LOL Are we actually having a language related discussion? I love it!

I must disagree of course, and for the most principal reasons. Your definition of "dialogue" may refer only to drama or films, but JA was writing in prose. So if you meant quoted sentences, you should rather describe them as "direct speech". Otherwise a dialogue is everything that relates a conversation where two different points of view are present. It may be even an internal monologue if its author doesn't have one decided opinion on a topic, and ponders different points of view. Also, it doesn’t have to be exactly spoken by two parties, it may be spoken by only one, and received, heard, felt by the other. Edmund gave his father his opinion, Mr. Bertram pondered it and expressed his own through his reaction. It’s enough to have a dialogue.

But what is wrong with indirect speech, and esp. when we're talking about JA who was the very first author in English literature to use free indirect speech in a deliberate manner? It wasn't avoiding, it was her style and genuine talent. Most of her dialogues look like that, so it's not surprise that those are not different. Is Darcy’s second proposal a dialogue? We only know that Elizabeth told him that her feelings are changed, but we don’t know what exactly her words were.

As I understood you before, your point was that JA was generally avoiding describing men-only encounters. And with that I agree (for the sake of Helen of course ). Although the word “never” is too much, the couple of examples rather prove the rule than contrary. E.g. she never described a conversation on typically men-only subjects like politics. But then it’s a well known truth that she was describing only things that she knew from her own experience, and sometimes even not all of them if she thought them too much.

To add to the above examples, here’s another men-only encounter from the previous chapter of Mansfield Park:

To the theatre he went, and reached it just in time to witness the first meeting of his father and his friend. Sir Thomas had been a good deal surprised to find candles burning in his room; and on casting his eye round it, to see other symptoms of recent habitation and a general air of confusion in the furniture. The removal of the bookcase from before the billiard–room door struck him especially, but he had scarcely more than time to feel astonished at all this, before there were sounds from the billiard–room to astonish him still farther. Some one was talking there in a very loud accent; he did not know the voice—more than talking—almost hallooing. He stepped to the door, rejoicing at that moment in having the means of immediate communication, and, opening it, found himself on the stage of a theatre, and opposed to a ranting young man, who appeared likely to knock him down backwards. At the very moment of Yates perceiving Sir Thomas, and giving perhaps the very best start he had ever given in the whole course of his rehearsals, Tom Bertram entered at the other end of the room; and never had he found greater difficulty in keeping his countenance. His father’s looks of solemnity and amazement on this his first appearance on any stage, and the gradual metamorphosis of the impassioned Baron Wildenheim into the well–bred and easy Mr. Yates, making his bow and apology to Sir Thomas Bertram, was such an exhibition, such a piece of true acting, as he would not have lost upon any account. It would be the last— in all probability—the last scene on that stage; but he was sure there could not be a finer. The house would close with the greatest eclat.

There was little time, however, for the indulgence of any images of merriment. It was necessary for him to step forward, too, and assist the introduction, and with many awkward sensations he did his best. Sir Thomas received Mr. Yates with all the appearance of cordiality which was due to his own character, but was really as far from pleased with the necessity of the acquaintance as with the manner of its commencement. Mr. Yates’s family and connexions were sufficiently known to him to render his introduction as the “particular friend,” another of the hundred particular friends of his son, exceedingly unwelcome; and it needed all the felicity of being again at home, and all the forbearance it could supply, to save Sir Thomas from anger on finding himself thus bewildered in his own house, making part of a ridiculous exhibition in the midst of theatrical nonsense, and forced in so untoward a moment to admit the acquaintance of a young man whom he felt sure of disapproving, and whose easy indifference and volubility in the course of the first five minutes seemed to mark him the most at home of the two.

Tom understood his father’s thoughts, and heartily wishing he might be always as well disposed to give them but partial expression, began to see, more clearly than he had ever done before, that there might be some ground of offence, that there might be some reason for the glance his father gave towards the ceiling and stucco of the room; and that when he inquired with mild gravity after the fate of the billiard–table, he was not proceeding beyond a very allowable curiosity. A few minutes were enough for such unsatisfactory sensations on each side; and Sir Thomas having exerted himself so far as to speak a few words of calm approbation in reply to an eager appeal of Mr. Yates, as to the happiness of the arrangement, the three gentlemen returned to the drawing–room together, Sir Thomas with an increase of gravity which was not lost on all.

And of course we could also include what both Lizzy and Charlotte respectively have overheard during the ball in Meryton. None of that was meant for lady’s ears. Still, nothing on politics, lol. Even though we know that JA had her own opinions there.

Sylwia