Once, many pubs ran nondescript inns as sidelines. The pub here is just a so-so Fuller’s location (it owns hundreds of them), but the hotel upstairs is a creaking, well-tended reward unto itself for value and charm, and the staff is unusually responsive for such a small property. The look plays up its Victorian origins with faux-antique telephones and plenty of handsome wood trim, but the modernized bathrooms and soft beds betray the fact that it’s the beneficiary of some recent renovations by intelligent hoteliers. Even more miraculously, it’s so near Big Ben that you can hear the bell peal. (Across the street, the InterContinental charges twice as much.)