The Best House in London 1969

Victorian London hums with a strange mix of opulence and underlying tension as Sir Francis Leybourne [George Sanders] stands at the center of a shifting power play. A married aristocrat, land baron, and businessman with far‑reaching interests, he maintains a kept woman, Babette [Dany Robin], who also shares a complicated bond with his estranged son, Walter Leybourne, played by Benjamin Oakes / Walter Leybourne [David Hemmings]. This tangled personal web sets the stage for a public scheme that could rewrite the city’s social order.

Sir Francis is approached by a minister to pilot a bold new experiment—London’s first bordello. The goal is to acknowledge the hidden role of prostitutes in aristocratic society while steering them off the streets and into a controlled, French‑inspired establishment. The plan places Sir Francis at the helm, with the house to be run as a project that would bridge private desire and public reform, a dichotomy that tempts and unsettles everyone involved.

Into this volatile mix steps Josephine Pacefoot [Joanna Pettet], the orphaned niece who leads the League of Social Purity, a reformist movement intent on empowering streetwalkers with skills to escape prostitution. She has allied with Benjamin Oakes [David Hemmings], a publicist by trade, whose current assignment to promote Italian Count Pandolfo’s dirigible becomes a public relations backdrop for their work. Benjamin reveals a deeply personal thread—he is a bastard, the child of a former servant, and the birthmark on his wrist is a quiet, stubborn clue to his uncertain parentage. His partnership with Josephine is more than professional: it’s a chance to publicly chart a humane path for vulnerable women, even as his own past complicates every step of their campaign.

Count Pandolfo [Warren Mitchell] appears as a foaming engine of modern spectacle, building an airship that seems to symbolize progress itself. With Pandolfo in the wings, the pair launches a public push to reshape perceptions of mobility, technology, and class. The story threads through a cast of vivid figures—Sherlock Holmes [Peter Jeffrey] and Doctor Watson [Thorley Walters] lend their sharp wit and observational prowess to the backdrop of political and social maneuvering, while Lily [Veronica Carlson] and other colorful personalities populate the fringes of this high‑stakes drama.

When Sir Francis unexpectedly dies, the will reveals a shocking twist: he has left his entire estate—Belgravia Hall and, crucially, the future of the bordello—to Josephine Pacefoot. Babette, who was to set up the house in his absence, discovers she may be eclipsed by the young reformer’s control over the property. Walter, aided by Babette, makes a concerted effort to claim Belgravia Hall and run the bordello as envisioned, pushing Josephine into a corner she never anticipated. Josephine, in her innocence, imagines the hall as a sanctuary to advance her League’s mission, not as a potential revenue stream for a private establishment.

The conspiracy thickens as the political and criminal undercurrents weave through the narrative. The Home Secretary [John Bird], a press‑savvy editor of The Times [Maurice Denham], and a roguish mix of henchmen and informants—Milton Reid as a henchman and Margaret Nolan as a Busty Prostitute—all move chess pieces on a city map where power, propriety, and principle collide. Inspector MacPherson [Bill Fraser], Lord Tennyson [Hugh Burden], and Lady Dilke [Jan Holden] add layers of intrigue and authority, while the theater and social world mingle in and around a world where a music hall singer [Tessie O’Shea], a host of colorful characters, and a reluctant reform movement brush shoulders with the men who pull the levers of influence.

As the plan unfolds, the bordello becomes not just a business venture but a battleground for ideas about sex, class, reform, and independence. The project tests the boundaries between virtue and vice, between the social purity sought by Josephine and the practical, sometimes morally ambiguous maneuvers of those who think they know what London needs. The cast—ranging from the celebrated stage faces to the sharp-eyed victorians who populate Sir Francis’s glittering world—gives the story texture and texture to the moral questions at its heart.

Throughout the narrative, the characters grapple with loyalty, scandal, and the costs of reform. Flora [Carol Friday] and Flora’s mother [Avril Angers], along with Evelyn [Penny Spencer] and a host of other figures, inhabit the margins of this dramatic experiment, offering humanity, humor, and vulnerability to a plan that could either modernize society or unbalance it beyond repair. The tension between public duty and private desire drives the action, as each player—whether a clever publicist, a noble patron, a sharp‑witted detective, or a compassionate reformer—contributes to a story that asks whether London can accommodate both progress and propriety without losing its soul.

In the end, the fate of Belgravia Hall, the bordello, and the lives entwined around them remains a delicate negotiation between ambition and ethics, between reform and desire, a reflection of a city itself at the crossroads of tradition and change. The film shirts its political and social questions in wit, drama, and a richly drawn ensemble, reminding us that every calculated move in a city of splendor and shadow ripples through the lives of those who inhabit it.