A Bordeaux Dynasty: A Novel (29 page)

Leaving the region, on just that night, was a mistake. Or so she’d ended up deciding. Being somewhere without Jules was not for her. She was going to wait for him. Of course she was, overcoming her embarrassment, swallowing her pride! Pauline used men as puppets, but Laurène didn’t have the strength to play that kind of game. Jules might erase her from his life. She’d given him only headaches so far. Going to Paris would be the end for the two of them. Jules wouldn’t have ever gone to Paris to get her, she’d been foolish to think even for a second that he might have. It was impossible because of the harvest. He just wouldn’t do it.

Finally she got to her feet and headed for the exit.

I’m going back to Mazion,
she thought
. This was just a silly escapade, to be forgotten. Mom will understand. …

She suddenly stopped walking, and a waiter bumped into her. Without apologizing, she remained still, staring into the distance, riddled with doubts…

What if he already knew? What if he talked to Mom or Alex, and he got angry and decided that—

“Excuse me, ma’am,” the waiter said. “We’re closing.”

He showed Laurène to the door. She wound up on the sidewalk and looked for a taxi. It was late and the last train had left the station. She shivered at the thought of having almost done something irreparable.

I’ve made so many mistakes with him! I must be completely insane! Oh, this is the last time I take risks, the last time I ever listen to Pauline. God, I hope he doesn’t know anything, that no one told him!

At first she’d imagined, with vengeful glee, the effect that the news of her departure would have on Jules. She’d imagined him desperate and remorseful, leaving Fonteyne in a hurry … What a fool!

Never! He never would’ve done that! I’m living in a daydream.

She finally spotted a taxi and hailed it. She had to offer the driver a small fortune for him to agree to take her to Fonteyne. She paid him while he put her suitcases in the trunk of the car. She was sick with worry and couldn’t wait to be there. It was late and she was tired, and she’d spent all those hours doubting, so she didn’t know what to think. What if Jules was fed up with her attitude, her whims? What if he got tired of her?

My God, waiting until the end of the harvest is nothing! I could wait for him for a thousand years if I had to! What possessed me? Next year, at that same banquet, I’ll be Mrs. Laverzac! Unless I keep on acting like a fool. And if Jules decides to forgive me for tonight. … But if he doesn’t know, what is he going to think when he sees me show up like this in the middle of the night? He’s going to be furious. He’s going to think that I’m stalking him!

She was torturing herself, mad with worry. The driver wasn’t going fast as he tried to find the way to Fonteyne, and Laurène felt like crying. She’d just taken a tissue out of her purse when the driver finally stopped in front of the opened gates.

“I’ll get out here,” she said in a strained voice.

She went up the driveway, staggering because of her suitcases. She was so familiar with the place that she could find her way without difficulty. She stopped by the Little House, listened for a second, then put her suitcases down under a window. She headed for the castle, the façade of which was still lit. A few cars remained parked at the bottom of the terrace, but the evening was obviously winding down.

She went around the castle, heading for the kitchen. She couldn’t contain her trembling and had to lean against the wall as soon as she turned the house’s corner. A happy Botty ran right into her legs, and she almost let out a scream. She slowly went up the exterior stairs leading to the kitchen and hesitated a long time in front of the door. She thought about what she would say to Fernande once she walked in, and opened the door. There was no one in the kitchen. The entire room was filled with dirty dishes, pots, and pans, and empty bottles.

Laurène looked around her. She shuddered at the thought of running into Aurélien, but of course, she wouldn’t find Jules if she stayed put. With all her might she tried to gather the courage to get going, but she couldn’t.

The two women who suddenly walked into the kitchen, arms filled with dirty plates, didn’t know Laurène. Hired to assist Fernande during the banquet, they gave the young woman an indifferent nod. Right outside the door, Jules’s voice rang out.

“Are you sure you have enough help? I promise I don’t mind giving you a hand and I’m not that tired.”

Fernande walked into the kitchen, laughing in spite of her fatigue.

“Stop that, Jules!” she said. “Go to the living room. If your father saw you …”

Jules was carrying a tray dangerously filled with cups. He carefully set it on the table. As he turned to leave the kitchen, he saw Laurène. She’d remained still, paralyzed by fear and shame, intimidated like a little girl. They looked at each other, to the sound of clanking plates and bowls around them. Fernande was first to react and gently pushed them out of the house.

