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said she was to call him papa. The butterflies had not ceased, and though she was constantly asking her nanny about Mr. Lockwood, the older woman seemed not to know anything.
    Eliza did not want to be wrong. He would come back for her, wouldn't he? When he did, she needed to charm him and show her new papa that she was worth his time and devotion to her. Eliza may have been dressed as a little one, but she had not forgotten the responsibilities of an adult. Charley likely had a job that kept him away from the chateau. She had chalked that very reason up to why Preston had not come to visit her more often.
    From within the nursery, she dipped her brush in the blue paint and smacked the canvas with the medium, making a mess as her attention was trained on the window.
    "Little Eliza, what in heavens are you looking for?" Nanny Agnes asked.
    Apparently, even with Eliza's plethora of questions, it had not fazed the older woman that she was waiting to catch sight of Charley Lockwood. Eliza felt as though she might wait forever. When would she see him again? It seemed papas usually paid their little ones a visit on the weekends, but he had not yet come.
    Maybe it was foolish of her to let her mind wander, thinking about a man she had no ties to. Her thoughts were best kept secret, if she did not want to be forced into the care of Doctor Colt.
    Eliza wore a cloth overcoat to keep the paint from touching her dress. She dipped the brush again in the bright blue cup of paint before striking the paper. Blue dripped down onto her shoes and then the floor, from the brush. She paid no attention to the mess she was making.
    Headmaster Philip headed out the door and presumably down the steps. Was he meeting with Mr. Lockwood? She continued to quietly paint, her eyes trained on the window to the left of the nannies, their backs to the commotion behind them.
    Eliza found it difficult to stand still, her attention hardly on the canvas. She waited, holding her breath, as the door across the hall opened. Would it be her new papa? Chewing anxiously on her bottom lip, she jumped up and down, squealing at the sight of Mr. Charley Lockwood.
    Nanny Agnes raised an eyebrow at her charge. "Is everything all right with you, girl?"
    "Yes, Nanny Agnes," Eliza said. She took several deep breaths, trying to calm her racing heart.
    The other girls seemed oblivious to her outburst, or perhaps had chosen to ignore her.
    "Psst!" she whispered, trying to get Clara's attention. Over the past several months, the young blonde had grown to become her best friend. They shared stories of both their previous lives before attending Ashby and of their discipline sessions, comparing notes as to which girl had the worst nanny. Clara had Nanny Beth, and by the stories and looks of the older woman, her friend won every time.
    Clara glanced up, paintbrush poised in her hand.
    "Clara, I need your help," Eliza said, leaning toward her friend's side, tugging on her arm to get her attention as she painted a scene outside of daisies in a meadow. The picture looked quite good, not that Eliza was ready to admit that to her friend. She probably would never live it down, considering her abstract blob of blue.
    The blonde turned her head, glancing at Eliza. She kept her voice low, so only the littles could hear the discussion. "What do you need?"
    "I may have a chance for a new papa." Eliza did not want to get her hopes up but it seemed to have already happened. Mr. Lockwood had returned, which could mean only one thing: he was there for little Eliza. "Tell me how to make him love me. Your papa visits you several times a week. I want that with my papa." She did not wish to admit how jealous she felt and hurt that Preston had enrolled her only to barely visit. It was as though he had sent her away to remove her from his life. Perhaps he had not thought she would agree to the circumstances of being little.
    "If you want his attention, then you have to take it," Clara said. "Are you sure you