Free The Champagne Queen (The Century Trilogy Book 2) by Petra Durst-Benning Page A

that how Leon’s uncle Jacques had lived? With every room she entered, she had the feeling that she was discovering more facets of the man’s personality—such a pity that she had never met him herself.
    She hurried up the stairs to find the bedrooms. To the right were several smaller rooms, no doubt the accommodations of the domestic staff. To the left were three bedrooms that could be used either as guest rooms or for children. The last room at the end of the corridor was the biggest and grandest of all. It was furnished with white-lacquered furniture, which did not fit in very well with the rest of the house but was beautiful in itself and seemed very stylish. That evening, she would sink into Leon’s arms in there, and they would inaugurate the bedroom in their own way. Isabelle sighed with longing.
    Then a gold-framed picture hanging over the bed caught her eye. A portrait in oil. It was . . . Leon . . . body and soul! The artist had even captured the small furrows on each side of his mouth. And his brown hair—so much detail that Isabelle could only stand and wonder. But why would Leon’s uncle hang a painting of his nephew in his bedroom? The next moment, it was as if the scales fell from her eyes. The man in the picture was not Leon. It was Jacques himself! And the remarkable resemblance could only mean . . .
    Isabelle stared in bewilderment at the picture, then a smile spread across her face. Was this the reason that Anni’s eyes lit up whenever Jacques’s name was mentioned? Was this why Oskar Feininger always reacted with such hostility if someone so much as mentioned his brother? If Leon really was Jacques’s son and not Oskar’s, it would certainly explain the generous inheritance.

Chapter Six
    “There’s no help in the house? What do you mean?” Isabelle laughed in confusion. “Who do all those heavy boots and clothes in the workroom belong to if not the farmhand and the maid?” Aghast, Isabelle looked across the table at her husband.
    Because no maid had appeared, she had carried the bread and other victuals into the living room herself. From one of the many silver trays, she had taken two colorful wine glasses and a carafe, which she filled with ice-cold water from the well. She had not yet ventured into the cellar, so there was neither wine nor champagne on the table.
    When he had come in, Leon had sat down at the table and, without a word of praise for her industriousness, immediately began to tell her all about what he had found out on his rounds with the overseer. Now he bit hungrily into his second chunk of bread—which she’d discovered Claude had left for them—and, with his mouth full, he said, “Claude’s wife, Louise, passed away last year. Jacques didn’t take on anyone else after she died. He got the laundry done somewhere else, but Jacques and Claude divided up the rest of the work between themselves. The system seemed to work, too; from what I’ve seen, the place is in great shape.”
    “You don’t seriously think I’m going to stand over a stove or sling a rag around like some maid! And who’s supposed to look after the animals you told me about? And there’s that huge vegetable garden!” Isabelle was almost shouting.
    There were two horses and a coach, and two wagons, Leon had reported enthusiastically. Add in a few chickens, a herd of sheep, and even two peacocks. It’s a farm , Isabelle thought with horror when she heard Leon’s description. Had she ended up in a French Grimmzeit after all?
    “Calm down, my dear!” Laughing, he took Isabelle’s hand in his and gave it a kiss. “You’re acting like you’ve just been threatened with ten years in a dungeon! We’ll find a solution for everything, I’m sure. Claude can look after the animals. If I understood him right, that was already one of the things he took care of. I’ll ensure that the work in the vineyards is done properly, and making the champagne is the cellar master’s job. His name is