What if people wonder what Simon was doing inside Twygrist?
It would be easy enough to say that she and Simon had discussed the possibility of reviving Twygrist and the family business, and that Simon had mentioned taking a look at the mill while he was here.
As for the blows to the head, they would probably be thought the result of his falling down while trying to get out, but it did not really matter what conclusion was reached about that, no one was going to suspect Simon’s own cousin of killing him.
Thomasina took a final look round, shining the candle into all the corners. There was nothing to indicate she had been down here, and as soon as she got back to Quire she would get rid of the rust-stained gown she was wearing, and wash the smell and the taste of Twygrist away. Her mind dwelt pleasantly for a moment on a lavishly hot bath, scented soap and fluffy towels.
Finally, she bent down to remove the iron bar that had wedged the door. She would not risk leaving it down here. She would throw it into the reservoir on her way back to Quire.
For a moment she thought the door was not going to swing back into place, but then the hinges gave another banshee-shriek, and began to move. Thomasina watched it, gnawing at the knuckles of one hand with nervous anticipation. Supposing she had knocked the tracks out of true when she forced it open, or supposing the door itself had warped with age and would not close? But it was all right. The door scraped grittily over the ground, and then with a muffled clang, locked into place alongside its fellow.
Twygrist’s kiln room, with Simon inside it, was sealed.
It was already growing dark outside–Thomasina saw she must have been inside Twygrist for a long time. All to the good, however; it meant she was unlikely to be seen walking back to Quire House.
She threw the iron bar into the reservoir, waited to be sure it sank, and then set off along the lanes. Her mind was already moving ahead, working out what she would say to people–it might be as well to say Simon had left Quire without any word, not even taking his luggage. She could appear puzzled and slightly concerned which would be natural and innocent behaviour.
Her original plan for Maud and Simon would obviously need to be altered. Thomasina considered telling people that Maud and Simon had actually been married, but decided against it. Simon’s body would eventually be found, and if Maud was believed to be his widow all kinds of complications might arise.
She needed to give Maud a fictitious husband, an unknown man. The more Thomasina thought about it, the more she could see that the whole thing would work better without Simon. It should be possible to take Maud away for a few weeks, after which they could announce that there had been a private marriage ceremony in London–a long-standing but secret romance, they would say; people liked that kind of thing. Then a tragic honeymoon accident. Everyone would be sympathetic, and there would be no raised eyebrows at the child, no stigma surrounding his birth, because it simply would not occur to anyone in Amberwood that innocent little Maud Lincoln might have misbehaved before marriage.
She and Maud would choose a name for the man–even Maud would understand that she could not have a child outside marriage–and they would think up a few extra details to make it really plausible.
Maud’s father would have to be squared, but Thomasina could deal with George Lincoln. He could probably be paid to keep quiet; as well as being a social climber, he was greedy for money. Toft House, he often said proudly, was an expensive old place to maintain.