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Eloise would not have cared if the ceremony took place in rags. It would if she had any choice in the matter. But Penelope and Claudia had forced her to accompany them this morning, just as they had forced her hand in so many other matters. The preparations for the wedding were almost complete. The rector of the church had visited, invitations had been issued, the music had been decided on, and arrangements for the lavish banquet at the Guildhall had been made. The dress was the final concern before the wedding took place the following week. Time was ticking, and Eloise’s fate was fast approaching.
“I do love Madame Jonquil, she made that beautiful dress I wore for the Royal Dance, do you remember it, Eloise?” Penelope asked.
Eloise did remember it – a garish pink gown with a fascinator made of peacock feathers. Claudia’s had matched, and the pair had looked ridiculous, even as they had crowed over themselves and declared them to be the prettiest dresses they had ever worn. As they pulled up on Bond Street, Eloise could see the modiste to which they were referring. Madame Jonquil’s was a large shop, its windows displaying just the sort of garish dresses Eloise recalled Lord Crawford’s sisters wearing at the Royal Dance. There were attires for gentlemen displayed, too. Equally garish frock coats and waistcoats were mounted on mannequins. Eloise’s heart sank even further.
“We looked a delight that night. But here we are, come along, Eloise, out of the carriage,” Claudia commanded, placing a firm hand on Eloise’s arm.
The carriage door was opened for them, and they climbed out onto the street, which was busy with fashionable men and women promenading and admiring the window displays of the upmarket shops and businesses that lined the pavement. Penelope took Eloise’s other arm, and the two sisters marched their unfortunate charge into the shop.
“My favorite place in London, look at these beautiful dresses!” Penelope exclaimed, holding up the hem of an orange dress hanging on a rack.
The shop was wood-paneled, with doors leading to dressing rooms at the back. Dresses were displayed everywhere, and through an arch, the gentlemen’s fitters were stocked with waistcoats, shirts, breeches, frock coats, cravats and boots, all displayed for sale. Eloise glanced around her, resigned to her fate, and wanting only to get this experience over with as soon as possible. At that moment, a large woman in a flowing dress, with rosy, red cheeks, and wearing an ill-fitting wig and far too much jewelry emerged from behind a counter.
“Ah, the Ladies Crawford, how good it is to see you,” she exclaimed in a thick French accent.
“Good morning, Madame Jonquil, what beautiful dresses you have on display,” Penelope gushed, placing her hand firmly on Eloise’s lower back and guiding her forward.
“And you have another ball or dinner or soiree you wish me to dress you for?” the modiste asked.
“Something a little different today, Madame Jonquil. We’ve come looking for a wedding dress for our soon-to-be sister-in-law. The poor thing feels rather overwhelmed by it all. She asked us to help her choose, and we knew just where to come,” Claudia said in a sickly sweet voice, as she too placed her hand firmly on Eloise’s lower back.
“You have come to the right place,” Madame Jonquil gushed. She turned to one of the racks and began rummaging through a collection of dresses, pulling several out, nodding or shaking her head.
An assistant came to hold them, and soon Madam Jonquil had selected half a dozen different dresses, each of which she held up for Eloise to see.
“Oh, I like that one. We thought ivory was best, you see,” Penelope said, as Madame Jonquil held up a particularly unpleasant-looking dress with lace trim at the hem and sleeves.
“This one is particularly fine. I can change the stitching if you wish, add more lace.” She smiled at Eloise, who knew she would have no choice in the matter, whether she liked the dress or not.
“One can never have enough lace on a wedding dress. I think a little around the neckline would complete it, don’t you think?” Claudia put in.
Madame Jonquil nodded and scribbled something on a ledger on the counter. She showed them the rest of the dresses, but Penelope and Claudia had already made their minds up – the ivory with the lace trim would do. Elouise was instructed to go and try it on.
“You can change through here, Mademoiselle,” Madam Jonquil said, directing Eloise through the curtain to the changing compartments.
The shop had become busy. Not only with women shopping for dresses but men, too. As she made her way through the curtain, where a dozen partitions created an area in which to change, Eloise caught sight of several gentlemen examining waistcoats through the archway and wondered for a moment if she might make her escape. What would happen if she screamed and made a run for it? Perhaps one of the gentlemen would take pity on her, or perhaps they would simply say she was mad.
Either way, I’d still have no choice but to go through with it.
Eloise sighed as she pulled back one of the curtains and hung the garish dress on a hook.
She pulled the curtain back and began to change. It was difficult without help, and she wondered what Delphine would say if she could see her now.
“Dearest Delphine, I miss her so very much,” Eloise muttered to herself, as she pulled the sleeves of the ivory wedding dress over her shoulders.
The changing compartment contained a full-length mirror, and Eloise examined herself in it, turning right and left, adjusting the shoulders of the dress, and trying to make it look at least presentable. But there could be no escaping the garishness of what she was wearing. Madame Jonquil appeared to specialize in garishness, a fact demonstrated by the exclamations of delight coming from the front parlor of the shop, where Penelope and Claudia were parading with dresses they had chosen for the wedding.
“We’ll be the belles of the ton,” Penelope squealed, and the two sisters shrieked with laughter.
Eloise sighed and turned back to the mirror, casting a forlorn look at her reflection. It was a hideous dress for a hideous occasion. But what did it matter if she wore it or not? Dresses, churches, banquets… it all meant one thing. Eloise was getting married, and there was nothing she could do about it. But at that moment, a small piece of paper folded neatly in two fluttered down behind her. She watched it in the mirror, surprised at its appearance. She heard a rustling, as though whoever had thrown it into the changing compartment was slipping away.
“Excuse me, Sir, this is the changing place for the ladies,” Madame Jonquil’s voice echoed from outside.
Eloise startled and snatched up the piece of paper from the floor. She unfolded it with trembling hands and stared at the words written on it in astonishment.
“I’ve found her,” she read, and could not help but gasp.
“Are you nearly ready, Eloise?” Claudia called out.
