A Bordeaux Dynasty: A Novel (53 page)

“She’s going to be gorgeous, your bride,” Fernande said, laughing.

She poured Jules some coffee, half-opened the drapes, and then set the mug on the nightstand.

“Your father never ate in bed,” she said, “unless he was sick. Just like you. … And that didn’t happen very often. …”

Jules smiled at her and gestured at the room’s only armchair.

“Sit down,” he said. “Stay with me for a little while. …”

She had the impression that he was feeling out of place in this room. And yet he was the one who’d decided to spend the night there. She went over to the armchair, sat down, and folded her hands on her knees.

“Your clothes are ready,” she said. “I just ironed your shirt. Everything is in Mr. Aurélien’s bathroom.”

She stopped speaking, embarrassed by the last sentence she’d uttered. She had said ‘Mr. Aurélien’ as though he were still alive.

“Kiddo,” she said in an extremely soft voice, “this is a great day for Fonteyne, you know. … I wish you all the happiness in the world. You deserve it. …”

Jules set down his mug without saying a word. She was looking at him with so much tenderness he didn’t know what to say.

“You’re going to be such a handsome groom,” she said. “And Laurène … I took some tea up to her, and she feels great. Take good care of her today. It’s going to be a very long day, and it’s not good for …”

She stopped herself, wondering if she had the right to say more.

“The baby, you mean?” Jules asked.

Fernande broke into a quick laugh, hiding her mouth behind her hand, and then she said, “At least she’s not showing.”

Jules slipped out of bed in his underwear and a T-shirt and walked over to Fernande, his mug in hand.

“Could I have a bit more, please?” he asked.

She poured him some coffee while still watching him, wondering why he never seemed to be completely happy.

“We’ve already received so many cards and notes,” she said. “And the house is filled with flowers that people have sent.”

She went over to the windows to completely open the drapes, letting the early morning rays pour into the room. Jules looked at Fernande and made a soft whistle.

“What a nice dress. … Did you make it yourself?”

Fernande was a skillful seamstress who’d made her own dresses all her life. She’d selected a dark-blue fabric, quite subdued, that she brightened up with a yellow collar. In two steps he was beside her, kneeling down and pressing his head against her knees. The old lady hesitated before resting her hand on Jules’s silky hair.

“You should’ve gotten a haircut,” she whispered.

He shut his eyes, but she couldn’t ignore his distressed expression.

“Don’t be scared,” she said. “Laurène is completely in love with you. She’s going to learn, you’ll see. … Maternity is going to make her more mature. … And you’re going to be so happy when you see your child. … You have to think about the future, Jules. … Forget about Aurélien until tomorrow. …”

It was as though she was rocking him. He hadn’t had a mother, after all. And even if he seemed like he was made of steel, he had every right to feel a few seconds of trepidation.

The Margaux church was too small to house the entire crowd, and some guests had to remain outside. It was Louis-Marie who accompanied Laurène to the altar, to which Jules had preceded her, on Marie’s arm.

The young woman was radiant under her veil. Heeding to Pauline’s advice, she’d selected a very classic-looking white satin wedding dress. She’d put on little makeup and thus looked extremely young. Her cheeks were pink with emotion, her eyes sparkled. And yet, as beautiful and tender as she was, all eyes were on Jules. Not only was the region’s most eligible bachelor and preeminent wine producer finally getting married, Jules was also a man of exceptional charm who had awed all the women at one point or another. He was wearing his gray tails and tie with equal elegance and ease. He soberly participated in the ceremony and, when the time came, delicately lifted Laurène’s veil for a kiss. As he was very tall, he had to bend his head forward as Laurène lifted hers, and everyone saw the tender smile he gave his new wife.

Antoine and Alexandre’s absence had been particularly glaring obvious at city hall, when the mayor launched into a speech that was as warm as it was clumsy, talking about the region’s great families and their traditions. Marie, in the front row, had managed to keep a calm expression, while Dominique’s eyes had filled with tears. But the guests forgot all about the incident as soon as they arrived at Fonteyne. The caterer had set up gorgeous tables all across the lawn, for a cocktail party that brought together some three hundred people. Small tables and lawn chairs were strewn here and there, both in the sunshine and in the shade, and waiters served champagne and hors d’oeuvres.