“Come on,” she muttered. “Out of here. You’re in the way. …”

They wound up in the clear night. Laurène desperately waited for Jules to say something. He leaned against the wall. She could hear him breathe.

“I was wondering,” he finally blurted out, “if you’d like to visit England.”

He reached out to Laurène with clumsy tenderness. And it was as though she’d never left Fonteyne.

Louis-Marie met Robert for the first time since the summer. With Pauline’s blessing, he’d invited his brother to dinner so they could talk about Alexandre’s letter.

With her usual cheerful disposition, Pauline came and went through the living room. Since their return from Fonteyne, they hadn’t talked about anything. Resigned, Louis-Marie concluded that he would never be able to stop Pauline from flirting with Robert, and he liked to think that his wife’s act ended there.

“We don’t see each other often enough!” Pauline said as she handed Robert a glass of whisky. “Those people at the hospital, they never give you a break?”

Robert gave her an icy stare. She hadn’t phoned him a single time in two months, and he hadn’t been able to keep himself from waiting for the call every single day.

“Let me get right to the heart of the matter,” Louis-Marie said. “We can chat about other stuff afterward. I received a letter from Alex, and I desperately wanted you to read it. …”

He handed Robert two sheets of paper.

“Lousy handwriting. …” Robert grumbled as he began to read.

The apartment was fun and original, Pauline having put ornaments and knick-knacks all over the place. Louis-Marie always let her, incapable of going against her will.

Robert tossed Alexandre’s letter on the coffee table in front of him and said, “What does Jules think of this?”

“Jules won’t be back from England for another month. That’s why Alex is so upset, I suppose. You know them. Jules gets on his nerves, but he can’t do anything without him. And I can’t picture him confronting Dad by himself.”

They looked at each other. They were taking their brother’s letter very seriously. At the sight of their sour expressions, Pauline burst out laughing.

“Your father has a lover? Big deal! He’s always had women in his life.”

“Yes,” Louis-Marie said, “but he never took them in the house.”

Robert was as floored as his brother by what he’d just learned.

“This Frédérique,” he asked, “she’s a friend of Jules’s right?”

“A friend … ? More like a woman he picked up in a nightclub once. … Very pretty, as we all saw, and horribly young. …”

Pauline was smiling, amused to see them so concerned. She thought it was great that her father-in-law flaunted his relationship, imagining with glee the scandal that his behavior was causing among the bourgeoisie over there. She’d laughed while reading Alex’s letter.

“You think he’s getting senile?” Louis-Marie asked.

Robert raised his shoulders, annoyed at Pauline’s cheery mood and his brother’s conclusions.

“At his age? Are you kidding me? He’s more lucid than you and me. I bet that it’s all premeditated. …”

Robert kept quiet for a moment, and Louis-Marie tapped him on the knee to bring him back to reality.

“Maybe Dad is afraid that Laurène will want to take over the house after she marries Jules? And he decided to have his lover move in with him to quash his future daughter-in-law’s plans?”

Robert set down his glass of whisky with a sudden movement.

“What are you talking about?” he said. “Don’t you know Dad? He’s not scared of anyone, let alone a woman. Just think of Dominique’s situation there. …”

Pauline was watching Robert as he spoke, finding him as attractive as ever. Just to be on the safe side, she hadn’t gone to see him at the hospital, hadn’t even called him since the harvest. Not out of love for Louis-Marie, but because she was weary of her brother-in-law’s charms.

Robert was troubled by the way Pauline was gazing at him.

“Did Alex tell Jules?” he asked his brother.

“No, he didn’t want to add fuel to the fire. Jules is going to be furious when he gets back and finds out about that woman, and he won’t be shy about it. He’ll be the only one with the nerve to say anything.”

“Good!” Robert said.

Pauline, once again, laughed. “What’s he going to say? That Aurélien is having some sort of midlife crisis and that Fonteyne is now at the mercy of a woman? What drama that’s going to be!”

“There will be less drama if Jules knows in advance,” said Louis-Marie. “I think I’m going to go to London to talk to him.”

Pauline grabbed Robert’s arm and guided him to the kitchen.

“Let’s have dinner,” she said, “while the food’s still fit to eat.”

