A Bordeaux Dynasty: A Novel (16 page)

After a short silence, Jules answered, with a trace of contempt, “It’s thanks to that pitch fork that you found a clean bed.”

Robert shrugged and stroked his chin.

“You broke one of my teeth, for crying out loud! So you love her but she doesn’t love you. It happens. Are you going to try to beat the crap out of everyone that approaches her?”

Jules was about to respond when he broke into a violent coughing fit. Robert stopped the car on the side of the road, waiting for his brother to start breathing again. Then he put the car in gear, extremely worried.

“Don’t say a word,” he said, softly. “And breathe slowly. I swear I’ll keep my mouth shut until we get to Bordeaux.”

Robert looked so miserable that Jules smiled at him.

Once at the hospital, Robert insisted that he treat his brother himself. Relieved by the x-ray results, he masterfully executed the eighteen stitches to close Jules’s wounds, in front of a group of gaping interns. Then he took his brother to a few bars, both of them wanting to get smashed. Their return to Fonteyne didn’t go unnoticed. Aurélien, who had been told by Laurène that his sons had gone to town to get some shopping done, was absolutely furious to see them arrive home half-drunk at ten o’clock at night. He tore into both of them, calling Jules “irresponsible” and Robert “lazy.” He noticed how drawn Jules looked, as well as the bruise on Robert’s face, but the two of them went straight to their bedrooms, skipping dinner. They asked Fernande to bring them each a sandwich instead.

Laurène had a hard time staying at the table until the end of her meal. She’d been extremely relieved to see Jules standing on his own two feet when he got home, but she would’ve liked to talk to him. The shocked look that remained on Aurélien’s face prevented her from leaving the dining room, and she had to wait until coffee was served to excuse herself. She ran up the stairs to the second floor but then hesitated for a long time at Jules’s door. The idea of being in his presence paralyzed her with fear. What she’d gone through that very afternoon seemed to her the most horrendous experience of her life.

While she was trying to overcome her anguish, Robert came out of Jules’s room. He put a finger to his lips.

“He’s sleeping,” he whispered. “Nothing serious. He’s got two broken ribs, but he’s doing just fine.”

He had a goofy smile on his face. Unsteady on his feet, he headed toward his own room, leaving Laurène all alone. She finally sat on a sofa on the landing, and began to cry. Head in hands, she didn’t hear Pauline tiptoeing up the stairs.

She sat next to Laurène and asked “Something happened?”

She’d observed the young woman throughout the evening and had figured that something was going on. Robert and Jules’s return to Fonteyne had left her more than a little perplexed. Her insatiable curiosity had led her upstairs, to see if she could come up with anything, but she didn’t expect to find Laurène in tears.

“Now, now …” Pauline said, stroking Laurène’s hair.

She went over to the bathroom and fetched a box of tissues and a glass of water. Laurène thanked her with a nod of the head, before whispering, “They got into a fist fight, you know. …”

“Who with? Each other? Why?”

Pauline was looking at Laurène with astonishment. The mysteries and quarrels taking place at Fonteyne fascinated her, and she wondered what was going on now. Laurène, wrapped in her grief, told Pauline what had happened that afternoon. In the silence that followed her confession, she raised her eyes to Pauline.

“Are you out of your mind?” Pauline said with anger. “In the horse’s stall? Gee, you’re really looking for trouble, aren’t you?”

Irritated, Pauline couldn’t believe how fast Robert had gotten over his supposed obsession.

“But … I’m not married to Jules!” Laurène said. “It’s not like I cheated on him. He acts like he owns me when there’s nothing between us.”

“Nothing?”

“No, nothing at all. We can never understand each other. As soon as we start talking, we fight. I know it’s ridiculous, but he scares me.”

She sniffed before adding, “The worst of it all is that I’m not in love with Robert, you know. It’s just something that happened. …”

“You don’t love either one of them, but you had sex with Robert for fun?”

Laurène looked at Pauline, stunned, and started to cry again. Pauline sighed. She felt no compassion for Laurène.

“Well,” she said, “Jules isn’t dead, so it’s not the end of the world. It’d be best if Aurélien didn’t learn about any of this, though. He wouldn’t like it one bit.”

