But even the music was played by Edith to Mr Dombey's order, as it were, in the same uncompromising way.

As thus.
'Edith, my dearest love,' said Mrs Skewton, half an hour after tea, 'Mr Dombey is dying to hear you, I know.' 'Mr Dombey has life enough left to say so for himself, Mama, I have no doubt.' 'I shall be immensely obliged,' said Mr Dombey.
'What do you wish ?' 'Piano ?' hesitated Mr Dombey.
'Whatever you please.

You have only to choose.
Accordingly, she began with the piano.

It was the same with the harp; the same with her singing; the same with the selection of the pieces that she sang and played.

Such frigid and constrained, yet prompt and pointed acquiescence with the wishes he imposed upon her, and on no one else, was sufficiently remarkable to penetrate through all the mysteries of picquet, and impress itself on Mr Carker's keen attention.