Robert sat where Pauline told him to. He felt uncomfortable whenever he was near her, and there really wasn’t anything he could do about it. Louis-Marie didn’t seem to notice his brother’s embarrassment.

“I have an idea!” Pauline blurted out. “Why don’t we all go to Fonteyne for Christmas?”

Robert gave her a bewildered look.

“Are you kidding?”

“Just a few days,” she said. “I’m sure that hospital of yours can survive without Dr. Laverzac for forty-eight hours. No one is irreplaceable, you know.”

Her enthusiasm was telling. She continued, “We’d be able to assess the situation there for ourselves and be a buffer between Jules and your father at the same time. And we’d spend Christmas as one big family!”

Delighted with her own idea, she looked at both Robert and Louis-Marie.

“Say yes!” she said. “Esther would be so happy, and her cousins, too.”

Louis-Marie could never resist his wife for very long.

“I could pick up Jules and Laurène in London and take them to Fonteyne. We’d surprise Dad, like the good sons that we are, and so he wouldn’t be able to say no. … And we’ll spend Christmas Eve all together, something that hasn’t happened in ten years.”

Robert hesitated, tempted in spite of himself, knowing that Pauline’s presence would kill him, but thinking that anything was better than not seeing her, not knowing what she was doing.

“When could you free yourself, Bob?”

“At the earliest … the twenty-third, I think. That’s next Tuesday.”

“Perfect! So I’ll head for England this weekend. That’ll give Jules time to rearrange his schedule. When you leave Paris on Tuesday, can you pick up Pauline and Esther?”

Robert managed to put on an air of indifference as he acquiesced.

Pauline, delighted, leaned toward him and said, “You’re not going to drive like a madman in that sports car of yours, right? Promise?”

He had the feeling that Pauline was mocking him. Louis-Marie’s presence prevented him from saying anything back and he just nodded. He’d completely forgotten the reason for this meal and, at that very moment, he would’ve been incapable of remembering who Frédérique was. He took the dish that Pauline was handing him. He was already feeling miserable.

Aurélien stepped away from the fireplace as the flames suddenly whooshed. He loved this hour of quiet, early in the morning, after Fernande had just set the breakfast tray on the corner of his desk.

In the heart of winter, Fonteyne didn’t require as much attention. Snow, which had fallen overnight, was covering the entire vineyard. Aurélien glanced at his watch. Alexandre would come over only later, no doubt busy drinking his coffee and chatting with his sons back at his house. And Frédérique was probably still sleeping.

Aurélien thought that he liked them all, his sons, daughters-in-law, grandchildren, but that Jules’s absence really weighed on him. Not being able to simply enjoy the sight of the snowy vines in the company of his adopted son saddened him. He asked himself for the hundredth time why he’d sent him over to England.

So he’d be away from Laurène. … That was some plan! They’re on a honeymoon before they’re even married. …

Jules’s phone calls, laconic but friendly, only added to his distress.

You talk to me about merchants, about markets shares … I miss you, you little jerk. …

He smiled, exasperated. Sometimes he felt like his adopted son was his only son. Why did their relationship always have to have an element of rivalry?

He sleeps with Laurène, makes love to her. … I hope I never start hating him. …

He gazed at the flames once again, and as the thought of Frédérique came to him, he produced a satisfied smile. She was young, beautiful and, above all, she’d become his lover.

As soon as Louis-Marie uttered Aurélien’s name and explained to his brother what was going on at Fonteyne, Jules started preparing to leave England.

Until then, Laurène had adored their trip. Jules had been considerate and charming, as only he could be. But it had been business first, and she was getting tired of the never-ending discussions she had to listen to. Wanting to maximize his stay in England, Jules had booked meeting after meeting without granting them a day off. He’d stuck to a very tight schedule and had met a large number of merchants. From hotel to hotel, Laurène had packed and unpacked their suitcases twenty times.

Of course, after Louis-Marie’s unannounced visit, Laurène understood that their trip was over. Aurélien, Fonteyne—those were magical words, and Jules was obviously happy to put those shackles back on. He canceled his meetings and reservations, and decided to leave with his brother right away. Laurène had to pack up their things one more time in a hurry, and they managed to catch the last ferry from Portsmouth to Saint-Malo.