“Ah!” exclaims Anne Lister, turning to and speaking directly at the camera. “There you are! Good.” The queen of the lesbian power walk is back. With a pep in her step, a tap of her cap and a sway of her cane, this greeting is a most welcome one.

It’s been three years since the first season of Gentleman Jack aired, and it isn’t hard to notice that the 19th-century diarist and industrialist, Anne Lister (Suranne Jones), is different now. She’s much happier and sporting more colour — no longer having to mourn heartbreak. When we left her last season, she had just gotten married (well, sort of) to wealthy heiress Ann Walker (Sophie Rundle), and is now making plans for her to move in at the historic Shibden Hall. While they couldn’t be more excited, the elite of Halifax, West Yorkshire, however, are shitting bricks (or should I say, lumps of coal), as all anyone in this town cares about, apart from the invasion of lesbianism, is their coal pits. Season 2, luckily, is lower on the coal and higher on the drama. The big risk-taker that Lister is, gets the couple in a heap of trouble. What is love without a little risk, right? But it may be too much for the pair as they find themselves under the crushing weight of a world against them, and there’s doubt if their relationship is strong enough to get through it.

For the lovers of period drama, Sally Wainwright’s series still has gorgeous sets, many lively conversations across a table and elegant gowns, or, in Lister’s case, stock ties and waistcoats in all hues. Nothing beats the genre’s inherent beauty. Walker, now with a passion for painting, sketches the striking ruins of Rievaulx Abbey. As her wife comes down the hill to greet her, the camera lingers on the stunning scenery, and the gentleness of the score sweeps the ear with the same effect as Joe Wright’s adaptation of Pride and Prejudice. Lister is surrounded by the sun’s rays, which, in turn, reflect off the camera’s lens. Her thoughts are filled with longing and hope. Watery-eyed, she looks into the camera and you feel she is in love. Or is she? Originally setting her eyes on Ann Walker for her wealth, Lister finds that the protective shell she has built around herself is now weakened by the touch of her younger, rosy-cheeked half. But there is also another.

The pining will-they-won’t-they of Season 1 is gone now, replaced by the pining of Lister’s ex. At the beginning of the first season, we found Lister heartbroken over the love of her life, Mariana (played by Lydia Leonard), who left her for a man, which resulted in our protagonist wearing black throughout the season. In Season 2 (which was made available for review), as doubts are cast about whether Lister is in love with Walker, it becomes clear that she’s still hung up on Mariana. Walker, though, is completely enamoured of her wife and unaware of Lister’s rich tapestry of dalliances — and Lister wants to keep it that way. But as the exes exchange lengthy and passionate letters, it gets a bit too heated. There’s a lot of heartache and unfinished business between them. Lister makes it clear that she wants to move on, but Mariana won’t give up the chase so easily. Many viewers who live for messy gay drama will be on the edge of their seats, but this is only one of many risks to Lister’s marriage this season.

In fact, myriad of conflicts still persist outside of Lister’s romantic life. Rewatching the first season would be a beneficial refresher to remember all the supporting players and their own dramas, like Lister’s tenant, Thomas Sowden (Tom Lewis), who feeds his father to his pigs, or Lister’s plight with the Rawson Brothers (Vincent Franklin and Shaun Dooley), who are stealing her coal.

But the problems aren’t all personal. The town of Halifax is in the midst of a revolution, politically and economically, with Lister causing a stir with her influence and entrepreneurial spirit. She invites herself to the table and isn’t afraid to challenge the ideas of the men who hold the power. She inspires and intimidates, but in doing so, gains many enemies. Lister’s penchant for business, combined with Walker’s wealth, turns them into the power couple who threaten to run all of Halifax one day, and its elite aren’t having it. The “arrangement” to have the couple live together only complicates things. It’s humiliating to Walker’s family, and they’ll do anything to stifle it. Their reactions to their weak and sheltered Walker lesbianing with an intimidating and unabashedly butch rockstar can be funny, but the newlyweds cross swords with Walker’s family and risk getting wounded.