Never letting go of Laurène’s arm, Jules went from one guest to another throughout the reception, offering kind words and joking around. He knew by heart the list of the folks who would be part of the dinner a few hours later, and he was mentally revising the table plan as he chatted.

Robert, who’d served as best man at both city hall and the church, was more moved than he’d expected to be when signing the register. He suddenly realized that his brother had no friends, that he’d never had any. Not very sociable by nature and totally monopolized by Fonteyne, Jules had never been close to anybody. In his too-busy life, he’d left some room for women, while the rest of his time was given to the vineyards. Only family surrounded Jules. Since Aurélien’s death, there had been only his brothers, and Alexandre had recently been excluded from that circle. Robert felt guilty, all of a sudden. He’d taken advantage of Louis-Marie’s absence to sleep with Pauline once again, this even though Jules really had needed help and only his oldest brother had offered to stay at Fonteyne to make himself useful.

Dejected by his belated realizations, Robert decided to make amends by staying with Dominique all day long. She, too, was alone, putting up a good front just like Marie, but no doubt miserable. Jules and Laurène’s wedding must have been reminiscent of hers a few years earlier, when both families had gathered joyfully. And so Robert escorted his sister-in-law everywhere, after explaining to the twins that they had to behave.

Pauline, stunning and delighted, was a bit overwhelmed. She’d gladly, and without asking anyone’s opinion, taken on the role of hostess. Since she didn’t know most of the guests, she kept Louis-Marie close so she could ask him who she was dealing with. Everyone who shook her hand or talked to her came under her spell. Just as amused and charmed as everybody else, Louis-Marie happily stayed by her side for the entire reception.

When the last guest left the cocktail party, they all took refuge in the kitchen and sat on the benches. Fernande made lots of coffee, knowing that the evening was going to be a very long one. It was no doubt Jules enjoyed this hour spent with his family the most. Speaking at the same time, laughing, they all gleefully commented on the day’s events, offering observations on the guests—friends, neighbors, acquaintances. Pauline was bad-mouthing a few of them, and Jules teased her about it. Laurène and Dominique chatted together, while Robert and Louis-Marie decided to forget about coffee and start drinking champagne again. Marie, very relaxed, chatted with Lucas, while trying to control the twins and Esther, who kept chasing one another around the table.

The caterer finally put an end to this recess of sorts by asking if the setting of the tables for dinner was to their satisfaction. Jules got up and followed the caterer to the dining room, while the others went up to their rooms to change.

Laurène wore a pale blue evening gown with white braiding. Jules had put on a suit, like most of the men present. A long table had been set across the dining room and adjoining library for the fifty handpicked guests.

Pauline had done everything to wow the region’s high society, and she was very pleased with the results. Fonteyne was the perfect place for feasts and parties. The high walnut coffered ceilings, the woodwork, the tall windows, and the oak floors made for a spectacular setting, which Pauline had fully capitalized on. The tables and sideboards were brimming with flowers and candles, all arranged in a subtle harmony of pastel colors. The table and silverware bore Aurélien’s initials, every bottle of wine came from the estate’s cellar.

At the beginning of the meal, Jules simply said a few words, praising his wife and his guests. He then toasted to his mother-in-law, Marie, as well as his sister-in-law, Dominique, while not saying a word about Alexandre, as though he didn’t exist. He expressed how happy he was that his
entire
family was here with him, ending his speech with a moving comment honoring Aurélien’s memory.

Laurène’s eyes never left her husband. She seemed dazzled by the fact that this was actually her wedding day. She was now Jules’s wife, and nothing bad, she naively thought, could ever happen to her. The radiant smile that had been on her face since morning was exasperating Pauline.

“Why are you giving her such a dirty look?” Robert whispered in her ear.

“She’s just a dumb kid,” she replied in a low voice.

Louis-Marie, from the other side of the table, was discreetly observing his wife. Her dress showed too much cleavage—it was borderline indecent—and her every move was sensually provocative. Louis-Marie had been afraid to lose her ever since they got married, but now he was getting tired of this permanent anguish. Something was breaking inside him, he could feel it.

