They stopped in front of a shabby old building tucked into the side of the alley, and Eloise stood there muttering to herself, checking her memory against the brickwork.
"Aha. Found it."
The door was worn wood with the varnish gone at the handle. It looked nothing whatsoever like a high-end fashion boutique.
"My lady," Bibi said nervously, "you don't truly mean to go into this run-down place?"
"Why not?" Eloise said, with a look of pure challenge.
"There's Veronica's, on the main street. The largest shop in the capital, and the most prestigious — every lady of standing goes there, and if you were only to—"
"I don't recall asking your opinion."
She said it coolly, and the authority came off her so plainly that there was no room left in the alley for argument. Bibi obeyed at once, terrified, and did not say another word.
Eloise laid her hand flat on the door. This shop looked about ready to go under, and it was the only shop in the empire she needed.
She gripped the handle firmly.
"This," she said, with total conviction, "is not an ordinary clothing shop. This is a future gold mine."
The door opened.
"Who's there?" called a blue-haired woman from the back.
Bibi recognised her instantly: Madame Z, the owner.
Madame Z came out and stopped as though she had walked into a wall, because her uninvited guest was none other than the noble and powerful Grand Duchess herself — a woman who by every law of the capital's geography should never have set foot within three streets of this place. She bowed, deeply and hurriedly.
"I'm simply here to browse dresses," Eloise said calmly. "Like any ordinary customer."
The shop owner stammered something and stopped. She could not begin to understand why so esteemed a lady would slip down a back alley into a shabby, struggling little corner shop just to buy clothes.
Eloise smiled at her, bright as a flower. "Well? Hurry up and bring out the merchandise. Don't stand there gawking like a statue."
Madame Z pulled herself together, bowed rapidly several times, and rushed off to fetch the goods with her face still not entirely recovered from the absurdity of the situation.
A moment later she wheeled out a rack.
It was modest, and it was sparse — pitifully so, by the extravagant standards of the nobility. Madame Z admitted, apologetically, that this was every dress design the shop currently had, since a tight budget meant she could not afford to make more.
Eloise looked them over, one by one, and kept her face perfectly still.
They were good. They were, in fact, genuinely ahead of their time — proof that her eye for talent had not led her astray in choosing this place.
Because according to the plot, in only half a year, thanks to the entirely unintentional endorsement of a certain princess, this shop would take off like a kite catching the wind and become famous across the empire. And a year after that, Madame Z would become a trusted right hand and offer major support to Diana once the heroine returned to the capital.
Diana would study shoe design at the academy. Madame Z would become her business partner, and the single greatest backer of the heroine's career.
In the original story, though, Diana had to work hard for that. The notoriously picky Madame Z had taken a great deal of winning over. So Eloise was scheming to build the relationship early and hand it to her idol pre-assembled, with the difficult part already done.
What was more, a shop like this — a shop that heard everything — was a golden opportunity to build her own information network. Two birds, one stone, one alley.
The silence had gone on too long. Madame Z grew visibly anxious, evidently deciding that her designs did not suit the tastes of this difficult and distinguished guest.
"If anything displeases you, my lady, I'll redesign it. Anything at all. I only ask for one chance—"
Eloise cut her off with a smile.
"I'll take every piece of clothing in this shop. Accessories included."
Madame Z and Bibi stared at her, mouths open, unable to process a word of it.
"I — forgive me, my lady, would you repeat that? I want to be certain I heard correctly."
Eloise nodded firmly, without a hint of hesitation.
The shop owner's eyes went very wide. She looked like a woman who had just been handed a winning lottery ticket by a stranger in the street and told to hurry, the office closes at five.
"But — why? Why would you buy everything?"
"Nobility doesn't need a reason to shop," Eloise said coolly. "If I want it, I get it. No further questions."
Madame Z let out a long breath. Her hands were trembling, and so, Eloise noticed, were her feet — this stroke of luck having fallen on her straight out of a clear sky.
Then she gathered herself and asked, in a far more professional tone, "Would my lady like any adjustments made to the designs? To better suit you?"
That was worth noting. In the original story Madame Z had been famously stubborn and proud about her designs — and that very rigidity had nearly driven the shop under in its early days. The fact that she was offering to revise them now said everything about how dire and cash-starved her situation had become.
"There's no need to change the designs," Eloise said. "Just tailor them to fit my measurements."
Madame Z blinked, surprised all over again, this time by how easy-going the terrifying Grand Duchess turned out to be.
"Bibi. The tools."
The maid scrambled to obey, still not fully recovered from the shock, and the bag came open to reveal a stack of blank cheques and a seal, all prepared and ready for the investment.
Eloise held up one of the cheques.
"Write down the full price yourself and send it to the Grand Duke's estate for payment." She let the paper hang there a moment. "And from today, I'll be sponsoring this shop."
It was a proclamation, and everyone in the room heard it as one. From this moment Madame Z belonged to the Grand Duchess's patronage.
"The altered pieces are to be delivered to the estate within a week," Eloise added firmly.
Madame Z bowed her head and accepted with a gratitude that had no floor to it.
"And do make sure the measurements are precise," Eloise said, laughing heartily. "I intend to be a regular customer."
Madame Z took a deep breath to steady herself, clenched both fists, and bowed again, promising with perfect clarity to serve her lady wholeheartedly for as long as she had hands. Eloise watched her with a composed expression and thought that the shopping trip was going exactly to plan.
Without wasting another moment, Madame Z picked up her measuring tape and got straight to work, while Eloise stood with her arms out, cheerfully cooperating.
"Oh — such long, slender arms, my lady. And these shoulders. Perfectly straight, absolutely level, you know how rare that is? With a figure like this an off-shoulder gown would look absolutely stunning, I'd stake my name on it—"
The tape came round her waist.
"Astonishing. This waist. Truly, my lady, forgive me for asking, but are you perhaps a backbone beauty?"
Eloise's eyes went wide.
Cold sweat came out along her hairline as she attempted, and entirely failed, to process the concept of a backbone beauty, which as far as she could tell had been invented on the spot by the woman currently holding a tape measure against her ribs.
Madame Z rattled on without stopping, cataloguing measurements aloud, comparing them to other measurements, drawing conclusions, until Eloise developed an actual headache and concluded that the woman really ought to rein that mouth in a little.
"That will do," she said at last, cutting the noisy session short.
Madame Z beamed and promised a dress that would fit like a glove, and noted with satisfaction that her lady's eyes had lit up with a sparkle — though in truth Eloise was simply savouring the discovery that money really could buy anything in this world.
With the business concluded, she bid the shop owner farewell, and Madame Z bowed deeply in a respectful send-off that lasted until the door had shut.
The moment her lady was out of sight, the shop owner straightened up with a groan and clutched the small of her back, which had never in its life been through such an intense session.