“I wonder if I should just leave Fonteyne,” Laurène muttered. “I’ll never be able to look Jules in the eye ever again.”

Pauline understood Laurène’s sadness at once.

“You’re in love with him?” she said. “Then don’t be afraid to come out and tell him. You wanted to make him jealous? Well, it sure worked!”

Laurène, in spite of her puffy eyes, was still pretty. Pauline thought she was lucky to be so young.

“I was crazy about him for a long time,” Laurène said in a low voice. “I thought about him all the time. I couldn’t even look at other men. But he wouldn’t give me the time of day. When he came home in the middle of the night, I’d watch him. I don’t know how many times I wanted to wait for him in his bed. But I was always scared he would bring someone else home with him. If you only knew how hard it is to live like this month after month. He acted like a big brother to me and I felt insignificant, like nothing. But now I feel ashamed, which is worse. …”

Pauline raised her eyes to the ceiling, annoyed at the thought that Laurène was going to cry all night if she kept this up.

“You didn’t commit any crime.”

“I did the same at my dad’s,” Laurène said. “I left after a stupid tryst just like this. As soon as I try to behave like an adult, it’s a catastrophe!”

“That’s because you’re still not an adult. And you don’t have a sense of humor.”

Stunned, Laurène raised her head to Pauline.

“How old are you, Laurène? Twenty? That’s the age when you’re supposed to do what you want, even if it means messing up sometimes. But you can always fix things. You think that everything is ruined now? You’re looking at it like a kid. If you drove Jules mad with jealousy this afternoon, he won’t have stopped loving you now.”

Laurène, incredulous, would’ve given anything to believe what Pauline had just told her. Pauline guided Laurène to her room.

“Go to bed and get some sleep,” she said, kissing Laurène on the cheek. “Tomorrow is another day. …”

She shut the door and figured she’d made a great effort at feminine solidarity. She remained still for an instant, leaning against the door, dreamy. Robert was trying to find solace by causing a scandal. Good! She would make him pay for that, in her own way. She refused to analyze the jealousy that was tugging at her over Robert. She couldn’t see how Laurène was remarkable enough for two men to fight over, as she went looking for Louis-Marie.

Robert woke up with an atrocious headache the following morning. His first thought was for Jules, and he went over to his room. It was empty. He took an ice-cold shower to try to get rid of his hangover, but only managed to revive the pain in his jaw. He went downstairs to phone a dentist and drank coffee in the kitchen, alone. Once again, he wondered how his brother was doing, and he felt relief when he heard Jules giving some employees an earful, over by the cellar. He went to the office to look out the window. Jules was now involved in a heated argument with Lucas. For a while, Robert observed this tall young man, a bit too thin, his hair dark, looking a bit like a Gypsy, and who wasn’t even really his brother. It had taken that fight yesterday to make him aware of how close to him he felt. In the hospital, something in his eyes and in his expression had moved him more than he would’ve liked. He felt like going over to Jules, but he wondered what kind of reaction he’d get.

I slept with the woman he loves. He’s going to ignore me. Or hate me. …

Robert didn’t regret the afternoon he’d spent with Laurène. A pleasant moment with a pretty woman. If Jules had come back riding Bingo, they would’ve heard the horseshoes from afar. Fate had decided otherwise, and there was nothing he could do about that.

Without that pitchfork, he would’ve trounced me. By the time he would’ve remembered that I’m his brother, he would’ve beaten me to a pulp.

He watched Jules walk away and left his observation point with a sigh. In the hallway, he came across his father.

“You’re going to Bordeaux again, I suppose?” Aurélien said with irony. “Going shopping, as usual?”

Robert forced a smile, and Aurélien tapped him on the shoulder.

“You walked into a door?” he asked.

Robert brought a hand to his chin, and his smile broadened. He left the house and hurried down the steps. He was almost at the garage when he ran into Jules.

“Good morning, Doctor,” Jules said cheerfully. “You have a heck of a way with a needle, you know. Very impressive. If you go to town, bring back some supplies for the medicine cabinet. Something always happens to the laborers during harvest.”

“Are we really okay or are you just pretending?” Robert asked.

Jules went over to the Porsche and opened the door.

“I cleaned your nice leather seats,” he said, playfully.

Robert shrugged and sat behind the wheel. When his gaze met Jules’s, he saw no trace of hostility.

