just about the same, the game was dragging on.

“You’re going to lose, little bro,” Louis-Marie had said early on.

They’d settled in the main living room and were lulled by the sound of the grandfather clock. As Louis-Marie was concocting a very complicated move, Jules got up to light the fireplace.

“Can’t you stay put for a second?” Louis-Marie said. “You’re cold?”

“Yes, and I’m going upstairs to get a sweater, and I’ll be right back.”

“Get one for me, too. It’s in the bathroom.”

Once upstairs, Jules fetched a sweater for himself and then went over to the bathroom that Louis-Marie and Pauline shared with Laurène. Absentminded and still preoccupied by what had happened the day before, he went inside without knocking and was stunned to find Laurène taking a bath.

Startled, she sunk lower in the tub, wrapping her arms around her knees. She was about to ask him what he was doing there, but her eyes caught his and she kept quiet. He was watching with icy amusement.

“You have no one to share the bathtub with?” he asked, mockingly.

He reached for his brother’s sweater on the stool. He stared at Laurène in a particularly insolent manner and then left. He didn’t bother shutting the door and ran down the stairs. He had to stop on the landing to catch his breath. His ribs were hurting.

An hour later, Aurélien found Jules and Louis-Marie still absorbed in their game. Jules was hunched over the chessboard, his chin resting on his hand, his sweater resting on his shoulders. Through the fabric of Jules’s shirt, Aurélien made out the heavy bandage.

Pointing at Jules’s back, he asked, “Hurt yourself, son?”

This was followed by a moment of silence, and then Jules turned to his father and glared at him.

“You’re not going to answer?” Aurélien insisted.

He was sitting in an armchair behind Jules, who was still and silent.

“Checkmate!” Louis-Marie said.

Jules looked at the chessboard, then turned to his father.

“I fell off my horse,” he said.

Aurélien smirked.

“You patch yourself up or did you ask that doctor brother of yours? He’s very serviceable, you know. … I hope it won’t prevent you from working?”

Jules kept his stubborn silence, and Louis-Marie thought he should intervene.

“It’s no big deal,” he said.

“You,” Aurélien said in a low voice, “keep quiet.”

Jules decided to speak up.

“When we were kids,” he said, “you never wanted to hear what we were up to, remember? You always said we should deal with our conflicts ourselves, and may the strongest win. …”

Gracefully Aurélien smiled and said, “And you won, son?”

Jules held his father’s gaze. The way Aurélien could see right through him always amazed him.

“I do hope that you won,” Aurélien said, with a sort of tenderness.

Jules got up and carefully stretched.

“How about something to drink?” asked Louis-Marie as he was putting away the chessboard.

Robert had come into the room silently and was now smoking a cigarette by a window. Jules was the only one to discern his nervousness.

“Anyone seen Pauline?” Louis-Marie asked.

“Yes. She went upstairs to get changed for dinner.”

Robert had answered casually, but Jules glared at him. Then he turned to Louis-Marie, who was opening a bottle and hadn’t noticed anything.

“Do you have a cigarette?”

Laurène’s voice, though barely audible, made Jules cringe. He lowered his eyes to her and seemed surprised to see her next to him. She’d found nothing better to say to him than this insignificant little sentence and now she waited tensely for a response. She was as afraid of him right now as when she’d first come to Fonteyne two years ago. Jules pointed at the box of cigars on the sideboard.

“There,” he said, “those ought to suit you.”

He was being so terribly distant that she didn’t dare insist. She took a seat on the other side of the room, again on the verge of tears.

“I’m not going to eat at the house tomorrow night,” Jules reminded his father.

With a crooked smile, Aurélien said, “That’s right. You have your candlelight dinner with Camille.”

Laurène downed the glass that Louis-Marie had just poured her. Taken aback, he hesitated for a second before filling her glass again.

Pauline was last to join the family. She was spectacular in her turquoise satin outfit. Louis-Marie watched her waltz into the room beaming with pride. She loved to get made up, and he figured she’d spent a lot of time in the bathroom. She went over and sat by him, and he took in her perfume with a smile. He whispered something tender in her ear and she snuggled against him. Robert stopped looking at them and struck up a conversation with Alexandre. It didn’t matter what he said, and he barely listened to his brother; he was trying to regain his calm, desperate not to let his emotions overwhelm him.

Laurène dropped her cigarette and, with a look of dismay, tried to pick up the ashes from her blouse. Jules walked by her at that very moment and whispered, “Gee, being in love sure makes you clumsy.”

She didn’t turn to him and lowered her head.

He regretted having said it immediately. He was about to add something, but Fernande announced that dinner was ready, and everyone filed out of the room. Jules hesitated and found himself alone with Laurène for a few seconds. She got to her feet, gathering her courage.

“I wanted to tell you …” she began, “what happened yesterday …”

“Spare me the explanation, will you? I saw everything!”

Again he regretted his aggressive tone. More sincerely, he added, “I’m ashamed I was so violent yesterday. And so … ridiculous.”

Laurène fumbled for something to say, but he spoke first, “It’s okay. Bob is a great guy. And you even have my blessing, if you want it.”

He headed for the dining room, but she grabbed him by the arm.

“Would you rather I leave, Jules? Does it bother you that I live here?”

Surprised by the question, he said, “At Fonteyne, you’re Aurélien’s guest. It’s got nothing to do with me.”

He gestured toward the dining room, but she didn’t move, looking straight at him. As he felt himself weakening, he conjured up the image that had been haunting him since the day before, and he got angry again.

“You told me the other day …” Laurène whispered.

“I know! But it’s not as though I asked you to marry me. Besides, I didn’t know you had a soft spot for hay at that point.”

Laurène straightened. Gone was her sheepish look.

“Next you’re going to say I’m a bitch because of what happened with Bob? But if I’d made love to you instead, it would’ve been more acceptable? In better taste? What’s the difference? Tell me.”

He grabbed her by the shoulders and said, “You can sleep with the entire family for all I care. You’re free to do whatever you damn well please!”

“You’re the biggest bastard I know,” she said, freeing herself from his grip.

She threw a quick glance at the dining room door and lowered her voice.

“You Laverzac men, you’re all a bunch of pretentious sons of bitches!”

Jules took a step back and asked, “Is that how you talk to my brother? Does he get a thrill out of it?”

Laurène burst into tears and crossed the main living room toward the hallway.

“Are you guys coming or not?” Aurélien called out from the dining room.

Jules started to walk slowly, wondering how he would justify Laurène’s absence.

Carefully, Jules took a grape between his fingers. He detached it from the bunch and, pensive, studied the small crimson sphere for a long time in the palm of his hand, then crushed the fruit, opened its skin, and examined the pulp. He couldn’t come up with a definitive opinion, so he picked up another grape. He tasted it, suppressed a grimace, and walked back to the Jeep.

It’s still going to be good, he thought.

The grapes were ripening, in spite of the bad weather. Another ten days. Maybe fifteen. …

He put the Jeep in gear and felt the tires skid a bit before tearing themselves from the rocky soil.

And when harvest begins, Aurélien won’t stop working for a second. Same with me.

He’d personally checked all the material that the laborers were going to need. The dates imposed for the harvest had relieved wine producers from making the crucial decision themselves but, from one vintage to the other, Jules had to carefully organize his planning.