“Your husband looks sad,” Robert said. “And that’s in spite of the fact that you two were glued together all day.”

She frowned, annoyed with the comment.

“Take a look at Jules instead,” she said. “He looks amazing. I’ve rarely seen anyone handle so many problems with so much poise.”

She was sincere. Her brother-in-law really did impress her.

“Poor Laurène,” she added.

“Why ‘poor’? She’s beaming!”

Pauline burst out laughing. Laurène really wasn’t the woman that Jules needed. She was about to say as much when she felt Robert’s hand on her thigh. She stared daggers at him, but she’d shivered at the touch.

“Is Alexandre sick?”

The question, coming from Sabine Démaille, the prefect’s wife, took everyone by surprise. Her words had come out during an unfortunate moment of silence, and a dozen guests turned to Jules.

He let out an easygoing chuckle.

“Sick?” he said. “I hope not. But we’ve had a bit of an argument, and he’s pouting these days. … It’s nothing serious.”

He ended his comment with a charming smile, and conversations broke out again. Pauline winked at him, and Marie gave him a grateful look. Dominique smiled at her grandmother, sitting straight in her wheelchair.

It was a seven-course meal, and the waiters, dressed to the nines, were discreetly performing their ballet in the background. The table was in a T shape, and the guests sitting in the library couldn’t help admiring Aurélien’s collection of rare books. The double doors were open, displaying the hallway’s long marble table covered with presents, and an adjoining room where kids were eating, under Fernande’s supervision. Jules truly enjoyed this special evening. It was time to rekindle Aurélien’s traditions, among them the sumptuous feasts famous across the entire region. The period of mourning had been long enough. Jules looked for his notary. Varin was a good number of seats away, and he was cheerfully chatting with the person sitting next to him. Jules wondered if this man would be able to defend him effectively and if, indeed, Aurélien’s will was unchallengeable. He took in the length of the table, the guests sitting there: renowned wine producers, a politician, two mayors, a prefect, elegant women. All were gathered for a spellbinding wedding feast, and all would spread the news the very next day that Fonteyne was in full stride.

The trial is going to kick up a fuss,
he thought,
but people will remember this evening. …

Laurène’s hand landed on his, and he turned to her. Her eyes were fixed on Jules’s wedding band.

“You’re a married man now,” she said. “But you don’t have to wear your ring.”

She was caressing the band almost timidly. Jules smiled and kissed her neck.

“You must be tired,” he said.

“No,” she said. “All I did today was enjoy myself and be happy. Pauline was fantastic.”

Jules glanced at Pauline, who was leaning across Robert to listen to a conversation. He immediately turned to Louis-Marie. He was observing his wife. Louis-Marie’s expression was that of an exhausted, tortured man. Jules tried to capture Robert’s attention by staring at him and managed to catch his eye. They understood each other and Robert moved away from Pauline a bit, but without removing his hand from Pauline’s thigh, which no one could see. He knew she’d been enjoying his secret caress the past few minutes.

“Your estate has been one of the region’s jewels for a long time,” the politician said to Louis-Marie. “We know that your brother is running it with great skill.”

He raised his glass and admired the wine.

“Your product is truly exceptional,” he added.

Louis-Marie was flattered, but he also felt foolish, as he’d had nothing at all to do with making that wine.

Sabine Démaille couldn’t take her eyes off Jules. Like most women, she thought he was so irresistible she would’ve sold her soul to the devil to switch places with Laurène.

“Stop it,” Pauline whispered in Robert’s ear.

She was more aroused than she would’ve liked. She glanced at Louis-Marie, who was still chatting with the politician. She thought he looked old. When Robert removed his hand, she felt disappointed, frustrated. She then saw Fernande walk up to Jules and was intrigued by the old woman’s haggard expression.

Fernande leaned toward Jules.

“You need to come with me for a moment,” she said.

Surprised, he turned to Fernande, then excused himself and got up. He followed her down the hallway and behind the staircase, so they’d be out of sight from everyone.

“There’s trouble …” she muttered painfully. “Outside …”

Worried, Jules frowned.