“How are you feeling?” he asked.

“Great!”

“You shouldn’t overdo it, you know. …”

Robert put the key in the ignition, and Jules listened to the sound of the engine with a look of admiration on his face. Robert lowered his window.

“I wanted to tell you …” he began to say, but his brother raised a hand to make him stop.

“Whatever bullshit you’re planning to say … keep it to yourself.”

Robert shook his head, forced himself not to laugh, and put the car in gear. Jules watched him drive away and then headed for the kitchen. Once there, he asked Fernande for some aspirin and poured himself a cup of coffee. He sat at the end of the bench, waiting for Fernande, trying very hard not to see in his mind’s eye the image of Laurène that had haunted him since yesterday.

“You’re daydreaming, kiddo?” Fernande asked him with a loving tap on the back.

He screamed with pain and Fernande, terrified, let go of the coffee pot. Jules got up and looked at the broken pieces of porcelain. Sorry to have frightened Fernande, he said he’d hurt himself falling off his horse, and he helped to clean things up. She moaned about the fact that this was a coffee pot that had belonged to the family for a long time and that it was precious, but he paid her no attention. He wound up drinking his coffee standing up, eager to get back to the vineyards.

“Please sit down,” she told him. “Just for a minute. … How come you look so sad these days?”

She was familiar with him whenever Aurélien wasn’t around. He rested his head on Fernande’s shoulder for a moment, yearning for a bit of the affection she’d always given him. He was completely at ease with her.

“I can tell right away when you’re unhappy,” she said. “And it’s so rare. Who’s making you feel so bad? Your father? A woman? But your father adores you, and all the women are at your feet!”

He didn’t speak and remained still. She ran a hand through his hair, pushing his curls out of his face.

“Is it the weather? But look, it’s sunny out.”

He opened his eyes and smiled.

“I really should go,” he whispered.

“Yes, you go to work. …”

She walked away from him, carrying the pieces of the coffee pot in her apron, certain that she’d managed to comfort Jules a little.

Aurélien was pacing in his office, still angry. That Robert and Jules had decided not to talk about their dispute was perfectly logical. That they’d wound up fighting over Laurène was too. Aurélien thought they’d acted like kids, even though he knew that he was, at least partially, responsible for the outcome. He’d encouraged both to pursue Laurène, God only knew why, and he hadn’t had to wait long for the result. However, Aurélien had thought his sons were too old to behave the way they had, and he would’ve preferred a more subdued confrontation. It looked like Robert had taken a good shot to the chin, but Aurélien couldn’t tell what was wrong with Jules.

This is not the time, he thought, furious. It’s the worst damn time possible!

He’d barely spoken to Laurène in the morning, ignoring her look of sadness.

I’m an old fool! That’s what I am, nothing but an old fool!

Though he was angry at himself, he didn’t feel old. And if it wasn’t for Antoine and Marie, who he considered friends, he probably would’ve tried his luck with Laurène, even if made him look ridiculous. He never feared anything when it came to women, and that incredible self-confidence had won the hearts of plenty of ladies.

He looked at the old full-length photo of Lucie that he’d always kept. He said to himself that he never would have achieved such success if she hadn’t died, and the thought saddened him. He’d cheated on her two days after their wedding, which must have been some kind of record.

A fight outside snapped him out of his reverie, and he opened one of the French doors. He listened for a while, frowning. Jules and Lucas argued ten times a day, but this was something else.

It’s not like Jules to vent his anger or frustration on an employee. There’s got to be something wrong. I need to talk to him about it. …

He shut the door. He could entertain doubts about everyone, even his cellar master, but not Jules. He thought about Varin’s disapproval when they’d rewritten the succession papers. The man’s warnings. …

An idiot … but he knows nothing about Jules. …

Thirty years earlier, however, Aurélien wouldn’t have bet a cent on his adopted son. It had taken exceptional talent to win Aurélien over bit by bit.

What an incredible turn of events. What if he’d been like his mother?

Aurélien couldn’t remember when exactly Jules had begun to make an impression on him, when he had started to look at the child in a different way. Then admiration had followed, along with real fatherly love—feelings that Aurélien didn’t experience with his three other sons, even though he refused to admit it to himself.