“We are respectable landed ladies,” Walker tells her homophobic aunt, but she learns that no one sees Lister as respectable. Walker is now a laughingstock and a humiliating topic of conversation for her family. The gossip takes its toll on her as she continues to struggle with mental illness, but viewers see she also has a determination, and this is pushed further by Lister’s unwavering position to solidify their union more permanently by changing their wills. To do that, though, Walker needs to ask for half of her estate, and there’s the question of whether Walker’s sister, Elizabeth (Katherine Kelly), and brother-in-law, Captain Sutherland (Derek Riddell), will even allow her the right to what’s hers. The conflicts Lister and Walker go through, and the straining effects aren’t the most pleasant to watch, as you fear all this conflict will become too much for their union to endure, but it is an honest retelling of their experiences.

What is truly admirable about Gentleman Jack is that it allows the audience to both celebrate Anne Lister, but to also be critical of her. She may have been modern in her views on sexuality and gender, but she is falling behind in her Toryism in these fast-moving times. She’s not someone you can put in a box, and all her flaws and complexities are explored without judgment.The audience sits with their feelings about an out-and-proud lesbian who is looked upon with disgust, but would look the same way to those below her class.

It’s interesting to try to dissect the mind of someone who seems so revolutionary in her self-confidence, but who is also very conservative when it comes to class and economics. Lister is also so intelligent in business that it’s impossible for the audience to discern what she’s saying in her financial mumbo-jumbo. She may be the smartest, most interesting person in the room, but Lister is also often unlikeable. On the other hand, her likeability comes, in large part, thanks to Jones’s powerful performance, which effortlessly captures Lister’s charisma, wit and boundless energy. She takes Lister’s strength to create a daring and provocative woman whose stature towers above the most powerful of men.

Rundle’s Walker is also flawed. While we only know as much as the real-life Lister wrote in her diary, Wainwright has written Walker as a fully realized person that many queer viewers can easily relate to. Walker is multifaceted as she harbours both anxieties and unshakeable determination. Especially this season, we see the sweet, mild-mannered young woman really come into her own and learn to stand up for what she wants. She’s a baby gay who has been sheltered her entire life, but now carries a confidence we haven’t seen before. It will take time for her to rise above the unpleasantries thrown her way by the world around her, but she is now independent to make her own choices, thanks to Lister. The chemistry between Jones and Rundle is undeniable, and when they’re not on screen together, you look forward to their return. They are, in many ways, opposites. Walker is shy; Lister arrogant. They are also two women at different points in their lives; when it’s difficult for Walker to be brave, Lister has the experience to teach her to be. Their relationship isn’t easy to navigate, but the quarrels they have are softened by their devotion.

With this second season, Sally Wainwright reminds her audience what an explicit, beautiful and authentic portrayal of lesbian desire she has created. Through its continued use of fourth-wall breaks, with dialogue straight from the diaries, Lister’s own words flow naturally from the page onto the screen, capturing thoughts and feelings that feel true. While the actresses themselves aren’t lesbians, Gentleman Jack demonstrates how important it is to have people behind the camera who are queer to craft stories like these — and point Jones has stressed repeatedly in interviews. Only a queer person would know and be able to capture the worry of how others will treat you if they knew and the fear that comes with navigating a relationship in a society against it. Only a queer person would know those whispers and the misgendering. Only a queer person would know the protective glances through a window or waiting for that kiss behind a closed door. Only a queer person would know the rejection of family and the acceptance of an adoptive one. Only a queer person would know the strength of love and support when it comes along.

Anne Lister winks to a modern audience because she knows we would know what it’s like. “We are the only people in the whole world, on earth, who want us to be together,” she tells Walker. If only she knew that wasn’t true.

Season 2 of Gentleman Jack is now airing on the BBC One in the U.K. It will premiere on HBO and HBO Max in the United States, and Crave in Canada, on April 25.

CORRECTION: A previous version of this story misidentified Wainwright’s sexuality.