A/N: I haven't received any reviews yet on what I can do better. Let me change my request. Send me a review telling me what I'm doing that you like and what I could do better on. Let me know your thoughts on the story so far. In this chapter you get a peek at Darcey's childhood. Enjoy!

Chapter Eight:

Looking Back

Darcey awoke from a dreamless sleep. She faintly remembered waking in the middle of the night from a nightmare. The rest of the experience was foggy but she remembered seeing Erik before the world faded to black. It appeared that he had helped her after yet another nightmare. There were times she wouldn't get any rest because of the terrifyingly realistic nature of her nightmares.

She sat up slowly, stretching carefully as to not disturb her healing ribs. Her foot and ankle didn't hurt as much and she thought they were less swollen. She stood up. Gripping the edge of the bed for support. She grimaced in pain but bit her lip and forced herself to walk to the closet, using the wall as a brace, in order to get new clothes. Darcey pulled out a light blue bodice and a tan, knee-length skirt. She hobbled over to the bed before changing. She dumped the old clothes in a basket before leaving the room. She limped her way to the lake shore before sitting down, exhausted and in pain. She sighed, resting her head in her hands and her elbows on her knees. Why was the simple act of dressing and walking so tiring? Granted her nightmare had not let her gain much rest but whatever Erik had done had helped her sleep soundly for several hours. Erik. The name fit him very well for a reason Darcey couldn't understand. She smiled to know he had told her though she had told him her name as well. She hated her given name. Why her parents had named her that she would never know.

Darcey looked out at the smooth water, so lost in thought that she didn't notice Erik watching her. It was only five in the morning and he hadn't expected her to be up yet. He had watched her slow, obviously painful, progress to the lake shore in silence, ignoring the feelings of wishing to help. He moved silently into the room until he could watch her face. Besides the pain, he began to see sadness enter her face and eyes. Her green and blue eyes were lost in time and space and though she was looking out at the lake, he doubted she truly saw it. He hesitated before approaching her careful not to startle her. He made small noises until he knew she had heard him and would not be alarmed by his sudden presence. Somehow he knew that would be unwise. He sat next to her, mentally telling himself yet again that she meant nothing to him and that he was merely curious about her. He picked up a smooth stone and tossed it across the lake's surface, counting the number of skips until it sunk. "What are you thinking about?"

She sighed, watching the ripples he had created. "My parents. My past." He glimpsed a look of sadness expand in her eyes before she turned slightly away.

"Will you tell me about them?" he asked though he doubted she would speak. He expected her to brush him off. She glanced back at him before taking a deep breath.

She looked back out at the water, the faraway look returning as she began. "I was the only child. They had hoped for a boy, especially my father. When I was born, I was christened Lady Darchelle Dubois and sent off to the the nursery to grow up in the care of nursemaids and governesses. My parents continued to try to have another child but when I reached the age of thirteen, they realized it would never happen. My parents spent more time with me then. With my mother, I was treated as a princess. With my father, I was treated as the son he never had. He took to calling me Darcey in private as it sounded more boyish. They took me places and showed me off. Everywhere a child could dream of."

"Sounds perfect," he stated feeling a little jealous of the love she had received. She had said "Lady Darchelle Dubois." She was a Lady? He felt small and insignificant next to her. He turned to find that the faint smile he had previously seen had disappeared completely.

"Not exactly. They didn't really love me. Sure they cared but I wasn't what they had wanted. I wasn't interested in the things they tried to get me to do. I wasn't their perfect son they had hoped for and I wasn't even a perfect daughter to fill the gap. I was interested in horses and music. I loved the piano and wanted to learn how to play the violin but I could never convince them to get me a teacher for the violin and they stopped paying my teacher for piano when I was twelve. I had to teach myself after that. My father bought me a horse that I loved but I didn't like to go on hunts with him and he didn't like to let the horse run like I did. My mother wanted me to be her perfect little girl so that all her friends would be envious and want their daughters to be perfect like me. I couldn't stand the small talk that always took place but when I would try to have a more intelligent conversation that wasn't based on fashion or quilts, I wasn't allowed to and disappointed my mother. Despite my mother's encouragement, I preferred to read rather than embroider. I was a disappointment at my birth and always was."

Erik was silent as he thought this over. She hadn't felt their love. She had only been a replacement and when she hadn't fulfilled their expectations, she had suffered the lost of the amount of love she had been given. "What about your musical talents? Aren't they proud of you for them?"

"No. They never were. They thought it was a waste of my time. Instead of spending hours making up songs, they wanted me to embroider or go hunting or do something 'productive.' I disappointed them." She looked very disheartened and sad.

"I don't understand. You could be a great success at the opera. Haven't they thought of that?"

"No. They thought it was dishonorable for a lady of our social standing. They said I was not talented enough and should stop trying. They banned me from singing in the house because they couldn't stand it. They almost banned the piano too."

Erik stared at her in disbelief. Not talented? What had her parents been thinking? Had they not heard her play or sing? She was amazing. "What do you mean not talented? You are one of the most talented people I have had the privileged of hearing." She blushed at the compliment. "You could be the lead singer! You are much better than La Carlotta," he grimaced at the name. "If you were the lead then your parents would have to recognize your talent." She turned pale. "What is wrong?"

"They're dead."

A/N: I admire Darcey in that she just sucks up the pain and gets over it. That's my goal for the week. I'm going to do my best to bite my lip and push through it. No use worrying other people. Random tangent I know. I'm trying to make myself better. Speaking of which, please let me know what I can do to become a better writer. REVIEW, REVIEW, REVIEW! I need feedback! Thanks for reading this and putting up with me ^-^. Love you all! *Virtual hugs for all*